YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

1941

A QUAKER OF THE OLDEN TIME,

JOHN ROBERTS'S HOUSE AT SIDDINGTON.

H (Sluaket ot the ©Iben Zimc,
BEING
A MEMOIR OF
JOHN ROBERTS,
BY HIS SON,
DANIEL ROBERTS,
"WITH PARTICULARS OF THE ROBERTS FAMILY COLLECTED
FROM ORIGINAL DOCUMENTS AND OTHER SOURCES,

EDITED BY EDMUND T. LA-WRENCE,
WITH
PREFATORY LETTER BY OLIVER "WENDELL HOLMES.

ILLUSTRATED.

"The Quaker of the olden time !—
How cahn and firm and true,
Unspotted bv its wrong and crime
He wallced the darli earth through.
He wallied by faith, and not by sight,
By love, and not by law ;
Tlie presence of the wrong or right
He rather felt than saw."

Xon&on :
HEADLEY BROTHERS,
14, BISHOPSGATE STREET -WITHOUT, E.G.

1898.

HEADLEY BROTHERS,
PRINTERS,
LONDON, AND ASHFORD, KENT.

PREFACE.
THE first edition of the Memoir John Roberts was
pubhshed by Andrew Brice, a noted Exeter
printer, in the year 1746, now more than 150 years
ago. From what source the copy from which it
was taken was obtained, how it came to be printed
at all, and why Exeter was the spot favoured by
its first appearance, is not known. All the infor
mation on the subject we possess is that the family,
as represented by the hereditary possessors of the
original manuscript at the time, were not parties to
the transaction. The first edition is very scarce.
There is, however, a perfect and an imperfect
copy in the British Museum, though the collection of
John Roberts editions it possesses is but a small one.
The second edition, published about a year after
wards (in 1747) by Samuel Farley (the printer,
later on, of Feli.v Farley's Journal), in the Old
Mai-ket, Bristol, is less rare. It is merely a transcript
of the first edition, as far as the matter is concerned,
as also have been most of the later ones. The
variations, though only slight, have sometimes been
erroneous. Thus in some editions North Cerney is

6 PREFACE.
printed North Surrey ; while a coarse speech of one
of the characters in the narrative is variously ren
dered by various editors. The only important
alterations were those made by Oade Roberts, who
edited a copy of the manuscript at the beginning of
this century. It was not, however, published until
1859. He had the original manuscript to deal with,
and though he somewhat enlarged the amount of
matter extracted from it, and added copies of letters
of John Roberts in the possession of the family, he
materially modified the wording in the direction of
modernizing it, so making it a somewhat different
book. No complete copy of the work, therefore, has, as
far as is known, ever appeared in print prior to this
present one. This, it is believed, will be the first.
In producing it, care has been taken to allow it to
appear as Daniel Roberts wrote it or dictated it.
The old spelling and the old arrangement of capital
letters have been retained. Only the abbreviations,
which are numerous — especially in the latter portion,
copied by Elizabeth Roberts — have been printed in
full. They consist chiefly of y^ for the, y' for that,
s* for said, w' for ¦went, w"' for with, etc., as may be
seen from the photographic reproduction of a letter
copied by her. This alteration is made merely
for ease in reading, but otherwise the desire has been
to afford the utmost faithfulness of detail, in order to
help the reader to transport himself, as he peruses the

PREFACE. 7
narrative, back to the time at which Daniel wrote —
or rather to those times of which he wrote— and to
the surroundings of that earlier period.
In illustration of the importance of retaining the
exact language of the manuscript, we take, as an
example, the use of the word " admire," which, in
the course of time, has greatly changed its meaning,
or retains it only when used in a satirical sense.
Implying, now, high appreciation, or even, as Walker
says, " to regard with love,'' it at first denoted simple
surprise or astonishment. In a book published in
1656, with a long title, beginning The Cry of Blood
(and 174 words following), written by George Bishop,
Dennis Hollister, and others, of Bristol, in reference
to the sufferings of the Friends in that city, occur
the words : — " But thou wilt cease to admire, if, in the
cool of the day, thou dost sit clown to consider,"
etc., an illustration of the use of the word with the
older meaning of " wonder." But the present meaning
is an outgrowth of the past by being derived from
appreciation based upon agreeable surprise. It is a
word that has got up in the world, instead of coming
down like so many others. It affords an interesting
study in philology.
It is twenty-two years ago since the last edition
preceding this present one was issued. It came from
the press of John Bellows, of Gloucester ; and, being
stereotyped, has been constantly in print ever since.
The copy that reached Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes

8 PREFACE.
was one of these. A reader of The Professor at the
Breakfast Table chanced upon a passage that brought
John Roberts at once into his mind, and made him
think that if the Doctor had not already made the
acquaintance of the Httle book that he would be glad
to do so, and would find himself in hearty sympathy
with its hero. A copy was immediately despatched
to Boston. The result proved the correctness of the
surmise with regard to Dr. Holmes's appreciation of
John, and also of his interest in the graphic ability of
his son Daniel.
In relation to the narrative now given of the
Roberts family, it is to be regretted that more
information on the subject is not obtainable ; but
more may be forthcoming, though little, if any, more
is to be expected in regard to John Roberts him
self. No doubt, in the libraries and among the MSS.
in the possession of -Friends and those who have
been in the past connected with them, some documents
may still be stored away, the existence of which is
forgotten or unknown. It is sincerely to be hoped that
this volume may induce search to be made for the same,
and that some may be brought to light in consequence.
Much may lie, as did the original manuscript of the
Memoir, quietly inurned for many years, until it was
(in the freest and kindest way) forwarded by the
present representative of the family to the Editor, to
make the best use he could of it for the purposes of
the new edition.

PREFACE. 9
To Mr. Lawson Thompson, of Hitchin, therefore —
the gentleman referred to— it is alike a pleasure and
a duty to indite the expression of warmest appreciation
and heartiest thanks for the benefits conferred on all
lovers of John Roberts by the opportunity we shall now
have to possess, in its entirety, his sayings and doings,
as recorded by his son. The edition of the work
which was edited by Oade Roberts was produced in
1859 by the late Mr. John Thompson of Hitchin, father
of Mr. Lawson Thompson ; but, though exciting much
interest at the time, it has long been out of print.
As regards the present issue— if the setting of
extraneous matter, introduced to try and help to a
realization of the times and the man and the sect of
which he was one of the earliest representatives, has
been but imperfectly done, as compared with John
Roberts's worth, it has not been because of lack of
sympathetic interest on the part of the many friends
by whom help to the Editor has been given. It
is only because of their number and of the desire to
make no invidious distinctions that they are not
enumerated here. Nevertheless, it is trusted that they
will believe that he is very truly appreciative of their
valuable assistance, so courteously — so kindly given.
For his own part it has at least been a labour of
love. His heart has been in his work. And if the
enthusiasm he shares with others for John Roberts
shall warm the hearts of his readers, the reflected
heat will be very grateful to his own.

lO PREFACE.
For that enthusiasm he oft'ers no apology ; but if
his work needs one, he would fain learn how to do
more honour to his hero.
Says Isaac D'IsraeH, in his preface to the second
edition of the Curiosities of Literature — " It is not
always the most profound works which are the most
useful, or the most agreeable. Books which do not
present discoveries, and which even repeat what has
sometimes been more happily expressed, may be pre
cious to the community at large, who, without the
intermediate aid of such a writer, would never have
met with or consulted the original authors."
May such be the verdict on the present volume ;
in which case the quotation might be added — sincerely,
not ironically — " I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me
that word."
Edmund T. Lawrence.

PUBLISHERS' NOTE.
The Publishers think it well to state that, as
E. T. Lawrence, owing to illness, was not able to
read and pass the proof sheets for the press, these
were placed, with various documents relating to them,
in the hands of Norman Penney, who has subjected
them to close examination, made some slight alter
ations and added an index to the book ; but it is
beHeved that no change has been made which was
contrary to the original plan of the work.

CONTENTS,
PAGE.
Letter of Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes
TO THE Editor - 13
Introduction 15
Memoir of John Roberts, by His Son,
Daniel Roberts, verbatim from the
Original Copy of the Manuscript 63
The Roberts Family 227
Appendix :
The Bibliography of John Roberts 477
Notes 488
Index 501

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
John Roberts's House at Siddington Frontispiece
Down Amny page 85
Bishop's Old Palace, Bishops Cleeve 117
The Market Place, Cirencester 187
Cirencester Meeting House 233
Back of John Roberts's House 241
Old Gaol at Gloucester 297
Specimen of Writing of MS.
Bishop Bull
George Fox's House at Fenny Drayton 357
John Roberts's Signature 3^7
Friends' Burial Ground, Cirencester 433

301327

PREFATORY LETTER,

BOSTON,
296, Beacon Street,
March i.st, 1883.
My Dear Sir,
I have read the Memoir of John Roberts with
very great interest and real delight. It is so
comforting to meet, even in a book, a man who
is perfectly simple-hearted, clear-headed, and brave
in all conditions. The story is so admirably
told, too, dramatically, vividly — one lives the
whole scene over and knows the persons who
appear on it as if they had been his townsmen.
I went to my shelves and took down " Gloucester
shire " in one of the volumes of the " Beauties
of England and Wales." There I found a very
good view of " Down Amwey," as there spelt, in
those old days belonging to " Lady Dunch,"
whose husband afterwards became Baron Burnell.

14 prefatory letter.
I tell you this to show you how much the
Memoir interested me.
Please accept my warm thanks for your
kindness in sending me this charming and noble
record of a saint and hero 
I am, my dear Sir,
'Very truly yours,
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.

P.S. — I have just read your letter again, and
I assure you you did not over-estimate the
exquisite pleasure the little book was to give me.
It is as good as gold — better than gold — every
page of it. My friend Whittier must know it,
of course. I will talk it over with him the next
time we meet.

INTRODUCTION.
IN the foregoing letter from Dr. OUver Wendell
Holmes he notes his intention of discussing the
Memoir of John Roberts with Whittier. Whether he
ever did so is not revealed by the article on John
Roberts contained in Whittier's Collected Works ; and
internal evidence would lead to the conviction that,
long before such a conversation between the two
poets could have taken place, Whittier was familiar
with the humour, the shrewdness, and the manly and
religious worth of the farmer of Siddington. For he
writes as one who either has seen or possesses an
original second edition of the Memoir while the
other papers in the series of Old Portraits and
Modern Sketches that concern old-time Friends are
those of Thomas Ellwood and James Naylor, and both
evince a keen, sympathetic interest in the Quaker
records of the time.
If, after Dr. Holmes's letter was written — in 1883
— these two men ever met and discussed John Roberts,
it could only be to express that mutual appreciation
of him that they have indicated by their pens. Very
interesting to the many who love him — to whom his
brief record is a source of perennial delight — it would

l6 MEMOIR OF J0H.\ ROBERTS.
have been to have had such a conversation recorded ;
for the quaHties of John Roberts were just those that
would have appealed most warmly to the hearts of
these poet friends. His simple courage and honesty,
his child-like communion with God without any
priestly intervention, his loyalty to his comrades in
the Quaker faith, his sprightly readiness in conversa
tion, his sincerity in argument, his overflowing
humour, and his kindfiness and charity even to his
persecutors, have Hfted the erst-while soldier of the
Parhament out of the modest retirement of his
country life, unconsciously, into the army of those
"whose deeds live after them" for the world's good.
And two of America's greatest unite themselves with
him in the camaraderie of the Loftier Life.
Although his son Daniel Roberts was the compiler
of the Memoir, and unwittingly showed that highest
talent of the literary painter — the power to make the
pictures on his word-canvas live before his readers —
its brevity indicates that he did not regard himself
as an author. Nor though, in his way, a smart
dialectician, did John Roberts himself ever pose as a
man learned in any literature but that of his Bible,
and some of the earfier writings of the Quakers. His
doctrinal Quakerism was absorbed in a large degree
from the verbal teachings of those associated with,
and influenced by George Fox, and from George
Fox himself. But his intelligence, his wit, his large-
hearted sympathy with the spirit of Quakerism, and

INTRODUCTION. j^
even with the letter, where the latter seemed to
emphasize, symboUcally, the teaching of the Spirit,
and his Bible-reading of the Prophets especially, as
was the fashion of the time, made him a full man in
the sense of having thoughts and feehngs to com
municate to others, though it never took the form of
a direct " call to the ministry." It overflowed,
instead, in good endeavours, in setting the active
rather than the contemplative example of a good life,
in not hiding his light under a bushel, but, as far as
opportunity occurred, so letting it shine before men
that they might, seeing it, glorify his Father who is
in Heaven.To those who have read John Roberts not once,
but often, a new pleasure is added to life. They
have made the acquaintance of a friend always ready
to welcome them, willing to tell them over again the
simple episodes of his homely life, though not un
mixed with suffering, and who, in so doing, unnoticed
by them, takes them out of themselves to live with
him for an hour or two among past surroundings,
when the world moved more slowly, yet somehow
was more real, because there was more time for
thought and consequent realization. Very human the
worthy farmer is ; ideally Christian in his humanness.
The " old Adam " sometimes tempts him into saying
sharper things than seem quite in keeping with his
kindly heart, though never at any time so sharp as
many of the tongue-thrusts of his word-fighting

l8 MEMOIR OF lOHN ROBERTS.
Friends. In justice to the Friends, though, it should
be said that this intensity of language arose from
deep conviction of a mission and a non-self-seeking
object. Unquestionably it led them into very many
extravagancies ; but the result of the great religious
upheaval, of which it was a striking phenomenon,
was the settling down to what soon became a
peaceful heritage, wherein the virtues and kindlinesses
of life grew luxuriantly.
While partaking of the faults of brusqueness and
bluntness that characterized the manners of the time,
such utterances of John Roberts as have been
recorded do not appear to have been so pronounced
as with some, and to have arisen mainly from a
forgetfulness of what was due to others in his desire
"to keep strictly to the truth." The natural wish to
try and snatch a victory, together with the heat of
controversy, led him sometimes to say things that in
all kindfiness had been better left unsaid. Much
must be forgiven to honesty ; but better still is it
when charity so runs before, that the unkind word
which might have been uttered is absorbed by it
before the word is spoken. But his faults in this
way were so very venial that their humanness only
endears him to us, and they just lend that "touch of
nature " that " makes the whole world kin." These
were but little weaknesses ; for he was essentially
strong — a Christian soldier of the truest type. Ready
with argument where argument was needed ; ready

INTRODUCTION. I9
to suffer where suffering was required ; valiant in
warfare where the weapons became spiritual and not
carnal — unless that potent tongue, which enabled him
to come off victorious in many a wordy combat, which
wrought confusion and dismay among his opponents,
and which made his vigorous use of it a source of so
much respect, could be called a carnal weapon. It was
at least a very penetrating one, and must at times have
left a wound when employed against an opponent.
Yet our Friend's heart was so warm, his humour so
genial, his sterling honesty so unmistakable, that no
wound could have rankled long.
Commenting on the character of the Puritan
yeomanry, of which our Friend, both in the war of
words, as previously in the clash of arms, proved
himself an example, Whittier remarks, " No stronger
testimony to their high toned morality and austere
virtue can be adduced than the fact that of the fifty
thousand soldiers who were discharged at the accession
of Charles II, and left to shift for themselves, com
paratively few, if any, became chargeable to their
parishes. They carried into their farm-fields and
woi-kshops the strict habits of Cromwell's disciphne ;
and in trying to repair their wasted fortunes, they
manifested the same heroic fortitude and self-denial
which in war had made them such formidable and
efficient Soldiers of the Lord. With few exceptions,
they remained steadfast in their uncompromising
non-conformity, abhorring Prelacy and Popery, and

20 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
entertaining no very orthodox notions in respect to the
divine right of kings. From them the Quakers claim
their most zealous champions ; men who, in renouncing
the carnal weapons of their old servitude, found
employment for habitual combativeness in hot and
wordy sectarian warfare. To this day, the vocabulary
of Quakerism abounds in the military phrases and
figures which were in use in the Commonwealth's
time. Their old force and significance are now in a
great measure lost ; but one can well imagine that,
in the assemblies of the primitive Quakers, such
stirring battle-cries and warlike tropes, even when
employed in enforcing and illustrating the doctrines
of peace, must have made many a stout heart beat
quicker under its drab-colouring with recollections of
Naseby and Preston ; transporting many a listener
from the benches of his place of worship to the
ranks of Ireton and Lambert, and causing him to
hear, in the place of the solemn and nasal tones of
the preacher, the blast of Rupert's bugles, and the
answering shout of Cromwell's pike-men — ' Let God
arise, and let His enemies be scattered ! ' "
What emphasizes the foregoing is the stateinent
made by Cariyle that, at this time, one person in
every six was unable to support himself — proving
conclusively how little of mercenary spirit entered
into the militant Puritanism of the time. It was
essentially a middle class movement. Many of the
CromwelHan soldiers were of the type of John

INTRODUCTION. 21
Roberts — fairly prosperous men. He seems to have
been a well-to-do yeoman — what would now be
termed a gentleman farmer— hving in a substantial
homestead of his own, and owning a fair amount of
land pastured with numerous cattle, employing ser
vants, having an uncle a magistrate, and being himself
married to a daughter of the Tyndals, a kinswoman
of a Lord Chief Justice of England— the celebrated
Matthew Hale — "who drew up her marriage settle
ment," the record says ; so showing that she must
have been a woman of some little substance, also, to
require a marriage settlement. His means, too, enabled
him to entertain many Friends, travelling for the
propagation of their creed, and to bear the brunt of
numerous finings and imprisonments ; Avhile his
reception by Bishop Nicholson, and by others with
whom he was brought into contact, leaves the impres
sion that the respect with which he was treated was not
due exclusively to his force of character and his
sterling worth, his undoubted ability and his exub
erant humour, but also, in a degree, to those more
commonplace circumstances that surround the thriving
man. While his heroic endurance of persecution and his
fearless carrying into practice of his sense of duty leave
even his physical courage unquestionable, yet carnal
¦warfare could never have been to his liking, even in his
early manhood (when his military experiences occurred).
And if we may conclude this to be so from the state-

22 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
ment, " The wars not being Ended, and my father
finding he could not be Safe at home, he went away
again and continued till the war was near ended," it
shows that his army Hfe was only accepted as the less
of two evils.
Manifestly a conflict that was not carnal was the
bent of John Roberts's nature. He was a religious man
essentially — an all-round religious man — loving his
fellow men as sincerely as he loved his God. His
honesty was the fuHest his Hght permitted him ; and
it was the thoroughness and sincerity of the early
Friends that won his heart. His love of freedom was
of the spirit of the time ; but it was a freedom that
asked no more than to worship God untrammelled by
sacerdotalism, and unhampered by creeds that were
as husks to the corn.
" He is the freeman whom the truth makes free,"
sings Cowper ; and John Roberts was a freeman made
free by the love of Truth.
Although in his own district he was regarded as
a leader of the Quakers, he himself never assumed
the air of a commander. He was a soldier in the
cause, nor coveted he to be more. What Cromwell
was, or had been, to his Ironsides, was to John his
great leader, Fox. In him he trusted ; from him he
learned ; his teaching in turn he taught. As in war
the skill of the general makes the victory of the
soldiers ; as in a ship the very lives of the sailors
may be in the hands of an able captain ; so in a

INTRODUCTION. 23
great organization, the leader it is who gives to it its
form, its vitality, its power. And much as may have
been due to the splendid courage, the heroic endur
ance, and the dauntless persistence of those who
enrolled themselves under his banner, yet it was due
mainly to the genius of George Fox that the Society
of Friends became what it did, and what it is to-day.
It was he, as Dr. Cunningham says in The Quakers, who
formed the " religious sect which struggled into
existence amid hootings, imprisonments, and martyr
doms," a sect " which has led the van in almost every
philanthropic enterprise during the last two hundred
years . . . and which teaches us a great lesson in
charity . . . and that, although not altogether
orthodox, when measured by creeds, has yet exhibited
Christianity in its finest aspect as a religion of love
and goodwill ; and in regard both to faith and good
works can challenge comparison with any church or
sect in the world ! . . . Who does not aim to
know something more of these men and women who
sit in silence when they meet for worship, whose
thee and thou give piquancy to conversation, and
whose very attire (now too seldom seen) lends a
passing picturesqueness to the streets ? "
To write any history of Quakerism (a thing it is
not proposed to do, except incidentally as it elucidates
the relation of John Roberts to the movement), to
explain the force that lay behind every individual
Quaker of mark, it would be necessary to write very

24 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
fully the history of George Fox, as his individuality
was so potent that it gave an indelible character to
the organization and all connected with it. In esti
mating the influence that Quakerism has had upon
the world — an influence so quiet and unassuming of
late, yet withal so powerful that only the historian
of the far future can assess it at its true value — it can
at least be seen that from its commencement it was
a great moral force. ' The individualities were present
in abundance ; it only required an attracting centre
to draw them together ; and that centre was found
in Fox. His earlier disciples were not so much con
verts as religious men, deeply in earnest, with a
desire existing in them for a fuller and more satisfy
ing reHgious life. Theirs too, as has been said, was
not the contemplative but the militant spirit — the
same spirit that when engaged in carnal warfare
had made them the finest combatants England had
ever seen ; because to the discipline of the soldier
they added the enthusiasm of the fervent God-fearer
— a combination that in earfier days had made
Mahomet the conqueror, direct or indirect, of half
the world.
An interesting subject to study is the immense and
immediate change that came over these combatants
when they connected themselves with the Friends ;
characterized by a sudden diversion of their fighting
energies, from outward warring against their fellow men
and temporal evil, to spiritual warring against spiritual

INTRODUCTION. 25
evil and on behalf of their fellow men. It was no craven
spirit that prompted their outwardly non-combatant
attitude ; for theirs became in exchange the harder
and more heroic one of patient endurance. Thus of
Barclay of Ury, " an old and distinguished soldier,
who had fought under Gustavus Adolphus," it is said,
" As a Quaker he became the object of persecution
and abuse at the hands of the magistrates and the
populace. None bore the indignities of the mob with
greater patience and nobleness of soul than this
once proud soldier. One of his friends, on an
occasion of uncommon rudeness, lamented that he
should be treated so harshly in his old age, who had
been so honoured before. ' I find more satisfaction,'
said Barclay, ' as well as honour, in being thus
insulted for my religious principles than when, a few
years ago, it was usual as I passed through the city
of Aberdeen to meet me on the road and conduct
me to public entertainments in their hall, and then
escort me out again, to gain my favour.' " Who is
not famifiar with those stirring lines of Whittier, in
which this episode is recorded —

But from out the thickening cro-wd
Cried a sudden voice, and loud —
"Barclay! Ho! a Barclay ! "
And the old man at his side
Sa-w a comrade, battle-tried,
Scarred and sun-burned darkly;

26 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
'Who with ready -weapon bare,
Fronting to the troopers there,
Cried aloud : "God save us,
Call ye coward him who stood
Ankle-deep in Lutzen's blood,
'With the brave Gustavus?"
"Nay, I do not need thy sword,
Comrade mine," said Ury's lord;
"Put it up, I pray thee :
Passive to His holy will.
Trust I in my Master still,
Even though He slay me."

And thousands of whom no poet has sung, and
whose names are undistinguished in the pages of
Besse, of Sewel, and of Gough — the Quaker histor
ians and martyrologists — endured as bravely and as
unflinchingly such suflierings, even unto death, which
their loyalty to their convictions of Truth and Duty
brought upon them. The spirit of martyrdom was, as
a body, born in them. Many of their ancestors had
suffered for conscience' sake at the stake. Thus George
Fox in his Journal, speaking of his mother, says :
" Her maiden name was Mary Lago, of the family of
the Lago's, and of the stock of the martyrs." Even
their children were upreared in this duty of loyal and
self-sacrificing devotion, at all hazards, to what was
deemed right. When in Bristol the adult Friends
were all in gaol the children continued to hold the
meetings for worship in the Meeting-house as usual.

INTRODUCTION. 27
A quaint, but profoundly interesting sight must it
have been, could we have looked in upon it, to see
those little people as miniature Puritans in their
sober costume of the period (which as yet by lapse of
time had not grown into a distinctively Quaker one),
with their abnormally serious air, and doubtless
almost painful efforts to do everything properly and
in order. We might have supposed that such a sight
would have turned the hearts of their persecutors
when they saw it ; for even they seldom wholly
forgot that they were human. But truth, in this case,
compels the statement that, instead, the children were
cruelly beaten for it — in some cases put in the stocks,
and in others thrust into crowded and unwholesome
gaols, though some of them were not more than eight
years old !
Though so much has been advanced by some of
our best writers of modern clays in the endeavour
to adequately represent the love of truth, of justice,
and of right, that underlay the Puritan upheaval, it is
abundantly evident that much more will need to be
done, before the present conviction of the greatness
of the evils they opposed becomes an active instead
of a passive one. We boast as of wonderful achieve
ments when, with scarce a man of our own lost, we
shoot down, with abundance of weapons of precision,
thousands of only partially armed savages and semi-
savages — who are defending their wives and their
children, their country and their homes. We call

28 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
this " glory " ; and boast of these massacres as
" brilliant victories." But where is the actual courage
involved in it all ? Praise-God-Barebones, fearing
God, and keeping his powder dry, was a real honest
hero, if an unpicturesque one. Half-a-dozen of the
swash-bucklers and hirelings of to-day would have
been no match for such an one, armed only as he
was armed. They might have scoffed at his nasal
tones, and at his psalm-singing proclivities, but they
would have soon scoffed at a safe distance, or had
their scoffing effectually silenced, had they ventured
to face him in combat. What better evidence of the
soundness of the metal of the Ironsides can be given
than the proof of what they could endure in patient
suffering when they become Quakers ? The metal
might be dinted by cruelties, might be rusted in
prisons, might be buried in the grave — but it could
not be broken ! The meekness of the non-combatant
that could literally turn his other cheek to the
smiter was not craven weakness, but sublime strength.
The Quakers have not been wont to advertise their
courage ; but their whole record bespeaks it to him
who has ears to hear. Nor is that heroism dead to
day ; nor will it wholly die while Quakerism lives.
In her Life, the unfortunate Lady Lytton, when
telfing the story of her seizure and attempted surrep
titious incarceration in a lunatic asylum, has occa
sion to refer to a Friend who had been one of the
most active of the Taunton people in obtaining her

INTRODUCTION. 29,
release. It is thus she writes to a correspondent (in
i860) : — " My befief is that, were an invasion to take
place to-morrow, the Quakers would be the only
people who would show fight — John Bright and the
rest of the Peace Society at the head of them." A
piece of picturesque exaggeration of course. But the
power that could patiently conquer the violence of
sectaries ; that could live clown the cruelties and
plunderings of Charles IPs squires and parsons, with
their rabble rout ; that could create an oasis of peace
in Pennsylvania in the midst of a desert of Christian
war ; that could take so large a share in striking off
the shackles of the slave, and in standing between
the gallows and its prey, and in fighting the flames
that blaze so fiercely on the Moloch-altar of strong
drink — this power of Quakerism , if sleeping, dreaming,
or arguing with itself, is yet not dead, and only
wants sufficient dominance, or seeming dominance, of
parson, or of publican, or of pseudo-scientist, to rouse
once more to a mighty war, bloodless, but triumphant I
It may be again remarked, in order fully to
understand the forces that evolved and developed
Quakerism as an institution — and have made it since,
in ways less obtrusive than at first, the power that it
became and still is — that its founders and early
adherents were tremendously in earnest. It was not
merely that they were deeply religious men, but that
the broadening spirit of the time had infused itself
into them and enabled them to cut completely the

30 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
bands of priestly domination — to think for themselves —
and to carry into their refigious life the repubfican
ideal of their political one. As shown, George Fox,
as their founder, was the nucleus round which the
floating people of kindred ideas rapidly gathered.
He was so clear a thinker, so eminently practical in
his conceptions, that he was able to build up a com
bination of theology and governance which made the
Society of Friends luminous within and capable of
shedding far-reaching rays abroad. All progress in
life seems to be made by from time to time I'econ-
sidering our position, and borrowing afresh from the
remote past — whether we realize the operation or
not — its profounder truths, and setting them anew in
an operative form suited to the altered condition of
the time. "The kingdom of God is within you"
was the teaching of Christ. As a reverend disciple,
George Fox fully recognized this dictum of the
Master, and lived the thought in his life, and enun
ciated it in his teachings. God was, he felt, within
him in a spiritual way, as the physical form he
occupied was God-made in a material way. But,
unlike the Orientalists, he was not content to meditate
only ; he was emphatically a man of action. And
though he had not fought on blood-stained battle
fields, yet none the less was his undaunted courage,
none the less his moral prowess, none the less his
capacity for great endurance, when by great endurance
some worthy end was to be gained. His fellow

INTRODUCTION. 3 1
Friends speedily recognized these quafities as showing
his capacity to lead eft'ectually, as evincing the power,
as well as the skill, to shape the movement aright.
They were such as commended themselves alike to
their heads and hearts. These ways that they approved
were emphatically repubfican, and very democratically
republican, as became the designation of their body
as " The Society of Friends." It is worthy of note
how very loyal to their leader were the early Quakers
— George Fox's peculiarities even being accepted and
fought for and suffered for, as well as the profounder
matters of their faith, that had drawn them to him.
They thee'd and tJiou'd ; they wore their hats defiantly
and unconventionally " as a testimony " — they revived
archaic modes of naming the days of the week, and
followed other formalities that George Fox had
enumerated as binding duties. As will be seen in the
Memoir John Roberts was in hearty sympathy, and
bravely endured the consequences of following what
he believed to be the dictates of his conscience. So
honest was he found to be in his convictions that he
forced respect from those who differed from him ;
and even the hat was often tolei-ated for the sake of
the man.
To make clear this matter of The Hat, which plays
no unimportant part in the Memoir, some little
explanation is needed. Hepworth Dixon speaking of
it says—" Lifting or not lifting of the hat was very far
from being all. It was a sign, and one of many signs.

32 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
In the reign of Charles II, men wore their hats in
house or church, as well as in the streets and parks.
Men sat at meals in felt and fistened to a play in
felt. ' I got a strange cold in my head,' wrote
Pepys, ' by flinging off my hat at dinner.' Every
one ate covered. A preacher mounted to the pulpit
in his hat ; the audience wore their hats, and only
doffed them at the name of God. Hat-lifting, there
fore, was a sign of a depraved and foreign fashion
recently brought to England. All sober men put on
their hats, while wits and fopfings carried them in
their hands." In relation to which latter remark,
however, it must also be recalled that these foplings
wore their hair long and abundant, while the sober
people cropped it close. This condition of things
goes far to explain one of the seeming anomalies of
early Quakerism — that, while holding broad and liberal
views regarding religious duties and beliefs on the
one hand, there was what appeared such an almost
microscopical devotion to other points of far less
importance, as made them peculiarities from the outset.
Of these, the one that occasioned the least trouble
was the assumption of the numerical designations for
the names of the weeks and months (a nomenclature
adopted by other Nonconformists of the time), while
the one that gave most trouble, that led to so much
cross-bearing and so much persecution, was the creed
of The Hat. In that the Quakers stood alone. As
regards the former, George Fox either intentionally

INTRODUCTION. 33
or accidentally overlooked the necessity, for con
sistency's sake, of calling the planets and the stars by
their numerical names, instead of by their "heathenish"
designations. It would have been comparatively easy
to have done so in his day, though even then a sad
tax on the memory ; but now such' a task would be
appalling. The Hat, as we have seen, was a different
matter. It was a pi^otest, not so much, however, against
foppery, as against formalism and sycophancy ; and
though narrow in act, arose from a broad conception
— from a loftier ideal of Deity — from a more complete
approach to the idea of God's omnipresence. With
the sense of the Spirit of God dwelling in them, with
His presence regarded as being everywhere around
them, the thought of compressing Him into "a
building made with hands," even though called a
" church," bore to them the semblance of a modified
form of idolatry. For the sculptured idol is rarely
the object of the heathen's worship, but only to him
a definite emblem of invisible power dweUing in
it. By him the form is revered for the sake of
the power which mysteriously resides in it. To
the Quaker the "mass-house," or the " daw-house"
as John Roberts once facetiously called it, was
only a stone, brick, timber and metal structure ;
and his " meeting-house,"— as he termed it, because
to him a place of meeting — was merely the same.
He only sat in it for his convenience ; he regarded
it with no reverence : it never was to him more

34 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
than a material structure. As he sat there he
wore his hat, or took it off, as inclination prompted
him. True, when prayer was offered he removed it,
though it became of the nature of a concession ; for
surely a Spiritual Deity can be no respecter of a
material Hat ? Tlieir heads however were not un
covered by the Quaker women, though there was no
recognition of difference of sex in the presence of
God. The Quakeress did not remove her bonnet,
chiefly because of the difficulty of replacing it, a
condition of things that long usage had made a
recognized custom. But it was a compromise still.
She spoke when the Spirit moved her either to
exhort or pray. She was "acknowledged a minister"
as freely as her Quaker brother. She had her separate
" Meeting for Disciphne," held concurrently with that
of " Men Friends." Why then, if there was any virtue
in it should she not take off her bonnet in. prayer, as
he his hat ? The truth is the whole ceremony is an
Orientalism. And had George Fox been able to
realize this, it is more than probable that, instead of
taking off his hat during " supplication," he would
have been inclined to have planted it more firmly on
his head, as a testimony to fuller beliefs in the
spirituafity of God, and to the heart alone being
concerned in Worship. As we know he was even a
stickler for this act of formalism ; and opposed very
vigorously one who differed from him in the matter.
And honestly ; for "as far as George Fox could

INTRODUCTION.

35

grasp a truth he unhesitatingly acted upon it. If
soldiery thrust him and his Friends forth from their
meeting-house, as was done in the earfier days, and
they met in the street, it was still God who was
above them, His presence they recognized as equally
around them in the open air. He realized to the
fuh that "God dwelleth not in temples made with
hands," and that though His presence was everywhere
His special shrine was in the devout human heart.
And it was in harmony with the protest against this
idolatry, this worship of the material structure of the
" Church," that George Fox largely testified in the
matter of the wearing of The Hat, and that, in such
hearty sympathy therewith, his friends testified and
suffered too. They took off their hats to God ; they
would not take them off to do honour to mere mortal.
And they would not recognize God's presence as
being more in a " Church " than in any other building.
Not far behind the trouble that The Hat occa
sioned came that in connection with what Friends
termed " The Plain Language," — or as Longfellow
says in Evangeline, — " The Thee and Thou of the
Quakers." The use of the Thee and Thou instead of You —
of the singular and grammatical form instead of the
plural, and ungraramatical (except in so far as usage
after a time comes to constitute the grammar of a
language) — was also a protest against sycophancy and
on behalf of truth. It gave great offence, as did The

36 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Hat ; it being regarded for a long time as intentional
discourtesy, until the Friends became better under
stood. " If you thee and thou me," one irate
persecutor is recorded as saying, " I'll thee and thou
your teeth clown your throat 1 "
On one occasion we read in the Life of Bishop
Frampton (who, in 1680, succeeded Dr. John Piichard
in the See of Gloucester, the latter having himself
followed John Roberts's friend Dr. Nicholson), that
Giles Fettiplace, " the Quaker Esquire," — son of him
who had defended Cirencester for the Parliament^
having gone in his coach and six to call upon the
Dean and Chapter, relative to the renewal of some
leases, was received in much state, and with great
deference, until the Churchmen found the Quaker
would not take off his hat to them. Then they
irritably rammed their own on their heads, intimating
to Giles that they were quite prepared to treat him
and his friends with equal discourtesy. They even
demurred to renewing one of the leases until the
Dean recalled that the " Esquire's " father had dealt
very fiberally with the Church in its depressed clays
— which led to a better understanding of each other
all round, and an amicable settlement of the matter.
A story relative to this feefing with regard to The
Hat is told of Bishop Frampton himself. As clerics
went in the days of the Restoration, he was probably
a very good man — indeed, as he so far had the
courage of his convictions as eventually to resign his

INTRODUCTION. 37
See, as a matter of conscience, we may regard him
as genuinely good. But it is typical of the intoler
ance of the time that, on his going into a house and
finding there, unexpectedly, a gentleman who did
not take off his hat in response to the Bishop's
salutation, but only nodded, enquired as he " went
off" somewhat huft'ed, "Art thou one of those cattle
they call Quakers ?" The story goes on to say, "The
man followed, and says, ' Friend, thy terms are gross !
why cattle ? ' to which the Bishop repfies, ' If it
displease thee let it be creatures ' ! and so left him —
so little deserted was he by his facetious temper even
under disadvantages." And certainly he of the mitre
did labour under a disadvantage ; for though a Bishop
he proved himself no gentleman. But the story
throws a flood of light on the uncharitable spirit of
the time, and goes far to explain the persecutions.
As " testimonies," it may be asked, were these of
The Hat and Plain Language worth all the ill-feeling
on the one hand, and all the suffering on the other
that their bearing occasioned, or could not the energy
and endurance devoted to them have been better
applied ? The modern Friend has answered the
former of these questions unmistakably in the negative ;
and if his motives in so doing have not been of the
loftiest, the result, at least, is not to be deplored.
Yet, like so much else, these Quaker peculiarities
have had their advantages as well as their disadvant
ages. Even the numerical dating has been recognized

38 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
as a commercial convenience. The Hat came to be
regarded as an inoffensive hobby, as did the Thee
and Thou, but at the same time as hall-marks of
excellence of life, of uprightness, of strict integrity,
of the reliability of their word, of unobtrusive, but
genuine, benevolence. A higher standard was set up
than that assumed by other sectarians ; but they
strove, as a rule successfully, to live up to it ; and
were so far ennobled thereby. To-day, it takes the
eye of an expert to detect a Quaker from his fellow
men, and when noted, he may not be actually a
member of the Society, but only of Quaker upbringing.
For once a Quaker, something of the Quaker is apt
to cling to a man through life.
As one sees the quaint old houses of the past
slowly disappearing before the exigencies of modern
improvements, and is reluctantly compelled to admit,
in many cases, the greater convenience of the sup
planting structure, still, to many it is impossible to
avoid a pang of regret at the necessity for the change.
For these old houses must be full of memories, to
others if not to us — must have witnessed so many
varied phases of human life — must be so saturated
with romance. And some such feefing is aroused at
the passing away of the old out-worn symbols of
Quakerism with this last generation. Perhaps there
rises before the mind's eye a picture of a Quaker face
under a Quaker bonnet, or within the neat "quilled"
Quaker cap, a face, so sweet, so tender, so womanly,

INTRODUCTION, 39
so lovable, with which the endearing word mother is
associated. Or the fancy pictures winning maidenhood
— demure but healthful ; her looks a blended bouquet in
which the purity of the lily is warmed by the blushing
rose. And then imagination shows these and other
kindred figures of Men Friends and Women Friends
as they pass on to their Meeting-house on First-day
morning ; and one hears a rustle of silks, chiefly light
in colour, and of soft, dove-like tints, but lacking
nothing in quality ; and one sees kerchiefs and shawls
as Quakerly in hue, and as excellent in material ; and
is conscious of a pervading fragrance of lavender ;
and listens to the subdued but cheerful sounds of
silvery voices, mingled with the deeper, fuller, but
always kindly, masculine tones. One sees the well-
gloved feminine hands enveloped in an orthodox tint
of kid ("quite a Friends' colour thou knows") —
hands that when owned by a relative who with
soft touch perchance oft soothed an aching brow,
or upheld faltering feet in early childhood, or had
been the bearer of many a welcome gift to the
appreciative school-boy, would be well-laden with
memories, making recall delightful. And in the
pictures, too, one sees genial, hearty men with the
broad-brimmed hats, the low, buckled shoes, the drab
or dark brown, straight-cut coat, and the white
cravat, share with the gentle Quaker sisterhood in
depicting a past, for the departure of which from
amongst us it is hard to withhold a sigh.

40 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
The Quaker "testimony" with regard to The Hat
was due, as we have seen, to its use as a head
covering alone, not to any peculiarity in the matter
of clothing. For as a hat it was originally not
peculiar. It was the hat of the period. What the
Friends came afterwards to call " The Plain Dress "
was not one assumed by them as a sort of uniform,
but a condition of attire that after the lapse of years
came about by their changing the mode so little.
Such changes as were made were rather in the
direction of greater severity of style. Ruffles, where
worn, were abandoned, as in time were wigs. No
wasteful length of cloth or needless folds were
indulged in ; and ornaments of all kinds discarded.
Indeed to such an extent did one worthy Friend
carry this, that, his mind being " greatly exercised "
by the wearing of "two unnecessary buttons on his
coat behind," he had them removed, and forbore to
wear them afterwards. Friends were, however, only
"advised" to dress with this exceeding "plainness";
and no sumptuary laws were at any time instituted.
They might be "visited" by their Friends, and
" remonstrated " with ; but there the " discipline "
ended. But if the Friend thus pared down the super
fluities in style of dress, he, and still more she, did
not impoverish the quality. He did not closely
follow the advice contained in these lines of Shakes
peare —

INTRODUCTION. 4I
" Be not the first by whom the new is tried,
Nor yet the last to lay the old aside,"
but in what follows he kept more nearly to them —
" Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not expressed in fancy — rich not gaudy."
But this was scarcely extravagance ; for as the fashion
changed with them so little it was, in the main,
economy, on the strength of the old adage, "The
best is cheapest." This however could hardly apply
to the costly and easily spoiled " Coal-scuttle "
bonnets, that, according to the style in which they
were made, were often either grotesque or coquettish.
Half a century ago they were still abundantly in
evidence, but where found in any Woman Friend's
possession now, they must be cherished as a rarity
with other quaint relics of that by-gone time.
Although John Roberts, like other early adherents,
Avas strong on the peculiarities, about mere dogma he
cared as little as George Fox, or William Penn, or
other prominent Friends. That they were constantly
drawn into controversy was because of the combatant
spirit of the time — because as a fresh sect they were
of necessity aggressive. From a practical point of
view their working creed consisted in a belief in God,
as a living, present reality, who loved them as His
children, and whom they loved as their Father ; and
in a tender concern for the spiritual and temporal
welfare of their fellow creatures. There was yet a
third duty that in their minds lay weightily upon them,
a duty that linked securely the other two, and made

42 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
them more real to their professors — the duty of Con
sistency. It was a duty that removed the others from
the abstract into the concrete, and made them not
merely something to be befieved but that involved
very much to be done. Even in these changing times,
to the Friends of the good old school it is an ever
present force. They cannot, for instance, be mem
bers of the Peace Society (and virtually every Quaker
is that), and be the holder of shares in a military
company, or one for the manufacture of arms. They
cannot be teetotallers (as most Quakers are), and yet
take shares in a brewery or distillery. Admittedly, at
times, it is a difficult virtue to carry out — to be con
sistently consistent — still their honest endeavour to do
this has been a splendid feature of the past of the
Society of Friends, and has done much to suffuse
their history with indelible glory — a glory that may
shine all the brighter in the far future than even in
the luminous present.
In the past it was rather that the Friends realized
more forcibly than most this Consistency as a virtue,
that it was less practised by other " professors." Now,
when Quakerism has leavened the whole sectarian lump
with its advanced religious thought, everyone con
cedes it to be a duty that should at least be
attempted to be carried out. The great thing has
been that from their earliest times as a Society the
Quakers have carried it out at any cost. Nor is its
exercise a thing of the past. Great Quaker grain

INTRODUCTION. 43,
merchants, who were temperance men, have refused
to deal in malting barley or to sell grain for kindred
purposes. Quaker brewers, on becoming teetotallers,
have abandoned the trade, as Quaker farmers have
given up making cyder of their apples or of selling
them for the purpose. Not many months ago a well-
known and widely-appreciated Quaker philanthropist,
who is president of a temperance society, sitting next
to one of the large brewers at a banquet, so charmed
the latter by his geniafity that he said, when by
chance he found out what his neighbour's business
was, "We ought to do some trade with you," and
somewhat to the Friend's surprise came a large order,
not many days after, involving a considerable sum of
money that, under other circumstances, would have
been very acceptable. But, without a moment's
hesitation, back went the order, and the reason for
its non-acceptance explained, but so courteously that
it only accentuated in the brewer's mind, as he
expressed in his reply, the esteem that he akeady
felt for the Quaker's worth of character. In the clays
of the Crimean War, in the time when the early
frost fell so severely on the poor fellows engaged in
it, the idea was suggested that sheep-skin coats like
those worn by the Russians should be supplied to
our British troops. One of the leading manufacturers
of sheep-skin rugs, who had consequently a large
supply of suitable fleeces, was applied to by the
Government, and for a brief interval he found

44 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
himself with two principles to be upheld warring
within him. To supply these coats was indirectly
to help to the slaughter of his fellow men, a
proceeding utterly abhorrent to him. Not to supply
them might be to kill many other fellow-creatures
with the cold. The certain saving of life by supplying
the fleeces seemed the lesser of the two evils, and
many a poor fellow unconsciously blessed the Quaker
for at least mitigating to him the horrors of that
more than ordinarily needless war. Another widely
known Friend not merely refuses all orders involving
consumption of alcoholic productions, but also of tobacco,
to the use of which he conscientiously objects. The
days of American slavery gave ample exercise to the
Friends for this virtue of Consistency. Slave-grown
cotton they would not knowingly wear, or deal in ;
and would take great pains to avoid. Carolina rice
they would not eat, and a Quaker grocer has been
known to suffer all the loss and inconvenience arising
from his being out of stock of such a common
article as rice, because there was at the time no
Patna or other free-grown kind on the market ;
while another was occasionallj' unable to supply
syrup for a similar reason. At times the " testimony "
took another form. The Friends objected to regarding
Good Friday and Christmas Day as holy days ;
considering all days as equally holy — declining, too, to
call Sunday " the Lord's Day," because, as they said,
" All days are the Lord's " — and forgetting that the

INTRODUCTION. 45
phrase had been originated by the early Christians
to distinguish the Sunday from the Jewish Sabbath.
Before the introduction of the Bank Holidays placed
these days on another footing, most Quakers who
had retail shops kept them open — giving, however,
all the assistants and apprentices holiday — as the
" duty of bearing testimony " rested, they felt, solely
with themselves. In this matter they only followed
the example of the Puritans, who suffered finings and
imprisonments in consequence.
If any are tempted to laugh at these things, it is
hardly a lack of charity to suspect them of being
either shallow or young. If young there is hope that,
possibly, " in the good time coming," when larger,
loftier, and moi"e far-reaching views of religious,
social, and pohtical truths prevail, they may find
themselves with the power to realize the moral force
of these worthy Quakers, who were able to get to
the heart of things, and had the courage to act upon
that knowledge.
The early form that this endeavour after Con
sistency took, as shown in the Memoir, was very
much that of objecting (and being fined and plun
dered for objecting) to the maintenance of what the
Friends termed " a hirejing ministry"; or, in other
words, to support pecuniarily a dominant refigious
belief that, in much, they regarded as unscriptural
and unsound. In sacerdotafism they utterly dis-
beheved. Then they dechned to admit that, in

.46 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
following their conscientious convictions, they were
doing anything wrong ; and were unwilling to pur
chase their freedom, when a choice was offered, as
they regarded that as a tacit admission of culpability.
Nor would they, as a bargain, let anyone pay for
them. Says worthy John to Lady Dunch — "That
would be Underhand dealing ; and I should much
rather pay him Directly my Self, than be such a Hypo
crite.'' In modern times we have not, possibly, heard
the last of seizing and distraining for Tithes, as, a
generation ago, it was a regular thing to do for Church-
rates, from the Quakers. We have heard, too, in recent
wars, of suffering and persecution where Quakers, in
other countries, have been unwilling to violate their
principles by serving as soldiers when called upon to do
so. In this doctrine of non-resistance Count Tolstoi and
the Quakers are in complete harmony — or, as the latter
would say, " in unity." As has been observed before,
Consistency becomes a difficult virtue to practise when
two principles clash, as they sometimes do. And,
although we may welcome and applaud the humanity
that prompted the conduct of " Phineas Fletcher" in
Uncle Tom's Cabin with his " Friend, thee isn't
wanted here ! " — a Quaker whose actual prototype was
Isaac T. Hopper, of " Underground Railway" celebrity
— yet it is impossible not to regret that the higher
virtue could not be achieved without forcing the
lower one to the wall.
In this matter of Consistency, as in others

INTRODUCTION.

47

presently to be referred to, the Quakers from the
very beginning showed their puissance as the great
moral factor, that, as a body, they were. The forces
of upheaval and disintegration that came into play
after the Reformation, allowed, on their subsidence,
the attractive and cohesive principles full play ; and
very rapidly a compact mass of earnest, energetic,
practical men and women came together, with George
Fox as their nucleus, content to be good and to do
good. As the fires of persecution, that were kindled
at the commencement and flamed for years, in process
of time burned down, the Friends were left more at
liberty to devote their willing energies to the good of
humanity at large ; and the enthusiasm that had been
so vigorously employed in controversy was enabled
to be spent on more congenial work — the crowning
charm of which was that it was done modestly
and unostentatiously — not for personal reward, but for
the good's sake. Quaker benevolence (the one word
being almost a synonym for the other) was not less
present at the Society's inception than since ; but its
exercise, very properly, began at home. In the days
of persecution and upward struggle into effective
form, its first efforts were devoted to helping its own
members — to carrying out their idea in naming them
selves " The Society of Friends." How fully and with
what utter unselfishness they did this is pathetically
shown in an incident of a cruelly-used member. He
was sentenced, among other punishments of terrible

48 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
severity, to be whipped at the cart's tail, to be stood
for some hours in the pillory, and while there to be
branded with a hot iron on the forehead and then
with another to have his tongue bored through — the
iron to be held for a brief time in the wound. And
this sentence was executed pitilessly. His hands were
secured. No water was allowed him for his relief ; but
a Friend — his friend in very truth, regardless of the
onlookers, placed himself beside him and moistened
the victim's poor parched tongue with his own 1 — a
simple act ; but involving how much self-abnegation !
There was, however, as Whittier has shown us,
something to be said for the persecutors. If their
deeds were evil their intentions were not always bad.
But they were not partial to the Quakers as a sect,
and so punishment became at times to them an
agreeable " duty." The Quakers' theories and practice
of life and duty were radically opposed to those of
most other religionists in many respects ; nor were
they always consistent, in spirit, with themselves.
Though non-combatants, for instance, they were not
distinguished, at times, by meekness nor by tenderness
of speech where wrong was to be denounced. It is
not, therefore, to be wondered at that they aroused
antagonism. Even writing of John Roberts, Whittier
says : — " He manifested no reverence for kings and
bishops, for he felt none. For the Presbyterians he
had no good wifi, for they had brought in the king
and denied the liberty of prophesying. John Milton

INTRODUCTION. ^n
has expressed the feefings of the Independents and
Anabaptists towards the Presbyterians in the famous
Hne, 'New Presbyter is but Old Priest writ large!'
Roberts was by no means a gloomy fanatic ; he
had a good deal of shrewd humour, loved a quiet
joke, and every gambling priest and swearing magistrate
stood in fear of his sharp wits."
It is worth while enlarging a little on this feature
of Wit, which, as compared with other Quaker
memoirs, makes this of John Roberts unique. The
sense of humour in the worthy Friend was very
keen, but always spontaneous, never forced. It was
one so akin to good-humour that the two seem
hardly recognizable apart. As one reads his son's
record of him one is perpetually laughing with him,
with a laughter that is good for mind and body. It
is a laughter that while it makes you feel thoroughly
and familiarly at home with him, yet enhances your
respect, and your self-respect, for you feel conscious
of something very good pervading it all. It is not
the " crackling of thorns under a pot,'' but rather the
Heavenward-leaping flame dissolving in fragrant odours
some exhilarating herb. It is always a more or less
kindly wit. It never seriously wounds. It is used as
well as it is used wisely. It is so perfectly natural
that it seems an integral portion of the man's nature ;
so much so, that when his acquaintance has been
made it is difficult to realize him apart from it. It
is allied with his polemical achievements, with his
patience in suffering, even with his religion itself.

50 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Although, however, this characteristic of Wit has
a larger literary existence in the Memoir of John
Roberts than in any other Quaker production of a
similar class, it was clearly not an exclusive possession.
His son Daniel inherited it ; and the piquancy of the
Memoir is, in part, no doubt, due to his keen appre
ciation of it in his father, as well as to his own
abifity to effectively reproduce it in writing. But
humour has always been a Quaker possession. The
jest-books of the last two centuries and more have
been full of good things said by the wearers of the
broad brims ; and doubtless many a pleasant quip has
parted soft lips under the Quaker cap. Each period
has its characteristic humour, and each nation. The
French and Spanish, like the old Greek humour, is
largely touched with the sensuous and the cruel.
Too often nothing is represented as so ludicrous as
what entails suffering and disaster. Vice, not virtue,
is oftener its motive. Mediaeval humour, like that of
the dramatists of the Restoration, was generally coarse.
The disputative spirit of the Post- Reformation period
brought repartee — a smart verbal fencing — into fashion,
and it was a fashion that the Quakers did not
disdain to follow. And the style, like their garb,
clung to them ; and even to-day is recognized as a
characteristic of a Quaker's humour, as much as
grotesque blundering is of an Irishman's, or colossal
exaggerations of an American's. Shrewdness and point
are the specialities of Quaker wit ; but they exist

INTRODUCTION. 5 1
rather by repute and by tradition than from any serious
embodiment in hterature. Even Mrs. Placid and
her daughter Rachel, a well-known Quaker book a
century ago, was probably not written by a Quaker ;
and though decidedly diverting is only mildly so.
And now, turning our eyes from the past to the
immediate present, with the thoughts of that past
upon us, what is the aspect of Quakerism to-day ?
Outwardly, as has been said, it has almost disappeared.
But does the spirit remain ? Are the influences that
made it a living force at its inception still powerful ?
— or has the diffusion of this spirit among other
denominations strengthened it generally while weak
ening Quakerism specifically ? Judging superficially,
at the moment the decision might incline to
pessimism. Has the doctrine of " Peace on Earth,"
as carried out by Quaker principles of non-resistance,
made the world less combative to-day ?— or do we
not on all sides see the strengthening of armaments,
the augmentation of military preparations ? And
where amidst it all is any vigorous Quaker protest ?
And of " Good-will to Men " what does Quakerism
show conspicuously to-day? Where is the spirit that
made such heroes of the Abolitionists, of the early
Temperance Reformers, of such magnificent practical
Missionaries as wrought the settlement of Pennsyl
vania, and made the wild prairie a home of peace, of
freedom, of good-will, of Christianity-in-action, such
as the world never saw before, and has never seen

52 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
since ? Is the spirit of Slavery less rampant in our
midst to-day ? Is the enormous expenditure on
intoxicating fiquors showing signs of sensible decrease ?
Are the horrors of Vivisection diminishing ? Are
we more pure in heart, or has only another coat
of white been laid upon the sepulchre ? Is there
a penetrating missionary power that goes beyond the
evils of commercialism — when its lust for gold regards
neither humanity nor justice ? Even in the matter of
general philanthropy, are Friends, at this present day,
in proportion to their numbers, the foremost ? Are
they not more than ever content to rest on the
achievements of the past, and carry out its dictates
in a perfunctory manner that leaves them too often
a prey to the "religious" charlatan? And in matters
more nearly related to the Soul — matters affecting
the First commandment rather than the Second — what
is their condition ? Is there that inward exercise —
that sense of God within — that outpouring of the
Spirit that made them feel and communicate to others
the quakings that stirred their being ?
We know that these questions must be largely
answered in the negative, and so give colour to the
pessimistic feefing. But let us turn to the other side —
for a brighter side there is, though to fully realize
all that constitutes it means more than a casual
glance to him who makes the endeavour.
The cessation of persecution in the time of
James II very soon wrought a radical change in the

INTRODUCTION. 53
Friends. A crystalhzing process set in. Active
proselytizing was refinquished, and attention was
turned instead to material progress, and to the carry
ing out of those philanthropic promptings that their
growing wealth placed within their power. Not by
mere almsgiving, for that has never commended itself
to the shrewd, careful, practical sense of Quakerism,
but by personal work, supplemented and made
effective by pecuniaiy service. An outward aspect of
the crystallization was the formalism in dress that
arose from the adherence to the letter of plainness
rather than its spirit. It was, too, to be credited in
time with a sort of spiritual pride — an assumption of
being " a chosen people," that kept them in many
ways aloof from the great mass of humanity whom
they termed "the world." This has so rapidly melted
away in these days that it may well be questioned
whether something of what was good in it has not
been dissolved with what could very well be spared.
These are days of the acquisition of titles, chiefly
as indications of growing wealth and social influence.
And a title may be honourable, as that of a king,
when it bespeaks accompanying duties well per
formed. But George Fox, who founded a working
faith nearest to Christ's ideal ; William Penn, who
was a king in fact, though happily not in name ; and
many another noble Quaker who left the world much
better than he found it, were made the more glorious
by being title-less among those who only are dis
tinguished by being greatly good !

54 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
The aim of true spiritual reformers in all ages has
been less to found a religion than to diffuse the ideals
of essential righteousness among those they taught.
This was very true of George Fox. He was enslaved
to no creed ; he worshipped no book ; he recognized
no priest ; but his conceptions of Christ's teaching
took concrete form in the Principles, and in the
Discipline — while the Bible was his library, and his
teachers all who had any truth to communicate,
acquired in the mutual search for it. And it is this
spirit of George Fox and the early Friends that,
if fully revived, will, probably, once more enrich
the world by the work and thought of a people
"zealous of good works," who shall have more fully
leai'ned that the commands relating to things unseen
can be best fulfilled by the fervent discharge of the
duties relating to those that are seen — by letting faith
be shown by aU good deeds, emanating from a love
for man for man's sake, as being everyone the child
of Him " whose tender mercies are over all." Then,
no nervous dread of science — which, as far as accurate,
is but the tracing of God's handiwork — will be
the cause of cruelties and uncharitablenesses ; for,
thrusting aside the growths that have so long encum
bered the soil, the Friend of the future will not be
content until he can plant his foot on the plain,
substantial rock of Truth, and feel, as the Quaker of
old, that his soul is in direct communion with his
God.

INTRODUCTION. 55
Then, and then only, when the simple faith and
honest fife and earnest endeavour that characterized
the yeoman of Siddington, and others with him, are
abundantly in evidence — when his fear of no man,
nor even of his God in an unworthy sense — when
his wilhngness to suffer if need be rather than violate
his sense of right — when hatred of wrong, of oppres
sion, and injustice assume a fiving, active, resolute
endeavour — when, in a word, the spirit of the early
Quakerism is revived — then a Quakerism made greater
by the advance of widening thought, and the realiza
tion of the changing conditions of the time, will once
more become a world-wide factor, of world-reaching
potency. The two most powerful influences that are affect
ing Quakerism to-day are commercialism and science.
All honour to those who in the vast extension of
their trade have carried all that is good in Quakerism
into their businesses to-day, as did the early Quakers
into their daily life. There are names, for instance,
in a sense more literal than Shakespeare intended,
that are "famifiar in our mouths as household words" —
names which are practically synonymous for every
thing that is upright and honourable in commerce.
Indeed to be known as a member of the Society
of Friends is almost a trade reference in itself. But
this is not without its element of danger — a danger
chiefly because of its slow and imperceptible growth.
The old-time Quaker's course was clear. He had

56 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
either to do violence to his conscience by submitting
to what he believed to be wrong or he had to suffer.
He elected to suffer ; and he made it abundantly
clear, by tongue and pen, that he thought less of the
suffering than of the wrong. But these are more
perplexing times. Competition — that Janus with a
good face and a bad — brings her insidious influences
to bear ; so that not merely is it needed to have a
sincere desire to do right, but also a clear vision to
see the right to be done. Under these circumstances
it is more than ever necessary to go back, from time
to time, to first principles, and to drink at the
fountain of the lives and examples of those who dug
wells of the pure waters of Truth, and themselves
drank thereat.
The doctrine of the Inward Light has spared the
Friends much anxiety about the encroachments of
science on dogma. " God's in His heaven ! — All's right
with the world ! " they have said, practically, in the
words of Browning. The conviction of George Fox
and the early Friends that it was only needful to pay
attention to its guidance to be led aright became to
them what the compass is to the mariner. Science
is but the reveafing of God's handiwork. The Truth
must be right because it is the Truth ! What then
has the Friend to fear, no matter where it leads
him ? " If this be of men," said Gamahel, shrewdly
and wisely, "it wiU come to nought. If it be of God,"
beware " lest ye be found to fight against God."

INTRODUCTION. 57
The temporary decay of Quakerism for some years
arose, more than from any other cause, from the
hard and fast line that was drawn with regard to
marriage arrangements. When, as a sect, it ceased
to proselytize, then the regulation that condemned all
" marrying out " (of the Society) to " disownment "
should have been repealed. Had this action taken
place many years before it did, more than half the
lost members might have been saved from secession.
There has, for some years now, been a slight turn
of the tide. It is at present flowing in again, but
it is chiefly the result of the natural growth of
born members being greater than the defections,
rather than in an appreciable degree from proselytizing.
Present defections are largely the outcome of in
creasing wealth. They are, in a measure, a re-action
from the strictness and formality of the middle
era of Quakerism. On mixing with " the world "
it was often found that it was not so bad as
some supposed, on the one hand, and more alluring
than they had imagined, on the other. The
mutual effect has been, on the whole, beneficial. It
has been a process of give and take. In leaving the
Quakers the tendency has been to gravitate towards
the Church. Its present breadth of view and its more
aristocratic associations have been distinct influences.
But the spirit of Quakerism, as has been said, lingers
long in all who have been born within its influence.
The underlying principles are so sound that, without

58 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
distinct deterioration, it seems hardly possible wholly
to abandon them. While, as regards the other aspect,.
the Quaker has long been a born aristocrat in feeling.
He did not " come over with the Conqueror " — he
did more — he became a conqueror ! He laid down
distinct and cfistinctive lines of thought, and exhorted,
and taught, and dared, and endured, until the world
came to him, not he to it. Parliament altered its
laws to meet his i-efigious ideas ; it allowed him to
affirm instead of swear ; to be married according to
his own views — as he said, " in the direct presence
of God," and not before a priest. Indirectly it did
even more, through his well directed efforts, when it
all but abolished capital punishment, when it freed
the West Indian slaves, when it made Church-rates
optional, and when it, at times, has succeeded in
substituting arbitration for war. The consistent
Quaker is no bondsman of minister, of parson, or
of priest ; is intolerant of any attempt at enslavement
by the doctor; gives the lawyer the minimum of
employment ; declines to bow down to the Baal of
Fashion ; and only cares for politics so far as they
are compatible with justice, and moral and social
improvement. And if he would cherish that consistency, and hug
it closer to his heart, he cannot do better than
glance in thought, at times, on the quiet corner of the
orchard at Siddington, where John Roberts reposes,
"where neither the foot of priest, nor shadow of a

INTRODUCTION. 59
steeple-house, can rest upon his grave," and con,
again and again, the teaching of his humble but
noble fife. Even in these days of grace it has a
lesson still to teach us, as Whittier eloquently shows ;
and with his final words in his article upon honest
John let this conclude : —
" In closing our notice of this pleasant old narra
tive we may remark that the light it sheds upon the
antagonistic refigious parties of the time is calculated
to dissipate prejudices and correct misapprehensions,
common afike to Churchman and Dissenter. The
genial humour, sound sense, and sterling virtues of
the Quaker farmer should teach the one class that
poor James Naylor in his craziness and folly was not
a fair representative of his sect ; while the kind
nature, the hearty appreciation of goodness, and the
generosity and candour of Bishop Nicholson should
convince the other class that a prelate is not necess
arily, and by virtue of his mitre, a Laud or a
Bonner. The Dissenters of the seventeenth century may
well be forgiven for the asperity -of their language ;
men whose ears had been cropped because they
would not recognize Charles I as a blessed martyr,
and his scandalous son as the head of the Church,
could scarce be expected to make discriminations or
suggest palliating circumstances favourable to any
class of their adversaries. To use the homely but
apt simile of McFingal —
' The wills conformed by treatment horrid,
As hides, grow harder when they're curried.'

6o MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
" They were wronged, and they told the world of
it. Unlike Shakespeare's Cardinal, they did not die
without a sign. They branded by their fierce epithets
the foreheads of their persecutors more deeply than
the sheriff's hot iron did their own. If they lost
their ears, they enjoyed the satisfaction of making
those of their oppressors tingle. Knowing their perse
cutors to be in the wrong, they did not always
enquire whether they themselves had been entirely
in the right, and had done no unrequired work
of supererogation by way of ' testimony ' against
their neighbour's mode of worship. And so from
pillory and whipping-post, from prison and scaffold,
they sent forth their wail and execrations, their
miserere and anathema, and the sound thereof has
reached down to our day. May it never wholly die
away until, the world over, the forcing of conscience
is regarded as a crime against humanity, and a
usurpation of God's prerogative. But abhorring, as
we must, persecution under whatever pretext it is
employed, we are not, therefore, to conclude that all
persecutors are bad and unfeeling men. Many of
their severities upon which we now look back with
horror were, beyond a question, the result of intense
anxiety for the well-being of immortal souls en
dangered by the poison which, in their view, heresy
was casting into the waters of life. Coleridge, in one
of the moods of a mind that traversed, in imagination
the vast circle of human experience, reaches this
point in his Table Talk.

INTRODUCTION. 6 1
" ' It would require,' says he, ' stronger argument
than any I have seen to convince me that men in
authority have not a right, involved in an imperative
duty, to deter those under their control from teaching
or countenancing doctrines which they befieve to be
damnable, and even to punish with death those who
violate such prohibition.' It would not be very
difficult for us to imagine a tender-hearted Inquisitor
of this stamp, stifling his weak compassion for the
shrieking wretch under bodily torment by his strong
pity for souls in danger of perdition from the
sufferer's heresy. We all know with what satisfaction
the gentle-spirited Melancthon heard of the burning
of Servetus, and with what zeal he defended it. The
truth is, the notion that an intellectual recognition of
certain dogmas is the essential condition of salvation
lies at the bottom of all intolerance in religion. Under
this impression men are too apt to forget that the
great end of Christianity is love, and that charity is
its crowning virtue ; they overlook the beautiful
significance of the heretic Samaritan and the orthodox
Pharisee : and thus by suffering their speculative
opinions of the next world to make them uncharitable
and cruel in this, they are really the worse for them,
even admitting them to be true."

UHE rc

OLLOWING

Being a Cogy of a jM.anuid-ipt

^:

\

Ci'Q

From Endorsement of Original Manuscript.

SOME MEMOIRS
OF
JOHN ROBERTS.

T HAVE had it on my mind for some years past
to commit to writing some memorable passages,*
the chief of which were Transacted in my Time —
together with some short account of our Family.
My Grandfather's name was John Roberts alls
Hayward ; he lived at a village called Siddington
Petter [St. Peter] or Lower Siddington, within a
mile of Cirencester, in Glocester Shire. I have heard
that he Lived reputably on some Little Estate of
his own which he occupied.

* The word passages occurs in the writings of Friends, and others of an
earlier date, in the sense of experiences, incidents. George Fox refers, in his
will, to " all the passages, and travels, and sufferings of Friends " ; and Shalce-
speare uses the word in a somewhat similar way.
65

00 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
He marred [married] one Mary Solliss, sister to
Andrew Solfiss, Esq., who was in the Commission for
the Peace. The Civil Wars breaking out between King
Charles the ist and his parliament, he Suffer'd great
Spoifi, for I have heard that a CoUonall [Colonel]
with his men and horses lay at his house for a
Considerable time, and turn'd there Horses to the
hay and corn mows.
My Father and his next Neighbour's Son . went
into the Army under Oliver Crumwell, and con
tinued There untill they heard Cirencister was taken
by the King's party, and by that time they both
had a mind to return home and to see how it
fared with there Parents. And comeing by Ciren
cester Town's End, hopeing to pass Undiscovered
(altho They knew the King's foixes were in
possession of the town), it hapned that two Soldiers
from thence Saw them, and persued them. They,
seeing that, Quitted their Horses and took to there
Heels, but by Reason of their boots and Cloaks
they could not make much Speed. My Father was
the first they overtook ; and, notwithstanding he
beged for Quarter, none they would give him, but

ESCAPE FROM CAVALIERS. 67
holding up his Arms to save his head, they laid him on
[on him] with there Swords, cutting and slashing (as
the marks they gave him did testifie long after). At
length it pleased the Almighty to putt it in his
mind to fall down on his face, which he did, and
they Said one to Another — " Afight, and Cut his
Throat ! " but neither of them did it. But with
the points of there Swords they pricked him about
the Jaws and neck till they thought he was Dead.
They then persued his Neighbour and Overtook him
and killed him. My Father perceiveing they were
gon, it was said in his Heart — " Arise and fly for
thy life ! " — which call he obey'd, and when they Saw
him on his feet they persued him again ; but a
pretty Steep hill being near him he ran down it.
At the bottom of which was a River through which
he went with great Difficulty, his boots being full of
waiter and his wounds bleeding very much. And
when he was got on the other Side they, being on
horseback, did not persue him any farther than the
top of the Hill. But he knew not which way to
go ; being thus amonge his Enemies. In this
wounded and Dissconsolate Condition it came into

68 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
his mind to go to his Uncle Andrew Solfiss his
house, which was about half-a-mile thither. He
went ; but when he came there he found his
Uncle's house to [too] Hot to hold Him Self. My
Father was then in a great Strait. Altho his
Father Lived but a mile Distant, he might Expect
no more favour There than where he was. So he
concluded to Stay at his Uncle's, and Sent one of
his Uncle's Servants to Cirencester to call to him an
acquaintance of his, a Widdow Woman, at whose
house the Chief Officers Lay. She readly came, and
freely offered to Serve him in what She could.
He told her that Since the Officers Lay at her
house, he hoped it might be in her power to
Serve him by Requesting of them to give the word
of Command that none of their Soldiers Should
offer any abuse to him. Which was done ; And
in good-will to the Widdow, there Landlady, they
sent to him the ablest Surgeon they had. He was
a surley man in his nature, tho very Skilfull,
and told my father if he had Mett him in the
fields he would have kil'd him himself ; "But now,"
Said he, " I will cure you " — which he did. And

DEATH OF JOHN ROBERTS THE FIRST. 69
when my father found himself able, he went to his
father's house and found him very ill in bed, and
after Greeting Each other with many Tears Inter
mixed with Joy and Sorrow, they told Each other
what they had met with Since they parted. And
to See Each other again was a Joy Unexpected.
.... After Sometime my father perceived him to
Shake very much, Insomuch that the bed Shook on
which he Lay; my father ask'd him, " How is it with
you ? " He Replied — " I am well and feel no pain,
but it is the mighty power of God that Shakes me";
and after Lying Still Sometime, He broke forth into
Sweet Mellody of Spirit, and Said, " In the Lord only
have I Righteousness and Strength. In God have
I Salvation ! " And I do not remember to have
heard that he said anything more before his
departure. The wars not being Ended, and my father
finding he could not be Safe at home, he went
away again and continued till the war ware near
Ended, and then Return'd home to his house and
Sorrowful Family at Siddington. Where, after he

70 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
had been Some time, he found himself In
want of a Suteable Helpmeat, and calfing to
mind a young woman (whom he had seen in his
Travefis) of a good Family, and one whome he
thought he could Love before any other, He paid
her a Vissett. She then Lived with her Uncle,
Richard Cambridge, at Pudhill, not far from
Nailsworth, in Glocester Shire. Her name was Lydia
Tindall, Daughter of Thomas Tindall, of Stinchcomb,
near Durslay, in the Same County. They ware
accounted a Religious Family, and went by the
name of the Puritans. He Afterwards gained not
only her goodwill, but also that of her Relations.
Her Kinsman Mathew Hale (who was afterwards
Lord Chief Justice of England) made her Marriage
Settlement, as apears by the Writings, and which
I have heard my Mother Relate. And when they
came together it pleased God to Give them Six
Children vidt : John, Joseph, Lydia, Thomas,
Nathaniel, Daniel. Joseph and Lydia Dyed young,
and Thomas was killd at the age of 14 years
by a kick from a Mare. The rest lived to be
men.

FIRST MEETING WITH THE QUAKERS. 71
It pleased the Lord that in the year 1655 two
Women Friends came out of the north to Ciren
cester, and Enquired if there were any people
there abouts, who were Seeking after the way of
the Lord, and they were Directed to my father as
the Likelyest person there abouts to give them
Entertainment. They came to his house and Desired
a Meeting, which he granted, and Invited Severall
of his Aquaintance to it ; where after Some time
of Silence they Spoake a few words which had a
good Effect. My Father after Meeting would have
Engaged them In Discourse, but they had Little to
Say, only Recomended Him to one Richard Farns-
worth who was then a prisoner in Banbury Jayl,
whither they ware going. Upon their recomendation
of this Farnsworth, my Father had the Curiosity
to See him and talk with him ; and going to the
prison there he mett the two women who had
been at his House, the turnkey Denying them
Entrance, telhng them he had orders not to Let in
any of those Giddy-headed people ; but if they
went in, he said he would keep them there. My
Father ask't him if one Richard Farnsworth was

72 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
not in there prison. He Reply'd, "Yes, Sir."— " I
desire to See him," Said my father, "and that
these two Women may go in with me." The
Turnkey answered they Should. Accordingly he had
them thro Several Rooms into a Dungeon, where
was Richd. Farnsworth at a grate preaching to the
people in the Street. After Some time, perceiveing
Some persons were come in, he desisted, and after
a Space of Silence turning to them he Spoke Some
what after this maner, vidt. That Zacheas, being a
man of Low Stature and haveing a mind to See
Christ, ran before and climbed up into a Sycamore
tree. Our Saviour knowing his good Desires called
to him, " Zachaes, come Down, This Day Salvation
is come to thy House." Making this Applycation
Thereof — "Like Some," Said he, "in our Day who
are Cfimbing up into the tree of Knowledge
thinking to find Christ there. But the Word now
is, ' Zacheus, come down ! come down ! ' for that
which is to be known of God is manifest within."
Which words being Spoken with Authority took
such hold on my father, that he could never get
from them. When he came home he told my Mother

" TESTIMONY " IN CIRENCESTER CHURCH. 73
he had seen this Farnsworth, who had Spoke to his
Condition as if he had known him from his youth.
And after that time he patiently bore the Cross.
And Some time after, when it had pleased God
to Communicate to him the Knowledge of his blessed
Truth, a necessity was Laid on Him to go on a
first-day, in the Morning, to the pubfic Worship-
house in Cirencester, in the time of Worship, not
knowing what might be required of him when he
came there. He went ; and Standing there with
his hat on, the priest was Silent some time. He
was askt why he did not go on. He Said he
could not while that man stood there with his hat
on. With that Some, took him by the arms
and Led him out into the Street, and Stood to
keep him out. He, waiting a Little in Stifiness,
found him Self clear, and went away. And crossing
the Markett-place in his way home, his Shoe being
unty'd he Stooped down to tye it, and while he
was doing it there came a man behind him with
a Stone in his hand and Strook [struck] him a
hard blow on the Back— saying, " There ! take that

74 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
for Jesus Christ Sake!" He Reply'd, "So I do,"
not Looking back to See who it was, but went
his way. Some few days after came a man to him
to ask him forgiveness, and told him he was the
Unhappy man who gave him that blow on his
back, and he Could have no rest Since he had
done it ; which Submission of the Man, I have
heard my Father Say, was a great Confirmation to
him that he was in the Right way.
Not long after this, there were three Friends
More found a concern on their Minds to go to
the Same Worship house on the Like occasion.
There names were Robert Sylvester, Phillip Gray,
and Tho. Onyon. When they came there. Stand
ing with there hats on, altho they Said nothing,
the priest was Silent. And being Ask't if he was
not wefi, he answered, he could not go forward
while those Dumb Dogs Stood there. Then the
people Draged them forth ; and, the next oppor
tunity he had, the preist Acquainted the Justice
that they came and interupted him in time of
Divine Service, by means of which they ware

JOHN STEPHENS OF LYPEATT. 75
bound over to the Quarter Sessions. And when the
Sessions came they desired my father to Accompany
them thither, which he cfid. When they were
cafied, and the preist had accused them to the
Bench, By telfing the Justices that they came and
Disturbed him in time of Divine Service, the Justices,
in a Rage, without asking any Questions, Ordered
their Mittimis to be made. My Father Seeing and
hearing their Injust and Illegal proceedings, the
Zeal of the Lord kindled in him, and, steping
forward, call'd to those on the Bench, saying,
" Are not those who Sit on the Bench Sworn to
do Justice ? Is there not a man amonge you who
will do the thing that is Just and Right ? "
One John Stephens, of Lypeatt, being Chairman,
calls to him, and Said, " Who are you, Sarrah ?
What is your name ? " Upon which my Father
told him his name. " I am glad," said the Chair
man, " I have you here, I have heard of you. You
deserve a Stone-Dublett," (meaning a Jayl). "There
is many an honester man than you hang'd." — " It may
be so," said ray Father, " But what dost thou
think becoms of those who Hang Honest Men ? "

76 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
" I wifi," answered he, " send you to prison ; and
if any Insurection, or tumult, be in the Land, I will
come and cutt your throat, first, with my own
Sword ; for I fear to Sleep in my bed at night
Lest Such phanaticks, as you Should come and cut
my Throat." And in the heat of his passion (for
getting that as he was a peace officer he Should
Rather keep the King's peace, than be the first
who should break it), He took up a ball of Wax,
which Lay near him, and violantly threw it at my
Father ; but he, haveing timely warning, avoided
the blow by Steping aside. There mittimis
being made they ware had to prison, and he with
them, My Father telfing the Court the God Whom
he Served would plead his Innocent cause with
them. But the Same Evening my Uncle Solliss (who
was one of the Justices then on the Bench) came
to the prison and call'd for my Father and said to
him — " Coussin, are you wifiing to Except of your
Liberty to go home to your wife and famiely ? "
" On what terms, Uncle ? " said he. " On Such
Terms," Said the Justice, " that the Jayler open

RELEASE BY JUSTICE SOLLISS. 77
the Door and let you out." — " What ! without en
tering into any Recognizances ? " said ray Father.
" Yes," Said the Justice. " Then," said my Father,
" I except of ray Liberty. But I admire, Uncle, how
thou, and Severall others of you who Satt on the
Bench, could Sitt as with your thumbs in your
Mouths when you Should Speak a word in behalf
of the Innocent." The Justice reply'd — " You must
Learn to Live under a Law, Cousin, and if you
will accept of your Liberty till Sessions you may
have it. If not, Stay where you are." So they
parted for that time, and on the morrow ray Father
went home, haveing also the Jayler's Leave.
And in the night, on his bed, a great concern
came on hira, insomuch that the bed Shook on
which he Lay. Which my mother perceiving (haveing
a child at her breast), askt him the Reason of his
Concern. "The Lord," said he, "requires hard
things of me, and if it would please hira I would
rather Lay clown ray Life than obey him in what
he requires at ray hands." To which my mother
answered — " If thou art fully perswaded that the
Lord requires it of thee, I would not have thee

yS MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Disobey him, for he will require nothing of us but
what he wifi enable us to go through ; therefore
we have good cause to trust in hira." Then he
said, " I must go to this John Stephens, who is my
great Enemy, and Sent me to prison but to'ther
day, where he said he would Secure me. And I
¦can expect no more favour from my Uncle Solliss,
because when he in kindness gave me Leave to
come home, I now go and run my Self again
into his mouth. But I must goe, whatever I suffer."
He arose and prepar'd for his Journey, but did
not dare to Eat or Drink. And when he mounted
his horse the Comraand of the Lord was to him,
" Remember Lett's Wife : do not Look back." So
•on he went very ChearfuUy, tiU he had rode 8 or
9 miles, and was come in Sight of the Justice's
house. And then he Let in the Reasoner, who
Reason'd him out of afi, and presented to his
mind what his Uncle Solliss and his Neighbours
would Say that he had no Regard to his Wife and
Children, thus to put himself presently into the
hands of his Greatest Enemy, he being a Councelor
at Law as well as a Justice of Peace. A cloud

SPIRITUAL CONFLICTS. 79
came over his mind, insomuch that he Afighted
from his Horse and Sat him down on the ground
and Spread his Cause before the Lord. And after
some time of waiting in Silence, the Lord appeared
again, and the Cloud was Soon gone, and the
word of the Lord was to him, "Go, and I will
go with thee, and I will give thee a new Sharp
Threshing Instrument, and thou shall Thresh the
Mountain." Then he was Exceedingly overcome
with the Love and Goodness of God ; and I have
heard hira Say he was fiU'd Like a Vessall that
wanted Vent, and Said in his heart, "Thy Presance
is Enough," and went on fully Sattisfy'd to the
house. It being pretty early in the morning and
Seing the Stable Door open, he went to the groome
and desired him to put up his horse. While that
was doing came the Justice's Son and the Clerk
to give the groome orders to get Ready the horses
to go out. The Clerk Spake roughly to my father
Saying —
Clerk. " I thought you had been in Glocester
Castle?" John Roberts. " So I was."

8o MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Clerk. " And how carae you out again ? "
J.R. " When thou hast authority to demand it
I can give thee an account, but my Business is to
thy Master, if I may Speake with him."
Clerk. " You may If you wifi promise to be
Civill." J.R. " If thou seeist me Uncivifi, I desire thee
to tell me of it."
So haveing given orders to the Groome, they
went in, and ray Father fofiowed Them. They
seeing that, bid him take a turn in the hall, and
they would acquaint the Justice of his being
there. He was Soon Called in, and as Soon as
my father Saw hira he beleived the Lord had
been at work upon him, For where as before he
behaved himself very feirce, like a Lyon, he was
now become like a Larab, and meeting him with
a pleasant Countenance took ray father by the
hand. Saying, "Friend Hayward, how do you do?"
He answered, " Pretty well. And," said he, " I am
corae in the fear and Dread of the God of
Heaven to warn thee to repent of thy wickedness
with Speed, Least he cutt the thread of thy Life

FAITHFULNESS AND ITS RESULTS. 8l
and Send thee to the pitt that is bottonless. I
ara come to warn thee in Great Love, whether
thou wilt hear or for bare, that I may be clear of
thy Blood in the day of account, and preach the
Everlasting Gospell to thee."
He Reply'd, " You are a Welcome Messenger
to me. — That is what I have Long desired to hear."
" The Everlasting Gospell," said my Father, " is
the same that God Sent his Servant John to declare,
when he Saw an Angell fly through the midst of
Heaven, Saying with a Loud Voyce, ' Fear God and
give Glory to him ; for the hour of his Judgment
is come : and worship him who made heaven and
Earth, the Sea, and fountains of Walter.' " He
caused ray father to Sitt down by him on the
Couch, and said — " I believe your mission is of
God, and I Receive it as Such. I ara Sorrey I
have done you wrong, but I will never wrong you
more. I would pray you to forgive me, and to
pray God to forgive me." And after much more
Discource, which I do not at presant recolect, he
askt ray Father what he would Eat or Drink, " For
the best in ray House," said he, " is at your

83 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Service." My Father accepted kindly of his Love,
but did not Eat or Drink with him at that time.
So they parted in ranch Love.
The Sarae clay Willm. Dewsberry had Appointed
a meeting at Upton, near Tedbury, and ray Mother
being a woraan of a Sympathizeing Spii"itt was much
concerned on account of her Husband's Exercise,
and took her Eldest Son, John, to ride before her
to the Meeting. But by Reason of her Concern
for her husband Shee could have Little Benefitt of
the Meeting. And, after it was ended, Wm. Dews-
bery walked to and fro in a Long Entry (many
Friends Standing on Each Side), and Groaned in
Spiritt. And, after Some time, he came and Laid
his hand on ray Mother's Hand, altho a Strainger
to him, and said, " Woman, thy Sorrow is Great, I
Sorrow with thee." And then continued to walk
too and fro as before. And, Sometime after, he
carae to her again, and said, " Now the tirae is
come that those who marry must be as tho they
marryed not— those that have Husbands as tho they
had none, for the Lord now calls for aU to be
offer'd up." By which Shee Saw that God had

WILLIAM DEWSBERRY'S MESSAGE. 83
given him a sence of her great Burden, for Shee
had not Discovered her Exercise to any. Upon
which She became Easy in her mind and went
horae Rejoyceing in the Lord. And when She carae
home, She found her Husband Return'd from
Lypatt, where his message was Received in so much
Love, far beyond what he could Expect. Where
upon they ware much Broken into Tears, in a
Sence of the Lord's so Eminently making way for
and helping them that day.
At the next Sessions, my Father and the 3
Friends before mentioned appeared in Court, where
Justice Stephens, Seeing them at a distance, called
to my father, and said, " John, I accept of your
appearance and Disscharge you, and the Court diss-
charges you, So you may go about your business."
He, thinking his work not quite done, did not
hasten out of Court ; Upon which the Clerk of
the Sessions demanded his fees. " What dost
mean ? Money ? " said my father. " Yes — what do
you think I mean?" said the Clerk. "I don't
know," said my father, " that I owe any man here
anything but Love, and must I now purchase my

84 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Liberty with ray raoney ? I do not accept of it
on Such Terms." Upon which the Clerk Said to
the Chairman—" An't please your Worship, John
will not pay the fees of the Court." The Chairman,
unwilling to hear him, kept Discoursing with Some
others, till, at last, the Clerk repeating it so often,
he reply'd — "John, you are discharged paying the
fees of the Court." My father said as before, that
he did not accept of his Liberty on Such Terms.
Upon which he ordered the Jayler to take him and
his three Friends to Jayl ; but afterwards, the
sarae Evening, he discharged them, and allways after
wards carryed it very Kind to ray Father.
And next, I think it not improper to mention
what hapned when ray Father was a prisoner
in Cirencester, confind for tiths by George Bull,
Vicar of Uper Siddington. There was at that
time and place one Eliz : Hewfins, of Amny,
near Cirencester, Widdow, a prisoner for Tyths,
who was not only a good Christian, but was also
accounted a good Midwife, and much Esteera'd by
the Gentry thereabouts for her Skih and Success.

o
Q

LADY DUNCH OF DOWN AMNY. 87
She, being confin'd from her women, the Lady
Dunch, of Down Amny, thought she might do an
act of Charrity in Setting her at Liberty by paying
the Debt ; which She did. She came in her Coach
to Cii-encester, and Sent her waiting man, one
Alexander Cornwell, to the prison to bring the said
E. Hewlins to her. And comeing to the prison he
met with my father, and enquired of him for
" Mrs. Hewlins." So they went to her, and he
Delivered the Message, and while She was geting
Ready to go, my Father and the man Entered into
Some discource. He askt my Father his name and
where he Lived ; which he told. "What!" said he,
"are you that John Hayward, of Siddington, who
keeps great Conventicles at your house ? " He
answer'd, "The Church of Christ do often meet at
my house — I suppose I am the man thou meanest."
" I have often," said Cornwall, " heard my Lady
Speak of you, and I am Sure she would willingly
be acquainted with you." When he came back
to his Lady he told her he had mett with a man in
prison and discoursed him — " Such a raan I believe that
if your Ladyship were acquainted with hira you

88 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
would not Let him Lye in prison for Conscience' Sake."
She askt his name. He answered, "J. Hayward.
I have heard your Ladyship Speak of him." — " Is
it J. H., of Siddington," Said she, "who keeps
meetings at his house ? " — " It is the same man,"
said Cornwall ; " and he Lies in prison on the same
account Mrs. Hewlins does." — " Go," said she, " and
Bring him to me, for I want to See him." He
readyly went, and when he carae back to the
prison He told my Father his Lady wanted to
Speake with hira. To which my Father Answered,
" If any person would Speak with me, They must
corae where I am ; for,'' said he, " I am a
prisoner." — "O," said Cornwall, "I will go and get leave
of the Jayler, for you to go." Which he did,
and they went together. And when they came
There She put on a majistick air to see how the
Quaker would greet her. He went up to her and
bluntly said — " Woraan ! wouldst thou speak with
rae?" — "What is your name?" said she. He
answered, " My name is John Roberts ; but I am
commonly known in the place where I Live by the
name of John Hayward." — " Where do you live ? "

REASONS FOR IMPRISONMENT. 89
said she. " At a village called Siddengton, about
a Mile From this Town," Replyd he.
Lady Dunch. "Are you that man of whome I
have heard who keeps Conventicles at your house?"
John Roberts. "The Church of Christ do often
meet at my house. I presume I am the man Thou
raeanest." Lady. " What do You Lye in prison for ? "
J.R. " Because, for Consience' Sake, I cannot
pay a hireling preist what he deraands of rae.
Therefore he, Like the false prophets of old, pre
pares war Against me, because I put not into his
mouth." Lady. " By what I have heard of you I took
you for a wise man, and if you cannot pay him
your Self you might Let soraeone pay him for you."
J.R. " That would be but Underhand deahng ;
and I should much rather pay him Directly my Self,
than be such a Hypocrite."
Lady. "Then Supose Some Neighbour or friend
should pay him for you, Unknown, to you, you
would not choose a prison when you might have
your Liberty ? "

90 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
J.R. " I ara well content where I am Untill it
shall please God to make way for my Enlargment."
Lady. " I have a mind to have Some of your
company and some Discourse with you, which
cannot well be while you are a prisoner. There
fore I Intend to Sett you at Liberty." Then calling
to her man She Said — " Cornwafi, go to Mr. Brierton
(I understand he is Mr. Bull's Lawyer), and give
my Service to him, and tell him I will Sattisfy
Mr. Bull and him on John Hayward's Account.
Then go and pay the Jayler his fees, and get a
Horse for my friend to go to Down Amny with me.''
J.R. " If thou art, as I take thee to be, a
Charritable Woraan, there are abroad in the World
many real objects of Charrity on whome to bestow
Thy Bounty ; but to feed Such Devourers as these
I do not account Charrity, but rather that fike
Pharaoh's lean kine they Eat up the fatt and the
Goodly and look not a whitt the Better."
Lady. " WeU, I would have you get Ready to
go with us."
J.R. " I don't know that thou art fike to have
me, when thou hast Bought and paid for rae ; for

VISIT TO DOWN AMXY. 9I
if I may have ray Liberty, I shall think it my
place to be at home with my wife and family."
Lady. " I have Some Skill in Phisiograony, and
you don't look like a man who can deny a Gentle
woman any Civil Request."
J.R. " If thou dost desire it, I intend to come
and see thee at Down Amny Some Other time."
Lady. " That will Suitt me much better than now,
for I must call and pay a visitt, at Mr. Pledwell's,
as I go home. But when will you come ? You must
Sett your day, and I will lay a Side all Business
to have your Company."
J.R. " If it please God to Give me Life, Health,
and Liberty, I intend to corae on 7th day next —
the day thou call'st Saterday."
Lady. "Is that as far as you Used to promise?"
J.R. "Yes."
And when the day carae, he went and found
her very Inquisitive after the things of God. And
before she parted with hira, she ingaged hira not
to be Long before he carae again. And, the week
after that, She sent her raan, Cornwall, to desire
him to apoint a day, when he would come again.

92 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Which he did, and went accordingly ; and She
Treated him with abundance of Respect and
Sobriety. But, the Third tirae, she Sent her Man,
Cornwall, to hira again, and bid him give her
Service to John Hayward, and Desire him to Sett
another day, when he would corae again, That
She might be at Home; "And," Said she to her
man — " When John has set his day, Then go to
Mr. Careless" (the then parson of Cirencester), "and
tell Him I desire him to come on that day and
take an ordinary dinner with me, but don't let
either of them know That the other Is Invited."
My Father went on the day Appointed, and
when he was got near the House, hearing a Horse
behind him, he look'd back and Saw parson
Careless comeing after him. Then he concluded in
his mind That the Lady had formed a project to
get them together, For the parson was one whorae
she very ranch adraired. When he carae up —
"Well overtaken, John," said he to ray Father.
" How far are you going this way ? " — " I befieve
we are both going to the same place," said my
Father. "What!" Said he, "are you going to the

PARSON CARELESS.

93

great House ?"—" Yes," said my Father. "Come
on then, John," said the Parson, and they both
Sett there Horses together, and went in together.
The Lady being iU on Bed, a Servant went up
and told her " Mr. Careless and John Haywood " were
come. "What!" said she, "did they come to
gether ? "— " Yes," said the Servant. " I admire at
that," said she, " but I would have you beckon
out John Hayward and bring him up the back
Stairs to me first." When he came up she tould
him she had been very bad with a fit of the Stone,.
"And," said She, "I have heard you have done good
in many Distempers."
J.R. " I confes I have, but that of the Stone
I ara a strainger too — but I once knew a raan
Who Lived at Ease and faired Dilliciously as thou
mayest do, and while he did so he was very much
afflicted with that Distemper. And it pleased God
to Vissitt him with the knowledge of his blessed
Truth, after which he Lived a more regular and
temperate Life, and was much raore free from it."
Lady. "Aye, I know what you aim at. You
want to have me a Quaker. And I confess, if I

94 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
could be Such a Quaker as you are, I'de be a
Quaker to morrow." Then She said, " I understand
Mr. Careless is below, and altho you are men of
differant perswasions, yet I account you both wise,
Godly raen, and Some Moderate Discource of the
things of God between you two I believe would
do me good."
J.R. " If he ask rae any Questions, as the Lord
Shall Enable rae I shall Endeavour to give hira an
Answer." She sent for the parson up ; and after telling
her he was sorry to see her Lady Ship so bad,
&ct., she tould him she made bold to Send for him
to come and take an ordinary Dinner with her,
" Altho," said she, " I am disapointed of the
pleasure of your Corapany by being so bad ; but
Jno. Hayward and you being persons of Different
perswasions (although I beleive both good Christians),
If you two would ask and answer Each other Some
questians Soberly, it would divert me that I should
not be so Sencible of the pain I Lye Under."
Parson Careless. "An't please your Ladyship, I
see nothing in that."

QUAKERS AND PAPISTS. 95
Lady. " Pray, Mr. Careless, Ask John Some
Questians." She desireing it so very much, He said, " It
will not Edifie your Ladyship, for I have dis-
courced John and divers others of his perswasion
Already, and I have read there books and all to
no purpose, for they sprang from the papists and
hold the Sarae Doctrines the papistes do. Let John
deny it if he can."
J.R. " I find thou art Setting us out in very
black Carricters, with design to frighten me ; but
therein thou wilt be mistaken. But I advise thee
to say no worse of us than thou canst make
out, and then make us as black as thou canst.
And if thou canst prove me like a papist in any
one thing, I, with the help of God, will prove
thee fike them in ten things ; and this woman that
Lyes abed ShaU be Judge betwixt us."
Parson. " The Quakers hold that Damnable Doc
trine and Daingerous Tenett of perfection in this Life,
and so do the Papists. If you go about to deny
it, John, I can prove you hold it."
J.R. " I doubt thou art now going about to

96 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
belye the Papists behind there backs as thou hast
heretofore done us behind our backs ; for by what
I have Understood of their principles they do not
believe a State of freedom from Sin and Exceptance
with God possable on this Side of the Grave, and,
therefore, they have iraagened to theraselves a
place of purgation after death. But whether they
do believe such a State attainable on this Side
of the grave or not, I do."
Parson. " An't please your Ladyship, John has
Confesed Enough out of his one [own] mouth. For
that is a damnable Doctrine and Dangerous Tennett."
J.R. " Then I would ask thee one question.
Dost thou one [own] a purgatory ? "
Parson. " No ! "
J.R. "Than the Papists are in this case wiser
than thee, in that they believe the Sayings of
Christ, who told the unbeleiveing Jews that if they
dyed in there Sins, whither He went they could
not come. But by thy discource thou and thy
followers must needs go headlong to Distruction,
Since thou dost not one [own] a place of purgation
after death, nor such a preperation for heaven as

WHEN can sins BE FORGIVEN ? 97
is absolutely nesessary to be possible in this Life.
The Scriptures, thou knowst, tell us plainly that, as
death Leaves us. Judgment finds us. If a tree falls
towards the North or South, where it falls There it must
Lye. Therefore since no unclean thing can Enter
the kingdome of Heaven, pray tell this poor woraan,
whorae thou hast been preaching to for thy Belly
(and suche others as pin there faith on thy Sleeve),
whether, ever or never, She may Expect to be freed
from her sins, and made fit for the kingdome of
heaven ; or whither the blind must Lead the blind
till both fall into the ditch ? "
Parson. " No, John, you mistake me."
J.R. " I would not willingly mistake thee ; but
I believe thou hast mistaken Thy self."
Parson. " I believe that God Omnipotent is able,
of his Great mercy, to forgive a man or woman
there Sins, and fitt them for heaven a Little before
they depart this Life."
J.R. " I befieve the same, but if thou wilt
limett the holy one of Israeli, how Long wilt thou give
the Lord leave to fitt a man or woman for his
Gloryous Kingdome before they Leave this world?"

98 memoir OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Parson. " It raay be an hour or two."
J.R. " My faith is a day or two, as well as an
hour or two."
Parson. " I befieve so too."
And thus he Brought hira from a day or two to
a week or two, then to a month or two, and so
on to Seven Years ; and the parson Contested he
believed so too.
J.R. " Now altho herein Thou Sayest I am
Like a papist, thou art, by thy own Confession, as
much like thera as I, altho thou woulst have
perswaded this poor woman that 'twas a damnable
Doctrine and great Errour, held both by the Quaker
and papist, Yet thou hast confessed to the same
faith, herein, as the Quaker. But altho thou hast
failed in makeing me like a papist in this one
Thing, Canst thou do it in anything Elce ? " At which
he was mute. Then said my Father, "Altho thou
hast failed herein, that need not hinder me
makeing thee like them in many things. In the
first place, you build Houses and Concecrate thera
calling thera Churches ; so do the Papists. And
next, you put in them rings of bells and concecrate

THE PARSON FOILED. 99
them, calfing them by such and such Saints' names ;
so do the papists. The pope and the priests of the
Romish Church were Surplises, Cassocks, and Hoods,
calling them there ornaments. Here thou hast the
Like. Dost thou not Call these thy ornaments ?
Again, you consecrate the Ground were you Inter
your dead, Calfing it Holy ground ; so do the papists.
I tell thee, Thomas, thou art like a papist in so
many things That it had need be a wise raan to
Define betwixt a papist and thee."
At which he Seemed uneasy, and Said, " Madam,
I must beg your Excuse, for there is to be a
Lecture this afternoon, and I must be there." Shee
presed hira to stay Dinner, but he Desired to be
Excused ; and some meat being cut of the Spitt,
he Eat, and took his Leave.
Then the lady told my father, she could not
have thought it, had She not Seen and heard it
her Self, that " Mr. Careless " could be so foil'd in
Discourse by any man, " For," Said Shee, " I accounted
him as sound and orthodox a Divine as any was ;
and I must tell you I am so far of your oppinon
that If you will Lett me know when you have a

100 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Meeting at your house and somebody to preach
(not a Silent Meeting), I will come and here them
my Self." To which He replyed he Should Expect
her to be as good as her word ; "And if it pleased
God to give an Opportunity I intend to Aquaint thee
of it."
And not Long after, on a 7th day, carae two
friends to ray father's house. Then his proraise
to her came in his mind ; but he much reasoning
In his mind Against going, it being In the
winter Season, and both frost and snow. But
he could not be Easy unless he went. And
when he came there, word being carried to her
that he was there, and wanted to Speake with her.
She gave orders for him to corae up. And, when
She Saw him, she seem'd Surprized, and Said,
"What is your will now, John?" — "There came
to ray house Last night," said he, " two Friends,
In order to be at our meeting this day ; and
Remembering my proraise to thee I was willing
to Let thee know it." — " How can you expect,"
said she, " that I should go out such weather as
this ? You know I Seldom go out of my Chamber

THE LADY AT THE MEETING. lOI
— and to go so far Such Weather might Hazard
my Health." He reply'd, " I would not have
thee plead Excuses, as some of old Did, and were
not found worthy. Thou knowst time is none
of ours, and we know not whither we raay
have the Like opportunity. As to the snow, it
need not much incommode thee, for thou mayst
soon be in thy Coach, and, pulling up the Glasses,
be pretty warra. And when thou coraest there, I know
my wife will do her best for thee." So She bid
her Servant call Cornwall, " For," said she, " John is
like Death — he will not be denyed." When Cornwall
came, " Go," said She, " to the Coachman, and bid
hira get ready the Coach and Horses with Speed ";
which he did. And she came with my Father in
her Coach and Six, it being Seven Miles. While
the raeeting was in Silence she apeared restless,
but, while Either of the Friends ware speaking, she
was very Attentive, and, after meeting, seemed very
weU pleased, and Satt down at Table with the
friends. And, while they Satt in silence at Table,
she would be whispering to my mother, tiU one
of the friends Spoake some words before meat.

I02 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Afterwards she was ashamed, and told my Mother
that when She was at Court or Elsewhere among
great persons she was accounted a wise woman ;
" But," said She, " Now I am among the Quakers
I am a very fooU." Soon after Dinner was
over they parted for That time ; but She came
Severall times afterwards thither to meeting ; and,
I am fully perswaded, she was convinced of the
Truth ; But, going up to London Soon after, She
was there taken 111, and dyed.
But her man, Elexander Cornwall, before Mentioned,
was Convinced of the Truth, and was a prisoner
afterwards with my Father in Glocester Castle,
where the then Jayler was very Cruel to them, —
putting them into the Common Jayl araong fellons,
at sorae tiraes, and at other times would hire a
Tinker, which Lay there for his fees, to play on
his hautboy in the night to Disturb them. And
one tirae in particular, My Father Spoak to him,
in the Dread and power of God, and the raan
was so Strook that he dropt the Hautboy out of
his hand and would never play more. The Jayler
ask'd him why he did not continue to play to Dis-

FIRST CONFERENCE WITH THE BISHOP. I03
turb the Quakers, To which he Answered, " They
are the Servants of the Liveing God ; and I will
never play more to Disturb them if you hang rae
up at your door." — " What ! " said the Jayler,
" Are you bewitched too ? I'll turn you out of the
Castle " — which he did ; and the friends who were
then prisoners raised him some raoney and clothed
him, and away he went.
The next thing of which I shall take notice was
three Several Conferances my Father had with one
Nicholson, Bishop of Glocester, who then lived at
Cleeve, near Glocester.
And first, the aparriter carae to site him to
the Bishop's Court ; but withall told him, " I can
not Encourage you to come, for, 'tis likely, they
may Ensnare you, and send you to prison." And,
at the sarae time, he also sited my Father's man
— one John Ovenall [Overall]. My Father askt the
apparritor, whether he thought the Bishop would
be there in person, or appear by Proxy. He said
he thought his Lord Bishop would be there
himself.

I04 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
When the tirae came, my father found much
clearness in his mind to go ; and accordingly went.
After he had been some time in Court, he heard
his name called and answered to it. The Discourse
that then passed was in substance as follows : —
Bishop. " What is your name ? "
John Roberts. " I have been called by my
name, and I have answered to it."
Bishop. " I desire to here it again."
J.R. " My name is John Roberts, but I am
Commonly known in the place where I Live by
the name of John Hayward."
Bishop. " Well, you were born Roberts, but you
were not born John. Pray who gave you that name ? "
J.R. " Thou hast now askt me a very hard
Question, my name being Given rae, in ray
rainority, before I was capable to Remember who
gave it me. But I believe it was ray Parents who
gave me that name, they being the only Persons
that had a right to give rae ray Name ; And
that Name they always called me by, and to that
Name I have always answered. But I believe none
need call that in Question now."

" bishops OUT OF FASHION ? " I05
Bishop. " No. No. But how many Children
have you ? "
J.R. " It hath pleased God to give me six
Children ; three of which he was pleased to take
from me, and the other three are still Living."
Bishop. " And how many of them Have been
Bishop'd ? "
J.R. "None that I know of."
Bishop. " What Reason can you give for that ? "
J.R. " I think a very good one."
Bishop. "What is it?"
J.R. " Most of my Children were born in
Oliver's days, when Bishops were out of fashion."
Then the Court fell a Laughing.
Bishop. " But how many of them have been
baptized ? "
J.R. "What dost thou mean by that?"
Bishop. " Why ! Don't you one [own] Baptism ? "
J.R. " Yes ; but perhaps we may Differ in that
point." Bishop. " What Baptism do you own ? — that of
the Spiritt, I suppose ? "
J.R. " Yes. What Other Baptism Should I own ? "

I06 memoir of JOHN ROBERTS.
Bishop. " Do you own but one Baptism ? "
J.R. " If one be Enough, what need I own
raore ? The Apostle said there was ' one Lord, one
Faith, and one Baptism.' "
Bishop. " But what say you to the Baptism of
Water ? "
J.R. "I say, 'There was a raan sent frora God
whose name was John,' who had a reall com
mission for it ; and he is the only raan, that I
read off, who was Irapowered for that work."
Bishop. " But what if I raake it appear to you,
That some of Christ's Disciples, themselves, did
Baptize with Water, after Christ's Assention ? "
J.R. " I suppose that is no very Difficult task ;
But what is that to me ? "
Bishop. " Is it nothing to you What Christ's
Disciples themselves did ? "
J.R. " Not in Everything ; for PauU, that
Eminent apostle, whom, I suppose thou Wilt
Grant rae, had as Extensive a Commission as any
of the rest of the Apostles ; nay, he says of him
self, that he was not a Whitt behind the Cheiff of
them ; and yet, he Honestly confesses, he Had no

the church AND THE MEETING. 107
commission for it. And he says farther, ' I thank
God I Baptized' no more than such and such
families ; ' For,' says he, ' I was not sent to Baptize,
but to preach the Gospell.' And if he was not
sent to do it, I would soberly ask thee who re
quired it at his hands. I don't know but he might
have as Little thanks, for his labour, as Thou
May'st have for thine. I would willingly know
who sent thee to Baptize."
Bishop. " This is not our Presant Business. You
are here return'd for not coming to Church. What
say you to that ? "
J.R. "I desire to see my accuser. "
Bishop. " It is the minister and Church Wardens.
Do you deny matter of Fact ? "
J.R. "Yes, I do; for it is ray Principle, and
also my Practice, to go to Church."
Bishop. "And do you go to Church?"
J.R. " Yes. And sometimes the Church comes
to me."
Bishop. " The Church comes to you ! I don't
understand you, Friend."

I08 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
J.R. " It may be so ; and, it is often for want
of a good understanding, that the Innocent are
made to suffer.''
Then the apparitor said, " My Lord, he keeps
meetings at his house, and he calls that a Church."
J.R. " No. I do no more believe my house to
be a Church, than I befieve what you call so to
be one. But I call the People of God the Church
of God, Wheresoever they are Mett to worship
hira, in spirit and Truth ; so that, when I say the
Church comes to me, I mean the assembly of
such worshippers, who frequently meet at ray
house. For I do not call that a Church which
you do. That is but the workmanship of men's
hands, the true Church consisting of Living stones, a
spiritual House to God."
Bishop. " We call it a Church figuratively —
Meaning the Church is where the Church raeets."
J.R. "J fear you call it a Church Hypocritically,
and Deceitfully, with Design to awe the Coraman
people into a veneration for the Place which is
not Due to it, as though that House were more
holy than another.''

THE CHURCH A MASS-HOUSE. I09
Bishop. "What do you then call That which
we call a Church ? "
J.R. " It may properly Enough be call'd a
Mass- House ; being formerly built for the purpose."
Then the Apparitor calls out to my Father,
Saying, " Master Hayward, 'tis expected you should
show raore respect in this place than you do in
keeping on your Hat."
" Who Expects it ? " said my Father.
" My Lord," said he.
" I Expect better things from him," said my
Father. Bishop. " No, no. Keep on your Halt. I don't
expect it from you." And further said — " Well,
Friend, This is not a convenient time, nor place,
for you and I to dispute ; but I may Take you to
my Chamber and convince you of your Errors."
J.R. " I should take it kindly of thee, or any
man else, to convince me of any Errors I hold,
and I would hold them no longer."
Bishop. " Call some others ! "
The Apparitor said—" Master Hayward,— is John
OvenaU [Overall] here ? "

no MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
J.R. " I believe not."
Bishop. " What's the reason he is not here ?
Do you know ? "
J.R. " I think there are good reasons to be
given for his absence."
Bishop. " What are they ? May not I know
them ? "
J.R. " In the first place, he is an old man
and not well able to take such a Journey, unless
it were on a very good account ; and next he is
my servant, and I can't well spare him out of my
Business." Bishop. "Why don't he go to Church then?"
J.R. " He does. He goes to Church along
with rae." At which the Court again fell a
laughing. Bishop. " Call some body Else ! "
The next who was called was a sober old
man, a Baptist Pi-eacher, who, seeing the Bishop's
Civillity to ray Father, in suff'ring him to keep on
his Hat, thought to take the same liberty. At
which the Bishop was observed to put on a stern
•countenance, and said — " Don't you know That this

THE HAT QUESTION. Ill
is the King's Court, and that I sit here to
Represent his Majestie's Person ? And do you come
here in an uncivill, Irreverent Manner, in contempt
of his Majesty, and this Court, with your Hatt on ?
I confess there are some men in the world who
make a Conscience of Putting off their Halts — to
whom we ought to have some regard — But for
you, who can Put of your Hat to Every Mechanick
you meet, to corae here, in contempt of Authority,
with your Hat on, I'le assure you, Friend, you
shall speed never the Better for this ! " Which
words, I have heard my Father say, came so
Honestly from the Bishop, that it did him good
to here thera.
The old raan, then taking off his Hat, said —
¦" If it please you, my Lord, I Han't been well in
my Head." — " Not well in your head ! " said the
Bishop. " Why ! you have got a cap on — nay, you
have got two Caps on ! " (for he had on a Black
Cap and a White one Underneath it). " What lis
your reason for denying your Children That Holy
order of Baptism ? " — " An't please you, my Lord,
I am not well satisfied in it." Said the Bishop,

112 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
" What is the ground of your Dissattisfaction ?
Did you Ever see a Book that I set out, Entituled
The Order of Baptism ? "— " No, my Lord," said he.
"I thought so," reply'd the Bishop. "You may
Buy it," at such a place, for such a Price; "and I
will give you " so long a tirae " to Peruse it, and if
that does not satisfie you, come to me, and I will
satisfy you fully." And thus, as I Remember, their
Discourse Ended for that time.
Some time after this the Bishop sent out his
Bayliffs to take ray Father. But at the time he
was gone to Bristol with George Fox, and traveled
with him 2 or 3 weeks. The Baliffs came soon
after he went, often searching the House for
him. My Mother askt what they wanted with him.
They said it was only a small trespass on a Neigh
bour ; and if they could see him they should soon
have done. My Mother reply'd, She did not believe
any Neighbour they had would trouble him on
such an account ; for, if his cattle should Trespas
on any of them, he would readily give them con
tent without any trouble — and that they very well

THE BAYLIFFS AT SIDDINGTON. 1 13
Knew. When they came inn, my Mother would
order meat and drink to be set before them. But
my Father, Staying Longer than they Expected,
and their Patience being worn out, they Came to
ray Mother and told her that if she would give
thera twenty shillings they would let hira corae
home for a month (They thinking He absconded to
avoid being taken by them, although he knew
nothing of their being there). My Mother told
them, She Knew not that Her Husband had done
any Wrong to any man. "Therefore," said She,
" I will give you no money (for that would Imply
a Consciousness of Guilt), But, if my Enemy
Hunger, I can feed him, and if he Thirst, I can give
hira Drink." With that they broke out in a rage,
and said they would have him, if he was above
ground, or under the Cope of Heaven ; for none
could Pardon him but the King. But he not yet
coming home, they went away.
And my Father, in his return home, came
through Tetbury ; and calling at a Friend's house
in the town, they askt him if he had been at
home since he went out with George Fox. He

114 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
said, " No." Then they told him the Bayfiffs had
been about his House to take him Ever since he
had been gone. Upon Hearing That, he made it
the Later before he got home. And when he carae
near home, Riding thro his own grounds, and the
moon shining very Bright, He thought he saw the
shadow of a man ; upon which he askt, " Who's
there ? "— " 'Tis I, master," answ'd the Man. "Who?
Sam Stubbs ? " Said ray Father. " Yes, Master,"
said he. " Hast thou anything against me ? " said
my Father (for he was a Bayliff). " No, Master,"
said he, " I might, but I would not. I have
wronged you Enough already, God forgive me.
But those who now lay await for you are the
Paytons, my Lord Bishop's Bayliffs ; and I would not
have you come into their hands, for they are Merci
less Rogues. I would have you, Master, to take my
Counsell, and Ever, while you Live, Please a Knave,
for an honest raan will never wrong you." — "Aye, Sam,"
said my Father, " I know thou wouldst be pleas'd."
When my Father came home, he Knocked Gently
at the Door. My Brother John askt, "Who's
there ? " — " 'Tis I, son," said my Father. " Let me

A VISION IN THE NIGHT. II5
in." My mother told him she was glad to see
him, but did not know how safe he might be in his
own house. He told us, he would have us be care
ful that we did not let them in upon him that night,
" That," said he, " I may take counsel on my pillow."
And Early in the morning he told ray Mother
what he had seen that night in a vission.
" I thought," said he, " that I was walking in
a fine, Pleasant, green wa-\-, as Ever I was in ; but
it was a narrow way and had a high Wall on
Each side. And in ray way lay something, that
looked like a Bear, But more dreadfull ; the sight
of which put me to a stand, and a man, seeing
me surprized, came to me with a smileing Counten
ance, and said, ' What ! art affraid ? Friend, thou
needst not be affraid, for it is Chained and cannot
hurt thee.' I thought I made Answer, ' The way
is so narrow That I cannot pass by but that it
may reach rae.' — ' Don't be affraid,' said the raan,
' it cannot hurt thee.' I saw he spoke in great
good will, and I Thought his Face shone Like the
face of an Angel. Upon which I took Courage and
went foi-ward, laying my hand on the head of it."

Il6 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Then he made This Construction thereof to my
Mother. " Truth," said he, " is a narrow way ; and
this Bishop lyes in my way, and I must go to
him, what Ever I suffer.''
So, calling up his man, he Prepared to goe,
and call'd on Amariah Drewett, a Friend of Ciren
cester, to bear him company. They went to the
Bishop's, at Cleeve, near Glocester ; and, when they
carae there, saw a Butcher's Wife of Cirencester
there, whose Husband had Kill'd meat on first
days, and, on that account, he was put into the
Bishop's Court ; and she carae to Intercede with
the Bishop on her Husband's Behalf. Two young
sparks, belonging to the Bishop, ask't the woraan
where she liv'd. She answered, " At Cirencester."
— " Do you know one John Hayward who lives
there abouts ? " said they. " Yes, very well," said
she. "What is he for a raan?" said they. "What
is he ! " said she, " a very good man, setting asside
his Religion. I have nothing to say for that." One
of them said he would give five shilfings to see him,
and the other said he would give lo shilfings to see
him. No Sooner had they Spoken so but my Father

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BISHOP'S OLD PALACE BISHOPS CLEEVE, GLOUCESTERSHIRE.
WITH THE BISHOP AT CLEEVE. II9
came in among them ; and they had not a word
to say to him, But away they went, and told the
Bishop that Hayward, the Quaker, was come. The
Bishop, hereing it, Dismist his Company, and sent
for ray Father to come to him ; and Put on a Stern,
Majestick air. Sitting in his Chair, with His Hat*
under his arm. My Father went up towards hira,
and, standing silent a while, he Said to the Bishop,
" Old Man, ray business is with thee."
Bishop. " How is your Business with rae ? "
John Roberts. " I have Heard that thou hast sent
out thy Bayfiffs to bring me before thee ; but I rather
choose to come myself, to know what wrong I
have done thee. And, if it does appear I have
done thee any wrong, I am willing to give thee
Satisfaction. But if, on Enquiry, I appear innocent,
I desire thee, for thy own Soul's Sake, to take
care thou dost not Injure me."
Bishop. "You are misinforraed, Friend ; I am
not your adversary."
J.R. " Then I intreat Thee, to tell me who is
my adversary, that I may go and agree with hira
while I ara in the way."
* See Note I in Appendix.

120 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Bishop. " The King is your Adversary, and the
King's Law you have broken ; and the King's
Law you Shall answer— that's raore."
J.R. " Our Satisfaction to Laws is Either Active
or Passive. So, if a man cannot, for Conscience'
sake, do the thing the Law requires, but, passively,
Suffers what the Law Inflicts, The law is, I con
ceive, as fully answered as if he had actually
obeyed." Bishop. " No, you are wrong in that, too. For
suppose a man steal an ox, and be Persued, and
taken, and Hanged, for the Fact, What restitution
is that to the owner of the ox ? "
J.R. " None at ah. But altho 'tis no Restitution
to the owner of the ox, yet, the Man, having
Suffer'd the Punishment by Law Inflicted, the Law
is fully satisfied, altho the owner of the ox be a
looser ; But thou raayest thereby see the corrupt
ness of such Laws, whereby the Life of a raan is
put on a level with the Life of a beast."
Bishop. " What ! do Such men as you find fault
with our Laws ? "
J.R. "Yes, and I tell thee, plainly, 'tis high

SATISFACTION FOR BROKEN LAW. 121
time wiser men were chosen to make better Laws.
But if the Thief were taken and sold according to
the Law of Moses, and the owner had 4 oxen for
his ox, or 4 sheep for his sheep, then the owner
would be well satisfied, and the man's Life Pre
served, that he might repent and amraend. But I
hope thou dost not accuse rae of having stollen any
man's ox or ass ? "
Bishop. " No, no, God Forbid ! "
J.R. " Then if thou please to give me leave,
I will state a case, raore parralel to the case in
hand." Bishop. " You may."
J.R. "There was, in days past, Nebucadnezer,
King of Babilon, set up an Image and made a
decree, that all who would not bow down to his
Image should be cast, the same Hour, into the
midst of a burning, fiery furnace. And there were
then 3 children, who served the sarae God that
I do now, and they did not dare bow down unto
it. But Passively Subraitted their Bodies to the
flames — was not that a sufficient sattisfaction to that
unjust decree of the King's ? "

122 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Bishop. " Yes, Yes. God forbid ! for that had
been to worship the workmanship of men's hands,
and that were Idolatry."
J.R. " Is that thy Judgment, that to worship
the workmanship of men's hands is Idolatry ? "
Bishop. " Yes."
J.R. "Then, give me leave to ask thee, by
whose hands thy Common Prayer Book was made ?
I'm sure it was made by thy hands or somebody's
else, for it never made itself."
Bishop. " Do you compare our Common Prayer
Book to Nebucadnezer's Image ? "
J.R. "Yes, I do. And, as that was his Image,
this is thine. And, be it known to thee (I speak in
the Dread of the God of Heaven), I no more dare
bow down to thy Coraraon Prayer Book, than the
3 children did to Nebucadnezer's Image."
Bishop. " Yours is a strange, Upstart Religion, of
but a very few years' standing ; and you are grown
so Confident in it, there is no beating you out of it ! "
J.R. " Out of my Religion ! God forbid ! I was
long seeking an acquaintance with the Living God,
among the Dead forms of worship, and Enquireing

ANTIQUITY OF SPIRITUAL RELIGION. 123
after the Right way and worship of God, before
I could find it, and now I Hope that neither
thou, nor any man Living, shall be able to beat
me out of it. But altho thou art an old man,
and a Bishop, I find thou art very ignorant of
the rise and Antiquity of our Refigion."
Bishop. " Do you Quakers Plead Antiquity for
your Refigion ? " (Smileing).
J.R. "Yes, and I don't Questian but, with the
assistance of God, I make it appear to thee, that
our Refigion was many Hundred years before thy
Religion was thought oft"." *
Bishop. " Friend, you see I have given you Liberty
of Discourse, and have not sought to Ensnare you
in your words ; But you say, you don't Questian,
with the help of God, to make it appear that
your Religion (that is the Quakers' Religion) was
many hundred years before mine. If you can do
that, you will speed so much the Better."
J.R. " If I do not, I seek no favour at thy
hands ; but, in order to it, I hope thou wilt give
me leave to ask sorae sober Questians, by the way."
* See Note 2 in Appendix.

124 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Bishop. " You raay."
J.R. " Then, first, I would ask, Where was thy
Religion in Oliver's days — to go no further back ?
Then the Common Prayer Book was becorae (Even
among you Clergy men) Like an old alraanack ;
very few regarded it in our country ; Saving that
there were two or 3 Priests, who Honestly stood
to their Principles, and suffered pritty much. But
the far greater number turn'd with the tyde ; and,
we have reason to believe, that if Ofiver would have
put mass in their mouths, They would have
Conformed Even to that for their belly."
Bishop. " What would you have us do ? Would
you have had Olliver cut all our throats ? "
J.R. " No ; I would not that he should have
cut any of your Throats. But what Religion was that
which you were affraid to venture your Throats
for ? Be it known to thee, I ventured my Throat
for my Religion in Oliver's days, as I do now."
Bishop. "And I must teU you that, altho, in
Olliver's days, I did not dare own it, openly, as
I did before, and as I do now, yet I never owned
any other Religion then."

A COMMON PRAYER PRIEST. I25
J.R. " Then I suppose thou made'st Conscience
of it ; and I should abundantly rather choose to
fall into such a man's hands, than into the hands
of a man who makes no Conscience towards God,
But who would Conform to anything for his belly.
But if thou did'st not think thy Religion worth
venturing thy Own Throat for, in Olliver's days,
I desire thee to consider that it is not worth
cutting other men's Throats for now, for not
coming to it.''
Bishop. " You say right. I hope we shall have
a care how we cut men's Throats." (By that tirae
came into the Room several others and sate down.)
" But you know the Common Prayer Book was
before Olliver's days."
J.R. "Yes, I have a great Deal of reason to know
that, for I was bred up under a Common Prayer
Priest ; and a poor, drunken, old man he was. Some
times he was so drunk he could not say his prayers ;
and at best could but say them. But I think he
was by far a better man than he who is Priest.
there now."
Bishop. " Who is your minister now ? "

126 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
J.R. " If thou dost ask rae. Who is my minister
now, I answei- — Christ Jesus, the Minister of the
Everlasting Covenant of God, is my minister ; but
the Priest of our Parrish is one George Bull."
Bishop. " Do you say the Drunken old man was
Better than Mr. Bull? 1 tell you, I account Mr.
Bull as sound, able, and orthodox a Divine as any
we have amongst us. Nay, I account hira one of
the Best of us."
J.R. "I am sorry for that; for if he be one
of the best of you, I believe the Lord will not
suffer you Long. For he is a Proud, Ambitious,
Ungodly man. He has often sued me at Law and
brought his men to swear against me. His Servants
have come to me and confes't before ray Family,
that I might have their Ears ; for their master
made them Drunk, and told them, they were set
down in the List, as Witnesses against me, and
they raust swear to it ; and so they did, and
Brought Treble Damage, for a field of Corn— And
the Servant owned, he had took the tythe from
my Tennant, and Thrash 'd it out, and sold it for
his master. And his Servants have come, several

PRIEST BULL. I27
times, and took my Cattle out of my fields,
and drove them to markets and fairs, and sold
them for anything, giveing me no account."
Bishop. "I do assure you, I will tell Mr. Bull
what you say."
J.R. "Very wefi; and if thou Please to send
for me, to face him, I shall make much more
appear to his Face Than I will say of him behind
his back."
Bishop. " But, I remember, you said you could
make it appear that your Religion was long before
mine ; and that is what I want to hear you raake
out." J.R. "Our Religion, as thou raayst read in the
Holy Scriptures, in the 4th of John, was set up,
by Christ hiraself, betwixt 16 and 17 Hundred
years agoe (and he had full Power to set up, and
Establish the true Religion in his Church), when
he told the woman of Samaria that, neither at
that mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem, was the place
of true worship ; but they worshiped they knew
not what ; ' For,' said he, ' God is a Spirit, and they
that worship him must worship Him in the spirit

128 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
and in the truth.' And that is our Religion, an
has been the Religion of all Those who ha\
worshiped God, acceptably, through the Sever
Ages since, down to this very day ; and will l
the Religion of the true, spiritual worshipers 1
the End of the world — A Religion Performed t
the Assistance of the Spirit of God, Because Go
is a Spirit — a Refigion establish't by Christ Hin
self Before Mass-Book, Service book, or director
or any of those Inventions or Traditions of mei
were, in the night of apostacy, set up. Th
acceptable worshipers of God being always sue
as wrought out their Salvation with fear an
trembling." Bishop. " Why were they not called Quakei
Then ? "
J.R. "The best reason I can give thee for the
is, that the People, who fived in those ages pas
might not be so wicked as in this age, to make
mock at the Work and Power of God."
Bishop. " Are all the Quakers of the sam
opinion ? "
J.R. "Yes, they are. If any hold Doctrine

QUAKERISM STRIKES AT THE ROOT. 129
contrary to the Doctrine taught by our Saviour
to the woraan of Saraaria, They are not of us."
Bishop. "Do you own the Trinity?"
J.R. "I Don't Remember such a word in the
Holy Scriptures."
Bishop. "Do you own three Persons?"
J.R. "We own 3 that bear record in Heaven,
the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit."
Bishop. "Do you Believe three Persons?"
J.R. " I believe according to the scriptures.
Thou raayst make as many Persons of them as thou
Cans't ; but I would soberly ask thee, since the
Scriptures say That the Heaven of Heavens cannot
contain him, and that he is Incomprehensible, by
What Person, Image, or Likeness canst thou
comprehend the Almighty ? "
Bishop. "Yours is the Straingest of all Perswasions,
for their are many other sects," which he named ;
and then said, " Tho they and we differ in some
Circumstances yet, in fundamentals, we agree as one.
But I observe you, of all others, Strike at the very
Root and basis of our Religion."
J.R. "Art Thou sensible of that?"

130 memoir of JOHN ROBERTS.
Bishop. "Yes, I am."
J.R. " I am Glad of that. For the root is
Rottenness, and Truth strikes at the very Founda
tion Thereof. And the little stone that Daniel saw
cut out of the mountain without hands will over
turn it all in God's own due tirae, when you have
done what you can to support it. But as to those
others thou mentionest, there is so little differance,
That wise men wonder why you Differ at all.
Only the Beast had many Heads, and many horns,
and Push against Each other. — And yet I am fully
Perswaded there are at this day true, spiritual
worshipers of God araong all Perswasions.''
Bishop. " But you will not give us the same
Liberty you will give a Coraraon Mechanick, to Call
our tools by their proper naraes."
J.R. "I desire Thee to Explain thyseff."
Bishop. " Why ! you will give a carpenter leave to
call his Giralet a Gimlet, and his Gouge a Gouge ;
but you wUl cafi our Church a Mass-House."
J.R. " I wish you were half so Honest Men as
Carpenters." Bishop. " Why do you Upbraid us ? "

THE PARABLE OF THE CARPENTER. I3I
J.R. " I would not Upbraid you ; but I will
Endeavour to show thee wherein you fall short of
Carpenters. Suppose I have a son, who has a
mind to learn the trade of a Carpenter. I go and
Indent with a Sober, Honest man of the calfing,
and agree to give hira such a sum of money, to
teach my son that trade, within such a term of
years. At the End of which term, ray son raay be
as Good, or a Better workman than his master, and
he shall be free from him to work for himself.
Now will you be so Honest men as this carpen
ter ? You are raen, who pretend to know raore
of the raysteries of Light, and life, and Salvation,
and things appertaining to the Kingdora of Heaven,
Than we do. I would ask, in how long a time you
would undertake to teach us as much as you do
know, and what shall we give you That we raay
once be free from our Masters ? But, hear you
keep us always learning, that we may be always
Paying you. Plainly it is a very cheat. What !
always learning, and never come to the knowledge
of God ! For misserable sinners you find us, and
misserable sinners you leave us."

132 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Bishop. " Are you against Confession ? "
J.R. " No. For I believe those who confess
and forsake their sins shall find mercy at the hand
of God ; but they who persist, and go on in them,
shall be punished. But if Ever you intend to be
better, you must Throw away your old Books, and
get you a new one, or turn over a new leaf ; for,
if you Keep in your old lesson, you must always
be doing what you ought not, and leaving Undone
what you ought to Do, and you can never do
worse. I believe in ray Heart you raock God."
Bishop. " How dare you say so ! "
J.R. " I'fi State thee a Case, and Thou shall be
Judge. Suppose thou had'st a son and thou should'st
Dayly Let hira Know thy mind and will, what
thou would'st Have him do — And he should not
only, day after day, but week after week, and year
after year, Provoke thee to thy Face, and say,
' Father, I have left undone what thou com-
raand'st me to do and Done the Quite Contrary ' ;
and should continue thus, once or twice a week,
to Provoke thee to thy Face — wouldst thou not
think thy son a Rebelfious child ? — and that he

READY FOR JAIL. I33
mocked thee ? — And would it not cause thee to
Disinherit him ? "
After some more Discourse, my Father told him
time was far spent, " And," Said he, " If nothing will
serve thee But my Body in a Prison, here it is in
thy Power ; And, if thou dost now comraand me to
go and defiver myself up to the Sherriff of the
County of Glocester as thy Prisoner, I will go ;
or to the Jayler of the Castle of Glocester as thy
Prisoner, I will go ; and Seek to no other
Judge, Advocate, or Attorny to Plead my Cause
But the Great Judge of Heaven and Earth, who
Knows That I have nothing but Love and good
will in ray Heart to thee and all mankind."
Bishop. " No. You shall go home, about your
Business." J.R. " Then I desire thee, for the future, not to
trouble thyself to send any Bayfiffs after me, but if
thou please at any time, to let rae Know, by a
line or two, that thou wouldst speak with rae —
Tho it be to send me to Prison — If I am wefi
and able I will come."
Then the Bishop call'd for some what to Drink.

134 memoir of JOHN ROBERTS.
My father acknowledged his Love, But did not drink.
Then said the Bishop, "Give it to his Friend,
perhaps he'h drink anon." The Bishop being called
away to speak to sorae body, one Cuthbert, who
sate by, being angry to see the freedom of Discourse
ray Father took with the Bishop, said, " Hayward,
you are afraid of nothing. I never raet with such
a raan in ray life ; and I ara affraid to sleep in my
Bed, least such Phanaticks, as you should come and
cut my Throat." — " I don't wonder," said my Father,
"that thou art affraid !" — " Why," said Cuthbert,
"Should I be affraid any more than you?" To
which my Father answered, " I am under the
Protection of him, who numbers the very hairs of
my head, and without whose providence a sparrow
shall Not fall to the ground. But as for thee !
Thou hast Cain's mark of Envy on thy forehead,
and, like him, art affraid least those who meet thee
should kill thee." Then Cuthbert was angry, and
said in a rage, " Hayward, If all the Quakers in
England, are not Hanged, in a month's time, I will
be hang'd for thera ! " To which ray Father
reply'd (smifing), " Preethe, Friend, Remember to be

THE BISHOPS CALL ON JOHN. I35
as good as thy word ! " So ray Father, and Araariah
Drewet, Returned horae, having a return of Peace
in the way of well doing.
Some time after, The Bishop, and the Chancellor,
In their Coaches, accompany'd with Thomas
Masters, Esqr., in his coach, and about twenty
Clergymen on horsback, made my Father's House,
in their way to the Visitation, which was to be
held at Tetbury, on the morrow. When they came
to the gate they stopt, and one George Evans, the
Bishop's Kinsman, who also made one of the
corapany, rode into the yard, and, seeing my
Mother, ask't Her if her Husband was at
home. " Who would speak with him ? " said she
(supposeing him to be a sherriff). Said he, " Here
is my lord Bishop, and several Gentlemen, corae to
see hira." My Mother told ray father of it, and
he going to the coach-side, the Bishop put his
hand out, and took ray Father by the hand,
saying, " I could not well go out of the country
without calfing to see you, John."— "That is very
kind," said ray Father, " Wilt thou Please to alight
and come in and Those that are with thee ? "

136 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Bishop. " I thank you, John, but we are going to
Tetbury, and tirae will not admit of it Now. — But
I will Drink with you, if you Please."
Then my Father went in, and ordered sorae beer
to be brought, and came back to the Coach side,
and then G. Evans, before mentioned, said to him,
" John, is your house free to Entertain such men
as we are ? " — " Yes, George," said my Father, " I
raany tiraes Entertain Honest raen ; and soraetiraes
others." " My Lord," said G. Evans, " John's friends are
the Honest raen, and we are the others."
" That is not fair, George," said my father,
" for thee to put thy own constructions on my
words. Thou shouldst give me leave to do that."
Esqr. Masters came out of his own Coach, and
stood by the Bishop's Coach side ; and the Chancellor,
being willing to divert himself, said to ray Father,
" My Lord, and these Gentlemen, have been to see
your Church yard, or Burying Ground, which you
call it" (which was a Piece of Ground at the lower
end of ray Father's orchard, which he had given
to friends for the service), " where you Inter your

RESPECTING GRAVE STONES. 137
dead, and I think you keep it very Decent."
"Yes," said ray Father, "altho we are not for
Pride, yet, to be decent, we think is coraraendable."
" But," said the ChanceUour, " there is one thing
which I did not expect to see among you, and I
think it looks a little superstitious, and that is those
grave stones, at the heads and feet of your
graves." " That I confess," said my Father, " is what I
cannot plead much for ; but it was permitted to
be done, to Gratifye some who have had their
Relatives there Interred ; But we propose, Ere long,
to have them taken up, and Converted to some
better use. But, I desire thee to take notice, we
had it frora among you. And I have observed
That in many things, wherein we have taken you
for our Pattern, you have led us wrong, and there
fore now, with the Help of God, we are Resolved
not to follow you one step further." At which the
Bishop held Down his head and Bit his lip ; and
after said, "John, I think your Beer is Long a
coming." " I suppose," said ray Father, " My wife is

138 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
wilhng thou shouldst have of the Best, and there
fore stays to Broach a fresh vessel."
" Nay," said the Bishop, " if it be for the best,
we will stay."
Soon after, my mother, coming, Brought a bit to
Eat before they Drank, and then held the cup to
the Bishop. He took it, and Drank, and said,
" John, I comraend you ; you keep a cup of good
beer in your House. I have not drank any that
Pleased rae better, since I came from home."
After him, the Chancellor Drank ; and then, the
cup Coraing into my Father's hand, Esqr. Masters
said to hira, " Now, old schoolfellow, I hope you
will Drink to rae." To which he reply'd, " Thou
knowest 'Tis not my Practice to Drink to any man ;
if it was, I would as soon Drink to thee as
another, Thou being my old acquaintance, and
School-fellow. But if thou please to Drink, thou
art very Welcome."
The Esqr. then, having the cup in his hand,
said to my father, " Now, John, before my Lord,
and all these Gentleraen, tell me what Cerremony

HOPS AND HERESIES. I39
or complement, do you Quakers use when you
Drink to Each other ? "
" None at all," said my Father. " For rae to
drink to an other, and drink the beer my self, is
indeed, at best, but a complement ; and thou know
est that Borders much on a Lye."
" What do you do then, John ? " said he.
" If I want to Drink," said my Father, " I take
the cup and drink, and if my Friend, who .sits by
me, will do so too, he may if he Please ; If not
he may let it alone."
Then said the Esqr. — " Honest John, give me
thy hand ! Here's to thee, with aU my heart ;
And, according to thy own Corapleraent, if thou
wilt Drink thou may'st ; if not thou may'st let it
alone." Then the cup, coming again into My Father's
hand, He offered it to his Neighbour, George Bull,
and ask't him if he Pleas'd to Drink.
" No, John," said he, " Your Beer is so full of
Hops and Herresies that I will have none of it."
" As for Hops," said my Father, " I can't say
much (not being at the Brewing of it), But as for

140 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Herresie, I do assure thee, Neighbour Bull,
Their is none in ray Beer. If there was I would
not drink of it rayself. If thou please to drink
thou may'st, and welcome ; But, if not, I desire
thee to take notice That as good as thou will, and
those who are as able to Judge of Heresie. Here is
thy Lord Bishop, as thou Call'st him, has Drank of
the Beer, and coraraends it, and he finds no Heresie
in the cup."
Then the Bishop, Leaning over the Door of the
Coach, said to ray Father (whispering), " John,
I have some advice to give you, and that is, that
you have a care, that you do not offend against
the higher powers. I have Heard great complaints
against you, and that you are the Ringleader of
the Quakers in the Country ; and if you are not
supprest, all will signify nothing. Therefore, pray,
John, take care, for the future, that you do not
offend any more."
To which ray Father reply'd, " I like thy
counsel very well and Intend to take it. But, thou
knowest, God is the Higher Power, and you mortal
men (however advanced to Wealth and Power) are

OBEDIENCE TO THE HIGHER POWER. 141
still but the lower Powers ; and 'tis only because
I Endeavour to be obedient to the will of the
higher Power, that you lower powers are angry
with me. But I hope, with the Assistance of God,
to take thy councel, and be subject to The higher
power, let the lower Powers say, or do, by me as
the Lord may suffer them."
Bishop. " I want some raore Discourse with
you. Will you go with me to Mr. Bull's ? "
J.R. " Thou Knowest he has no good will to
me. I should rather attend on thee Elsewhere."
Bishop. " Will you corae tomorrow to Tetbury ? "
J.R. "Yes, if thou dost desire it."
So the Bishop took his Leave, and went not to
G. Bull's, at which he was angry. Then said my
father to my mother, " I intend to take one of my
sons with me, to bring my horse back ; for I
Expect no other, notwithstanding what has hapned
To Day, but that sorae of those Priests will so
Incence the Bishop against rae, as that he will
send me to Prison." To which my mother reply'd —
" He, coming hither too day, on pretence of so

142 memoir of JOHN ROBERTS.
much Kindness, and Inviting thee to tetbury — I
cannot think he will send thee to prison."
" I think," said my father, " He raust do it to
Please his Corapany, altho against his own In
clinations.'' On the raorrow, taking ray Brother Nathaniel
with hira, he went to Tetbury ; where, going along
the street, a Friend, who lived in Ireland, by
name Anthony Sharp, whose raother Lived in That
town, seeing hira, carae to him and said —
" John, whither art going ? "
"To the Bishop!" said my father.
" What is thy Business with him ? " said A. Sharp.
" I know not till I come there," said my Father ;
¦" but he was at my house yesterday, and Invited
me hither.''
Anthony Sharp. " Wilt thou Except of a Com
panion ? "
J.R. " If thou art wilfing to go to prison, Thou
raay'st go with me."
A.S. " I will venture that ; for if I do, I shall
have good corapany."
So they went together. And when they came

ANTHONY SHARP. 143
to the foot of the stairs, George Evans, seeing my
Father, said, " Come up, John, my Lord thought
you long." When they come up, G. Evans caUs
to the Bishop, saying, " An't please you, ray
Lord, Here is J. Hayward corae." And they were
just sitting down to dinner at a long table, the
Bishop at the uper end, and full of Clergy men.
Then said the Bishop, " Corae, John," and was
going to raake roora for ray Father to sit down
by him, but he Excused it, saying he did not
desire to Eat, and withdrew, and A. Sharp with
hira. When they had near din'd, the Bishop spoke
to the woraan of the House for a convenient
Room, it being Market day, and my Father very
well known in the town. And when They met
in the room, it was soon fill'd with Priests and
other people {vidt. Clothiers, &ct., who kept the
market). Then the Bishop put on a stern counten
ance, and said, " Come, John, I must turn over a
New leaf with ^-ou, and if you will not promise
me to go to Church, and Keep no more of those
Seditious Conventicles at your house, I must make
your mittimus and send you to Prison."

144 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
J.R. " Would'st thou have me shut ray Door
against my friends ? 'Twas but yesterday that thou
thyself and raany here present were at ray house ;
and I was so far frora shutting my door against
you That I invited you in ; and you should have
been welcome to the best Entertainment I had."
Bishop. " It is those meetings I speak of, which
you keep at your house, to the Terrour of the
Country." J.R. "This I will promise thee, before all this
Company, That if any Plotters, or 111 minded
Persons, come Thither to Plott, or Conspire against
the King, or Government, if I know it, I will be
the first Informer against them ray self, altho
I have not a penny for my Labour. But if
honest, sober People corae to ray house to wait
upon and worship the God of Heaven In Spirit
and Truth — Such shall be welcorae to rae, as
long as I have a House for them to meet in, and
if I should have none, the Lord, I doubt not, will
provide one for them."
Bishop. " Will you Promise too go to your own
Parish Church and hear divine service ? "

"a company of CATERPILLARS." I45
J.R. " I can promise no such thing. The last
time I was there, I was moved, and Required, of
the God whom I serve, To go and bear ray
Testimony against a Hireling Priest, who was
preaching for hire, and divineing for money ; and
he was angry, and caused the People to turn me
out ; and I don't intend to trouble Them again,
till they Learn more Civillity, Except the Lord
should again require it of me."
Bishop. " Send for the Constable ! I must take
another course."
J.R. " If thou shouldst come to my house, under
pretence of Friendship, and, in a Judas-like manner,
betray me hither To send me to prison, as I
have, hitherto, commended thee for thy moderation,
I should, then, have occasion to put thy name in
Print,* and cause it to stink before all sober People.
But 'tis Those Priests, who set thee on to do
mischief. I would not have thee Hearken to them,
But bid them go home, and take to some Honest
vocation, and rob their Honest Neighbours no
longer. They are Like a Company of Catterpillars,
* See Note 3 in Appendix. 10

146 memoir OF JOHN ROBERTS.
who Destroy the fruits of the Earth, and live on
the sweat of other men's Brows."
Then one Rich,* a priest of North Sarney
[Cerney], said, "Who are those you call Catter
pillars?" " We Husbandmen," said my Father, " Call them
Catterpillars, that live on the fruits of other men's
fields, and on the sweat of other men's Brows,
and, if thou dost so, Thou may'st be one of them."
" May it Please your Lordship," said this Rich
to the Bishop, " if you suffer such men as this to
thou your Lordship and call you ' Old man,' what
will become of us ? "
J.R. " We Honour old age, if it be found in
the -way of well doing ; but one would Think you
should not be such Dunces, as to forget your
Grammar rules. — You, Brought up at Oxford and
Cambridge for what ? I that am a Lay man
understang the singular and Plural numbers, Tho
brought up at Plough Tail. Thee and thou is
proper to a single Person, if it be to a Prince.
Thou knowest it, old man. What ! have you forgot
* See Note 4 in .\ppendix.

THEE AND THOU. I47
your Prayers? Is it 'You, O lord!' or 'Thou,
O Lord ! ' in your Prayers ? WiU you not Except
of that from your fellow mortals which you give
to the Almighty ? What spirit was that in Proud
Hamon that would have had Poor Mordecai bow
to him ? "
Bishop. " This will not do. Make their Mittimus.
What is your name ? " (to A. Sharpe).
Anthony Sharp. " My narae is Anthony Sharpe."
Bishop. "Where do you Live?"
A.S. "At Dubfin, in the Kingdom of Ireland."
Bishop. "What is your Business here?"
A.S. " My raother is an ancient woman, and
lives in this town, and I thought it my Duty to
come and see her."
J.R. " He only came hither, in good will, to bear
me company. If thou Please, Lay the raore on rae,
and let my Friend go free."
Bishop. " No, he raay be as dangerous a Person
as yourself, and, as you came for Company, you
shall go for Company. — Send for the Constable to
take them into Custody."
The woman of the house, understanding the

148 memoir of JOHN ROBERTS.
Constable was to be sent for, sent a raessenger to
hira to bid hira be out of the way ; but the
Person she sent missing of hira, He carae to the
house. She, seeing hira corae in, said to hira,
" What do you here, when Honest John Hayward
is going to be sent to Prison ? Corae into this
Room," said she ; And he, not being unwilfing,
suffer'd her to shut him in ; and word was carried
to the Bishop, that the Constable was not to be
found. Then said the Bishop, " Here are raany
Gentlemen, who have a great way horae, and
I can send you to Prison in the afternoon ; so
you may Take your Liberty till 6 a clock." My
Father Perceived his Intent was to get rid of his
Company, and withdrew with his friend, and went
again at 6, leaving Anthony behind hira ; and
when he carae in there were only two Persons
with the Bishop, one of whora was Edward
Barnett, a Bone Setter of Cuckerton, an Intimate
acquaintance of my Father's, the other a Priest,
whose name was Hall.
Bishop. " So, John, you are come. 'Tis very well ;
I want to have some discourse with you."

PRIEST HALL. I49
Priest Hall. " An't please you, ray Lord, let rae
Discourse him."
Bishop. "Aye do, Mr. Hall. John will give you
an answer."
Priest. "'Tis a great deal of Pitty, such men as
you should have the Light, and Sight, and Know
ledge of the Scriptures ; for the Knowledge of the
Scriptures has made you raad."
J.R. " Why should not I have the priviledge
of buying the Scriptures for my money, as well as
thee, or another man ? But you Priests, like the
Papists, would have us Lay-men kept in Ignorance,
that we might Pin our faith on your sleeves, and
so the blind lead the Blind, 'till both fall into the
Ditch. But, if the Knowledge of the Scriptures
has made me mad, the Knowledge of the Sack
pot has almost made thee mad — and if we two
mad-men Should dispute about Refigion, we are
like to raake raad worke of it. But thou art an
unworthy man, and I will not discourse with
thee." Priest. " An't Please you, my Lord, he says I
am Drunk ! "

150 memoir of JOHN ROBERTS.
J.R. " Wilt thou Speak an untruth before thy
Lord Bishop?"
Priest. " He did say I was Drunk, my Lord."
Bishop. " What did you say, John ? I will believe
you." Then my Father repeated as above, at which
the Bishop held up his hands and, smileing, said,
" Did you say so, John ! " by which Hall perceived
the Bishop favoured my Father, and went away
in a huff. There was then Presant only the
Bishop and Edward Barnett and ray Father.
Bishop. " John, I Thought you dealt very hardly
with me to day, before so raany Gentleraen, In
telling me I Came to your house in a Judas-like
manner, to betray you hither to send you to Prison.
For, if I had not done what I did, People would
have said I was an Encourager of the Quakers."
J.R. " What if they had ? That would have
been no discredit to thee."
Bishop. " Come, John, now I will burn your
Mittirauss before your Face ; and now, Mr. Barnett,
I have a raind to ask John some Questians. John
will tell us anything. I have heard Mr. Bull tell

the bishop hears John's experiences. 151
strange things of you, John. As, that if anything
was lost you could teU, as well as any Cunning
man of thera all, where to find it. He would
have Perswaded rae to such things, as I could not
believe of you ; but I desire to hear it from your
own mouth. 'Twas about a Parsel of Cows which
a Poor man in your Neighbourhood had lost, and
could by no means hear of them till he apply'd
himself to you."
J.R. " If thou Please to hear me, I wiU En
deavour to tell thee the plain. Naked truth of that
story as it really was."
Bishop. " Pray do ; I shall believe you."
J.R. " There was a Poor raan (one of my
Neighbours), who had a wife and 6 Children, and
the Chief raen of the Parrish Perraitted him to
keep 6 or 7 milch cows on the wast ; and his
children attended them, on lanes and commons ; and
their liiilk was a vei-y great help to hira in his
faraily which otherwise must have becorae charg-
able to the Parrish. And in a very stormy night,
after they were milked, they were left in the yard
as usual, but in the morning could not be found.

152 memoir of JOHN ROBERTS.
Then he and his sons went several ways and
sought them with Diligence, to no Purpose ; And
after they had been lost 4 days, the Poor man's
wife came to rae, in a very sorrowful manner,
wringing her hands, saying — ' Ah ! Lord ! Mr.
Hayward, we are undone. My Husband and I must
go a beging in our old age, for we have lost
all our cows, 4 days agoe, and my Husband and
sons have been round the country, and can
hear nothing of them. I will down on my bare
Knees, if you stand our Friend.' I desired her
not to be in such an Agony, and told her she
should not down on her Knees to rae, but I would
Gladly help her in what I could. ' I know,' said
She, ' you are a good raan, and God will hear your
Prayers.' — ' I desired thee to be still and Quiett
in thy raind,' Said I. ' Perhaps thy Husband, or
sons, raay hear of thera too day. But, if they do
not, let thy Husband get a fresh horse, and come
to rae tomorrow Morning, as soon as he will —
and I think, if it Please God, to go along with
him to seek them.' At which the woraan seeraed
Transported with Joy, and said, ' Then we shall

THE LOSS OF THE COWS. 153
have our cows again ! ' Her faith being so strong
brought the Greater Exercise on me, with strong
Crys to the Lord, that He would be pleased to
make me Instrumental, in his hand, for the help
of the Poor family. And in the morning Early,
one Knocking Earnestly at the Door, ray Eldest
son, John, ask't who was there. ' 'Tis I, Master
John,' answered one of the old raan's sons, ' Your
Father told my Mother he would take his horse
and go with My Father, to see if they could find
the Cows, and I desire you to acquaint your Father
that I ara here.' — ' 'Tis hardly day yet,' said my son.
' 'TwiU soon be day,' answered the young raan.
My son acquainting me, I arose, and caU'd ray
man to get my horse ready. And, soon after, came
the old man, and told me where he and his sons
had been, and of their IU success. 'In the name
of God, Master Hayward, Which way shall we go
to seek thera ? ' said he. I, being deeply concerned in
my mind, was not forward to answer him. But when
the second and third Time he said as before, I
answered hira thus— In the name of God I would
go to seek them, 'and,' said I (Before I was weU

154 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
aware), ' We will go to Malmsbury, and in Malms-
bury Horse fairr there we shall have them.' When
I had spoken these Words I was much troubled,
least they should not prove true. When we had
taken our breakfast, we set out for Malmsbury,
and when we carae Near the town, Riding up a
dirty lane, I said to the man — ' Look here on the
ground ; I believe, thou raayest track thy own
Cattle up this lane before thee.' — ' You raake ray
heart leap ! ' said the old man. It being Early
in the morning, the first man we saw there-abouts
had a fork and forthering [foddering] Cord on
his shoulder, going, as I supposed, to fother his
Cattle, [and] I ask't him if he had lately seen
any stray Milch Cows There-abouts, ' For,' said I,
' here is a neighbour of mine has lost some.'
' What manner of Cattle are they ? ' said the
Strainger. The old man discribed the Marks and the
Number of them. ' Their are such a Parsel of
Cows,' said the Strainger, ' stand Chewing their Cuds
in the Place where our Horse fair is usually kept.
They may be the Cattle you speak off, for what I
know, altho I did not take much notice of them,

THE cows FOUND. 155
thinking they might belong to sorae of ray neighbours.'
When we came their, we found the Cows ; and
the old man, seeing them, Knew them to be his
own, and was transported with Joy beyond measure ;
Insomuch that I was really ashamed of his Carriage;
for he feU a Hollowing, and took his Cloath
Mounteer Cap * of his head and threw it up several
times into the air, which raised the people out of
their beds, to know what was the matter. ' Oh ! '
said he, 'I had lost my cows 4 or 5 days agoe,
and thought I should never have seen them again,
and This Honest neighbour of mine told me this
morning, by his own fireside, 9 miles off, that I
should have them here ; and here I have them ! ' — and
up goes his mounteer Cap again. I begg'd the Poor
man to be Quiet, and take his cows and be thankful ;
as indeed I then was, being Reverantly Bowed, in
my spirit, before the Lord, In that he was pleased
to put his word of truth in my mouth. And the man
drove his cows horae, to the great joy of his faraily."
Bishop. "Well, but this is not all of this Kind
That Mr. Bull has told me concerning you ; for
* See Note 5 in Appendix.

156 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
I remeraber another story concerning a Parsel of
Sheep which one of your neighbours had lost and
you told hira where they were."
J.R. " I find ray Neighbour Bull has done his
Endeavour to render me as odious to thee as is
Possible. But, if thou please to hear me further, I
will also Relate to thee the Truth of that story."
Bishop. " Do, John. I want to hear it."
J.R. "A Neighbour of mine, one John Curtis
(who was at the tirae a Doraestick Servant to this
George Bull), Kept sorae sheep of his own ; and
it so fell out that he had lost his sheep some
days ; and seeing me, he desired me (knowing I
went much abroad) If I should see them anywhere
in ray Travels to let him know it. It Hap'ned that
on the morrow, as I was riding to ray own fields,
my Dogs, being with me, put up a hare ; and I,
seeing the Dogs were likely to kill the Hare,* rode
to save her, and, by mere accident, I saw my
Neighbour Curtis's sheep in one corner of the
field, in a thick bryerry place of the hedge, where
they stood as secure as if they were in a Pound ;
* See Note 6 in Appendix.

the sheep lost and found. 157
for they could not, without help, get out of the
place ; Whither I suppose they were driven by the
hounds some time before. When I carae home I
sent him word his sheep were in the Gassons
(which is the name of the field). Now this Curtis
being a servant to G. Bull, 'tis no wonder this
should reach his ear, altho it was no more then a
Common accident, yet I find he has Endeavoured
to improve it to my disadvantage."
Bishop. " This is not all yet, John, for I remeraber
one story more, which he has told me, and that
was concerning a Horse which a Gentleman had
lost ; and he was Directed to you, and you told
him where he might find him ; and he sought
there and did find him."
J.R. " If I shaU not tire thy Patience, I wiU also
acquaint thee how that was ; altho This is much
fike the story of the sheep."
Bishop. " No, 'twiU not tire me. I would have
you teU us this also, and then we have Done
with things of this Kind."
J.R. " There was one Edward Simons, who
came from London to see his Parents who lived

158 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
at Siddington, and they Put his horse to Grass,
with their own, in some Fields which lay frora
their house beyond some Grounds of mine, called
the Furzenleases, Through which Grounds they went
with the Horse. And when they went to fetch
him from grass, they could not find him. And after
he had been lost a considerable time and they
had had him cry'd at several Market Towns, some
body (who 'tis likely might have heard of my
being Instrumental in helping the Poor raan to his
•cows, as storys of this kind seldom loose by car.
riage) Directed Edward Simonds to rae. Accord
ingly he carae and told me he had lost his horse
so long agoe, and what means he Had used to
find him, which Proved fruitless. I ask't him which
way they Had Him to Grass. He answered,
-' Thro the Furzenleases.' — ' Then,' said I, ' 'tis very
likely that the horse, being a Strainger in the
place, might Endeavour to beat homeward and loose
himself in those furzenleases, Either Those of mine,
or some others of the sarae kind adjoyning to
mine ; for,' said I, ' their are abundance of acres
of Ground, called by that name, which are so

THE HORSE LOST AND FOUND. 159
overgrown, with furze bushes, that a horse raay lye
conceiled there many weeks, and not be found.
Therefore,' said I, ' the best advice I can give
thee is to get a great deal of Company, and
search those grounds, as Dilligently as Tho you
were beating for a Hare. And if thou dost so, I
am of the mind, thou wilt find thy horse.' The
man took my advice and did find Hira ; and
Where is the cunning of all this ? This is no
more than their own reason might have directed
them too, had they given theraselves time to think."
Bishop. " I wanted to hear Those three story's
from your own mouth, altho I could Not, nor
should not, have Credited Thera in the sarae sense
Mr. Bull Related thera. But I believe you, John.
And now, Mr. Bernett, we will ask John some
serious Questians. I can compare John to nothing
but a good Ring of bells. You know, Mr. Barnet,
a Ring of bells can be made of as good mettle as
can be put into bells, but They may be out of
tune. So we raay say of John. John is a man of
as good mettle as any man I ever Mett with ; but
he is Quite Out of tune."

l6o MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
J.R. " Thou may'st very well say so ; for I
Cannot tune after thy Pipes."
Bishop. " Well, John, I remeraber to have read,
that at the Preaching of the apostle, the heart of
Lydia was opened. Can you tell us what it was
that opened Lydia's Heart ? "
J.R. "Yes, I befieve I can."
Bishop. " I thought so. I desire you to do it."
J.R. " It was no other than the Key of David."
Bishop. " Nay, now, John, I think you are going
wrong." J.R. " If thou wUt Please to speak, I will hear
thee ; but, if thou wouldst have me speak, I desire
thee to hear me."
Bishop. " Corae, Mr. Barnett, we'll hear John."
J.R. " It is written, Thou hast the Key of
David, which opens and none can shut, and if thou
shutt there is none can open. And that is no other
then the spirit of our Lord Jesus Christ. It was
the sarae spiritual Key that open'd the Heart of
Moses, the first penman of scripture, and gave him
a sight of things frora the Begining, and it was

THE KEY OF DAVID. l6l
the same spiritual Key that open'd the hearts of
all the Holy Prophets, Patriarchs, and Apostles, in
ages past, who left their Experiences of the Things
of God upon Record. Which, if they had note
done, you Bishops and. Priests would have had
nothing now to make a trade off. For it is by
telling People the Experiences of those holy men,
that you now get your great Bishopricks and Par
sonages. And the same spiritual Key has. Blessed
be God ! in measure opened my heart, and given
me to distinguish Between things that differ ; And
it must be the same that must open thy Heart,
if Ever thou Knowest it truly opened."
Bishop. " It is the truth ! the very truth ! I never
heard it so defin'd before. John, I have done you
much wrong, and I desire You to forgive rae.
And Pray God to forgive me ; and I will never
wrong you more."
J.R. " I am of the same mind ; for 'tis in my
Heart to teU thee That I shall Never see thy Face
more." Bishop. " I have heard that you once told the
Jayler of Glocester so, and that it Proved true." 11

l62 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
J.R. "I told the Turnkey so concerning his
master. He had been very cruell to me, and the rest
of our Friends who were the Prisoners, and had kept
us in prison frora Assize to Sessions, and from Sessions
to Assize, and not put our naraes in the Kalender,
that we might have had a hearing. At which I
found means, by Letter at an Assize time, to
acquaint the Judge of His lUegall proceedings.
Whereupon we were ordered, in Perticular, to be put
in the Kallender, and accordingly we had a hearing and
were acquitted. But the Jayler was very Severely
Reprimanded by the Judge, in open Court, where the
Judge said to him, ' Sirrah ! if Ever I hear, for the
future, that you do the Like I will take care you shall
be Jayler here no longer. — Shall I come hither, to
hear and determine causes, and shall you keep men
in Prison, dureing your Pleasure, and not put their
names in the Callender ? ' The Jayler coming out of
Court was heard by the Turnkey to say 'twas Occa
sioned by Hayward that he was so reprimanded by
the Judge ; ' And,' said he, ' if ever He comes into the
Castle again, while I ara Jayler, he shall never go out
alive.' The Turnkey, hearing this, took an opportunity

RETURNING GOOD FOR EVIL. 163
to find rae out, and tell rae what his Master said —
' And,' said the Turnkey to rae, ' I would not have
you, by any means, To go Back to the Castle too
night To fetch anything out you have there ; For, if
you do, my master will detain you for his fees ; But I
will take Equal care of what you have there as you
could do yourself.' I acknowledged the kindness of
the Turnkey, and being free'd in Court went home.
When the Jayler carae back to the Castle he ask't
the Turnkey where the Quakers were. ' I thought it
ray Business,' reply'd he, ' to take care of the
fellons, therefore I left the care of the Quakers
to you.' Some time after I came home, going over
King's Mead to Cirencester, I saw a Person who, by
his having Irons on, I thought was a prisoner
who had made his Escape out of Gloccester Castle.
And I, being the Constable, secured hira, and sent
word to the Turnkey, that I had such a prisoner in
custody. Upon which he carae over to fetch hira
back ; and then said he to me, ' I beg you, if
you can by any means prevent it, not to come
any more to the Castle a prisoner, while my
Master is Jayler ; for he swears, if you Do, you

164 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
shaU never go out a Live. And that Hour you
corae in, I will leave the Castle, For I cannot
stay here to see you abused.' — 'Does he still say
so ? ' said I. ' Yes, indeed he does ! ' said he.
' Then,' said I, ' remeraber me to him, and tell
hira, frora rae, that I shall never see his Face
any raore.' And, soon after, it Pleased God to
take hira away by Death ; and in a little tirae
after that, I was had thither a prisoner again.''
This was the third and last Confferrance my
Father had with the Bishop. And they Parted in
much love ; and the Bishop dyed soon after.
Another time, our Friends having been for a
long time Kept out of the Meeting house at
Cirencester, and continuing to raeet in the street,
orders were, one day, Given to the officers to
perraitt them to raeet in the House. And after
they had been mett sorae tirae, a Friend of that
town, vidt. Theophila Townsend, kneel'd down to
Prayer, and while she was at prayer, carae in the
then Bishop of Glocester, who succeeded Nicholson
before raentioned, Together with Sir John Guize,

MEETING DISTURBED AT CIRENCESTER. 165
and Wm. Burcher [Bourchier],* of Barnsley, who
were then in the Comraission for the Peace, with a
great company attending them. The Bishop carae up to
Theophila, while she was at Prayer, and laying his hand
upon her head, said to her, " Enough ! good woraan,
Enough ! Desist ! good woraan, Desist ! " When
she had done, Richard Bowley, a Friend of
Cirencester, Pray'd after her. When he had done,
Sir John Guize ask't him his name. " My name,"
said he, " is Richard Bowley."
Sir John Guize. "Where do you live?"
Richard Bowley. " In this town."
Sir John. " What trade are you ? "
R.B. " A malster."
Sir John. " Set down Richard Bowley 20 lb. [;^2o]
for Preaching " (for, in those times, their wills were
so much their Laws, that Praying was, with them,
Construed as Criminal as Preaching). Then, looking
about, he said, " Whose house is this ?"
Then said my Father, " This house has many
owners." Sir John. "But who is the Landlord of it?"
» See Note 7 in Appendix.

l66 memoir of JOHN ROBERTS.
John Roberts. " One who is able to give us
a quiet Possession of our Bargain."
Sir John. " I Demand of you, who is landlord
of it?"
J.R. " The King is our landlord."
Sir John. "How is the King your landlord?"
J.R. " It is King's land, and we pay the King's
Auditors. And we are not only his Peaceable sub
jects, But we are also his good Tennants, and Pay
him his Rent duely, and therefore, we have reason
to hope, our landlord will give us a Peaceable
Possession of our Bargain."
Sir John. " Who pays the King's Auditors ? "
R.B. " I do."
Sir John. " Set down Richard Bowley twenty
pounds for the house."
Then my Father askt the other Justice, who
he had brought with him that was so forward to take
names, and levy fines.
" Don't you know him ? " said he. " 'Tis Sir
John Guize."
Then my Father Steping towards hira took hira by
the arm, and said to him, " Is thy name John Guize ?"

sir JOHN GUIZE. 167
Sir John. "What's that to you ?— What's your
name ? "
J.R. " I am not ashamed of my name ; But if
thy name be John Guize, I Knew thy Father by a
very Eminent Token ; and I would have thee take
warning by thy Father. ' A word to the wise is
sufficient.' "
Sir John. "Hear, Constable! — take this fellow
and lay hira by the Heels ! — He affronts me."
J.R. " My Heels, man ! Fear and dread the
living God ! I am not affraid of being laid by the
Heels." The Constable not forward to obey his Command,
he came hiraself and, taking ray Father by one
arm, bid the officer take hold of his other arm,
which he did, and they led hira into the street.
Then said Sir John, " Go about your Business."
J.R. " I ara about my Business."
They went in again ; and my Father went in
after them. Sir John, seeing him come in again,
said, " Hayward, I thought I had had you out ;
what do you here again ?"

l68 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
J.R. " I came to see how thou dost behave
amonge my Friends, and, if thou dost not Behave
thyself weU, I shall make bold to tell thee of it."
Sir John. " I Comraand you, in the King's name,
to go out again."
J.R. " If thou Please to go first, I wUl follow."
With some Pains he got all the Friends out of
the house, and ordered the forms to be brought
out also, and set in the street ; which was done.
Then said my Father to the FViends, " The seats
are our own, and we may as well sit as stand."
And they sat down. So that they had their work
of breaking up the raeeting to do over again,
which however they did, and sent away the forras
to the alrashouse. And then the meeting Dis
persed. Not long after, a Friend of Cirencester, vidt. John
Timbrel, wrote a letter to Wm. Burcher, the
other Justice (he having sorae acquaintance with
hira), in which he told hira he had, 'till then, a
better opinion of hira, than that he would have
set a hand to such work ; and was sorry he should
then be one in it. Upon the receiveing of which

JOHN TIMBRELL WRITES A LETTER. 169
letter, or quickly after, Wm. Burcher acquainted Sir
John Guize with the contents Thereof. Upon which
Sir John was angry with this J. Timbrel, and sent
out his special warrant against him ; which, being
brought to the constable, he was so kind as to let
J. Timbrell know of it, on a raarket day raorning.
" But," says he, " I will not serve it on you till
after your market."
He, However, Left his market and came to my
father, and told him of the warrant, and askt his
advice, and what measures to take. My Father
told him, if it were his concern he would not
stay to have the warrant served on hira, but go
directly to Sir John without it. " I would readily
do that," said he, " if thou wilt give me thy com
pany." My Father went with him, and, when they
came there. Sir John was gone abroad with his
wife, in the coach, to take the air, — But were
soon Expected home.
When he returned, Jno. Timbrell told hira that
when he was at leisure he desired to speak to
him. Sir John soon gave hira an opportunity, when
J. Timbrel told hira he had heard that he had

170 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
sent out a warrant, to bring him before hira, "And,
said he, " I rather chose to corae without."
Sir John. " What is your name ? "
John Timbrell. " My name is John TimbreU."
Sir John. " Are you that sawcy, Pragraatick,
FeUow who wrote to Mr. Burcher, to deter him
from Executing the King's Laws ? "
J.T. " I did write a letter to Wm. Burcher."
Sir John. "Then you deserve a Stone Doublet"
(meaning a Jayl).
John Roberts. " Hast Thou seen the letter ? "*
Sir John. " No. But I have had an account of
it." J.R. " Then, altho thou art a young raan, I
desire thee to show thyself so ranch a wise raan,
as not to condemn a thing thou hast not seen.
I have seen a coppy of it, and I think there was

* other editions of the Memoir give this as a question of John Timbrell,
but in the original manuscript the initials " J.R." precede it, and the question,
in view of the following remarks of John Roberts, seems more likely to be
his than that of his friend.

A persecutor's end. 171
a good deal of good advice in it, and I wish thee
and Wm. Burcher were both so wise as to take it."
Sir John. " I thought it was your writeing, or
Inditeing, althoii Timbrel's name was to it."
J.R. " No, it was not. For I knew nothing
of it 'till after it was sent."
Sir John. " But I remeraber it was you that
affronted me T'other clay, before so many People,
concerning ray Father. Pray what did you know
of my Father?"
J.R. " Sorae tirae ago, several of our Friends, and
my self, were mett together in a Peaceable manner to
wait upon and worship God, which we believe to be
our Duty, at a place call'd Stoke Orchard, where
thy Father came in a very Turbulent manner, with
a file of Musqueteers at his Heels, beating and
abusing us very much. I then warned him, in
much love, altho he did not at that time seera
to regard it ; but sent a bout twelve of us to
Glocester Castle. I then told him, That God
would Plead our Cause with him. And I was
credibly Informed that, not that very night, but the
next night after, he went to bed as well in appear-

172 memoir of JOHN ROBERTS.
ance as usual ; but in the raorning, not ringing a
certain bell, which he used to ring, his house
keeper went up once or twice, and thought he had
been asleep, altho she Thought his countenance
was changed. At which she was surprized, and
Drew the curtains ; upon which he flash'd open his
Eyes, But said nothing. ' Pray, sir,' said she, ' how
do you do ? ' He still said nothing. ' Pray, sir,'
said she, the second tirae, ' how is it with you ? —
for God's sake tell rae.' And all he said was,
' O these Quakers ! O these Quakers ! — Would to
God I had never had a hand against these
Quakers ! ' And I did not hear that he ever spoke
raore." When ray Father related this to hira he seeraed
surprized, but did not contradict it, which, 'tis
reasonable to think, he would, at least, have done had
it not been true. But, notwithstanding this fair warn
ing, he went on granting out his warrants against us ;
But the officers, being civil, were unwilling to make
spoil of their neighbours' goods, and would still
send one or other, before they came, to let down
our windows, or lock up our Doors ; and then they

UNWILLING OPPONENTS. 173
would come with their staves and knock at our
Doors, and finding thera fast would go their ways.
Sir John Guize, coraeing some time after to the
Ram in Cirencester, sent for the officers to him to
know what they had done. To which they made
answer. They had come several times and still found
our Doors and Windows fast, and if they should
attempt to break them open, they knew not what
Resistance they might meet from within.
Sir John. " If that be the case, do you apoint
your day, and I will send my own men to assist
you." Officers. " If you Please to do that, we will
Endeavour to see the King's Peace Kept." (For
they Intended his men should do the Drudgery.)
So he Dismist the officers.
Soon after came in Sir Robert Atkins, and they
drank a bottle of wine together at the Ram, and
from thence adjourn'd to Perrott's Brook, abput 2
miles Distant, To have a game at Play, that being
a Place to which the Gentlemen of that Country
did freequently resort, to Divert themselves. And
after they had been some time at Play, they

174 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Differred, Sir John saying it was not well play'd
nor well man'd, and the Garae was his. To which
Sir Robert reply'd, " Tis a lye, Sir John ! " Upon
which Sir John drew his sword, and deraanded
satisfaction. The people of the house steped in
between them, and Parted them, desiring them as
they were Lovers and Friends not to differ for a
word speaking. They seemed Paccified and sate
down to Play again ; and after sometime they arose
from their play and took a walk in the Bowling
Green, the People of the house thinking their heat
had been over. But Sir John, still resenting Sir
Robert's giving him the lye, said, " Sir Robert, you
have given me the lye and I will have satisfac
tion." Sir Robert Atkins. " If I have said anything
more than what is Comraan for Gentleraen to say
to each other in their Play, Betwixt you and I, I
ask your Pardon."
Sir John. '' If you will go in and ask it before
the People of the house, I will put it up ; other
wise not."
Sir Robert. " No, Sir John, that is beneath rae."

A DUEL AT perrott's BROOK.

175

Sir John. "Then draw, or you shall dye fike
a Dog." Both draw, and Sir Robert gives him a gentle
Prick on the arm, and then says —
Sir Robert. "I desire you to take that for
sattisfaction. I could have had you elsewhere, But
ara very unwilfing to do you further mischieff."
Sir John. " No. I will Kill or be KiU'd."
Sir Robert. " If that be your mind look to
yourself, for I shall have you at next Pass. Defend
yourself as well as you can."
And so he had ; for he ran him Through, In
at the Belly and out at Back ; and down he feU.
Then Sir Robert slept to him, unbuttoned his
Cloaths, tore down his shirt, and gently drew out
his sword, and took his Hankerchief and rold
the Corners up hard, and thrust it into the orrifice
(after he had well suck't the wound), and left it in to
keep out the air. Then, Buttoning up his Cloaths,
he Lifted him up and desired him, while he was
alive, to go in, and acquaint the People of the
House, how it was — and That his Death was of
his own seeking. And he was so Generous as to

176 memoir of JOHN ROBERTS.
say, " If I dye, Sir Robert is clear ; for If he had
not kill'd rae, I would have kill'd hira."
After Sir Robt. had done what he could for him,
Leaving a charge with the People of the House
to take great care of him, He rode away to
Cirencester, and sent one Freame, a Chyrurgeon, to
hira ; and Then he rode post to Oxford, and sent
the ablest Chyrurgeon he could frora thence, with
all speed.
On the morrow morning my Father was
Exceedingly troubled in his sleep, and strugled
very much till he was in a great sweat. My
Mother, Perceiving it, askt him what it was that so
troubled him in his sleep. " I thought," said he,
" that Sir John Guize was going to throw himself
headlong into a Deep pitt to destroy himself,
and I would feign have held him back, but he
would run into it.'' No sooner was my Father
come down stairs but in comes a neighbour with
the news that Sir Robt. Atkins had kill'd Sir J.
Guize. My Father then told his neighbour how he
had just been telling his wife of the Concern he
had for Sir John in his sleep.

REMORSE AND RESOLVE. 177
When the Chyrurgeons carae, They ordered him
to be shut up in a dark roora ; and I have been
credibly Inforraed he Lamented his Condition, say
ing, It was a Just hand of God upon him for
medhng with the Quakers ; " But if God will be
pleased to spare rae, and try rae again, I will
never have a hand against them any raore ; For
Hayward told rae. If I went on Persecuting, the
same hand that overtook my Father would overtake
me, Before I was aware ; and said I was set on
by some Envious Priest ; and I might have time
to repent it, and so I do with all ray heart. But
I could never come in company with Mr. Freame
and Mr. Careless, But they would be stiring me
up to put the Penal Laws in Execution against
Desenters." But the sword missing his Entrails, he lived
Thro it, and stood Candidate for the County after
it. But did not any more Disturb our Meetings.
And now, by Degrees, in the thread of this account,
will come in a Relation of some of ray Brother
Nathaniel's and my own sufferings for the Testimony

178 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
of Truth, which I have, also, Endeavoured to place
in order of time, as they followed one another, as
near as I could Recollect.
And first, I shall take notice of some Proceed
ings of James George against us, who was then in
the Commission for the peace, and who had, some
little time before, stood Candidate for the Burrow
of Cirencester. And meeting with some Disapoint-
ment, by some of our Friends voteing against
him, was so angry thereat that he Threatned
Revenge, if Ever it lay in his Power, Altho, neither
my Father, nor Brother Nathaniel, nor Myself
voted at all. And not long after, coraing to the
Ram, in Cirencester, he sent for my Brother
Nathaniel, and rayself, on a Market-day morning,
to come thither to him. And, soon after the
message was delivered to us, came in my Father
from Siddington. We told him we were Glad he
was come, for Justice George had Just now sent
for us to the Rara, and we should be glad of his
Corapany. He went with us ; and when we came
there, he, seeing ray Father, directed his discourse to
him, and said, " So, John, 'tis very well That you

JUSTICE JAMES GEORGE. 179
are come. I sent for your sons to let them Know
That 'tis his majestye's Pleasure to have the Laws
put in Execution ; and now I take the opportunity
to let them and You know That we must now be
all of one Church."
John Roberts. " Thou oughtest, then, to be weU
assured that that be the right Church ; for, if Thou
Shouldst be permitted so far to Exercise the Authority
Thou art Intrusted with, as to force a man, gainst his
Conscience, to conform to a wrong Church, Thou
canst not Indemnify that man, for so conforming, in
the day of account. I have read, indeed, that our
Saviour made a whip of small cords, to whip the
buyers and sellers out of the Teraple ; but I never
read that he whip't any in."
The window of the room, where we were,
standing open, we had a Prospect of Cirencester
tower ; and the Justice, pointing to it, said,
" What do you caU that, John ? "
J.R. " Thou mayst caU it a Daw-house if thou
Please. Dost not see how the Jack Daws flock
about it ? "
Justice George. " Well, notwithstanding your

l8o MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Jesting, I warn you, in the King's name, that you
meet no more, as you will answer it at your Perrill."
J.R. "Then I suppose thou think'st Thou hast
done thy Duty."
Justice. " Yes."
J.R. " Then I desire thee to give me leave to
do mine ; and I now warn thee, in the name of
the King of Kings, and Lord of Lords, not to
molest or hinder us, in the peaceable performance
of our Duty to God, as thou wilt answer it
another day." And then we parted for a time.
In a little time after he sent for the officers,
and bid them "go to the Quakers' meeting next
Sunday, and bring their names" to hiin. The officers
were very much troubled, and very unwilling to
obey his command, and some of them came to
me, and told rae what orders they had, and de
sired that we would not meet at the tirae and
Place we used to meet at, but Either to meet
Elsewhere, or alter the time.
I told them, we did not dare so far to Deny
the worship of our God ; " For," said I, "we worship
the same God that Daniel did, and he, notwith-

WARRANT SERVED AT A MEETING. iBl
standing that severe decree of the King, failed not
openly to own his God, by Praying to him with
his window open as usual. And our God is the
same he was in Daniel's days, and as able to stop the
Lyons' mouths now, as he was then ; and we are
not affraid to trust in him, having had Experience
of many Deliverances he has wrought for us."
The next day being first day, we raett at the
tirae and Place we used to raeet at, and a good
meeting we had, the Love and Presence of God
being senceably felt amongst us.
And anon came in one of the Constables with
a warrant in his hand, and went up to ray Brother
John and delivered it to him, and desired him to
read it. My Brother put it into his Pocket,
teUing the Constable, he intended to read it when
the meeting was over. " That will not do," said
he ; " if you will not read it now, 1 desire you to
give it rae again"; which he did. And they took
down several of our naraes and carried the list of
thera to Jaraes George ; among whom was my
Father's name, and ours, and diverse others. Upon
which, he sent out his warrants for distraining our

l82 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
goods, and they went and seized my Father's
corn in his Barns, and lock't up the barn
Doors. And it so fell out at that time, that the
murrain was Got very much among the Justice's
Cattle ; and they dyed apace. And his steward
came, and told him. "Sir," said he, "you must
send for John Hayward to do sorae what for
your cattle, or you will loose them." " No," said
the Justice, " don't send for him now. Because 1
have warrants out against him and his sons ; But
send for any body Else."
So the steward sent to an old man to whom,
on enquiry, he was recommended ; and the old
man came, and Blooded them, and gave them
Drinks, and Peged them in the Dewlap, and all to
very little purpose, for the Cattle continued to
sicken and dye as before. Then the steward comes
again to his master, and tells him, "An't please
your worship, if I Don't send for John Hayward,
I believe you will Loose all your Cattel ; for now
the Bull is sick, and off his meat too ; and I don't
find what this raan has done does them any good, for

CURING AN enemy's CATTLE. 183
they Continue to faU sick and dye as before. But
if you Please to give me leave to send for hira, I
don't questian But he can do them good." — " Then
send for him," said the Justice, " but Don't Bring
him in as you used to do ; But when he has
done what he can for them. Pay him and Dismiss
him." The steward then sent for ray Father, and he
went (Having learned that great Christian Lesson,
to return good for Evil) to Endeavour to recover
his Eneraie's Cattle (By whose orders, the corn
in his Barns was, at the sarae time, seized, and
the doors lock't up), and he did his Best for them
(which with the Blessing of God proved Efectual
and saved the Remainder of them). And when he
had done, the steward led hira into an Entry to
wash his hands ; and, as he was wiping them at
a towel, in the entry. The Justice (not thinking
of his being there) came by him, and saw him,
and said, " So, John, you have been and clone some
what for my cattle, I suppose." — " Yes," said my
Father, " I have, and I hope 'twill do them good."
" Well," said the Justice to his steward, " pay John."

184 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
" No," said my Father, " I wiU have none of
thy money."
" None of my money ! " said the Justice, " Why
SO?" " To what Purpose is it," said my Father, " for
me to come and take a little of thy money by
retail, and thou come and take away my goods
by wholesale."
Justice. " Don't you think that your coming
to Blood and Drink my cattle shall deter me from
Executing the King's Laws ! "
J.R. " 'Tis time enough for thee to deny me a
favour, when I ask it of thee. I seek no favour
at thy hands ; but when thou hast done me all
the Displeasure thou art permitted to do, I will,
notwithstanding, serve thee or thine to the utmost
of my abillity."
Justice. "Well, John, you raust stay and dine
with me."
J.R. " I shall Intrude, perhaps, if I do stay ;
and I don't desire to intrude ; therefore I had
rather be Excused."
Justice. " 'Tis no intrusion, John : You shall stay."

THOMAS ELWOOD ON " PERSECUTION." 185
So he staid dinner ; and before they Parted, my
Father Presented hira with a Book wrote by
T. Elwood, shewing the nature of Persecution, and
how far the Law corapel'd a magistrate, or inferior
officer, to act in such cases, &ct. Which, together
with my Father's readiness to serve hira, so wrought
on hira, That I do not Reraember that any of his
corn was taken away at that tirae.
But my Brother Nathaniel and myself, being
Partners in trade, in Cirencester, were fined By
this James George, for our selves, and unable
persons who were Presant at the meeting, Seventy
pounds. After some little time, on a second day morn
ing, being Market-day, ray Father came to our
shop, and told us That, as he came cross the
Market Place, he saw, at the King's Head,
several men call'd Justices, and he believed they
were come with design to fall on us. " And,"
said he, with Tears in his Eyes, " the Lord Keep
you Faithful in your Testimony for him ; But it
is as hard for me to leave you as it is for a

l86 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Partridge to leave her Young." And some of our
neighbours, having, by sorae means or other,
understood the Justices were coming to seize
our goods, one of them carae and shut our shop
Door, and locked it, and Carried away the Key.
And soon after carae a Butcher's wife of Cricklad,
who rented a stall before our Door, and, seeing
the Door of our shop was lock't up, ask't some
who stood nere her the reason that our shop
Door was locked on a market day. They told her,
in answer, that the Justices were coming to seize
our goods. " Are they ? " said she, " then they will
come in at the shop windows ! " So she shut down
the windows, and our Maid Pin'd them. And,
soon after, the Justices sent two raen to our back
Door, and one to the fore Door, Chargeing them to
let none go out. And, soon after, they came
themselves ; and one of thera. Looking Thro the
Key hole, saw me, and said, " I comraand you in
the King's name to open your Doors. If you will
not, I vow to God I will break them open."
I told him I had not shut thera, neither could I
open thera, if I would. They then Commanded

GUNPOWDER. 189
the Officers to fetch gunpowder, and one of them,
vidt. Sir Thos. Cutler, said he would Blow up
the House ; at which our next Neighbour's wife
screamed out, and said, " Lord have mercy upon
us ! what ! are you corae to Kill us all, and blow
up our houses about our Ears ? " Which saying of
the woraan, I believe, was some check on thera ;
for it was on Market day, and in raarket time,
before Hundreds of People.
The officers, however, being commanded to fetch
Gunpowder, went to several shops where they sold
it, but still told the People what it was for, vidt.
to blow up our house. So that nobody would sell
thera any, for that use. They came back to
the Justices, and told thera they could get no
Gunpowder. Then said the Justices, "Go to the
smith's, and get a sledge and bar to break open
the door." They went accordingly to one Wra.
Clark's and ask't for a sledge and bar, telling him
'twas to break open our Doors. "You shall have
no sledge nor bar here ! " said the smith. " If
you have, you shaU have rae too. I would corae
myself, with my sledge and bar, to do them any

190 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
service ; but you shall have nothing of me to do
them harm ! " But, at length, going to another
smith's, where the master was absent, a son, or
servant boy, of the smith's firnished them with a
sledge and bar. The Justices then commanded the
ofiicers to break open the Doors ; But they,
seeming backward to obey their Command, one of
the Justices said, " I suppose you are not wilHng
to do it ; and if not, say so, and we wiU
command the Sheriff's men to do it, and they will
do it Effectually."
I slept up into our dining room, and, looking
out at the window, I saw the Sheriff of the
county, and his men, and John Langbourn, the
Jayler of Glocester, and Sir Tho : Cutler, and
other Justices, all before the Door ; and going
Down again, I told my Brother, who was there,
that we must now give up our all.
Soon after, came the two Constables to the Back
Door, and told us they had stood out as Long as
they could, and, if they did not do it, The
Sherriff's raen would, and therefore desired that we
would let them in at the Back Doors. We told

HOUSE FORCIBLY ENTERED. 191
them that, as we had no hand in shutting them
out, we Could have no hand in letting them in ;
but, if they did corae in by force, we had rather
they came in at the fore Door, than the Back
Door. My Brother told them, he would not have
them do any thing against their Consciences in
favour of us, for we were willing to suffer, with
Patience, what the Lord should suffer to be done
unto us.
In the meantime came Justice Parsons to the
Butcher's wife and askt her for her cleaver. " And
God forgive me!" said the woman afterwards, "I
was forc't to tell him a lye ; for I told him I
had forgot it, and left it at home too day. But, the
truth is, I, fearing they would want it, Dropt it
down into your Cellar."
The sledge and bar being corae, They go to
work at the Door with it, and it was not long
before they beat off the Uper Hatch, and soon
after the Lower part of the Door. Then comes
in Sir Tho : Cutler with his Hand on his Sword,
the rest foUowing. A young woman, being in the
shop when they were coming in, was Surprized,

192 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
and steped out at the Back Door ; which Sir Tho :
Cutler seeing, said, " There is one gon, and there
may as weU be five Hundred gon. I wiU take ray
oath here is a Conventicle." I, being near him,
advised him to be careful what he said or swore,
teUing him he must give an account thereof, and
he knew not how soon. " But," said I, " 'tis not
reasonable to think that tradesmen should Keep a
conventicle in their shop on a market day in the
middle of market time ! "
Then he, and Justice Parsons, went through the
Shop into our Kitchen, and I foUow'd them, But
my Brother stayed in the shop, with the officers.
Then a Servant, belonging to one of them, came
and took off ray hat — and lay'd it on the table.
I took it up and put it on again, saying — " I hope
a man may keep on his hat, in his own house,
without offence to any man."
Then Sir Tho : Cutler ask't rae my name, which
I told him. Then, caUing me by it, he said, " Can
you swear ? "
I told him, not that I knew off — for I had never
try'd.

" SWEAR NOT AT ALL." I93
" Then," said he, " you raust begin now."
I told him, I thought I should not.
" But how will you help it ? " said He.
" I have no other way to help it," said I,
" than not to do it. But if thou canst convince
me By the Book in thy hand" (For he had my
Bible in his hand, which he had taken down frora
a shelf), "That it is Lawful to Swear, since Christ
forbid it, then I will swear — and when raen corae
and say, ' You raust swear, or it will be the worse
for you,' It is but reasonable to Expect, that such
men should be Quallified to prove it Lawful, if it
were so, in order to satisfie scrupulous Consciences.
Our Saviour says, ' Swear not at all,' and thou
sayst I must swear ; Which must I obey ? "
I also Instanced in the words of the Apostle
Jaraes against swearing.
"Well, Daniel," said Sir Tho: Cutler: "if you
will not swear you must go to Jayl."
"The wiU of God be done!" said I, "for be it
known to you, we had rather be in Prison, and
Enjoy our Peace with God, Than at Liberty and
break our peace with him."

194 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Then said Justice Parsons — " I suppose you are
one of John Hayward's sons ? "
"Yes," said I, "I am."
" I ara sorry for that," said He.
" Why art sorry ? " said I, " I never heard an
honest man speak against my Father, in my life.
What has thou against hira ? "
" We have this against him," said Sir Tho :
Cutler, " that he is not only mislead himself but
is also a means to mislead raany others.''
" If you have nothing else against hira," reply'd
I, "but his obedience to the law of his God,
that is no raore than those accusers of honest
Daniel (who accused hira to the King) had against
him : and that does not Concern me."
" His worshiping God," said Sir T. Cutler, " in
the way he does is Crime Enough."
" Then," said 1, " I hope I shaU be a Criminal
as long as I Live."
Then they went into the shop, which was full
of officers and others, and bid the officers take
Enough to satisfy the fine, and then bring us both
over to the King's Head (my Brother being stUl

A PRAYER FOR STRENGTH. I95
in the shop with the officers, taking an account of
the Prirae cost of the Goods they seized).
I, in the raean time, went clown into the Cellar,
and, Kneeling on a Drink stand, besought the Lord
in Prayer, that he would be pleased to strengthen
us in this day of tryal, that we might stand faith
ful in our testimony for his truth. And he was
pleased to fill with his goodness and to carry us
far above the fear of raan, and to give assurance
that he was on our side. — And soon after I carae
up out of the cellar, we were sent for over to the
King's Head, to the Justices ; and as we went
Cross the Market Place several of our Neighbours
took us by the hand, wishing they could suffer so
cheerfully as we did.
When we carae thither, Jaraes George, taking us
Each by the hand, said, " You Know, young raen,
that some tirae agoe I sent for you to the Ram,
and told you what would foUow, if you Continued
to meet as usual; and now it is come upon you,
and I can't help it."
We told him, the Law of God, which he had
written in our hearts, required us to meet together

196 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
to serve and worship hira, in spirit and truth ; and
the laws of men require the contrary. " Now,"
said we, " which ought we to obey ? This we know,
that if, for our obedience to our God, he should
suffer us, for the tryal of our Faith and Patience,
to fall into the hands of unreasonable men, he is
able to deliver us when he pleaseth. But if, for
fear of man, we should disobey Gocl, and thereby
raake him our Enemy, it would then be out of
the Power of any raan, or men, to deliver us out
of his hand."
Then Sir Tho : Cutler demanded of the officers
why they did not bring us over sooner to thera ; to
which the oficers reply'd, " The young men desired we
would let them take sorae account of the prime cost
of the goods we seized ; which they did ; and that
was the reason we brought thera no sooner."
" They take an account of the goods ! " said
Sir Tho : Cutler. " There was no occasion for that.
You ought to seize the whole shop of goods, be
their worth 5 Hund'd pounds raore or less, and if
anyone bids you but a Groat for 5 pounds worth
of their goods, you ought to take it."

GOD THE SAME BY SEA AS LAND I97
" O man," said I, " Blush and be ashamed ! Is
that according to the Golden Rule, which all
Cristians ought to walk by, to do to others as
they would be done unto ? "
Then he said, " I have tendered you the
oath already ; But, because you are young men,
I will tender it to you once again, and if either
or both of you will take it, you shall go
home again to your Shop and trade ; but if both
of you refuse it, we shall raake your Mittimus
and shall send you both to Glocester Castle, And
their, the Justices may, if they please, call you out
and give you a third tender ; and if you refuse
that, then all your goods and chattels will be
forfeited to the King ; and you to be sent to
Mevis [Nevis], or Anteago [AntiguaJ, or any other
of the King's Forreign Plantations, which his
Majesty please to send you."
We told hira our God was the same by sea
as by Land, and if he pleased (as we Doubted not he
would) to afford us his corafortable presance, we
were not careful whither they sent us. But if
their chain should be so far lengthned out as

198 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
to send us out of our Native land, frora our
Parents, Relations, and Business, we thought they
would have as bad neighbours left, when we were
gone ; and we did not Questian raeeting with as
good neighbours as they were, whithersoever they
sent us, for they could but be troublesorae to us,
and send us back again.
Our Mittimus being made, we were delivered
over to the Charge of the Officers, one of whome,
whose name was Nich : Merchant, being appointed
to conduct us to Priison, Ask't us when we should
be ready to go. We told him we could not,
conveniently, settle our affairs so as to go that day, it
being far spent, But on the morrow morning we hoped
to be ready to go with him — to which he consented.
So we spent the major part of the following night in
Packing up Goods, and writeing Letters to our
Creditors, telfing thera therein how the case stood
with us, desiring them to take such goods again,
whither stuffs or linnen, as were uncutt, in Part of
the Ballance, &ct.
One of the Officers would have defivered the
Mittimus to us, teUing us we might take it, and

A MEETING en route for prison. 199
go to Prison by ourselves ; but we refused that, not
judging it so proper. He then ask't me if I would
ride my own horse. I told him, Not at that tirae
and on that occasion. But if he would provide
us horses we were then ready to go. He ask't us
if he should raeet us with the horses at the town's
end. We told hira that, as we had done nothing to
be asharaed off, we desired the horses might be
brought to our own Door, and go thro the town.
Which we did. And many of our neighbours
came, very lovingly to take their Leaves of us.
And it pleased God to open and Enlarge my heart
in supplycation to hira, that He would be pleased
to accompany us with his Living Presance — Which,
Blessed be his Name ! he did, to our great comfort
and Incouragement ; We then mounted our horses,
and rode down the town, till we came to our Friend
Amariah Drewet's house, where we found our
Dear Father, and Mother, and Brother John, and
as Many more Friends as the room would
Conveniently Contain, retired in their Spirits,
Waiting on the Lord. When we came in among
them, ray raouth was soon opened, being fiU'd

200 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
with the love and Goodness of God ; and conclud
ing in Prayer araong thera. They Walked with us
to the town's end, the officer leading our horses,
where we took a soleran Leave of our Dear
Parents and Friends, and went away very chear-
fuUy with the officer, who signified to us, by the
way. That he was very sorry 'twas his hard lot
to go with us to prison, and ask't us, if he could
serve us in anything when we came there.
My Brother told him if he could with con
veniency stay all night, and Deliver us to the
Jayler in the morning, it might be of service to us ;
for we should then have time to go into the citty,
and ballance accounts with sorae of our Chapraen,
and Provide ourselves with Beding, and other
nessessarys which we should want in prison. He
told us he could by no raeans stay all night,
Because he constantly kept Tetbury raarket with
Malt, and was obliged to be there at market on
the morrow. " But," said he, " I have a Kinsman
in Glocester, who calls me Uncle, and keeps an
Inn, I will have you Thither, if you Please, and
leave the Mittimus with him, and he will, if I

THE BROTHERS AT GLOUCESTER CASTLE. 201
desire it, go with you to the Castle toraorrow, or
when you Please." To which proposal we agreed ;
and when, on the morrow, we had done our
Business with our Chapmen, and provided our
selves with Nessessarys, we desired him to accora-
pany us to the Castle with the Mittimus, which
he did.
When he came there, he delivered the Mittimus
to the Jayler, whose name was John Langbourn,
telling him he had brought these two men Prisoners
to the Castle. "And there," said he, "is their
Mittimus." " Whence came they ? " said the Jayler.
" Frora Cirencester," said the raan.
" You are no officer of Cirencester ! " said the
Jayler, " therefore I will recieve no Mittiraus, nor
Prisoner, frora you."
" With aU my Heart, sir," said the man. " I
was desired, by the officer of Cirencester, to bring
them, but, if you will not receive them, they raay
Return to Cirencester again, for me ! "
So Delivering the Mittiraus into ray Hand, he
said, " Here, take the Mittiraus, and God in heaven

202 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Bless you ! But I Beleive my Uncle must come
down in your places." I, having the Mittimus in
my hand, held it to the Jayler, telling him, that it
was at our Request that the Constable did not come
with us himself, by reason we wanted some time
in the Citty, araong our Chapraen, &c., which he
could not stay all night to attend ; and we were
not willing he should suffer for his readiness to
serve us. Therefore I told the Jayler, I desired
he would Please to receive us and the Mittiraus.
"Well," said the Jayler, "if you desire it, I will
take it from you, altho not from him.'' Which he
did. And when we came into the Castle we found
several of our friends. Prisoners there before us,
frora several Parts of the County, 'till at Last we
had a Large family of Friends in Prison, consisting
at one time of about forty or fifty.
And after we had been some months Prisoners,
there were two notorious Highwaymen brought
prisoners to the Castle, having committed a Robbery
in the county. They were of flintshire, in Wales,
by Birth, and had been in several prisons in Wales

" A GREAT JAYL OF DEBTORS AND FELLONS." 203
and Elsewhere, and had broke out. But when our
Landlord, Langbourn, had thera prisoners in the
Castle, he said they were now secure ; " For," said
he, " the Devil can't break Jayl here ! " There were
also in Prison, about that time, several Clipers and
Coiners of money, besides [between] 15 hundred and
2000 debtors. Our Jayler, and the then Jayler of
Oxford Jayl, had at the time given security to each
other, that if either of them should sustain any con
siderable Loss, By any of the Debtors in either
prison making their Escape, the other was oblieged,
by a contract made between them, to bear a part of
such Loss or Losses.
And the Assizes at Oxford coming in course
before the assizes at Glocester, our Jayler was
obleiged to attend at the Assizes at Oxford ; and
having, at the time, a great Jayl of Debtors and
fellons, was very much concerned in his mind with
whome to leave the Charge of the Jayl, while he
went to Oxford; For he had, a httle time before,
found his Turnkey Drunk, and asleep, with the
Key of the Gate in his hand ; which if any of the
Prisoners had by Chance seen before him, they

204 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
might have secured the Key, and let themselves,
and the rest of the Prisoners, out of the Castle.
And taking the Key from him, the Jayler turned
him out of his Place, and carae and told rae of
it (my Brother being then at home), and withall
desired me to take the Keys, and the care of the
Castle, upon me, while he went to Oxford ; for
the Assizes then drew near — " And," said he, " if
you will undertake it, I will give you twenty
pounds, and shall think myself very much obleiged
to you, if you will serve rae in this strait."
I told him I would not do it for his money,
altho I should be glad of an opportunity to serve
him ; But this, being an affair of so great raoraent,
I was not willing Iraraediately, and without raore
consideration, to undertake it, and desired some
little time to consider of it ; to which he consented.
My Brother being absent, I call'd a Counsel among
our Friends who were our fellow Prisoners, and ask't
their advice. They advised me to take the Keys, and
serve him there in ; which, upon their advice, I did.
And some Little tirae after that, the Jayler went
to Oxford ; and in a day or two after he was

TWO WELSH HIGHWAYMEN. 205
gon. These two Highwaymen, out of flintshire,
having formed a Project for breaking Jayl, Contrived
to Execute it in the Jayler's absence. And Geting
Up in the night to one of the windows of the
main Jayl, they filed assunder several of the
Iron Bars, but not having tirae, the same night,
to get them out of their Places (which they must
do before they could get out), they tempered Dirt
and -water together, and stopt up the Places there
with, where the bars were cut assunder, that it
might not be Perceived the next day.
But on the morrow raorning, one Rather Williams,
a welch man also, who spoke English but brokenly,
and was in Prison for stealing Cattle (being a Person
we, and our Friends, used to Imploy to attend on us,
and thera), carae up into our apartraent, saying in a
surprize, " Ah ! By du gwin ! * these Rogues out of flint
shire will break all our Brains out, I'll warrant."
" What dost mean, Rawther ? " said I.
• Two noted Welsh scholars have been consulted as to the meaning of these
words ; and they agree in considering them a mis-spelling of duw gwyn — duw,
" God," and givyn, " white," hence spotless or holy God. One of these gentlemen
suggests as a possible alternative meaning £?Mi(? gwin, "god of wine," but prefers
the former explanation. He adds that the words duw gwyn, or myn duw givyn,.
"by the holy God," form an oath in the present day, especially in North Wales.

306 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
" Ah ! these Rogues out of flintshire, all night, up
in a window, this Fashion " (Iramitateing, with his
iwo fore fingers across each other, their raanner of
fileing the Bars Assunder).
"Is it true, Rawther?" said I.
" Yes, by Du gwin ! " said he, " 'tis true, Else
I will give hur all this " (Streaking his fore finger
cross his Throat). By which I apprehended him to
mean, that, if it was not true, he would forfeit his
life. Upon which I went down into the yard, and
call'd one of the Jayler's men to bring a Ladder,
which he did, and carried it up into the main
Jayl, turning the fellons out ; biding them go
down into the yard ; for we, frequently, perraitted
them to walk in the yard, in the day time, for the
air, it being well secured all round with a High
wall. Then I Lock't myself and the raan into the
main Jayl, and, making that the Last window, I
searched all round, the fellons coming up again
out of the yard, in the mean time ; and looking
thro the hole of the Door, through which there
bread and other nessessarys were comraonly delivered
to thera, could see very Plainly what we were

BREAKING JAIL. 207
doing. For which reason it was I chose to raake
that the last window, that they might not think I
did it by Information. And when I came to that
window I took out the Dirt, saying in Their hear
ing, That all that noise of fileing Last night was
not for nothing. For our apartraent was over the
main Jayl, and that they Knew ; frora whence they
raight well conclude that I had heard thera at
worke in the night ; for if they had known that they
had been betrayed by this R. Williaras, he would
have been in great danger of his Life from them.
My next care was to secure thera 'till the Jayler
carae horae, and, in order't to it, I Intended to
set a strong guard well arraed round the Castle the
next night. But in the afternoon of the same day
— which was a day or two sooner than I Expected
him — the Jayler knock't at the Gate (I Knew his
Knock), and [I] went and let him in. And the first
word he said to me was, " Daniel, is all safe ? " I
told hira, " Yes."—" Thank God for that ! " said he ;
" for I have been very uneasy Everyday since I
went, least in ray absence they should break Jayl,
altho I doubted not of your Care."

208 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
So he went into the Kitchen ; and, calling upon
his servants to wait on him, I went into the
Kitchen and offered to attend on hira, telling hira
his wife and servants, not expecting him at that
time, were gone into the Cherry orchard. So I
hope [helped] him off with his Boots and Draw'd
him a tankard of ale ; and, when he had Drank, I
desired him to take his cane, and come along with
rae, and said, " I will show thee such a sight as I
believe thou hast not seen since thou wert Jayler."
"What!" said he. "An attempt to break Jayl?"
" Yes," said I.
So I took him up into the main Jayl, where
from the ground he might Plainly see the Iron
Bars were cut Assunder. Then turning away in a
Heat, he swore, " 'Twas those Damn'd Rogues out of
Flintshire " ; and going to John Smith, which was
the most Resolute of the two welch Highwaymen, he
laid hira on [on hira], over the head and shoulders,
with his Cane. But I, steping behind him, took hold
of his cane, telling hira I desired hira to forbear,
" For,'' said I, " their are other ways to deal with
them. Life is sweet ; we can't Blame them for

INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE. 209
Endeavouring to make their Escape." And, caUing
to his man, he said — " Witchell, fetch the Thumb
screws. I wiU Thumb Screw the Doggs ! I'le make
the Blood fly over the Castle ! "
I, in the meantime, calling this John Smith aside,
told him, that, if he would be so much his own Friend
as to deliver to me the files he did it with, I would
promise hira no Thumb screws should be put on him.
With much Grumbling and Reluctance, he went
to a place in the yard we called the Mount ; and,
Pulling out a Piece of mortar, he took from thence
the files and saw-Knives, and Delivered thera to
rae. Then, Going Back to the Jayler, I told him
I had Promised John Sraith that no Thumb Screws
should come on him, on Condition that he would
deliver up the files to me, which he had done :
and I delivered them to the Jayler.
"Have you promised him so!" said he. "Then
I will Promise hira and his Corapanion The
Widow's Arms," which was a Pair of Strong Irons,
Joyned together with an Iron Bar, about an ell in
Length, and large in proportion, with which they
were Locked together 'till the Assizes.

210 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
When the Assizes came, they Both, being con
victed of several Cappital Crimes, were condemned
to suffer Death, according to there sentance — John
Smith being Hanged in chains. But this Rather
Williams, who had discovered their attempt as
above, altho his Crime for stealing Cattle would in
the Eye of the Law (the fact being plainly Proved
against him)' have Incurred the like sentance of
Death by the Halter, yet, on Consideration of his
service, by the Discovery afore said, Interest [in
tercession] being made to the Judge, and his case
being truly Represented to him, so much favour was
Shown him that, Instead of suffering Death, he was
sentenced to be transported.
The Assizes being over, we still continued in
Prison, and had the Keys of the Castle some time
after. And if at any time our Friends had a mind
to go and see their wives and families, or if any
urgent nessessity Called for their Presance at horae,
they need but go and ask the Jayler's Leave, and he
would very seldora Deny thera. For he took it so
kindly of us that we served him so faithfully and

HENRY DOODING. 211
freely (for we took none of his raoney), that our
Friends fared the better on that account.
But once in Perticular, one of our Friends,
vidt. Henry Dooding, his wife, Being near her time,
and very Desirous to see her Husband, sent to
the Castle, to desire him to get Leave of the
Jayler to corae and see her. He accordingly went
and asked the Jayler's leave, who told hira in
answer, that he had " the Devil of an adversary, and
therefore," said he, " I dare not let you go home.
'Tis as much as ray Place is worth." He thereupon
carae back and told me what the Jayler said,
ading that he was very desirous to go home and
see his wife ; &ct. " Go to him again," said I, " and I
will go with thee." And when the Jayler saw us
coming towards him, he called out to the friend,
saying, " Dooding, how far have you home ? " He
answered, " About 20 miles." — " Then," said the
Jayler, " if you will be careful to Keep out of sighl
of your adversary, you may go home for a week.'
I, being by, took the freedom at that time to tel
the Friend, in the Jayler's hearing, that, since he
had been so Kind as to give hira one week, ]

212 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
would for once give him another. The Jayler did
not contradict it ; and the Friend went home.
Having, as I said before, a large Family of
Friends in Prison, we had frequently large meetings
on first days, and week days, in the Castle. And
divers of the Prisoners, who were not of us, would
commonly corae in, besides many others out of the
Citty. At which our Persecutors were angry ; and
one of thera, vidt. Richard Parsons, who lived in
the Citty, appointed to come one first day to our
raorning raeeting to break it up. It so fell out
that our Dear Father carae, on that very Day, to
see us. And, going to put up his horse at the
Inn he used — which Inn was then kept by the
Mayor of the Citty — the Mayor's wife sent her
maid to let him Know that Justice Parsons Intended
to corae that day to the Castle, to break up the
raeeting, adviseing hira not to be there at the tirae,
least he should be detained a Prisoner. He kindly
acknowledged her love, for leting hira know it,
but came to the meeting notwithstanding.
And, after we were some little time sat down

A SERMON CRITICIZED. 213
in the meeting, there came in a little Boy in a
Livery, who staid not Long, and went away, and
soon after carae his master, the Justice, and several
with him.
When they came in, an antient Friend, one
Henry Ponton, was speaking ; and the subject he
was upon was concerning the Confession of some
Professors, that they were doing what they ought
not and leaving undone what they ought to do.
Which words the Justice took hold off — telling
Henry Ponton that he was complaining of others,
and doing the same himself. " For," said he, " you
are now doing what you ought not and leaving
undone what you ought to do." Then coraing up
to him, he took hold of his grey Locks to Pull
him clown ; but Henry, being a tall man (who had
forraerly been a fencing-raaster), stood his ground,
and spoke over his head. He then Endeavoured
to stop his raouth with his glove ; but Henry
avoided that by turning his head asside.
When he had done speaking, TheophUa Towns-
end, a Friend of Cirencester, who was also a
Prisoner, stood up, and said, " It is a Sign the

214 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Devil is hard put to it to have his Drudgery done,
that the Priests must Leave their Pulpits and
Parrishoners to come and turn Informers against
Poor Prisoners in the Prisons " (for he was a Clergy
man, as well as a Chancellor and Justice of Peace).
Then said he to his companions, " That is
Theophila. She will speak."
There was, at that time, in the meeting, araong
many others who were not friends, one O. Neale,
an Irish man ; and the Justice, turning to him
said, " Who are you ? Are you a Quaker ? " — " No,
sir," said he, " I hope you don't take me for so
good a Christian." The next the Justice Spoke to
was a woman whose Husband was a prisoner,
whom he also ask't if she was a Quaker. She
replyed, " No, sir, I am not ; but would to God I
was.'' Then Turning to John Tiffin (who had
formerly been Turnkey of the Castle), he said, " Come
and tell me your prisoners' naraes.'' Upon which
T. Townsend told John Tiffin she had read raany
Law Books, but never read in any of them that
any man was obliged by Law to turn Informer.
That must be his own volantory act. " I scorn the

JUSTICE'S INJUSTICE. 215
name of an Informer," said Tiffen, and turned
away, not telling the Justice the naraes of the
Prisoners. " I see now," said the Justice, " how matters go.
It is no wonder here are such meetings." Then,
turning to a Friend, he demanded his name. The
Friend told him he claimed the comman priviledge of
an Englishman, and thought as such he was not
Bound to accuse himself. " Nay," said the Justice,
" if you are thereabouts I shall be even with you
another way."
He then went horae and searched his Books,
where he had a list of the naraes of several
Friends, who were brought into the Castle, prisoners
for Tythes ; and Taking it for granted that they
were all presant at the Meeting, he sent out his
warrants for Distraining their goods. Among whom
were several who, at that very time, were absent
from the Castle at their own houses, some of whom
had Leave of the Jayler, and others whora I had
given Leave to go horae for a short time. One of
them was a widow woman, By narae Lettice Gush,
who lived about 20 miles distant from Glocester ;

2X6 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
And a warrant was sent thither for the Distrayning
her goods, to the vaUue of 20 lbs. [;^2o], for being
convicted at a Conventicle in Glocester Castle, on
such a day of the Month. She, recolecting that
she was at her own home at the sarae time,
advised the officer, and those he brought with him,
to take care what they did ; " For," said she, " I
was not Present at the meeting, and that my
Landlord, who is also a Justice of Peace knows
very well. He lives near this Place, and I desire
you, before you Proceed to distrain ray goods, to
go with rae to him ; and if he does not sattisfy
you that I was at home at the same time, you
may then use your Pleasure. But if you should
proceed to distrain my goods, by vertue of this
warrant, I doubt not but my Landlord will so far
Espouse ray cause as to Punish you for so doing.
For, I befieve, he is so much my Friend, as that he
will see Justice clone me in this Case.''
They readily agreed to go with her to her
Landlord, and Shew'd hira the warrant. And when
he had read it, " What a RascaU," said he, " is
this Parsons ! — Here he says he wiU take his oath

LETTICE GUSH AND FRANCIS BOY. 217
that ray Tennant was convicted by him at a Con
venticle in Glocester Castle, such a day of the
month ; and I will take ray oath that she was at
her own home at the same time, which is 20 miles
distant. If you , touch any of her goods, by vertue
of this Warrant, be it at your PerrU. I will
assure you, if you do, I will stick Close to your
Skirts." " But, sir," said they, " what can we do in this
Case ? How can we raake a legal return of the
warrant without Executing it ? "
" Do ! " said her Landlord ; " carry it back to
Mr. Parsons, and bid him .... and I wiU bear
you out in it." So they returned without Distrain
ing any of her goods.
Another warrant was issued out, at the sarae time,
against a Friend whose narae was Francis Boy, for
the Distress of his goods, for the sarae Crime, to
the valine of 20 lbs. [;^2o] also. He was also
absent from the Castle at that tirae ; and it so fell
out that, when the officers carae to his house to
raake Distress upon his Goods, he was absent from
horae, so that his Cattle were distrained, and drove

2l8 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
away, to the valine of between 20 and thirty
pounds, in his absence. When he carae horae,
and understood what had been done, he Endeav
oured to recolect where he was on that day, on
which he was accused of being so convicted at a
Conventicle in Glocester Castle ; and, searching
his Books, he found he was sent for on that
very day to a Gentleraan in that Neighbourhood,
To adrainister Physick to hira, and to let him
Blood. He Being a Physitian by his Practice, and
being well assured that it was on that day, he
went over to the Gentleraan, on Purpose to ask
hira if he could reraeraber what day of the week
and month it was that he was with him at before.
The Gentleman soon called to raind when it was,
saying he had good reason to remember it — " For,"
said he, "if you had not done what you did for
rae, I befieve I had now Been in my Grave."
He then told the Gentleraan why he ask't; and
withall told him that his Cattle were distrained
and drove away.
" WeU," said the Gentleman, " I would advise

THE JUSTICES RELENTMENT. 219
you to appeal, at the next Sessions, for Redress,
and you may assure yourself, that I will serve
you what Lyes in my Power ; for I will take my
oath, before any Judge or bench of Justices in
England, that you were with rae on that daj'."
But it so fell out that he had no occasion to
Appeall, at the Sessions, for Redress ; for his
having so Credible a witness as this Gentleraan,
Ready (in direct contradiction to the warrant) to
attest that the Friend was absent from the
Meeting, for being convicted at which the fine
was pretended to be Levyed — I say, his having such
a witness soon took air, and his Cattle were
returned home before the Sessions Came.
So that Justice Parsons, having so ill success,
forbore for the future to disturb our Meetings in
the Castle.
But our other Antagonist, James George, who
was the orriginal cause of the sufferings of my
Brother Nathaniel and myself, after we had been
in prison about the space of two years, began to
bethink himself, and said one day to the Jayler

220 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
(which he told us again), that he did confess he
had dealt very hardly by us, in sending us to
Prison, frora our shop and trade ; " And," said he,
" if you wiU let thera go horae sometimes to see
after their Concerns, I wiU wink at it, for," said
he, " I can go into no company but one or
another complains to me of their hard usage."
Some tirae after, we went home, and, opening
the shop of a market day, had a great trade,
our neighbours and Friends being willing to come
and lay out their money with us. And, after
market was over, we had a meeting with Several
of our Friends, at Araariah Drewet's, in the Evening.
Our ancient Friend, John Beard, being there, con
cluded the meeting in Prayer ; and while he was
at Prayer, carae up along the street in their way
home (the moon shining Very Bright), Jaraes
George and his Brother William ; who, hearing the
Friend at Prayer, came into the house, saying to
Araariah Drewet — " O Amariah ! Amariah ! WiU
nothing deter you from keeping these seditious
conventicles at your house ? " To which he answered
that the Lithurgy of the Church of England allow'd

" WHO ARE YOU, SIRRAH ? " 221
of Prayers, in famifies, for the sick ; " And," said he,
" here is a person sick in the house."
" But," said the Justice, " this is a conventicle,
for here is above the number of five beside the
family." A young man, a Student in the University of
Oxford, whose name was John Perry, and who was
Grandson to the antient woman who then lay sick in
the house, coraming that way along the street, and
William George, the Justice's Brother, seeing hira,
coramanded him to come in and see the King's
Peace kept.
And He, being angry in his raind, that the
Justice should be so troublesome, made answer that
he knew not that anybody there would Break it,
" Except you do," said he, " or those you bring
with you." And standing by the Justice with his
Hat on, the Justice said to hira — " Who are you,
Sirrah ? are you a Justice of Peace ? " and took
his Hat off and threw it near the fire.
" I am no Sirrah ! " said Perry, "I ara a
Gentleraan by my Degree, and I know when and

222 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
where to pay my respects to Magistrates ; but it
shall be in ray tirae, and not in theirs, sir."
I had 'till now stood with ray Back to the
Justice ; But now, it being late and I willing to go
horae, and withall desirous to Shew myself to
him before I went (He having, as I said before,
told the Jayler he would wink at it, if he let us
come home soraetiraes), I went up nearer to him,
and Looked him in the Face, But said nothing to
him ; which when I had done I went out, and
several of the Friends followed me, upon which
William George said to his Brother, " While you
are Contending with this man, the raeeting will
Break up and be gone." — "Let thera go," said the
Justice, " if they will. I have got the Preacher here,
and that's Enough."
I was willing to shew ray self to him, before I
went, to try him, whether he would so Wink, as
not to meddle with us ; and so he did, as far as
concerned my Brother and myself. But he sent
for the officers that very Evening, and seized
Amariah's Brass, Pewter, and Beding to a con
siderable VaUue."

DEATH AND BURIAL. 223
We in a little tirae returned back to the Castle.
And not Long after it Pleased God to visit our
Dear Father with a fit of Sickness, which proved
raortal to him. I had leave given me to be with
hira the major part of the time he lay sick, to
attend on him, which I did. And the Lord was pleased
to accompany him with his Living Presence in his
Last moments. Having faithfully finished his Day's
work, he departed this Life In the year 1683 ; and
was Intered in the Piece of Ground he had long
before given to friends for a burying place at the
Lower End of his orchard at Siddington, near
Cirencester, aforesaid.
And, Sorae days after his Interraent, I heard
that we two and 4 Friends raore were discharged
by the Judge ; but that the other 4 friends were
Detained for their fees. Soon after, I went down
again to Glocester to talk with the Jayler, Thinking,
that in consideration of the service I had done
him, he might be prevailed on not to insist on
any fees from us, or our Friends. When I carae
there, I found him IU in bed, yet not so bad, but
that he was capable to treat with me, on the

224 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Business I came about. He told me that, for his
own part, he would readily remit the fees that
were due to him from us, and our Friends ; But
some part of the fees were due to the Under
Sherriff, which it was not in his Power to remitt.
And accordingly the other 4 friends were Detained
in Prison 'till next Sessions ; and we (altho we
were not Detained Prisoners) were not acquitted
of the fees 'till that time ; when Justice George,
being now willing to have us Discharged, Laid
down the money himself, and we were all Six set
at Liberty.
Soon after which (Providence so ordering it),
I came and settled at ray present Habitation at
Chesshara, in Buckinghamshire ; where I have now
dwelt about Forty Years.
Thus Considering it were great Pity these
singular Providences of the Almighty should not be
recorded for the Benefit of Posterity, I willing
was, for my own perusal and that of my Faraily
and some few perticular Friends, to commit thera
to writing ; in the doing of which (respecting the

CONCLUSION. 225
several Confferences my Father had with the
Bishop and others before mention'd) I have been
careful to pen them down in the same words
they were then expressed, as near as I could well
recolect ; or at least retain the genuine Sence and
purport of -them ; Which, reader, if they tend to
thy Confirmation and encouragement in a Course of
true Christian Piety, I have my end, Who am
Thy Sincere Friend,
DANIEL ROBERTS.
Chessham, ^th mo. 1725.

THE ROBERTS FAMILY
FROM THE TIME OF QUEEN ELIZABETH
TO THE PRESENT DAY
(1896).

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER. PAGE. 231

I. Peace
II. War . ...
III. Fearless Quaking
IV. Valiant for the Truth
V. The Faith that Overcomes .
VI. " Stone Walls do not a Prison Make '
VII. What is a Church ?
VIII. A Gaol a Goal of Virtue
IX. A Saintly Peace with Reverent Honour
X. A Transplanting of the Family Tree
XI. Life's Fading Leaves .
XII. "Like a Tale that is Told"

253
272291
3"332
351 367
388414 429
451

THE
ROBERTS FAMILY.

T

CHAPTER I.
peace.
HE story of John Roberts, of Siddington,* the
early Quaker, as told by his son Daniel, is so
piquant, so diverting, yet withal so morally bracing,
that the charmed reader usually finds it much too
brief, and longs to know more of the man himself, of
his history, and his surroundings. After this lapse of
tirae, and because, though well known in his own
neighbourhood, he was only a local celebrity, this
desire is a matter difficult to gratify. All that eager
research has so far been able to accomplish, added
to such family documents as are known still to be in
existence, has been used in the endeavour to piece
together an accurate and comprehensive narrative.
The result is, at best, a somewhat meagre outline,
• See Note 8 in Appendix.
231

232 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
but the story is so well told by the son that, with
such fittle help as can be given it by additional
matter, a graphic picture of John Roberts, his time,
and his environment, is made possible to any reader
of average imaginative power. As far as possible the
ascertained facts are narrated ; and where breaks have
to be filled up, or where the facts are supplemented
with probabilities, these are so stated, that the reader
raay exercise his ingenuity upon the probleras involved.
It is not possible, of course, to give all the rainute
details, taken from many sources, that go to raake up
the conclusions arrived at. And a view that raay be
taken by the student in his study may have to be
materially modified in hue by the tints given by local
colour. Among the familiar surroundings, though the
raan himself is absent, you can better realize him, in
fancy, as you read his record. The very atmosphere
of the district affects you — the style of talk of the
people and their local idioms. The roads are many
of them those your hero trod or rode along. Of the
old houses still existing, not a few were perfectly
familiar to hira. In sorae of them he had eaten and
drunk, paid friendly visits, done business, or engaged in
religious exercises. In the church at Cirencester he had
been moved by the Spirit to "testify." In the Quaker
meeting-house are still the same, or precisely similar,
plain but well-made benches that he and his family
and his friends sat on. From that meeting-house he
and they were thrust by soldiery into the street, or

D O
aa
zHwM

wuoa;
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PEACE. 235
were made the victims of grievous outrages, the poor
full often being the chief sufferers. We sfiaU have
by-and-by to give details of the death of one with
whom Daniel's story is concerned, and narrate some
little anecdotes of others.
The town of Cirencester to-day is a picturesque
old-world place— a back-water on the stream of
our commercial life ; but traces still remain of the
strong current of trade that flowed through it, when,
to the Monday corn-market that stiU exists, was
added the now defunct Friday's wool-market — where,
at times, 5,000 bales blocked up the central streets.
In our friend John's tirae it was the largest wool-
market in the kingdom, and fed the looms scattered
abundantly through every town and village and hamlet
between it and the Severn valley, as well as sorae at
a distance. The raost usual raiddle-class business —
apart from agriculture — was that of a " clothier." He
was a multifariously occupied middle-man, whose
capital and energy facilitated the conversion of the
raw wool into the finished piece-goods displayed in
the shops of the mercers and woollen-drapers — though
at that period the latter designation was not in vogue.
Men of raeans and position did not disdain to be
engaged in this occupation — people like the Tyndales,
and Cambridges, and Lovedays, of our story, who raight
occupy " mansions," and who boasted coats of arms.
They would buy the wool from the farmer or the wool-
stapler, perhaps send it first to the wool-sorters and

236 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
combers, and then to the spinner to convert into
yarn. The yarn they would supply to the weaver —
paying him only for the work of his loom — and then,
receiving back again, would send to the water-raills,
to be felted in the " stocks.'' Once more returned to
the clothiers, when duly shrunk and dried, they
would then raise a nap on the cloth by teazels set
in small frames — the long wool being trimmed off by
shears — and the goods generally " finished." All these
operations— spinning included — were done exclusively
by hand. In later years Thomas Loveday, of Pains-
wick (whose daughter married a Roberts), invented a
machine for shaving the cloth, but would not use it
or allow it to be used for fear of injuring the work
men by reducing requirements for labour — a kindly
if a mistaken resolve.
The cloth being ready for the market, it would be
parcelled in " pieces " and packed in bales. Lumber
ing, long, narrow, broad-wheeled, many-horsed wagons
would convey these bales to the great centres. They
would be warehoused at Gloucester and Bristol, and
distributed thence widely by water. " Packers " would
re-pack to suit requireraents ; the obtaining of orders
for the same being also part of their occupation.
And from these great towns would go forth the
chapmen on sturdy horses, carrying samples or small
stocks in their saddle-bags. And there would be
much employraent of pack-horses, which in the hilly
region of the Cotswolds, the centre of the woollen

PEACE. 237
industry, would be of exceeding service. Just as we
have a certain average horse-pull for a standard
" horse-power," so there was a standard weight for a
" pack of wool " — an average weight for a horse to
carry. It was 240 lbs. Sometimes the burthen was
carried in panniers hung from hooks attached to a
light but strong and well-padded frame-work, resting
on the back of the horse and fastened by girths
beneath ; sometimes the bundle was laid across the
horse's back, or packed in large baskets, and so at
tached. Mules were often engaged in this service ;
but of the patient, intelligent, and unjustly despised
ass we read nothing.
To the possessor of what has been termed the
"historic imagination" there is enough in Daniel's
narrative of his father and his family, coupled, as
has been said, with even the present aspect of
Cirencester itself, to make it comparatively easy for a
visitor to that pleasant town to people it in fancy
with antagonistic Roundheads and Cavaliers — with
bargaining wool or corn dealers — with serious, earnest
Quakers, and graceless and genial parsons, fuU-
paunched and truculent Justices and those of juster
mould — with thieving bailiffs, and busy townsfolk who
move about actively, and let their voices be heard
resonantly, as they argue and haggle and expostulate
and threaten and chaff and joke. — And anon, kindly
words are softly exchanged, as are pulse-quickening
glances. — It may be a moment when there is effusive

238 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
loyalty on the people's lips, though they distrust the
King in their hearts. For his soldiers have slain their
husbands and brothers, and filled their great, grand
church with prisoners. Or it may be a little later,
when the fortune of war has changed, and Cirences
ter has been relieved by Essex.
The raen are dressed, mostly, in the soft, broad-
briraraed hats that were the raode with or without a
flaunting feather, and long coats with large pockets ;
and the women are many of them in sober, Puritan
dress, but always in the serviceable home-spun, that
is the local raake. But from out those quiet-hued
hoods soft eyes could look, and clear cheeks mantle
with heart-painted blushes, as a young neighbour's
glance — bespeaking admiration in his confusion— caught
electrically their own. Happy youth even in those
troublous times ! As even in tiraes of peace, might
pity be evoked for other and older men, on whose
ear should fall such strident voices as raight tempt to
crave, for its peace, the rough allaying by use of the
ducking-stool or the scold's bridle. Those were days
of very great extremes, for while the tidal wave of
feminine life had brought women perraanently in
advance on the one hand, on the other such woraen
as Mistress Bull, wife of the Rev. George Bull, of
Siddington, were raodels of docility and meekness
and kindfiness. And the same wave that brought the
•sex into prominence then, in the degenerative days
of Charles II that followed carried them upon the

PEACE. 239
Stage, to supplant boys in the representation of
female characters.
There had been the masculine Tudor Queens, and
the feminine Stuart Kings. Women had ventured to
vote for Members of Parliament (though their votes
had been disallowed), had taken, at least on one
occasion, a seat upon the raagisterial bench and dis
pensed justice. Women generally had to be reckoned
with. Sorae of their feelings were very prominent.
Their virtues were most often greatest when least
seen and least heard of. The tongue was a more
than ordinarily unruly member with them. How much
so may be gathered, negatively, from the circumstance
that one torabstone, erected about this tirae, in
enumerating the many virtues of a departed lady,
gives emphasis, by bold lettering, to the fact that " She
was never known to swear " ! It is to be feared that
the tongue of good Mistress Bull might have been even
sharper with advantage, for she had in time eleven
children, more or less unruly, to keep in order — or
endeavour to— if we may fairly read between the lines
of her husband's biographer. Nelson. For he tells us
— apologetically we feel — that the great raan he ex
tols " never spared the rod to spoil the child," but
when he whipped him, if he did it vigorously he
always did it regretfully ! Poor little Bulls ! Nor
The Life of Dr. George Bull, by Robert Nelson, Esq., dated by author,
Dec. 31st, 1712.

240 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
would the girls of those days escape the physical
correction. Those were times of bold speaking and
fearless thinking ; and it is quite possible had the
younger Bulls been consulted as to Solomon's views
respecting the use of the rod, they would have
echoed the sentiment of a Quaker disputant with
their father in a story to be narrated later on.
But our concern is not yet with Dr. Bull, nor
even, except incidentally, with the social life of the
period, but, as stated at the coraraenceraent of this
chapter, with the history of one family. And to make
its acquaintance as early as the records we possess
permit, we raust travel back to the days of " Good
Queen Bess " and be introduced to it in the person
of John Roberts- Hayward, of Cirencester town,
whom, for the purposes of this narrative, we will
style John Roberts the First. Though long resident
there he was very likely not a Cirencester man —
for his relations appear to have belonged to the
district between Stroud and Cheltenham, and to
North Wiltshire, and to have been chiefly engaged
in agriculture. He, himself, was a thriving man,
and a raan who meant to thrive. And in the year
of grace 1617, having made a little fortune, he
was able to remove from Cirencester to Lower
Siddington (or Siddington Peter, as it was indiffer
ently called), to the occupancy of a small freehold
estate which he had purchased frora one Williara
Wellden, Gentleraan, of London.

Photo, by Savory, Cirencester.

BACK OF JOHN ROBERTS'S HOUSE.

PEACE. 243
The Church of Siddington St. Peter is somewhat
more than a mile away from the Cirencester market
place, and the estate of John Roberts the First
immediately adjoins it. To reach it from Ci'cester
as it was famUiarly called in Caraden's tirae (and so
also to day), a coraraon had to be crossed, that is now
largely built on. It had been the scene of more than
one bloody battle, and skulls, and bones, and rusting
spurs are still dug up there. In the Roman period
(for Cirencester had been a great Roman centre, as
its name testifies) it was more peacefully occupied,
if we may judge from the number of tessellated
pavements, and coins, and ornaments, and articles of
jewelry, and ceraraic ware that the spade has brought
to fight. On one side, the fields of Roberts's estate extended
to the Furzen Leases, referred to in the story, on the
other they touched the lands of the parsonage of
Siddington Peter. Between ran two good roads,
which, dividing near the house, caused that structure,
with its yard and offices, to abut upon a three-cross-
way. At the apex of this triangle stood (and stUl
stands) the gateway to the grounds of the
horaestead. The estate was purchased in the reign of
" the raost high and raighty prince James," in the year
1617, the deed being executed November 7th of that
year. It was partly in the parish of St. Mary and
partly, and chiefly, in that of Peter. As the
house and the malt house belong clearly to two

244 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
periods, and as some two years elapsed before the
purchaser was married, it seems most probable that
during that interval the larger and newer house was
erected, and the malt house extensively added to.
Let us consider the circumstances. Engaged pro
bably in the corn trade in Cirencester, it was not
until well on in life that he either contemplated
becoming, or felt in a position to become a substantial
yeoman. That he was ambitious, in a legitiraate way,
may be conceded. It will be seen to be a charac
teristic of the family that, when the male members
raarried, they always married women socially — and in
most cases pecuniarily — above thera. A pecuniary ex
ception may have probably occurred in the father of
John the First. It was raost likely the Hayward,
whose raarriage with a Miss Roberts resulted in the
adoption, in the Belgian fashion,* of the double-
barrelled name of Roberts-Hayward, modified to
English usage by writing the name Roberts alias
Hayward. It is conceivable that he himself was so
proud of having married soraeone so socially his
superior, that he might like to have attached to him
self the prestige of the name ; but it is believed to be
more usually the case that it is the lady who insists
on the arrangement. She then, presumably, had birth,
and Hayward money. His son may not have been
restive at having the plebeian Hayward tacked on to
• See Note 9 in Appendix.

PEACE. 245
his name ; but his grandson, the hero of our story,
never answered to it willingly, while, when his son
Daniel removes to Chesham, marrying a Quakeress —
but a Quakeress of standing and some little wealth
— then the Hayward was parted from for ever. For
when, later on — in the beginning of this century — a
descendant had his pedigree drawn up and em
blazoned, the Roberts shield heads the history,
and the name even of the Haywards is ignored.*
Doubtless the Haywards had no shield to show ;
for the name implies that remote for-bears were
"anciently the keepers of the common herd, or
cattle, of a town," being derived from the Saxon
words heig, hay, and ward, a keeper. On the other
hand, Roberts, though coraing also from the Saxon,
was derived from Rod, counsel, and best or
bericht, bright or famous — famous in counsel. But
it would be a great raistake for anyone to regard the
Hayward branch superciliously, for it seems very
probable that most that was best and noblest in our
John Roberts's character carae frora this branch of his
ancestry. He did not inherit it, apparently, frora his
mother, who was a SoUace, the sister of that
SoUace who was the foremost signatory of, surely
the most abject document that was ever penned
to propitiate that arbitrary Stuart, Charles I.

* It is noticeable that, in agreement with the idea here expressed, there is no
mention of the name Hayward in the edition of the Memoir prepared by a
descendant, Oade Roberts, and referred to in the Preface of the present edition.

246 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Charles's soldiers had behaved badly to the Ciren
cester people — brutally, cruelly, murderously, merci
lessly. True, it was the town where the first forcible
resistance had been made to the King's authority.
Lord Chandos, the Lord Lieutenant of the county,
executing certain commissions there on behalf of his
Sovereign which were objectionable to the towns
people, had had unmistakable evidence of their feeling
on the subject. It became so raarked that he felt it
prudent to escape out of the town, leaving his
travelling equipage behind hira — •" Upon which," says
an old writer, " the rabble revenged theraselves by
cutting and spoiling his coach." Hence the cause of
the pitiful document referred to — a document so
humiliating that even Charles, with all his aristocratic
instincts, could hardly crave an attempt to surpass it.
Later on, also, when our John had joined the Quakers,
this uncle Sollace sat beside a violent chairman on
the bench, and let his courageous nephew be sent to
gaol for a protest against gross injustice — sat cravenly,
with "his thumb in his Mouth" — though he had good
feeling enough to come by night to set his kinsman
free. Clearly then it was not from the Sollace branch of
the faraily that John Roberts the Second inherited his
fearlessness, his unquenchable love of Truth, and his
determination to stand to it, as it revealed itself to
him, at all hazards. It may have come in part from
the Roberts ancestry, for they were a Saxon family

PEACE. 247
that seems to have held its own against the Norman
invaders — though it appears more certain that it was
from that branch that he inherited his pride. From
the Haywards he may have chiefly drawn the great
comraon-sense and shrewdness that characterized him ;
while his knowledge of horses, and fondness for the
saddle, raay have been idiosyncrasies inherited from
both sides of his house. And his pride was tempered
by prudence, for we shall find him not merely
marrying well, but marrying wisely. But this is
premature, for the story of John the First is not yet
fully told.
As has been seen, this John the First had made
money and purchased a house and farmlands at
Siddington. It raay fairly be surmised that he had
been engaged for some time to Mary Sollace, and
that this enlargement of the house was specially
designed to make a home for her more in keeping
with the position to which she had been accus
tomed. For the SoUaces were araong the first
farailies in the immediate vicinity of Cirencester —
were people of means, of position, of note, as
testified by the brasses that still line the floor of
St. Mary's Chapel in Cirencester Church. They may
have given their name to the township of Shipton
Solace, situate a little further north in the county ;
but this seems soraewhat doubtful, as an earlier
form of the family's name is Sellers. Camden
gives us this place as Shipton Solace ; but Carey,

248 ' MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
in his map of Gloucestershire in the early part
of the eighteenth century, marks the narae as
Shipton only. In Cirencester Sollace as a family
name has all but disappeared, and in this present
year (1896) is only represented by a very humble
member of the craft that, in Andrew SoUace's time,
would have been designated as that of the Cordwainers ;
and his spelling of it differs — agreeing, in fact, with
the way it is spelt in the county histories by some
other Gloucestershire families of that name.
The recorded pedigree of the SoUaces raay be soon
given. Andrew Solace (his son took the additional
"1") the elder, and the historic J. P., was the brother
of the Mary Solace who was raarried to John Roberts
the First in 1618 or 1619, more probably the latter
year. He was, or had been married, his wife, Alice,
dying in 1619 on October 6th, and being buried
in the faraily vault, in Cirencester Church. Within
the same vault, the death being recorded on the
same brass (then placed in St. Catherine's chapel),
his daughter Mary was laid to rest on February 12th,
1633. He survived both many years, as he was
living at any rate in 1657. "Andrew Solace, J. P.,"
had one son, who is recorded on a brass as "Andrew
Sollace, Gent." He was born in 1616, and was
consequently only some three years old when his
mother died. He lies buried in the family vault,
as also Eleinor Sollace, his wife, who died January
2ist, 1682. There is yet another brass, the raost

PEACE. 249
elaborate of all. Surraounted with the device of a
•death's head and cross-bones, we read this upon it —
-" Here Resteth the body of Eleinor Sollace ye
•daughter of Andrew and Elinor Sollace, who departed
this life ye 31st of December, 1690, setatis suse 31."
And with her it is probable that branch of the family
ended, and that her executors gave her a more
expensive funeral, in part to dispose of the wealth
she had left behind — for though we find recorded
benefactions of ;^io by her father and ;^5 by her
grandfather (equivalent then to at least ,^40 and ^25),
we do not find her name mentioned in this connection.
But she was probably benevolent all the same.
When John Roberts the First carae to settle in
Siddington, and indeed to the day of his death, he
remained a devout, if not enthusiastic meraber of the
Church. His church was St. Peter's — or rather Peter's,
for no chronicler or map-constructor bestowed saint-
ship upon its patron until long after, although they
did upon her of the neighbouring fane. Yet " the one"
has been " taken and the other left." For, as the
present local guide-book tells us — "The church at
Siddington, with which Roberts's history is much
associated, was almost entirely rebuilt, with a handsome
spire, in 1864 ; and the old oak pulpit, bearing date
16 ID, in which ' Priest Bull ' preached, and before
which (?) the sturdy Quaker stood with covered head
^ bearing silent testimony,' was then removed," whereas
St. Mary's was entirely deraofished, and a handsome

250 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
parsonage erected on its site, in the garden surround
ing which some of the old gravestones may still be
seen. So John Roberts the First is raarried to Mary
Solace ; she, in due tirae, presents hira with a son
who also receives the narae of John, and who is, of
course, John Roberts the Second, the John of
our history. If he had any brothers or sisters no
record of thera appears. It raay be taken for
granted, at least, that he had no brother. The only
line in the old raanuscript that even gives roora for
imagining the existence of a sister or sisters is
Daniel's remark, on his father finally retiring frora
the war, that he " return'd horae to his house and
Sorrowful Family." Possibly for "family" we should
read " household," as the house was a large one,
and there would, at least, be several maid-servants,
who, we might fairly suppose, would take a
sympathetic interest in the fortunes of their mistress
and her son.
The early days at Siddington were days of
peace, though of calm before a storm. Then no
Parson Bull had arisen to persecute John the Second ;
nor had John become a Quaker (for the Quakers as yet
were not) to vex the parson by withholding (on con
scientious grounds) his tithes. Instead, " a drunken
prayer-priest " taught the boy the rudiments of learn
ing — when not too inebriated to do so — or put the re
ceptive youth in the way of acquiring them. Very soon,

PEACE. 251
however, the boy is removed to the Grammar School
at Cirencester, where he associates on famifiar terras
with the sons of sorae of the leading famUies in the
district. It was not his good fortune to be able to
continue his acquisition of knowledge at college, or
he would have given good account of himself. For
such opportunities as he had he made excellent use.
He was well grounded in the rudiments. He learned
to read well, to think well, to talk well, and to write
well. His caligraphy would pass triumphantly a Civil
Service examination to-day. He could indite a good
letter, the spelling and composition being above the
average, though the magnificent English of the time
still raarks an epoch in literature. But his chief ex
cellence was in the manner of his dialectics — his
matter being, unquestionably, learned in the school of
George Fox. Once, as we see, he threatened, if
sufficiently provoked to do so, to rush into authorship,
as in that book-making period so very many did.
But those familiar with the controversial literature of
the period, and who appreciate him, will not regret
that he did. not do so, but left his literary record to
be "Boswelled" by his son Daniel.
John's father's ambition did not soar to a collegiate
education for his son, even if his means would have
permitted it without impoverishment. He was the
son of a yeoman and destined to be a yeoman
himself. Although an only son, with the characteristic
good sense that was an heirloom in the faraily, he

252 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
was brought up to work, and learned practical
husbandry at the " Plough Tail." It is to be inferred,
however, that in tirae the bent of his inclination was
towards such branches of his occupation as tasked
rather his head than his hands. He had a raore
than ordinarily capable brain, and when Nature
gives a raan that, she usually liraits him in her
allowance of other excellencies. Thus, as we shall
presently see, he was no swordsman though a cavalry
soldier, and while his courage was quite equal to
risking his throat in support of his opinions araong
the fanatical sectaries in the carap, his militaiy
aptitude and ability were unequal to a personal chance-
encounter, man to raan and horse to horse, with
more experienced foeraen. For the long-brewing
storra has burst, and our John has to leave his father's
quiet farm-lands for the troubled fields of conflict.
It will be there that our next chapter will find him.

CHAPTER II.
WAR.
IN the year 1641 it was that the rupture between
Charles I and his Parliament became an open
one ; but it was not until the August of 1642 that
hostilities actually comraenced by the planting (or
endeavouring to plant, amid a storm of wind and
rain) of the King's Standard at Nottingham.
Cirencester was then a flourishing, busy, well-to-do
town. It was emphatically a raiddle-class place ; and
there the substantial dealers in corn and wool gave
the hapless monarch to understand at an early
period of the quarrel that they would tolerate " no
more of his nonsense " — though the phraseology
they eraployed would sound far less flippant than
that colloquialism.
And John Roberts the Second has, with the son of a
neighbour, taken horse and gone to join the irregular
and ill-disciplined troops that have been collected for
the Parliament. If at first he had been, in part,
prompted by some enthusiasm for the cause, the class
of associates to be met with in their ranks at the onset
of the war must have gone far to damp his ardour.
It is clear that after his first experience he did not
remain willingly ; for his son distinctly tells us that
253

254 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
"finding he could not be Safe at home, he went away
again, and continued till the war ware near Ended."
The meaning of this remark of Daniel's is explained
in Lingard's History. He says, " The whole King
dora at this period exhibited a melancholy spectacle.
No man was suffered to remain neutral. Each county,
town, and hamlet was divided into factions seeking
the ruin of each other. All stood on their guard,
while the most active of either party eagerly sought
the opportunity of despoiling the lands and surprising
the persons of their adversaries. The two great
armies, in defiance of the prohibition of their leaders,
plundered wherever they carae, and their exaraple
was faithfully copied by the sraaller bodies of armed
raen in the districts." In further proof of which we
shall have sorae striking instances to tell by-and-by
that immediately affected our friends.
Towards the close of 1642 — that is to say in
February (for the year then comraenced in March,
as it did until 1752) — Cirencester was captured by the
King's troops, under Prince Rupert.* It was taken
somewhat unawares — its burgesses being, many of
thera, at the tirae fighting elsewhere. It was a bloody,
if an easy victory ; for very many were slain, while
eleven hundred men were taken prisoners and a
capture made of some thousands of arms and other
considerable booties.
Where Roberts went when he rode away from
* See Note lo in Appendix.

WAR. 255
Siddington no record that we know of teUs. A guess
would point to Gloucester, or to Cheltenham, or to
sorae of the sraaller towns between the latter and
Nailsworth, because of his evidently greater farailiarity
with that part of the country, and of more of his
relations being located there. One thing is certain,
and that is that he was not far frora home, for he
soon heard of the fall of Cirencester and made
arrangements for returning. Mifitary discipline was
very imperfect and by no means stringent. As
Macaulay says, referring to these earlier days of the
fighting, "There was, in fact, for sorae tirae, no
great and connected system of operations on either
side. . . . There was a petty war in almost every
county. A town furnished troops to the Parliament,
while the manor-house of the neighbouring peer was
garrisoned for the King. The combatants were rarely
disposed to march far from their own homes."
As has been mentioned, Andrew Solace was one
who took a leading part in trying to mitigate the
sufferings inflicted on the inhabitants after the defeat.
Of the ruthless character of Rupert's men we see an
illustration in what befel our hero. He and his
comrade are making their way on horseback towards
Siddington, and have reached the outskirts of Ciren
cester, when two Royalist troopers spy thera and
give thera chase on their swifter horses. It seems
to have been a perfectly wanton, unprovoked attack —
an attempt at slaughter for slaughter's sake, by raen

256 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
better horsed, better armed, and skilled in bold riding
and athletic exercises. Evidently because he felt he
was at a disadvantage, indeed in every way ill-
matched for an encounter, John takes to flight, at
first on horse, but presently on foot, but is over
taken and attacked, quarter being refused him. Soon he
strategically throws himself down flat on his face. His
enemies' sword-points are aimed at his throat, which
he protects as best he can with his hands. But they
only severely prick him, so that when they have
turned to pursue his companion, who meanwhile has
fled to some distance, he is able to rise and run for
his life down a neighbouring declivity, and swim
across a stream broad enough to deter his pursuers
from troubling to follow hira. Meanwhile they have
killed his companion, who may have been a stouter
man, or less skilful in protecting hiraself, and his
throat have been more deeply penetrated in conse
quence. To cut an opponent's throat if possible
was the mode of killing that chiefly prevailed then.
" Putting a bullet into him " was much too slow and
clumsy a performance to have recourse to by pre
ference. The locafity of this spot that was the scene of
John's escape is not a matter of absolute certainty.
Knowing that he and his companion passed the
" Town's End " on their way to Siddington, a study
of the map shows that they were proceeding from
the direction of Gloucester, or from the raore westerly

WAR. 257
roads leading from Stroud or Painswick. Their route
would take them over the common before referred
to. Through this in part runs Irmine Street, one of
the old Roraan ways, and by its side is a stream
quite wide enough to have made the troopers indis
posed to attempt to cross it needlessly. And on its
eastern side some rapidly rising ground is at a short
distance, while on the Siddington side there are now,
and may have been then, some woods that raight
have afforded shelter to the wounded raan until he
could seek it at his uncle's, some half-a-raile off.
The quitting of their horses by John and his
friend, taking into account the predatory habits of
the King's troops, seeras to suggest that the illusive
hope was entertained that plunder, rather than slaughter,
was the object of their pursuers ; and that to have
allowed the pursuers to possess themselves of the
horses would have secured their own personal safety.
But they may have also left their horses with the
hope of speedily finding a cover into which the
troopers would not care to penetrate. It was evidently
seeing this latter hope held out by the proximate
water, added to the difficulty of crossing, that caused
John to make for it — and, happily, with success.
Though sheltered in his uncle's house, however,
he was not yet out of danger. Only, as corapared
with his father's, it seeraed to offer the lesser of the
two risks. But that genial disposition of his that
raade him so many friends through life was already

258 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
acting the part of his good angel, and at this tirae
assuraed the guise of a worthy widow, who, having
to cater for the principal officers in command, who
" Lay at her house," had done it so well that her
interest secured the young raan not merely from
further molestation, but afforded hira the services of
one of their ablest surgeons.
At the earliest raoment he could possibly do so,
we may be sure John made his way to his father's
house. The poor old man had suffered much in later
years. His grandson tells us that " A CoUonell with
his men and horses lay at his house for a Consider
able tirae, and turn'd there Horses to the hay and
corn mows." How it must have grieved the good
yeoman and his wife to see their trim fields trampled
on, their storehouses plundered, and their quiet, well-
ordered house filled with noisy, reckless troopers,
drinking, swearing, revelling, and making demonstra
tive and objectionable love to the maid-servants, and
lording it over the labourers ! John came none too
soon, for his father, who had been long ill, lay a-dying ;
and the excitement and nervous agitation of raeeting
with his son hastened — though not in sadness — his
death. After great anxiety and painful waiting he had
seen his son — his only son — once raore. They mingled
their tears of joy and sorrow together. They were
both sympathetically religious. And presently, the
old raan's feeble frarae trerabling with emotion he
burst out into a song of sacred rapture — his Nunc

WAR. 259
Dimittis — and suffering no pain, but with heart and
soul filled with Divine fervour, he presently fell into
a state of peaceful calm, and then slowly passed
away. Two days after (for abundant records of the
time show that interments usually took place the second
day following the decease), he was buried in the
adjoining churchyard of St. Peter's. His widow sur
vived him some fourteen years, during which she
would rejoice in the advent of her grand-children in
tolerable tranquillity of life, though the early calm
which preceded the war never wholly settled down
again. Her death occurred not earlier than 1657, for
in that year we find her son sending a message to
her frora his prison in Gloucester. It may be inferred
that she was laid beside her husband in the church
yard of St. Peter's, rather than in the family vault of
the SoUaces. As her" decease is not chronicled with
the others in the registers of Cirencester Meeting, it
seems certain that she, like her husband, continued
a meraber of the Church.
A few days after his father's death, leaving, perforce,
his widowed mother, John once more betakes himself
to the fight. It was, in part, as we know, expediency
that had led him and his corapanion to join the heavy
cavalry of the Parfiament ; but. equally, we like to think,
the desire for civil and religious liberty. Certainly it
was not as hirefing soldiers, or soldiers of fortune,
that the young men took up arms. John at least
had a soul to be stirred ; and it was stirred. Behind

26o MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
him was a keen sense of wrongs — hereditary raeraories
of generations of oppression and persecution. They
knew all about this in Cirencester ; and it was talked
of in every farra-house and cottage in the country
round, for Cirencester was a specially disaffected
place. There they believed in the Parliament and
lacked faith in the King. The clash of arras within
it had been no unfarailiar sound at intervals in the
centuries past ; and now its raen, egged on by its
women, if egging on were needed, were the first to
begin the fight for the Commonwealth. They had
stood a short siege unsuccessfully — then suffered
cruelly ; until, in a few months, their party was
victorious and once more held the town. A cora-
paratively brief period elapsed, and then Cromwell
and his resistless Ironsides everywhere triumphed.
The sword had been appealed to as the arbitrament
of the quarrel, and they had wielded it with all their
might. They had thrown into their fighting the
earnestness that was in their hearts ; and —
" When Rupert's oath and Cromwell's prayer
With battle-thunder blended"—
" the Sword of the Lord, and of Gideon " proved
potent to discomfort the dash of rollicking Cavaliers,
though they were not wanting in animal bravery.
And then King Charles I lost, physically, a head
he had never possessed, raorally, from the beginning.
It is possible that John was not literally a Round
head any raore than that, though pious, he was

WAR. 261
nominally a Puritan, unless the cropping of the hair
was generaUy adopted as a distinctive mark by the
opponents of the Cavaliers. A medium course, as
taken by Oliver himself, was to wear the hair cut
straight across the forehead — what is termed now " a
fringe," in fact — and then somewhat long behind. Our
hero's keen sense of humour would prevent his
willingly making a guy of himself, by barbarous
barbering, or ridiculous by assuming the nasal twang,
where no sense of duty was involved. For duty,
however, he could dare anything — even ridicule — and
cropped hair need not have been ludicrous ; for
except a few poets, painters, preachers, and peri
patetic pill-vendors, we are all round-heads now-a-
days !
As nearly as can be traced, it was in the year 1645
that Roberts returned to Siddington and settled down.
The reorganization of the array that occurred about
this time was the probable explanation of his return.
Soldiering, we may be sure, was not to John's mind ;
and he was undoubtedly glad to be able to quit that
occupation for paths more peaceful, if not paths of
peace. He was then five- or six-and-twenty — had been
" bred to the cart's-tail," and was, or at least became,
skilful in the treatment of cattle, had raore than the
usual share of brains and ability to use thera, and raust
therefore have been a valuable son, as he was a kind
and affectionate one, to his raother — now getting on in

262 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
years. It had been a sad home until his return ; but
though trouble was still to corae, there was also to
corae a considerable share of joy and prosperity.
Unless during his military experiences (which seems
very doubtful), he never at any time of his life went
very far away frora home. Banbury, Gloucester, and
Bristol are the furthest distances recorded. But he
was constantly in the saddle, and well-known in all
the country round his home. Business first, but cer
tainly pleasure afterwards, took him into the clothing
district of Nailsworth. The combing of wool, the
making of yarn, the weaving of pieces of broad-cloth,
of kerseys, and of serges, and the dyeing especially
of a celebrated red colour, were great industries in
that part of Gloucestershire then, as for many a long year
afterwards ; and large supplies of wool were sent to the
markets and sales of Cirencester from Buckingham
shire, Berkshire, Oxfordshire, and Northamptonshire.
John, dealing in cattle and sheep, may have preferred
to sell his wool direct to the clothiers, or combers, for
John was shrewd, and had a keen eye for business.
But if occasionally visiting Nailsworth way to sell
wool, there was one occasion at least when, smart as
he was, he may be forgiven if his thoughts went
"¦wool-gathering"! We don't know quite when it
was ; but it was at least before his later soldiering
days that he saw "in his TraveUs" a Puritan maiden
of good birth and gentle manners, " one whome he
thought he could Love before any other." But those

WAR. 263
were no days for marrying or giving in marriage.
So he had gone again to the war.
Not long, however, had he been settled down at
home, before he felt that the society of even his
excellent mother and of his many friends, and the occu
pation of his mind by business cares, still left a want.
It was a want as old as Adam — the want of a " help-
raeet." And, coupled with that want, his fancy was
haunted with the sweet face and gracious ways of
the demure woman, a glimpse of whom had left such
an enduring memory on his heart.
John was well-to-do — a substantial yeoman (he
would be called " a gentleman farmer " in these days) —
and his mother, at least, well-born ; but Lydia
Tyndale, upon whom John had set his heart, could
trace her descent back to the Barons of Langley in
South Tynedale in Northumberland in the twelfth
century. And William Tyndale, the martyr of
Vilvorde, and the translator of the Bible, had been
araong her ancestors, though not in a direct line.
And she boasted kinship to Matthew Hale, afterwards
to be Sir Matthew, and to occupy the seat of judg
ment, with such lasting renown, as Lord Chief Justice
of England. For a generation or two her family had
occupied Melksham Court, near Stinchcorabe. In the
Wars of the Roses, one of the Tyndales, raeeting with
defeat, had corae to Gloucestershire to settle, taking his
raother's name of Hutchins as his own. But on his
death-bed he re-assuraed his proper narae — and it was

264 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
as a Tyndale his son succeeded him at Stinchcorabe.
Then, in 1636, died Thomas, the father of Lydia ;
and if his wife survived him, it was only for a few
years, as we know that in 1642 Lydia and her
brother Thomas were orphans. They had a sister,
Sarah, who raarried a Theyer, one of a family of
some note, but who died childless, and there were
other brothers and sisters also. In the very beginning
of the Civil War Melksham Court was sacked and
burned by the Royalists. Its occupier, a pronounced
Puritan, being, it is said, " inimical to the King,"
was one of the first marked out in that part of the
country to feel the stress of the storm. Having
timely warning of the approach of a party of Royal
ists he had opportunity to raake his escape. His
sister sought refuge at once with their uncle, Nathaniel
Carabridge, of Woodchester ; but her brother lingered.
A thick yew tree stood (and stands) on Stinchcorabe
Hill hard by, and in behind its close foliage, through
three long, anxious days and nights he hid, watching
the roistering and plundering that went on while the
fate of his house hung in the balance. But when
the raen had eaten and drunk their fill, and taken
possession of everything sufficiently portable, or
terapting, to allure thera, they had no thought of
sparing, but ruthlessly committed the mansion to the
flames. Nor was it the only bonfire that blazed to tell of
royal wrath. For Tyndale in his dark-hued retreat,

WAR. 265
looking out on the burning of his own house, saw
beyond it the adjoining manor-house of Stinchcorabe
afike on fire. It was a Puritan hot-bed, was that corner
of Gloucestershire, and on the principle of similia
similibus curantur, they who were for the King added
fire to heat, if so be it raight scorch it out. But the
warmth that glowed among the busy, thriving, intelli
gent, if possibly somewhat bigoted, Stroud-valley
people only grew the greater, until it, blazing, helped
to swell the national beacon-light, the unforgotten
glare of which will warn kings evermore.
Religious bitterness was, no doubt, added to the
greed for plunder in dooming these mansions to the
usage they received. It was something more than
the mere recklessness for the rights and interests of
non-combatants — reckless though the combatants were.
It was, possibly, before this disaster that Lydia
had been fallen in love with by John. But it was
not until after that he went a-wooing. Nor, as we
know, wooed he in vain. For the brother, Thomas
Tyndale, and the uncle, Richard Cambridge, and
Matthew Hale, kinsman and lawyer — these and more,
maybe one Samuel Tyndale of Stinchcorabe, all
added their consent to Lydia's own.
So Matthew Hale drew up the marriage settlements,
which were signed October 3rd, 1646, and in November
of that year Lydia and John were married.
She left the region of wool-workers, and yarn-
spinners, whose busy wheels were always whirring —

266 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
the region of clashing looras phed in the cottages
as she past — and she caught the smell of new-raade
cloths, and the gleara of the brilliant crimson dye,
and as she past by running streams she heard the
clatter of the fulling stocks ; and all was activity and
prosperous toil. She saw it all, familiar as all was,
with other eyes, for life was bringing to her its
greatest change. As she jogged along those Gloucester
shire lanes upon her pillion, with John in front, her arm
round his waist, and his left hand holding it and
making excuse to squeeze it the raore tightly as little
roughnesses upon the road were encountered, wheels,
and shuttles, and stocks, and racing mill-streams sang
only to her a murmurous song of joy.
By-and-by, when they have passed Cirencester,
exchanging many a greeting on the way, the first
glimpse of Siddington is caugfit in the fading light —
and John with pride and pleasure points out to her
the house that is to be her home. As they approach
she sees dimly amid well-wooded country the fields
in tillage and pasture, the sheep, the cattle, the hay
ricks and corn-mows and malt- kiln, and all that
constituted, in those days, a well-appointed farm.
And the house — her home to be — is, compared with
most of her neighbours', a large and substantial one.
And in the stables are horses she can ride, and there
are servants, male and female, to do her bidding, and
John has many appreciative friends near, who will
welcome his wife, and a wealthy uncle only half-a-

WAR. 267
mile away. And though Lydia has also a mother-in-
law there need be little fear that the good lady wiU vex
her soul. For the wife that her son had brought home
was not young and flighty. She was perhaps a year
older than John ; both had seen great trouble, and
many sobering sights ; and her mother-in-law was a
widow, and as a Solace had a kinder heart than a
capacity for demonstrative moral courage. We raay
fairly conclude they were a quiet, happy household —
quiet, until the house rang with children's voices in
response to the father's hearty tones, and the firm
but gentle accents of the mother.
The "Helpmeat" that John desired in his wife he
found. Like him she became in time a disciple of
the school of Fox. Nor was the transition from
Puritan to Quakeress a great one. The essential
principles of Quakerism had long been floating about
in a nebulous state, and only needed condensing and
consolidating round such a powerful personality as
"the cobbler who was no cobbler" — as Howitt calls
him — afforded. The little glimpses we get from time
to time of Lydia Roberts show us a wifely wife —
loyal, sympathetic, intelligently affectionate yet not
unduly demonstrative, hospitable to her husband's
friends, and devoted to her home and children — a
woman patient in trouble, and brave with that hardest
of all braveries, the heroism of uncomplaining
endurance, when endurance is not craven submission,
but for others' good, for honour's sake, for conscience'

268 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
sake, for a great cause. Yet those were distinctly, as
we know, days of the " advanced woman." In Lydia's
father's time one of the most typical in history sat
on the throne in the person of Queen Elizabeth.
Others equally strong in other ways went to the stake,
rather courting than shunning martyrdom. As we see
in Daniel's Memoir and elsewhere, the Quaker women
travelled about the country without male protection,
strong in their own intensity of feeling, and in the
capacity to suffer if no other legitimate way of escape
presented itself. They went to America ; and the
followers of the Pilgrim Fathers,* who had themselves
gone there to secure " liberty of conscience," brutally
flogged them through the streets stripped to the
waist, and at the cart's-tail ; tried to sell them into
slavery ; hanged one and would have hanged more,
had not even the graceless Charles been sufficiently
scandalized to forbid it. They even missioned the
Turk ; who, not having as yet becorae " the unspeak
able," proved hiraself more humane in his treatment
of thera as infidels, than did the bigots and ruffians
of England and New England in their treatment of
thera as fellow Christians.
But Lydia was not one of the " advanced " of her
sex. It was neither her desire, nor was it her lot, to

* Dr. John Brown, of Bedford, an authority on the history of the period,
states, however, that these persecutions " were carried out by the Puritans who
settled round Boston harbour, and not by the Pilgjim Fathers, the founders of
Plymouth Town. These men, it is simple truth to say, never did persecute."

WAR. 269
suffer the excitement of pubfic persecution ; but
vicariously she had to bear it for the husband and
the sons she loved. Still, this trouble was not
intruded upon her early raarried life. Then, woraan-
like, she was looking forward hopefuUy ; and
welcoraing her children as they canie, without mis
givings, let us trust, as to the sufferings that might
be in store for them, beyond the average that raay
be looked for in life. For even after great troubles
had corae, her husband, as did raany another Quaker^
expressed greater contentment with fiving, with all
its hardships, than with the thought of not having
lived at all.
Lydia's first-born was another John Roberts — John
Roberts the Third. He saw the fight the 9th of
November, 1647. He seems to have been an un
obtrusive boy, was brought up to the farraing, became
and remained a Quaker, but had never, so far as we
know, the misfortune to be the victim of special
persecution. After his father's death he is to be
read of in minutes of the Quaker meetings as taking
part in their business, at intervals, through several
years, and as sending a subscription to distressed
Friends in Ireland. His death took place May 12th,.
1706, and his burial on the 15th, in the little Quaker
ground at the foot of the orchard at Siddington.
John was followed by Joseph, who died in earliest
infancy. Whom he was named after can only be
guessed, for we know of no records that give a trace

270 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
of any bearer of that name in either of the families.
In 1650, on the i8th of December, a daughter was
born — another Lydia. She, too, died young, on the
12th of August, 1659, when not quite nine years old.
They write of her as Lidda — partly, perhaps, because
a pet name, partly in distinction frora her mother.
To the warm, loving-hearted John, and to his wife, it
is easy to understand what the loss of their one little
maid raust have been, and how the raemory of the
engaging ways of the sweet, sraall Quakeress of eight
must have lingered in their hearts, the more tenderly
as only boys grew up about thera. It was no doubt
ihe violence done to his feelings by having to lay her
in the churchyard ruled by the priest, that caused
hira, shortly after, to purchase from his mother, for
;^I2, that portion of ground, adjoining his orchard,
which is still in the possession of the Friends, and to
present it to them for a burial-ground. It became a
spot in which, in the coming time, he and some
seventy of his family and his friends were laid to
rest — a spot unconsecrated by any sacerdotal function,
but by goodness, by simplicity and honesty of life,
by nobleness of soul, by heroism, and by saintship ;
and, therefore, worthy of being called " God's acre."
Thomas, the next son — born March 22, 1652 — was
the victim of an accident, by which he lost his life,
at the age of fourteen. He was killed by a kick frora
a horse on the 8th of October, 1666. It is too slight
a circumstance to build a conclusion upon, yet it is

WAR. 271
not unreasonable to suppose that, like John, he was
intended to be brought up to farming. The two
remaining brothers were Nathaniel, who was born
the 1st of August, 1655, and Daniel, who was born
the 22nd of April, 1658. When of sufficient age
these two younger sons were placed by their father
in business at Cirencester as mercers, where, of
course, they would have been apprenticed. It would
be a business more in harmony with Daniel's tastes
than farming ; and though there is no trace either of
the humorist or author in Nathaniel, yet a kindred
comraercial inclination on his part must have had
weight with his father, who had abundant work for
his sons at Siddington.
But we must travel back again for many years to
enter on the most momentous era in John Roberts's
hfe.

A

CHAPTER III.
FEARLESS QUAKING.
ND now that occurred which was by John Roberts
and all his faraily and friends who followed
after him regarded as his Hegira — the day when he
took his flight out of the mists of uncertainty and
partial illumination into the clear light of assured
convictions. In a word, John becarae a Quaker. He
needed no more a pillar of fire or pillar of cloud to
guide him — needed no parson to expound the Bible
or dograatize of Christ — he had learned to know that
he had God's Spirit as an ever present Inner Light,
that showed hira his path, that made clear the Scrip
tures, that caused him to " livingly " realize the
presence of God in Christ Jesus. This was his simple
faith, this was the vital force that influenced all his
after fife. But it is too important a matter to be
treated thus briefly ; and will be dealt with more
fully later on.
The name " Quaker " had first been given to the
followers of George Fox, in 1650, by Justice Bennet,
of Derby, " Because," says George Fox, in his Journal,
of the bench of magistrates, " I bid them tremble at
the word of the Lord." It quickly superseded in
popular usage that of " Children of the Light," though

FEARLESS QUAKING. 273
it was stiU a term of reproach and ridicule, not
withstanding that, in 1654, it found its way officially
into the records of the House of Commons. Perhaps
no more remarkable instance occurs in history of a
contemptuous designation being, in time, so universally
recognized as a mark of sterling worth than this of
" Quaker." In George Fox's tirae, as we have seen, women
had extensively exhibited that mental condition that
we term "advanced"; and his breadth of view and
largeness of heart had recognized that, if they were
honestly moved by the Spirit of God to testify, it
was not a matter with which sex had anything to
do. The first Quaker preacher following Fox was
a woman, one Elizabeth Hooton by name, of mature
years, of good family and of devout nature — who,
though her wealth would have enabled her to
live in luxury, devoted the remaining years of her
life to the preaching of Truth, as she saw it, amid
revilings, persecutions, imprisonments, and almost in
credible cruelties and hardships — both at home and
abroad. It was no great innovation ; for woraen
preachers were not uncommon among other sects.
John Roberts's adhesion to the new sect carae
about through the preaching of women. In the year
1655 two Quaker women arrived in Cirencester, and,
enquiring for "any people there abouts who were
Seeking after the way of the Lord," were recoramended
to John Roberts as being fikely to entertain them. As the

274 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
result, they were well received by John and his wife,
and a meeting arranged for them, and their message
welcomed. It seems very probable that they were named
Elizabeth Heavens and Elizabeth Fletcher, but it is
not a matter of certainty. Daniel Roberts speaks of
them as " two Women Friends out of the north "
— and those just mentioned by name are so described
in Besse's Sufferings * as having visited Oxford the pre
vious year, where they were treated with extreme
brutality, both by the Collegians and the Dons ; the
Mayor — to his honour be it said — doing his best to
protect thera, but being prevented by the violent and
illegal action of the Vice-Chancellor. One of these
woraen, Elizabeth Fletcher, was so shamefully abused
that death ensued not long afterwards.
John was greatly interested in the idea of the
Quaker faith, as presented in the preaching of the
women, so that he desired to learn much more frora
them. But instead of giving hira fuller inforraation
themselves, they preferred to refer him to Richard
Farnsworth, then a prisoner for conscience' sake
in Banbury gaol. If, on leaving Oxford, the two
Efizabeths had gone northward and found Richard
Farnsworth in his prison at Banbury (where he
remained for some six months), it is feasible that
they might have travelled round from thence to the

* The Sufferings of the People call'd Quakers, by Joseph Besse, was pubhshed
in 1753. It is a storehouse of names and incidents of the early years of the history of
the Friends, covering the period from 1650 to 1689.

FEARLESS QUAKUflG. 275
Gloucestershire districts, where the Friends were
becoming numerous, and so find their way to Ciren
cester. It is, however, a curious circumstance that two
other women Friends " out of the North " (the only
other couple of women so described by Besse) had
a year earlier come to Cambridge and received
worse treatment than did the poor women after
wards at Oxford. These were named Efizabeth
Williams and Mary Fisher. The latter is often heard
of subsequently. She was one of the first Quaker
woraen who visited the New England States, and
consequently one of the earfiest Quaker victims of
the Puritans there. She was a woman of great
energy and measureless courage ; and had she twice
visited the household at Siddington she is likely to
have been less reticent in expounding her doctrines,
and to have sufficiently impressed her personality, for
her name to have been remembered and handed
down. She could use very strong language, could
Mary Fisher, when she thought it needed. She told
the brutal Carabridge students that they " were Anti
christs, and that their College was a Cage of unclean
Birds and the Synagogue of Satan," and they did not
like this condemnation. But then that was because,
as Besse tells us, they the more deserved it.
It is possible there raay have been other couples out
of the north travelling as woraen raissionaries and
pioneering the Quaker faith about that time, but the
consensus of probability seems to lie with the two

276 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Elizabeths first mentioned, as being those to whom
John Roberts's introduction to the principles of the
Society of Friends was due. These good women, how
ever, be they who they might, found that he needed
stronger mental and spiritual food than they had to
offer him. Declamation, denunciation, and testifying
were not needed in his case, and therefore to a man
like Richard Farnsworth, well versed in polemics, and
the author of many pamphlets, though only a simple
agriculturalist, they very wisely sent him. And Farns
worth proved the Quaker Gamaliel at whose feet,
figuratively, John sat and learned. He did not absorb
the spirit of Quakerism, for that he found he had
possessed, unconsciously, all along — he only acquired
its designation and its Shibboleths, its outward and
visible signs. It was but an awakening to the dis
covery that, to all intents and purposes, he had been
ever a Quaker at heart. And in this, Roberts was
but a type of thousands — of many thousands.
Those were days of extreraes, alike in raatters
religious and political ; but Roberts becarae in neither
an extreraist. He was so essentially a religious raan,
that his syrapathy with the Commonwealth was far
more on account of its ethical aspect than its relation
to public affairs ; but, at the same tirae, he was never
in any way fanatical. He would have loved the
Crorawellians raore — he would have loved them much —
if they had not, themselves, been persecutors of his
sect ; for the movement chiefly affected and concerned

FEARLESS QUAKING. 277
the class to which he belonged, and from which he
might reasonably have expected better things. For
"The Great Rebellion," as it was called afterwards by
the " Malignants" (a reproachful term given in retaliation
for the nickname of Roundheads), was a revolt in
various ways against the vices, the hypocrisies, the
cruelties of the Court and the Court party. It was not a
rising of the poor against the rich on the one hand,
nor of the rich against the Royal for matters of
privilege and power, so much as it was the uprising
of the great substantial, well fed, well housed, and —
as education went — well educated middle class against
intolerable wrong, oppression, and vileness. The
Englander of that day was the type of the John Bull
of a later clay. He was a raan whose interests and
honour centred in his own country, passionately.
There he had been reared, there was the house he
owned, that had been his father's before him, and
would probably be his son's after him. Everywhere
the roots of his family tree went down deep into the
soil. He was the representative man of the Common
wealth in the rural and suburban districts. In the
towns his place was occupied by the substantial burgesses
— by the great bourgeois class. He was the man who
supported the Parliament ; who trusted and fought
for Crorawell ; who was jealous for the honour, and
even the supremacy of his country — and, while ever
alert to "frustrate" the "knavish tricks" of foreigners,
could yet protect the persecuted Waldenses, and

278 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
show himself as magnanimous as he was strong. True,
he acquiesced in the execution of the King. It was a
tactical blunder rather than anything else. To call it
a " crime " is to ignore all history and twist words to
suit individual prepossessions.
With neither party the Quakers wholly sympa
thized, as has been said. Their motto was : " Fear
God. Honour the King." But the King raust hiraself
fear God to be honoured by them, except merely for
his office. Hence if they were compelled to choose
between the two, as they so often were, God raust
be obeyed, though the King's honouring went to the
wall, and they themselves to prison.
The words in which Daniel Roberts writes of his
fathei's adhesion to Quakerism, after the interview
with Richard Farnsworth in the dungeon, are alike
simple and impressive — "And after that time he
patiently bore the Cross." Had not John Roberts
objected to inscribed gravestones, the last five words
would have formed as striking and comprehensive a
line of testimony as could have been carved over
his grave.
But what raatters their absence, John ! Thou dost
not need it. Thy raonuraent is raore imperishable
than the mouldering stone, more valuable than the
costliest marble, more honours thee than any cenotaph
however ornate, for it is not a dead, but is a living,
loving testimony in many and many a reader's heart,
to thy simple worth, thy genial goodness, thy un-

FEARLESS QUAKING. 279
assuming piety, thy dauntless valiance for the Truth.
Such it has been in the past, such it will be in the
far, far future !
The point in Farnsworth's* teaching that brought
complete conviction to John Roberts, as to most of
the heart-touched adherents to the Quaker faith, was
the doctrine of the Inner Lightf — a doctrine often
ridiculed because so little understood. It is, how
ever, a doctrine of extreme simplicity, and therefore
perhaps the raore often uncomprehended.
George Fox's presentment, from the first, of this
foundation belief of the Quakers, may be thus stated : —
Before all else, in point of tirae, was God — the
Infinite, the Unchangeable Spirit : and from Him a
manifestation of His essence penetrated, in greater or
less degree, the heart of every raan who came into
the world. The material progress of the world was
wrought by the fingers of the Almighty, the moral
and spiritual development by His Spirit in the inner
consciousness of every huraan soul. First, He revealed
Hiraself directly to raan, until He inspired " holy
men " to write " as they were moved by the Holy
Ghost," when the invisible teaching is supplemented
by a visible — a literary form— which contains His
Spirit. Once more God greatly manifests Himself.
This time His Spirit fills a human personality, so that
to the orthodox Quaker, Christ and God became in a
measure synonymous. * See Note 11 in Appendix. f See Note 12.

28o MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
The views of the Friends in this raatter are so
well expressed by Jacob Post (in his Popular Memoir
of William Penn) that it is well to quote them here : —
" The great fundamental doctrine of the people
called Quakers is a belief in the universality of the
Divine Light — or the grace of God in the consciences
of all mankind. This heavenly gift, which, in a
measure, more or less enlightens all raen that corae
into the world, they believe to be an infallible Guide
to those who are unreservedly led thereby. The
Holy Scriptures, they affirra, are an outward revelation
of this inner Guide which was before the Bible was
written. Holy raen of God wrote under a large
raeasure of its influence and direction, and therefore
the one can never contradict the other [in the essential
spirit of its teaching], but both are found to har-
raonize with each other. This principle necessarily
leads into individual freedom of thought and inde
pendence of raind and conduct. The Quaker thinks
for hiraself, and in matters of religion he calls no
raan master, but acknowledges Christ only as the
Head of the Church."
Very early in his career, George Fox thus
chronicles the " opening " he received on this
matter : — " For I saw in that Light and Spirit which
was before the Scriptures were given forth, and
which led the holy men of God to give thera forth,
that all raust come to that Spirit, if they would know

FEARLESS QUAKING. 281
God, or Christ, or the Scriptures aright, which they
that gave them forth were led and taught by."
Out of this doctrine of the Inner Light arose the
practice of Silent Worship — which is a quiet " waiting
upon God," interrupted only when a Friend feels a
call to give expression to thoughts or supplications
that arise spontaneously frora the operation of the
Spirit of God within him. The exact form of the
words depends upon himself ; but the ideas he
believes to be due to spiritual intuition. As the
Quakers recognize Christ only as the Head of the
Church, some such arrangement as they adopted came
about almost of necessity ; but it was a process of
growth. It was a mode of worship known to the
primitive Church in apostolic days ; and a rudimen
tary form of it stUl lingers in the Catholic service.
At an early period of Quakerism this doctrine of
the Inner Light led to many extravagancies in
procedure — especially among women. The times
were those of great general excitement, and early
adherents to Quakerism mistook — we think now — this
enthusiasm for the voice of God within their souls.
But they were, at least, not hypocrites. If mistaken,
they honestly believed they were right, and indeed
there was much of what was good and sound mixed
with the error. They proved this by their willingness
to suffer — by the fortitude, and patience, and meek
ness with which they bore the raost cruel inflictions
by their torturers. Among the Puritans, a large

282 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
portion of their reading of the Scriptures was devoted
to the Prophets of the Old Testament. As a
consequence it influenced them greatly, entered
largely into their nomenclature, and was the cause
of much ridicule by the Cavaliers and by people " of
the baser sort" — nor have we ourselves quite ceased
laughing to-day at the huraorous elements in it.
Yet the Prophetic times were anything but laughing
times ; indeed it was their intense, their terrible
seriousness, that was so much in keeping with the
pervading spirit of Puritanisra and that caused the Bible
record to be regarded so sympathetically. Thus for
many of the extravagancies indulged in, exaraple was
found in, nay, even suggested by spirit-moved deeds of
the Prophets of old. When Wyeth with his " Switch "
is castigating " The Snake in the Grass " — who had
hissed out a taunt at the Quakers for the testimonies
in the nude of some among thera — he aims a retaliatory
blow by referring him to the exaraple of Isaiah.*
In writing of this time, from a Baptist's point of
view, Hay croft says : — " The Quakers, who had
recently sprung up, exposed theraselves to much
suffering by their intemperate zeal. Their rude inter
ruptions of refigious service, their intolerance for the
views of others, and the extraordinary freaks com-

* Joseph Wyeth, of London, published, in 1699, a boolc entitled, •' Angui»
Flagellatns ; or, a Swftcb f OV tbe Snalie. Being An Answer to the Third and
Last Edition of the Snake in the Grass, wherein that Author's Injustice and
Falshood, both in Quotation and Story, are Discovered and Obviated," etc.

FEARLESS QUAKING. 283
mitted by sorae of them, present a remarkable contrast
to the candour, the inoffensive character, and the
gentle, courteous demeanour which have since char
acterized this community."
The contrast is great indeed. It is difficult to
realize to-day that they ever were violently aggressive ;
yet, not merely was the hirefing priesthood of the
Church bearded and denounced, but strong attacks
were at times made on their feUow Nonconformists.
Thus Dennis Hollister, a grocer in the High Street of
Bristol, having, as his opponents afterwards said,
" Sucked in some Principles of this upstart Locust-
Doctrine from a sorte of people afterwards caUed
Quakers " (during a visit to London), is bitterly com
plained of by the Baptists. One of them, writing
about this tirae, says, " Ye Quakers would frequently
come into our assemblyes and condemn all but them
selves." In Devonshire, an energetic, evangefical
preacher, who was wont to hold forth in his orchard,
"met," we read, " writh some disturbance frora the
Quakers, of whora were many in those parts, who
often came into the meeting while he was preaching
or praying, and when he had ended would wrangle
and dispute with him." But, to use a homely phrase,
it seems to have been " six of one and half-a-dozen
of the other." For George Fox tells of a man naraed
Paul Gwin,* a " rude, jangling Baptist," who carae
• Fox and Gwin meet again, fifteen years later, on the Island of Barbados.
and Gwin is still " a jangling Baptist.''

284 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
into the orchard adjoining the Quaker meeting-house
in " Broad-mead at Bristol," and who " had before
made great disturbance " at their meetings, " being
encouraged and set on by the mayor." In the
orchard was a stone that served as a rostrum, and
George Fox mounting on it, and taking off his hat,
and standing a few rainutes without speaking, his op
ponent, after first finding fault with George's hair,
said, " Ye wise raen of Bristol, I strange [wonder] at
you, that you will stand here, and hear a raan speak
and affirra that which he cannot raake good." But,
as George had said nothing, this raade an opening
for a smart attack, which he followed up, and, having
quieted his assailant, proceeded to discourse on doctrinal
raatters to the thousands asserabled "for raany hours."
These are very mild incidents compared with
some ; and, if striking as a contrast to the mutual
treatment of each other by those of differing creeds
to-day, sink into insignificance with sorae that are
recorded — not with disapproval, but as illustrations of
the testiraonies that had to be borne under a solemn
sense of duty — with an honest belief on the part of
all concerned that they were obeying the behest of
God as impressed on the individual soul. We shrug
our shoulders to-day at the narrative and suggest
sorae raorbid raental derangeraent. But if "great
wits" are "to madness near allied," so also is the
sincerest religious enthusiasm. Let us take a very
striking case.

FEARLESS QUAKING. 285
One of those remarkable pre-visions of which the
Quaker histories and books contain so raany authenti
cated instances occurred in the case of a woman
named Margaret Brewster. She came from Barbados
to what she afterwards referred to (when writing from
"The Common Gaol") as "The Bloody town of
Boston " — moved (like Jonah of old) by a spiritual
coramand to go and testify against the cruelties being
inflicted on the Quakers in New England — and to warn
thera that a terrible visitation in the shape of the Black-
pox was coming upon them frora God for their
punishraent. The pestilence came as she had
predicted ; but meanwhile the poor woraan had
taken a strange raethod of announcing it, and was
made the victim of great barbarity in consequence.
The incident is probably the one that Whittier had
in view in the line —
" And mate -with maniac -women, loose-haired and
sackcloth-bound,"
that is put into the mouth of the "Tempter." Some
brief extracts from the soraewhat full account given
by Besse, under date, 1677, will sufficiently tell the
story. The incident is recorded in dialogue form : —
* * # *
Constable. — " If this be the woman I don't know ;
for she was in the Shape of a Devil. I thought her
Hair had been a Perriwigg, but it was her own Hair."
Governor. — " You hear your Accusation ? "
Margaret Brewster. — " I do not hear it."

2 00 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Governor. — " Are you the woraan that came into
Mr. Thatcher's Meeting-house with your Hair fruzled,
and dressed in the Shape of a Devil ? "
M.B. — " I am the Woman that came into Priest
Thatcher's House of Worship with my Hair about
my Shoulders, Ashes on my Head, ray Face coloured
black, and Sack-cloth on my upper Garments."
# * * *
Then Juggins, a magistrate, said, " You are led by
the Spirit of the Devil, to rarable up and down the
Country, like Whores and Rogues — a Cater-wawling.''
Whereupon Lydia Wright, of Long Island, one of
her corapanions, interposes : —
" Such Words do not becorae those who call thera
selves Christians, for they that sit to judge for God
in Matters of Conscience ought to be Sober and
serious, for Sobriety becomes the People of God,
for these are a weighty and ponderous People."
* * * *
Then Endicott passed sentence : — " You are to
have your Clothes stript off to the Middle, and to
be tied to a Cart's Tail at the South Meeting-house.
and to be drawn through the Town, and to receive
twenty Stripes upon your naked Body."
And poor Margaret answered meekly : — " The Will
of the Lord be done : I am content.'' And the
sentence was executed with terrible severity.
These persecutions of the Quakers were no make-
believe performances, no travesties got up for adver-

FEARLESS QUAKING. 287
tisement, with a view to pecuniary gain, but horribly
real. Let that which follows be read and reraerabered
as a sample of what may ever occur where sacer
dotalism is a dominant power.
" They laid Hands on her — [Lydia Wardell] — a
Woman of exemplary Modesty in all her Behaviour —
and hurried her away to the Court, which was held at
a Tavern : The court sentenced her to be severely whipt
at the next Tavern-post. This cruel Sentence was
publickly executed on a Woraan of exemplary Virtue
and unspotted Chastity, for her Obedience to what
she believed the Spirit of the Lord had enjoined."
And while the people in the tavern " chaunt to the
Sound of the Viol (while the Priest — Cobbet by Name —
diverted them with his Singing)," and they " drink
Wine in Bowls," the flogging thus proceeds : — " The
poor young Woman was stript, and tied with her
naked Breasts against the Splinters of the Posts, and
sorely lashed with twenty or thirty cruel Stripes,
which, though they miserably tore her bruised Body,
yet to the great Comfort of her Husband and Friends
who stood by to comfort her, she was carried through
it with singular Patience, Quietness, and Chearfulness
of Mind." This occurred in New England in 1665.
The record may be continued indefinitely in
England as in New England, and even more fiendish
atrocities enumerated. The great instigators of these
persecutions were the priests, who, when magistrates
and even executioners would fain have avoided them,

2»» MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
urged them on with great persistency — urged them
remorselessly — and then did their utmost to aggravate
them by 'laugh and scoff and jeer"; and yet,
some, no doubt, had the honest belief that they were
doing afike their duty to God and to those they
persecuted. Let us hope the persecutors were the
exceptional folks. We have abundant evidence these
cruelties were not in harmony with the feelings of
the mass of the people, or even with those of raany
of the magistrates. And the same was true in our
own country.
In these days of boasted enlightenment we cannot
yet afford to forget these potent lessons of charity
that the past can teach us. Progress is ever made,
and only made, by keeping the past in view, and
learning frora tirae to time what we have to unlearn,
that we may make more sure our real advance.
He was a wise teacher who asked for " something
to cut off " ; for it is easier to pare off excrescencies
than to originate. And amid all the extravagancies
indulged in by the early Quakers the proof has been
overwhelming that the fruit was sound at the core.
The story, for instance, of Jaraes Naylor, as Charles
Lamb and as Whittier have said, is of a man who
more than atoned for aU his mistakes. And wild
Solomon Eccles was a truer type of an old Hebrew
seer, even to his marvellous power of prophecy, than
coraported with the tolerance readily given to eccen
tricities even in those days of greatest religious

FEARLESS QUAKING. 289
upheaval. He was the raan of whom Pepys tells us
in his Diary. Writing under date July 29th, 1667, he
records, " One thing extraordinary was to-day. A
raan, a Quaker, carae naked through the Hall [West
minster], only very civilly tied over the loins to avoid
scandal, and, with a chafing dish of fire and brim
stone burning on his head, did pass through the
Hall, crying, ' Repent ! Repent ! ' "
Pepys, it will be seen, calls it " extraordinary " only,
and is not scandalized. When these nude testi
monies resulted in those engaged in bearing them
being beaten by the populace, it was not on account
of the paucity of clothing that was exhibited, but
because of the unacceptabifity of the vigorous denun
ciations that were indulged in by those who testified.
For even a British matron of the period, in the person
of Elizabeth Hooton (before referred to), was not at all
shocked at William Sirapson, of whom Besse speaks
in his Sufferings, for "bearing testimony" in this way,
but only at the people who illtreated hira.
Solomon Eccles was doubtless well known to
John Roberts, for Solomon is heard of at Gloucester
in 1667, in connection with the following incident, in
which George Evans, the Bishop's secretary, and one
of the persecutors of our friend John Roberts, also
figures : — Eccles, for refusing to swear, was, according
to Besse, " comraitted to Prison by the Mayor.
While he lay there a reraarkable Encounter happened
between the said Solomon Eccles and Evans, who

290 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
came to the Prison, and in a Scoffing Manner pulled
off his Hat to Solomon, who thereupon advised hira
to be sober : This put the Man in a Chafe, and he
struck Solomon a violent Blow on the Cheek, upon
which Solomon turned to hira the other Cheek, and
he struck him again on that. Solomon again turned
to him the other, and he smote him a third Time.
All which Solomon bore patiently, thus literally per-
forraing the Precept of Christ {Mat. v. 39), and
obtaining a Christian Conquest over his Opposer."
It is far from improbable that Eccles and Roberts
were in Gloucester Castle together at this time. Both
were familiar with it, especially John ; but we must
go back now just ten years, and deal with what was,
we may infer, his first appearance behind its lofty
tower and walls in the capacity of prisoner.

CHAPTER IV.
VALIANT FOR THE TRUTH.
THE first three years that followed John Roberts's
adhesion to Quakerism were years of consider
able activity on its behalf. This is shown by the
numerous friends and relations who at this early
period became raembers of the Society. There is no
hint of any Sollace, or Tyndale, or Cambridge, or any
relative on Lydia's side ; but the Haywards and
Roberts were many, and though it can hardly be
supposed that all mentioned in the registers, and by
Besse, are related, yet several of them at least are cer
tainly shown to be by their names occurring in the
former as " Roberts alias Hayward," or " Hayward alias
Roberts," and by, in the case of deaths, their being
brought, at times from a distance, to be interred in Sid
dington burial ground. In the neighbourhood around
Cirencester, indeed throughout Gloucestershire, there is
little indication of persecution to any extent until after
the Restoration, although at the same period in many
parts of the country much was endured by George
Fox and other early Friends. Later on the story
becomes bad enough ; but Gloucestershire was by no
means one of the counties that suffered raost. It
was probably a less priest-ridden district than many ;

292 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
the Quakers, who were numerous, were often men of
great personal influence and much respected, and the
persecutors theraselves, not unfrequently, as in the
case of the Masters, and the Georges, and others, were
raen naturally disposed to be benevolent and kindly,
rather than cruel.
John Roberts's first, among his many commitments
to gaol, arose through his justifying, actively, the
charge afterwards brought against him that he was
" the Ringleader of the Quakers in the County.'' The
three Friends whom he championed were zealous
merabers of the body, and were destined in the coming
years to be fellow victims with him in numerous
scenes of persecution. One of thera, Robert
Silvester, afterwards, in Devonshire, was sent to prison
for three raonths as a " Rioter," for being at a
religious raeeting. The offence of these Friends in
respect of their hats was not the wearing thera in
the church — but their wearing them defiantly and
undeferentially in the presence of the parson. The
priest who was then Vicar of Cirencester was
Alexander Gregory, whose daughter became Mistress
Bull — marrying and settfing at Siddington in the
following year, 1658. He was a venerable man. Either
on account of his great age or through his decease,
we find tfiat shortly after this his place is occupied
by one Thomas Carles, M.A., who, in addition to
being Vicar of Cirencester, is also Rector of Barnsley —
a small village some four miles distant. Daniel always

VALIANT FOR THE TRUTH. 293
calls him Careless — which seems to show that he was
accustomed to pronounce his name as if spelt with
two syllables.
The church of Cirencester, where the three
Quakers thus stood up conspicuously with their hats
on, is, apart from our cathedrals or abbeys, one of
the finest ecclesiastical edifices in the kingdom.
There it is, as has been mentioned, the SoUaces lie
buried — and in one of its windows has been inserted
some of the stained glass taken from the church of
Siddington. The hat-wearing testimony may be thought to
have been carrying a virtue to an extrerae — that in
its protest against pride, vanity, and sycophancy,
regard for the feelings of others was too much ignored.
To-day, however, when it is possible, clearly, to
realize the immense amount of good to society at
large which has been the result of the dogged oppo
sition to seeming trifies on the part of the Quakers,
it appears like wrongly estimating their value to call
them trifles at all. We can never see eye-to-eye in
all things. The moral meat of one man raay be to
another deadly poison ; or what to one raay at least
be harraless, may to another be fraught with
immeasurable evil. The world is too extensive — the
capacity of human nature at its fullest too limited —
the ever-changing conditions of fife too numerous and
compficated, for any man, or even set of raen, to
coraprehend aU truth within themselves. To "judge

294 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
not that ye be not judged" — to have charity towards
aU men — to "prove all things and hold fast that
which is good," individually, will, as wisdom adds
brightness to wisdom, be raore and more clearly seen
to be the profoundest teaching of the divine Truth.
At first the Quakers, as the other sects, lacked this
mutual charity. All were bitter against each other —
Nonconformists being more bitter against fellow
dissenters than even against the Church. The Friends
as a proselytizing sect, and one with sorae new,
striking, and consequently very conspicuous banners
to display, had a tendency to raake much of this. But
as time went on, and demonstrations were less needed,
they nailed these their colours on their walls as
trophies of their past battles, and settled down to a
calmer mode of religious life.
John and his friends are sent to Gloucester gaol.
He has justified his reputation as their leader, and
has shown no fear of personal suffering. His action
was typical of the time. In a small way he was a
Quaker Hampden. But his championship was non-
poUtical but religious — with a religiousness that sought
to get to the very heart of the ethical idea. The
Quakers were the Ishmaels of the time because they
were its iconoclasts. Their hand was against every
man's, and every man's hand against theirs, because
they broke some of the raost cherished idols of the
other sects. However much these raight differ araong
theraselves (as Bishop Nicholson pointed out), in

VALIANT FOR THE TRUTH. 295
certain things which they deemed essential — on
matters such as the Sacraments, for instance (which
Quakers ignored) — they were all agreed. On the other
hand the Quakers held certain very pronounced views
in regard to honesty, truth, loyalty to conscience, and
consistency, that the generality of the other sects
regarded as raatters for individual judgment, and as
subject to questions of expediency. The greater pro
fession of loyalty to conscience made an endeavour
after closer coramunion with God necessary, if the
Quakers were to be true to themselves. From the
danger of drifting into an approach to the spirit of
monasticisra they were saved by the strong sense of
rautual huraan duty. God and raan went ever
together in their rainds, and the conjunction pervaded
all their thoughts and actions. With a selfish
asceticisra they had nothing in coraraon. In tirae
Quakerisra raissed sorae of the good it might have done
by becoming too purely sectarian — too exclusive ;
but against this was happily set off the noble philan
thropy in which as a body they engaged. This again
sought to go to the heart of things, by remembering,
only, that men and women were suffering, to regard
them as objects of helpful syrapathy. They endeav
oured to let their charity, like God's rain, fall on all
raen, because all men were at least God's children.
In these days the exclusiveness adverted to is
largely given up ; and though there are evidences, in
consequence, of considerable dilution of humanitarian

296 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
energy, it is chiefly because of wider diffusion.
Indications, however, are not wanting that if great
occasion arose for concentration — if Quaker feeling
needed to be put into the alembic for a martyr
spirit to be distilled out of it, that it would be found
there in great potency and abundance. Nor would
this spirit be wholly confined to Quakerisra now,
any raore than it was in the past ; indeed the question
the Quakers as a body might have to consider would
perhaps be rather how they would compare in quantity
and quality with that exhibited by others. But we
raust to Gloucester gaol.
The gaol then existing occupied a corner of the
old castle that overlooked the Severn. John was in
the debtors' portion, which was roomy and substantial,
if antiquated. He had the company of three of his
friends and was not unhappy. A spirit of satisfaction,
of exaltation of soul, pervaded him. But he was
anxious to let his wife know how it fared with him,
and ease, as far as may be, her natural anxiety on
his account. So he writes her a letter. As the
reader will see by the copy that follows, it was full
of religious feefing, full, too, of warra affection. But
though he is a prisoner, with an uncertain future
before hira, he does not falter, he even slips in a
little humorous touch at the last, about his "strong
House," and sends Idndly messages all round. It is going
to be forwarded by hand, is the missive — will be taken
and opened he expects by her hand. It raay be the

OLD GAOL AT GLOUCESTER.

VALIANT FOR THE TRUTH. 299
first letter, since their marriage, she may ever have
had to receive frora him. And then when he reafizes
this and writes the superscription, who will wonder
if his pen grows tremulous. But before an opportunity
to despatch it occurs, his uncle Solace appears on the
scene — and we know the rest. This letter consequently
was never sent, but was taken by himself to his wife.
How she would cherish it, and leave it as a legacy of love
to her descendants ! But, unfortunately, it has not sur
vived to the present time, at least its existence is not
known to those to whom has descended the bulk
of the Roberts MSS. A century and a half ago, a
copy was made by Daniel's daughter Elizabeth, and
this has been so carefully preserved, and so tenderly
handled, that it is not only unsoiled and untorn,
but unworn except by time. And thus it runs : —
" Dear and Loveing Wife
" My Dear Love in the Lord is remembred to thee,
with ray Love to ray mother and to my Children,
and my Love to all friends.
" This is to acquaint thee that I with the rest of our
friends here are very well and in good health, Blessed
be the God of our Salvation, who is the rock of ages,
who always makes good his promises, and is near to
all that call upon him in truth and faithfuUness.
Dear Heart, be not discouraged, but wait on him
in the Light of hiraself, who is able to supply aU thy
wants, and be a Husband to thee, and a Father to

300 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
thy Children, and a present help in trouble. Deai
friend, I have found the father's Love much to rae,
who hath counted rae worthy to Suffer for his truths
sake. He hath raade ray Prison very Pleasent to
rae, much beyond my expectation. I am well Pleased
with my Present condition, waiting on the Lord alone
for my Deliverance, which will be in his time ; and
I regard not the tiranny of my adversary's, but
commit my cause to him who is a righteous Judge.
" Dear heart, my desire is to see thee as soon as
conveniently thou cans't, if thou findest freedom in
thy self ; if any friend be free to corae with thee, I
would desire thee, if thou wilt, to let thy son John
Ride before thee ; if some [one] else be with thee
thou may'st Learn him the way. Dear Friend, In
Patience Possess thy soul, waiting always in the Light,
which will lead thee to the fountain of Life and Light,
which is God, Blessed for ever. So I rest, thy Loving
Husband till death, "John Roberts.
''The 7th day of the 7th month, 1657.
" From ray strong House, Gloucester.
" My friends and fellow sufferers, Robert Silvester
and Phillip Gray, desires to be remembred to
friends. My dear Love to all friends."
It was a letter that deserved to be well cared
for. It is very tender, and yet so manly a letter, in
which the husband's thoughtfulness and anxiety are

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VALIANT FOR THE TRUTH. 303
made of less account than his sense of duty. Yet in
showing his wife this — in regarding her as a sharer
in this devotion — he evinces his deeper esteem, as
well as fuUer affection. It is a letter that cannot
be read without raising feelings of warraer regard
for both husband and wife.
There is a consciousness that it is like gilding
refined gold to attempt to add anything to Daniel
Roberts's narrative of what foUows. It is one of the
most, if not the most exquisite of the episodes in his
Memoir of his father. The whole story palpitates
with deep feeling. The painful call of duty, just
when John had, so he thought, escaped from his
" adversary's " — the quivering balance until Lydia
throws the weight of self-abnegation and confirming
courage into the scale — the renewed hesitancy, not
on his own personal account but through
"The fear of man that brings a snare — the -weakness
and the doubt ' ' —
the thought of how others might misjudge him — the
patient, reverent waiting for the voice of God to be
heard within — his faith that it speaks to hira and
dissipates all need for doubt — all this is simply, but
so perfectly told. And when husband and wife meet
on their return, each with a story of Heaven's good
offices, and mingle tears of joy with kisses of affection,
even the reader, looking on only in fancy, will feel
that he must at least turn away his head to hide his
moistening eyes.

304 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
It will be noted that John, while courteous to the
Squire of Lypeat, so far from evincing any subserviency,
does not hesitate to deal very plainly with his short
comings. What they are is not stated ; but we can
hardly be very far wrong if we infer that indulgence
in fiquor was at the bottom of them. His conduct on
the bench on the one hand, coupled with his remorse-
fulness in the period that followed soon after, appear
like indications accompanying intemperate habits.
His subsequent treatraent of John, however, shows
that he was not bad at heart.
While the husband is away at Lypeat, his wife has
ridden a-pillion with her son John — now a boy of
nearly ten years of age — to a meeting at Upton, a village
sorae two railes north of Tetbury, on the road to
Gloucester ; and though it is clear that, as a
matter of choice, Lydia would have rather stayed
away, yet it is evident she was fully prepared to
practise the duty she could uphold. William Dews-
bury, a prominent minister among the early Friends,
was to be present at the raeeting. In his youth he had
been a shepherd ; as he grew up he becarae a clothier ;
during the war he joined the array of the Parliament,
but left it on conscientious grounds, and shortly after
united himself to the Quakers. His joining thera was
almost contemporary with that designation being first
given to the sect at Derby. More than raost he
suffered persecution. Long iraprisonments fell to his
share. He is described as having " great qualifications,

VALIANT FOR THE TRUTH. 305
natural and spiritual," as being " fervent yet deep,
calm and sagacious, weighty in council, courageous in
suffering." He died at Warwick in 1688, his death
being hastened by the inflictions he had undergone.
" I never played the coward," said he, during his last
days, " but as joyfully entered prisons as palaces . . .
and esteemed the bolts and locks put upon me as
jewels . . . and in the name of the eternal God I
always got the victory, for they [the persecutors]
could not keep me any longer than the time deter
mined by him." *
During the meeting, as we know, Lydia's mind
was greatly troubled with anxiety about her husband.
And then occurred one of those curious instances of
thought-transference so familiar in the records of the
Friends. Without anything having been said by
Lydia, a patient self-contained woman, and she being
an entire stranger to the Yorkshire Friend, yet the
nature of her trouble, as well as the trouble itself, is
borne in upon his raind, and in tirae points to her
as the object. Taking the narrative as it stands, and
making due allowance for all possibilities, there yet
seems no valid reason why it should not be included
in the many well-authenticated cases of psychological
phenoraena of a similar kind, which research is
slowly dissecting from araong the entangleraents of
the occult. All phenoraena belonged in ruder tiraes to
the supernatural. With the advance of investigation,
* See Note 13 in Appendix.

306 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
and of knowledge, the domain of science widens.
We yield up with reluctance our fairies, our gnomes,
our giants, our legendary heroes, our marvellous birds
beasts and fishes, to the proved demonstrations of
fact ; but in time we are content with the
refiection that, not raerely can nothing be better, but
nothing more beautiful than truth.
The subject of telepathic communication is too
vast to be entered upon here ; but numerous illustra
tions of its operation are given in the John Roberts
Menioir ; and, from the very commencement of the
Society of Friends up to the most recent times,
abundance of well authenticated instances are to be
found among its records. While met with among
the narratives of other religious sects occasionally,
such occurrences have been accepted by the Quakers
almost as a matter of course. It is a logical outcome
of a belief in the immediate operation of the Spirit ;
and it is a certain gain to the soul to feel that it is
the operation of a "natural law in the spiritual
world," and not a matter of accident or favouritism.
The fact is, the very raethod of Quaker worship, the
quiet, absorbed, unspeculative devotion, is erainently
adapted for its presentation. The raind is then
more than quiescent. It is, in Quaker phrase,
" prostrate before God." It is in a condition of the
calmest and holiest receptivity. If then there is any
mental transference at all (and we know there is),
such a condition is best of all adapted for such

VALIANT FOR THE TRUTH. 307
interchange. The dominant feeling of the stronger
mind wiU becorae, in a little whUe, the prevailing
one ; or the raind raay be brought for a tirae on a
single person's part under the influence of strong
eraotion. All have their moments of greater spiritual
elevation. This raay be eminent enough in some
cases, and potent enough, to pervade the rest.
There may at a raeeting be no words spoken, and yet
the Friends may be able to confide to each other
afterwards that they have had " a favoured time."
Relative to this experience, Robert Barclay (the
Apologist) says, " If one is only watchful and keeps
his place, he will feel a secret travail for the rest in
a sympathy with the seed which is oppressed in the
others . . and the rest will find theraselves secretly
smitten without words . . . whereby life will
come to be raised in all, and the vain imaginations
brought down ; and such an one is felt by the rest
to minister life unto them without words."
In this instance, in the Memoir, of the feeling
of great trouble being borne in on William
Dewsbury's mind, he has, in tirae, a clue to the
person affected, and is able to express syrapathy
and tender encouragement verbally. It need not
always be so ; nor can the person to whora an
answering message may be sent always be recognized,
though the recipient of the coraraunication raust
know that it was he or she who had evoked the
transraission.

3o8 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Worthy John Roberts and his wife, however,
were ignorant of the science of telepathy by name,
though its operations were very real to them. The
difference between the scientist's view of thought-
transference and that befieved in by the orthodox
early Friend is that instead of being a general and
uniform operation of a divine law, it is a more or
less arbitrary one, because requiring a special
appeal to the intervention of Deity. Given the necessary
conditions, a powerful endeavour to transmit a
thought to another will result in its conveyance,
and, provided the necessary conditions for its
reception are present, in its arrival being recognized.
If the raind of a godly person is centred in a
special appeal to God simultaneously with a waiting
condition on the part of another godly person
seeking to know God's will, is it not possible that
some natural law may be operative to bring these
two currents of thought in contact, and that the
raind willing to give raay be able to transmit what
is desired to be bestowed ?
Without knowing it, George Fox, in propagating
his doctrine of the Inner Light (of which this
view of the Friends of thought-transference of
necessity forms part), was vigorously preaching a
theory of evolution. Man was to be made better
by the development of his higher nature at the
expense of his lower. This was to corae about by
the increase of the Spirit of God within him.

VALIANT FOR THE TRUTH. 309
" It was the ancient mystic idea," says Hepworth
Dixon (who denies that it was George Fox's own,
or that he ever perceived its true relation to other
systems of thought and religious creed), " that there
lies concealed in the mind of every man a certain
portion of divine fight, a real spark of the infallible
Godhead. In this mysterious light the mystics had
found the highest guide of human conduct, and
Fox had somehow caught at the doctrine."
Adding this thought to our present knowledge,
the idea involved may be presented in this way :
Travelling upwards frora an inconceivably diffused
vapour to a concentrated but chaotic raass, and
through this to the first dawnings of sentient life,
and onwards to the most rudimentary indications
of humanity, and thence through unknown periods
to the Egyptian civilization of thousands of years
ago — with its clear evidence of a belief, however
entangled in other thoughts, of the existence of a
supreme Deity — to the present time, there is before
us, it is thought, a definite goal. The idea of God
as distinct from a God has slowly and strugglingly
been built up within. Not a God apart frora us,
but a God of whora we are a distinct part, however
infinitesimal, as our vitality is a part of ourselves,
to be raore fully developed, or neglected until alraost
lost. And when fully developed in the unknown
future, then the whole of each individual being,
filled with the Spirit of God, and of God only.

310 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
becomes as Christ, because perfect as He is perfect
— as far as human existence can be.
This seems to have been the idea of Fox's
that John Roberts endorsed and propagated — in a
word the idea of being as Christ-like as possible.
And it has been a belief that has yielded such
results, in good works and in noble deeds, that it
must leave its influence on all coming time.

CHAPTER V.
THE FAITH THAT OVERCOMES.
THE period of serious persecution began for John
Roberts with the settlement of George Bull as the
priest of the Siddington parishes. He belonged to
an old Somersetshire family of good estate settled
at Shapwick, and was born at Wells on the 25th of
March, 1634 (being thus a considerably younger raan
than John Roberts). He received from his father
a small estate that sufficed for an excellent educa
tion and the purchase of an extensive library. After
a brief schooling at Wells, he went to Tiverton,
until, in 1648, he was entered as a commoner at
Exeter College, Oxford. His refusal to take the
oath to the Commonwealth led to his retirement
to North Cadbury, in Somersetshire, with his tutor,
to complete his studies. On his being ordained
soon after his coming of age, he received, in 1655,
the small living ¦ of St. George's (Easton-in-Gordano)
a little north-west of Bristol. It was worth but some
;^30 a year (or not more than ;^i30 to-day), but as
he had private means of his own, and while there
was unmarried, he found it expedient, as well per
haps as agreeable, to give the bulk of it away.

312 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
It raay be rather an ungracious way of
presenting the raatter, to say that he bribed his
parishioners to come to church, but, practically, that
was the case. They were a rough, sea-faring lot —
for St. George's then was a sraall, separate port.
Nelson, the biographer of Bull, who, the reader
feels, is somehow also his apologist in a measure,
relates an incident — in which a hot-headed Quaker
figures — that makes the relationship of his parishioners
to Bull in his early days pretty clear. This raan, he
tells us, juraping up in church, shouted, " George,
corae down ! Thou art a false prophet and an
hireling ! " with a result that might have been ex
pected. " The parishioners, who were mostly seamen,
and who loved their minister exceedingly for his
great bounty and hospitality among them, as well as
for his good preaching, fell upon this poor Quaker
with such fury as obliged Mr. Bull to come down out
of the pulpit to quiet them, and to save him from the
effects of their resentment. So getting in among them,
and warding oft' the blows that were falling very
heavy upon the fellow, he said to them, 'Come,
neighbours, be not so violent against the poor man,
but spare him. You do not know what spirit he is
acted by ; you cannot tell but that it may be frenzy
in him.' " And then he continued to " discourse " the
raan for sorae tirae, chiefly in opposition to the view
that he (Bull) was a hireling. The result of this was
that, as the parson returned to his pulpit, the Quaker

THE FAITH THAT OVERCOMES. 3x3
was set upon again by the congregation, and eventu
ally thrust out of the church.
In the year 1658, Bull raarried Bridget Gregory,
the daughter of the then incumbent of Cirencester,
Alexander Gregory, afterwards one of the Ejected
Ministers. About the same year, by the good offices
of Lady Pool, and some rather smart practice on the
part of a clever friend of Bull's, the rectory of
Siddington St. Mary was secured to hira. He was
already known as a literary theologian ; and being her
self both literarily and poleraically inclined, the Lady
felt considerable interest in hira. The year following,
being an ardent Royalist, he exerted hiraself actively on
behalf of Charles, holding secret raeetings at the rectory
and in other ways helping his party, with the result
that in 1662 the Earl of Clarendon presented him to
the adjoining living of Siddington St. Peter, partly by
way 3f recompense for what he had done, and partly
through the good offices of Bishop Nicholson, recently
appointed to the See of Gloucester. It was then that,
strictly speaking, Bull became John's neighbour,
though John's lands were in both parishes. The
vicarage of St. Peter was a poor little cottage, only
a bow-shot from John's substantial house, and not
larger than one ordinarily occupied by agricultural
labourers. It might have been expected that it
would have been let to one of his raen but for the
tradition that he in sorae way occupied it himself.
Certainly he was accustomed to preach sometimes at

314 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
one church and soraetiraes at the other. As his
nuraerous faraily grew up it raay have been a con
venient place to which in turns to deport sorae of
thera. And if by chance the chUdren escaped a part
of the long prayers and services, every raorning and
evening, to which they were subject at the rectory,
as well as the severe fasts that were their portion
from morn to eve on Fridays and other appointed
days, who will blame them that they were the better
pleased ? At least they escaped being kept awake
at night by Bull's fondness for singing the hymns of
Sternhold and Hopkins in so resonant a voice as to be
heard through the house, and at most unearthly hours.
But Bull was wont to rise early as well as to stay up
late at night. He was evidently a very active man.
He read a great deal, wrote a great deal, discussed
and expounded a great deal, recited the Church
prayers very frequently and fully, and " corrected "
the little Bulls considerably. But, uncharitable though
it raay seem to say it, his biographer's eulogy leaves
the same impression that (even allowing fully for any
excusable bias) John's depreciatory account of him
conveys. In what John would call true godliness
Bull was wanting. Still he undoubtedly had some
excellent points. He was no hypocrite politically. He
was not wanting in kindness — quite apart from what
was merely diplomatic. In his theological opinions
he was no doubt sincere. As a father he was
probably appreciated by his children — but at a distance ;

THE FAITH THAT OVERCOMES. 315
while his wife was a good, kindly, motherly style of
woman, who was in harmony with his theology,
was proud of his abilities, but so wrapt up with, and
content in the love of her chUdren that she craved
no demonstrative sympathy frora him, nor missed its
absence ; and therefore regarded him, as Nelson did,
as being a good husband.
This devoted appreciation of his biographer, too,
speaks well for him. And his eldest son whom he
brought up to the Church, and on whose behalf he
spared no pains, writes in a feeling and appreciative
way of hira.
This son, Robert, becarae Rector of Tortworth and
Prebendary of Gloucester ; and in 1719 published a
posthuraous work of his father's that he had found
among his papers. It is alraost the only production
of his pen extant not written in Latin. Bull was a
raagnificent Latin scholar. Macaulay, writing of hira
adrairingly in this respect, credits him with seUing his
estate to buy his library. But this library by no means
sufficed for his researches, so that regularly every
year he spent two months at Oxford, reading up.
The Restoration elated him ; his dislike of all Non
conformity was very prominent, and his personal
antipathy to Nonconformists themselves was great.
Under these circumstances it is easily to be under
stood that John and he were not harmonious
neighbours. John was not wholly blameless. His
pride was fuUy equal to BuU's vanity. While

3l6 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Bull looked upon John as a heretic whora he was
justified, under the transparent plea of "taking
his tythes," in plundering wholesale, John regarded
him as a young, conceited hireling, who " sought the
flock to raven and devour." In John's own words he
considered him a " Proud, Ambitious, Ungodly man,"
and he follows the statement up with specific instances
of his having grossly wronged him in matters pecu
niary. This much, however, may be urged in Bull's
behalf, to mitigate, somewhat, the severity of the
judgraent that might otherwise be passed upon him —
that he and Roberts were, in a small way, at war.
John, as we know, had high moral notions pervading
even his treatment of an opponent ; while Bull's
standard was not above the level of his time. Cer
tainly, Lord Wolseley has laid it down as an axiom,
that in war strategy comes first and truth where it
can ; but even he would not endorse all that was re
garded not raerely as permissible but even commendable
in warfare in Lord Clarendon's time. Bull's moral
standard was the moral standard of the Cavaliers.
Magnanimity was scarcely to be reckoned among
their virtues. To be weak was regarded as being
the legitimate prey of the strong. To be able to take
was quite enough, without any considerations for what
was just, or honourable, or even honest.
If this statement is thought to be exaggerated as
regards the average clergyman of the time, there is
overwhelming evidence on record to the contraiy.

THE FAITH THAT OVERCOMES. 317
Take this matter of tithes. The Quaker could not
conscientiously pay tithes. Sometimes a process of
law was gone through to seize his goods — but even
that formality was very often dispensed with. In
default of paying tithe a treble charge could be
demanded, and enough goods seized, not merely to
cover the amount of the tithe three times over, but
all conceivable expenses attending its forced sale and
its reduction in realized prices in consequence. And
when in after years the Legislature stepped in to
alter this injustice, and required that only the actual
value of the single tithe clue should be recovered, the
clergy cried out that they were themselves being
robbed, because they could not exact the trebled
tithe ! In a pamphlet published in 1736 by " a
member of the House of Commons," as "An Answer
to the Country Parson's Plea against the Quakers'
Tythe-Bill," etc., the matter is dealt with very fully
and vigorously, but teraperately. His figures are
formidable. He instances one case where a hundred
pounds was taken for a claim of eighteen pence ! and
in reference to it says : " Such an instance of
oppression in any civil concern would cause an
insurrection ; and that raen endure it frora their
spiritual guides shows the universal passion for an
interest in another world, though the utmost force of
imagination cannot paint an hell more terrible to our
fears than what the cruelty of the clergy daily sets
before our eyes."

3l8 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
He tells us that " In 1,152 suits they made 292
prisoners ; in 15 suits, where the claims amounted
to £313, they exacted ;^i,o68 ; and in 44 suits,
where the claims amounted to ^188, they exacted
;^2,252 (or at the rate of ;^ioo for £8 due) ; and in
22 suits, where the claims amounted to ^66, they
exacted ,^1,484, which was at the rate of ;^ioo for
less than £^ los. ! " These differences in the propor
tion between the amounts claimed and obtained arose
from the fact that the law allowed of four methods
of the tithe being obtained. Thus of the 1,153 cases
mentioned, only 59 were obtained through the Coraraon
Law Courts, though all raight as readily have been so
got. It was, as the clergy said, with a deliberate idea
of " punishing " the Quakers that they sued them in
the more costly Courts. So 38 were sued for in the
Court of Chancery, 787 in the Exchequer, and 269
in the Ecclesiastical Courts. Out of these cases 292
resulted in imprisonments, and of those imprisoned
5 persons died while in gaol. It will furnish some
idea of the hardships endured, if one or two cases
given by the M.P. are mentioned. Thus one Friend
was imprisoned five years for forty shillings ; another
was a prisoner four years for one shilling ; others
for twenty shillings were imprisoned five years ; and
another for a small tithe for nine years ! In the list
mentioned, which only extends over less than twenty-
five years, and is by no means a complete one,
amongst others occurs the narae of Thomas Ellwood.

THE FAITH THAT OVERCOMES. 319
From him twelve shillings only had been demanded
for tithes, though his persecutors managed to raake it
;^24 7s. 6d. before their claim was satisfied.
Can it be wondered at that the feeling in John
Roberts's mind was not one of respect towards Bull,
or towards the clergy generally. When afterwards he
denounced them as a class as " Catterpillars,'' he can
hardly be charged with being vituperative. Strong
language could surely be justified in cases such as one
mentioned by Besse where, when the whole faraily of a
Quaker farmer were once imprisoned, the wife of the
parson, on more than one occasion, managed to get into
the house and deliberately help herself to the cheeses
stored in the cheese-room !
Although Bull remained at Siddington some twenty-
seven years — indeed until three years after John's
death — the very sraallest reference to any incidents of
his ministry there is made by his biographer. The
"trouble" that he had with his Quaker parishioners
is dismissed in a few lines ; and only one anecdote
connected with it related. It is of interest to quote
it, though three circumstances militate against the
subject of it being our friend John. First, he was not
a "preacher"; in the second place, he steered clear
of any 'familiar association with Bull ; and in the third
place, it is not credible that such a victory would
have been obtained over him. Nelson tells us :
"The only Dissenters he [BuU] had in this Parish
[which numbered only thirty families] were Quakers ;

320 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
who resisted all the Endeavours he raade to bring
thera into the Church, for they were as Obstinate as
they were Ignorant — who by their Irapertinent and
Extravagant manner caused him often no small
uneasiness. And of this number was one who was a
preacher among them, who would frequently accost
Mr. Bull ; and once raore particularly said he, George,
as for Human Learning I set no value upon it ; but if
thou wilt talk Scripture, Itave at thee. Upon which
Mr. Bufi, willing to correct his confidence, and to shew
hira how unable he was to support his Pretensions,
answered hira. Come on then, friend ! So opening the
Bible, which lay before them, he fell upon the Book
of Proverbs ; Seest thou, friend, said he, Solomon saith
in one place, Answer a fool according to his Folly ; and
in another Place, Answer not a Fool according to his
Folly ; how dost thou reconcile these two Texts of Scripture 1
Why, said the Preacher, Solomon don't say so ! To
which Mr. Bull replyed, Ay, but he doth. And turning
to the places he soon convinced him, upon which the
Quaker, hereat, being much out of countenance,
said, Why then Solomon's a fool I which ended the
Controversy." But if Bull was unfortunate in his neighbours, he
was not in his wife. She, good woman, raust have
suited hira excellently, for we are told, " Her Chief
Diversion was the care of her Family, and her main
arabition was to please her Husband, to whora she
was always a Complyant and Obedient Wife." But her

THE FAITH THAT OVERCOMES. 32I
virtues, happily, did not end there, for Nelson goes
on to say, " Yet her piety was not confined to her
own Home, but extended itself to the whole Parish
wherever she lived ; for by the Help of her closet
and skill in Sm-gery she made herself extremely Use
ful and Necessary upon all Occasions, and was very
much beloved, especially by those of the meaner
sort." AU which is the more to her credit when we
reflect that she had, in time, a numerous family — of five
sons and six daughters. As Bull's income for the con
joined Siddingtons would not much have exceeded
;^I20 (between ^300 and ;^4oo to-day), unless his
literary labours brought him in a substantial addition,
her opportunities for being charitable were not great,
for his biographer speaks of hira as being straightened
in his pecuniary circumstances.
" Though strong and conciliatory enough to hold his
own, he had to encounter much opposition," as we
have seen, "from his dissenting parishioners," in
earlier days — while his literary productions were
chiefly of a polemical character, and " his advocacy
of the necessity of Good Works caused his adversaries
to insinuate that he was a Socinian." His books
attracted much attention at the time, and are said to
" display great erudilion and ability " ; but apart from
their being chiefly in Latin, and therefore appealing
only to the learned, the profound, and the subtle theolo
gical controversies — which were a passion with all classes
in the seventeenth century — they have long since lost

322 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
their absorbing charms. The interest in the literature
that contained them would not long survive them.
As an instance of the hold controversy had on the
mass of the people at one tirae, the case of a debate
held between William Penn and others in the Bar
bican, London, in 1672, may be given. It was to
have been raerely a personal discussion between one
Hicks, a Baptist, and Williara Penn, in consequence
of a challenge by the latter. But this was what hap
pened at the meeting, as chronicled by Hepworth
Dixon, in an early edition of his Life of William
Penn. It was a meeting of " not less than six thou
sand. ... At first some of thera were disposed
to be riotous. ' If Christ was the Inner Light, where
was His raanhood ? ' cried a person frora the body
of the room ; whereupon the audience, by shouts and
clamours, compelled the Quakers to enter into an
unexpected controversy on the point thus raised. How
curious to think of a mob of six thousand persons,
excited almost to the length of coraraitting a breach
of the peace, on a subtlety like this ! . . . Singu
larly enough, a discussion of doctrine was found to
have more attraction for them than a scene of personal
abuse and recrimination." And it raged for hom-s
and hours did this discussion ; until the people were
dispersed by the darkness.
It is few but book- worms who have any idea of the
endless tomes, often massive folios, that were produced
at this period on subjects of a purely theological and

THE FAITH THAT OVERCOMES. 323
controversial character. So nuraerous were they, that
while almost all secular books of the period have a
value, sometimes very considerable, the bulk of the
former class are to-day of hardly waste-paper worth.
If one wants to understand how the religious people
of the period endured so patiently their long iraprison
ments, sorae faint conception can be formed by just
glancing into the published sermons of the time, and
kindred literary efforts. Three hours was no unusual
time for a discourse ; and the children as well as the
adults were expected to sit it out without sleeping.
No wonder a silent Quaker meeting, with only an
occasional address or prayer, was soon found to have
charms for so raany !
The old-world religious exercises, not raerely of
the Puritans, but of the Church at times, must have
enabled a fuller grasp to have been obtained of the
possibilities involved in a large experience of the
virtue of Patience. The Quakers who endured so
meekly had learned in an effective school. We have
only to take up some of those old tomes now, and dip
into them, to be able, dearly as we may love books
in the abstract, to sympathize with the decision of
the poor convict who, when a choice of the galleys
or the perusal of the many-voluraed works of an
old author was offered hira, selected at first the
latter alternative, only to beg, in a little while, to be
allowed to exchange it for the forraer !
Araong these depositories of many words, if not of

324 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
fresh ideas, there is however, did we care to overhaul
them, often much of value. Under the chaff or straw
full many wheat corns lie buried, that are still
possessed of a vigorous vitality, and that only need
the re-sowing in fresh soil to grow up and flourish
exceedingly. As Bull grew older he grew wiser. He mellowed.
He flattered himself that he had lived down the
Quaker opposition — but the Quakers had only softened
him. No doubt, as far as John Roberts was concerned,
that long talk he had with the Bishop respecting
Bull's more than unneighbourliness yielded good
results. Bull did not care to accept John's challenge
to raeet him face to face. It is possible that the
letter that follows was, at length, the means of
preventing further persecution of John by hira, and if
so, it is to be regretted that John had not raade some
effort to corae to terras with him before.
" Siddington, 1671.
" Friend, " I having understood frora several quarters that
thou art in great wrath with me, it was very much
in my raind to write these few lines unto thee, to
show thee the truth of my heart in this difference
between us.
" The proposition thou makest seems very reason
able was it for any wrong done thee by me ; in
which case I could in no wise deny thy terras, but

THE FAITH THAT OVERCOMES. 325
should be very ready to yield thereunto, and to do
much more than thou requirest in this matter ; but it
is with me a religious scruple wherein I dare not
corrupt my conscience and offend God.
" I confess, indeed, that there was a priesthood
under whora tithe was due, whereby those who
brought not the full tithe into the storehouse were
said to rob God, who had appointed it for the priest,
the widow, the fatherless, and the stranger ; but that
priesthood is changed, as saith the author of The
Epistle to the Hebrews, since the Lord Jesus Christ
is corae, who is the everlasting High Priest of our
profession. He hath chosen and sent forth His
ministers freely, as freely as they have received.
Therefore we can no longer give our money for that
which is not bread, nor our labour for that which will
not satisfy ; for I can truly say, in the fear of God,
that I was long seeking the living araong the dead,
going from one form of religion to another, without
ever finding a real peace or rest to ray soul. But now,
when I can say to His praise that I have found Hira
whora ray soul loveth, I am made willing in obedi
ence to Him to bear the reproaches of raen, and to
suffer joyfully the spoiling of my goods ; for I raust
deny Christ, the second priesthood, to be come in
the flesh, if I should pay the tithe which appertained
to the first.
" Now, friend, it having been much upon me to clear
my conscience thus to thee in the sight of God, I shall,

326 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
I hope, rest satisfied in His wiU, if it please Hira to
permit thee to try me further. I have been twice thy
prisoner ; the first time I was providentially delivered
by one who gave thee what thou requiredst, saying
the thing was of the Lord, although she had before
no acquaintance with rae ; the second tirae thou wast
suffered to make a grievous spoil of ray goods, in
which thy bailiffs took frora rae, as near as I can
judge, more than thirty tiraes the lawful amount.
"Thus having written these few lines for the
purpose aforesaid, I would entreat thee in patience
and moderation to weigh and consider them ; and I
shall commit my cause to the Lord my God, who
alone is able to judge the truth of the matter, and
before whom we both must give an account.
" And so, for the present, I rest thy friend,
" John Roberts."
It is a letter courteously worded, its raatter
calmly argued. But why was sorae communication
of the sort not sent before ? Had the good Bishop
also given John some sober counsel in which John's
amour propre had not been offended ?
Regarding the matter of the letter, what most
concerns us with it, at this time, is the story of
John's .first iraprisonraent by Bull, and fiis release.
It is most interestingly and realistically told in Daniel's
story. Lady Dunch lives before us. Indeed she is
the most vivid female character in the book. In spite

Photo, by Savory, Cirencester. BISHOP BULL.

THE FAITH THAT OVERCOMES. 329
of her honest appreciation of John she cannot refrain
from the little harmless coquetries which are a second
nature to her. She is a woman of great wealth — the
fortune of ;^6o,ooo that she had brought her husband
was a vast one in those days — but when she found
John was not overawed by it she was glad to relapse
into that homelier phase of her character which was
more natural to her.
She had married, in 1645, Edraund Dunch, of
Little Wittenhara, in Buckingharashire, and brought
him as part of her possessions the Manor of Downe
Ampney (as it was then called), some six raUes frora
Cirencester. Her father was Sir Anthony Hungerford,
Knight, and she his sole heiress. The manor-house
had been erected by the Hungerfords, mainly in the
reign of Henry VIII, as an extension of a building
bearing date 1537. Her husband stood high in favour
with Oliver Cromwell, who in 1658 created him Baron
Burnell of East Wittenhara — his patent bearing date
April 26th of that year. An engraved facsimile of it
is to be found in the second volume of Noble's
Memoirs of Cromwell. The Baron did not, however,
long survive his elevation. On the death of his widow
— which occurred not long after — Down Ampney
Manor passed, by purchase, to James Craggs, a Secre
tary of State to George I.
It is in keeping -with what has been previously
said about the polemical tastes of the tiraes, that the
good Lady, confined to her bed by suffering, could

330 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
think of no better relief from pain than to arrange a
theological dispute, between the representatives of two
different sects, around her couch. But why was
Priest Carles, of Cirencester, invited ? He was not her
parish priest. Is it in part to be taken as a compli
ment to John that, presumably, the chief parson in the
district is asked ? It would never have done, under
the circumstances, even to have asked Bull, if he
(Bull) had been willing to come, or John to meet him.
Sober discourse, as John would have described it,
would have been almost impossible under such con
ditions. As it was, no doubt the priest of Siddington
felt that a very distinct reproof had been administered
to him by the great Lady of the country, in rescuing
John from his clutches.
George Bull, in 1685, removed " westwards on
the Cotswolds to the rich rectory of Avening," where
he remained but a short time, before being presented,
in 1686, by Archbishop Sancroft, to the archdeaconry
of Llandaff, the emoluraents of which he enjoyed for
nineteen years ; and was then promoted by Queen
Anne to the See of St. David's. This, however, he
only held for four years, his death taking place at
Brecknock, on the 17th of February, 1709-10, in
his 76th year. Some three years before, Hearne
writes in his diary, "When the BUI for the Better
Security of the Church of England was read . . .
Dr. Bull sat in the Lobby of the House of Lords
smoking his pipe." It gives us a curious little insight

THE FAITH THAT OVERCOMES. 33I
into the manners of the time. It was presumably
a pipe of peace. It remains to add that Mistress
Bull, after completing a raarried life of fifty years
just before her husband's death, lived on placidly for
several years.
It is araong the ironies of time and fame that
Bull, great man though he becarae in his day, and
numerous and erudite though his works are — and re
garding our friend John, as he did, with scarcely
disguised contempt — should be all but forgotten, while
the worthy Quaker and his despised creed should be
better known, and stand higher in the world's esteem,
than ever. And the lad Daniel ! How could Bull
foresee that three such literary giants as Howitt,
Whittier, and Dr. Holmes would be enraptured with
his simple pages, while the learned tomes of the
great Churchman would be untouched, or dipped into
only to be cast aside.

CHAPTER VI.
" STONE WALLS DO NOT A PRISON MAKE."
THE gaols of Cirencester and Gloucester bulk so
largely in the Memoir of John Roberts as
written by his son, and in other references to
John in the pages of Besse, that if it were possible
to have added pictures of them, inside and outside,
as they appeared in John's time, they would have
represented, with his house, the three buildings in
which his life was chiefiy spent. A chapter must
therefore of necessity be devoted to an attempt to
do justice to his various imprisonraents ; and inci
dentally this raust also contain sorae references to
those who were prorainently associated with hira as
fellow-victims of the persecutors.
Indirectly through Priest Gregory, of Cirencester,
we have seen him sent to Gloucester Castle ; and at
the direct instance of Priest Bull, of Siddington, he
has been lodged in the Marshalsea, the debtors'
prison (chiefiy) of Cirencester. It probably occurred
(this latter iraprisonraent) either at the end of 1658 or
early in 1659, ^^ Lady Dunch is believed to have died in
London towards the end of the latter year. Bull, it
would appear, lost little tirae after taking possession of

"STONE WALLS DO NOT A PRISON MAKE." 333
his rectory in proceeding against John for his tithes.
No doubt he claimed thera at the earfiest moment, and
adopted a high-handed method of procedure. He
was, we are aware, of an arbitrary disposition, and the
example of a father-in-law, who had stood so much
on his dignity, no doubt stiraulated his youthful
ardour to distinguish hiraself. The payraent of £^
for the tithes, the gaoler's fees, and his lawyer's
expenses — probably in all not less than ;^25 in the
money of the time — by the great Lady of the neigh-
bom'hood to set free his victim raust have galled him
sorely on his tenderest spot, his vanity.
It is not long however before John sees the inside
of one of the prisons again ; which of them we are
not informed ; nor are we of the length of his
detention. As will be seen, it must, however, have
been a comparatively short incarceration. He was
arrested with several other persons, one being his
friend Philip Gray, at a raeeting either at Cirencester
or Tetbury (for the names of the places and the people
are bracketed together in the entry in the record),
" about " June ist, 1660. From this iraprisonment he
was liberated before December 20th of that year ;
for on that date we are told " The Deputy- Lieutenant
of the County, with a Party of Horse and Foot, entered
the Meeting at Cirencester, with Sword and Pistol,
and carried five Persons before the King's Cora-
missioners, who, though they acknowledged thera to
be honest Men, yet tendred thera the Oath of

334 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Allegiance, and sent thera to Prison for refusing it.
The Names of three of them were Richard Townsend,
Roger Spark, and John Roberts."
It is not quite clear from the next entry whether
this had been more than a formal proceeding, but
the " probably " that occurs in it leaves the possibility
open that John and others may have had the document
presented thera for signature by Friends at Gloucester,
and have signed it there. It is so interesting as to
require quoting somewhat fully : —
" On the 13th of the Month called January, Robert
Morse, an Attorney of Cirencester [it would be
interesting to know if he was Bull's lawyer], with a
Constable, came to the Meeting there, violently
assaulted those that were raet, striking sorae, and
dragging others by the Hair of their Head ; nay, so
inhuraan were they as to pluck a Staff out of a blind
Man's Hand and beat hira with it : They forced thera
away to Prison, and ordered the Goaler* to bind them
Neck and Heels. Next Day the Comraissioners
tendred thera the Oath, and sent thera to Goal. The
Naraes of those who signed an Account of this, and
who probably were raany of thera at that Meeting,
were Nathanael Cripps, John Roberts, Richard Towns-
end, Jacob Hewlings, John Cripps, Philip Grey,
Henry Stacey, Richard Arnold, Thomas Barnfield.

* Besse puts Goaler and Goal throughout his work for Gaoler and Gaol — an
earher form of the words.

"STONE WALLS DO NOT A PRISON MAKE." 335
Walter Hawkins, Thomas Eldridge, Thomas Knight
Roger Townsend, Thomas Onion, John Clark, Richard
Crowther, Alexander Cornwall, and William Henton.
Two Days after, a Party of Soldiers carae to the
House of Nathanael Cripps, near Tetbury, searched
the House above and below, and took away a Fowling-
piece under Pretence of Arras ; and raeeting him
coming out of the Fields, they carried him to Ciren
cester, where the Oath was tendred, and he refusing
to take it was comraitted to Prison. The next Day
the Under-Sheriff and Bayliffs, directed by two
Inforraers, about ten at Night, took three industrious,
honest Men frora their Houses ; the first a Cooper,
having five Children ; the other two were Wool-
combers, one of whose Doors they broke open and
took him out of Bed from his Wife and ChUd, the
other, upon their violent knocking, rose and let thera
in, when they hastily seized him, and hurried hira to an
Inn, whither the other two were also carried : They
were kept there all that Night, while the Sheriff's
Bayliffs and Inforraers spent the Tirae in drinking
Healths, playing at Cards, quarrelling, and belching
out horrible Oaths and Curses, to the Dishonour of
God, and Grief of the Prisoners : Next Morning
they carried them to the Comraissioners, who,
because they refused to take the Oaths, sent thera to
Prison." It seems most probable that this is really but one
record, and that the commitraents took place on

33^ MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
several occasions. The Nathaniel* Cripps, of Tetbury,
was the Friend with whom George Fox always
stayed when in that neighbourhood. There was, as
we shall see, another Nathaniel Cripps in Cirencester,
who may have been his father, as he was of advanced
age, while John Cripps may be fairly regarded as a
brother or other relative. Richard Townsend and
Roger Townsend were not improbably brothers,
having the Theophila Townsend who figures after
wards, as their sister. Jacob Hewlings would be
related to the Elizabeth Hewlings, whose tragic death
we shall shortly have to chronicle, while Philip Grey
and Thomas Onion were two out of the three friends
of John who had shared with hira the "strong-house"'
episode. The third, Robert Silvester, raust have
soon after joined thera in Gloucester Gaol. Being at
Nailsworth on the 17th of January, 1660, he was taken
up there for being at a raeeting, together with other of
his friends. They had to walk to prison — sorae
fourteen miles — through wretched roads in wintry
weather, one of them being an old man about eighty
years of age, and it is mentioned as no small hard
ship that when they arrived at their journey's end
late at night, " footsore and weary," they were not
allowed a corafortable rest in a bed at an inn, but

* A tracing of the signature of this Friend shows his name as Nathaniell
Cripps. Besse spells the prenomen otherwise. In the eighth (Bi-centenary)
edition of Fox's Journal the surname is given as Crisp throughout, as it is
also in one place in the sixth (Leeds) edition.

" STONE WALLS DO NOT A PRISON MAKE." 337
forthwith lodged in gaol. What gaol meant, full
often, the records of these times painfully reveal.
That men and women, perhaps delicately brought up,
were enabled to endure so patiently, and often for so
long a tirae, the horrors of these prisons, not merely
shows the vital force of enthusiasm when the whole
soul is stirred, but its power as an actual anaesthetic.
The martyr, as abundant evidence throughout all
history shows, feels little actual pain. His soul-
elevation is an armour against bodily suffering. On
the other hand, he or she who has blundered or
sinned feels depression in consequence, and the
power of the nerves to produce torture is great. Yet
even then honest remorse is helpful. A man who
takes his punishraent "like a man" really lightens it
greatly. James Naylor, being truly regretful of his
grievous errors, endured the raost awful inflictions
without a groan ; but, strangely enough, the being
trampled upon by the hoofs of the horses pressing
upon him as he was being drawn along by the cart,
at the tail of which he was mercilessly flogged, was
the only thing that called forth a coraplaint !
The record frora Besse recently referred to is the
only one in which mention is made of Alexander
Cornwall. As we know, he was one of John's con
verts. It is to be gathered that he had then been
a Friend some little time — joining the Society probably
before the death of Lady Dunch. The imprisonment
which he and John shared together was no doubt the

338 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
longest, as well as the worst, that either had to undergo.
As we never read of Cornwall after, it raay have been
his first and last. We know something of what they
suffered at the gaoler's hands. And that much de
pended on the gaoler, all the records of the time, as
well as Daniel's subsequent personal experiences,
abundantly testify.
There is an infliction, mentioned in the preceding
excerpt frora Besse, that was not one of the least of
the cruelties to which persons were subjected ; and
that was the binding them neck and heels. It is very
easy to see that the suffering of that operation raight
be raore or less increased by the closeness with
which the neck and heels were brought together. Thus
it is mentioned respecting William Brend, " a Man in
Years,'' that the gaoler " put him in Irons, Neck and
Heels so close together, that there was no more Room
left between each, than for the Lock that fastened
them. Thus he kept him from five in the Morning till
after nine at Night, above sixteen Hours." Usually an
iron collar and iron anklets would be united by a
heavy chain ; and here again the want of adaptation
to size of neck and ankles raight easily add greatly to
the torture that raight arise frora cramp and from the
absolute helplessness of the position. The man would
be bent either backwards or forwards ; in either case
forming a sort of ring. Soraetiraes cords were used
instead of irons and chains. In the case of four men
who were found guilty of " being in several Shops on

'' STONE WALLS DO NOT A PRISON MAKE." 339
the Day called Christmas- day, when the Officers carae
to shut thera up," they "were carried to the Guard,
where, by Order of this Captain Smart, they were
unraercifuUy tied Neck and Heels, with half hundred
Weights and Muskets about their Necks, in extrerae
cold Weather, till the Eyes of two of them were
thought to be drawing out, their Faces being
black, and their Lives in Danger, which some of the
Townsmen observing, cut the Cords and released thera
when they were ready to expire." This occurred in
Bristol in 1663. Even where only irons were put on
without being united in this way, they were often
veritable instruments of torture ; soraetiraes they would
be so small for wrist or ankles that the fastening
would be a continuous agony ; sometimes when loose
they, in a little while, cruelly chafed the limbs, until
the latter became actually raw. Instances are men
tioned where the Friends were fastened together with
irons, the left hand and ankle of one to the right
hand and ankle of the other, and so kept continuously
for weeks, during all which time, it is clear, neither
could quite take off his clothes at night.
Great causes of suffering among the imprisoned
Friends, apart from the actual confinement, were the
insanitary condition of their prisons. They often
reeked with filth. Sewage percolated through them ;
sometimes those confined in them had to stand in it
ankle-deep, having nowhere to sit down. Soraetiraes
they were so crowded into these dens that not

340 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
merely were they sickened by the horrible odours,
but literally ail-but stifled by the closeness of the
air. And to add to the shameful cruelty of such
a position, at tiraes raen and women, regardless of
age, were thrust together into these foul quarters. To
add still further to their hardships they were often
kept without water for long periods, and without
food, or with such scanty and irregular supplies
that they were constantly on the verge of starvation.
Another of the great causes of extra suffering was
the thrusting of the Friends among the felons, instead
of their being allowed to occupy the part of the gaol
supposed to be allotted to the debtors. Partly the
arrangement was governed by pecuniary considerations.
The prisoners with raoney at command secured the
superior accoraraodation — if the gaoler was willing — the
poor having to associate with the vicious and criminal.
But there was another cause of suffering still greater,
because, in the cases just mentioned, it often greatly
aggravated their hardships, and that was the crowd
ing. Here is an instance that occurred in Newgate
in 1664, when the then Lord Mayor sent 159 persons
to that prison for four days — "where they had not
Room to sit down nor scarce to stand, being close shut
up, without respect to Age or Sex, among Felons and
Murderers." Another of the multitude of instances that might
be given occurred in the Bridewell of Bristol in 1664.
" Fifty-five Women had but four or five Beds to lie

"STONE WALLS DO NOT A PRISON MAKE." 34I
on, near thirty lying on the Boards or Floor in one
Chamber ; and the Place .... was filled with
Vermin. This was very hard to Women of Substance
and Credit, accustomed to live neatly." These narra
tives (and others given by Besse and Sewel*) need to
be expurgated when reprinted in these days. They
are too horrible to be reproduced in their entirety
for general reading. As the population was less
dense considerably in the seventeenth century than
what it was in the days of John Howard, the philan
thropist, the suffering in many respects had greatly
increased in his time. Thus Gloucester is not com
plained of as a gaol by John Roberts and his son
Daniel. But a hundred years later, we read that
Howard found that " the Castle of the last-named
City was in the most horrible condition," It had
then, as we learn from Fosbrooke's History of
Gloucester, got into a very dilapidated state, and
was, not many years afterwards, entirely pulled
down. " It had [in 1773] but one court for all
prisoners — only one day- room for males and females.
The debtors' ward had no windows, a part of the
plaster wall being broken through to let in the
light. The night-room (or main) for men felons,
though up a number of stairs, was found to be close
and dark, and the floor so ruinous it could not be

* The History of the Pise, Increase, and Progress of the Christian People
called Quakers, by William Sewel, was written originally in Low-Dutch and
translated by the author into English — pubhshed 1722 and several times reprinted.

342 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
washed. It had not been whitewashed for raany
years." In connection with this description, Daniel's
personal narrative is of especial interest.
So numerous were the Quaker prisoners in some
instances that they formed the bulk of those
imprisoned. Cases occur, as at Reading and Bristol,
where almost all the adult merabers of the Society,
and even many of the children, were in gaol
together. The next imprisonment of John Roberts arose out
of a raeeting at Cirencester, on the 6th of November,
1662. It was " violently broke up by Soldiers " and
twelve of the Friends were charged "with being at
a mute Meeting " and sent to prison, after being
" kept some Time under a Guard." It was probably
held on a Thursday, when John was not at home ;
for on the 9th the soldiers made another attack on
the meeting and this time secured twenty-eight
prisoners, who, being " carried to the Marshall's
Prison till the 15th," were then brought before the
Comraissioners and, refusing to take the oaths, were
recommitted to prison. The list of twenty-eight
names comprises many familiar ones. Our friend
John is this tirae entered as John Hayward, and he
is in corapany with Thoraas Onion, Philip Gray, and
Robert Silvester. Elizabeth Hewlings, being out of
a nursing engagement at the moment, gets again
impi-isoned, as do John Cripps, Richard Townsend,
Roger Sparks, Thoraas Bowley, a blind raan, and

"STONE WALLS DO NOT A PRISON MAKE." 343
sundry others. Nathaniel Cripps, the elder, is
specially singled out for raention by Besse. He was
" an aged Man, at that Time very sick, which caused
his Wife earnestly to intercede for his Liberty one
Week longer, offering to lie in Prison herself in his
stead, but the Comraissioners would not grant it."
And now we come to a sad story, to which
reference has previously been made. The opening
scene is again Cirencester meeting-house, but instead
of soldiery we have one of the leading Justices of the
county, his clerk, and sundry helpers. The Justice,
Thomas Masters, was a great raan in Gloucestershire.
His father, Sir William Masters, had been Meraber of
Parliament for Cirencester. He espoused the cause
of the King. Charles I had passed one night at his
house, " The Abbey," on his march to Oxford, frora
Bristol, in August, 1643, ^^^'^^ ^^^° ^^ 1644, when he
was returning frora Bath. As a consequence, when
Oliver carae into power the estates were sequestered,
but were " compounded for ;^i,483." Thomas Masters
was an old school-fellow of John's, as he reminded
him later on, when he called with the Bishop
and others at John's house en route for a
visitation at Tetbury. But the demonstration on this
present occasion was of anything but a friendly
character. For coming into the meeting-house as
mentioned, and addressing John, he said, " Hayward,
what is the Intent of your raeeting here?" — "We raeet
for no evil End, the Lord knows," John replied. —

344 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
" What is the End ? " persisted the Justice. — " We meet
together in the Fear of the Lord to wait upon hira,"
was the answer. — Said the Justice, " And to
worship hira, do you not ? " — One answered boldly,
" Yes." — Whereupon Masters, who had been wanting
this acknowledgment, turning to his clerk and
exclaiming, " That's enough ! we need no farther
Evidence," had their names taken down and fines
inflicted. One of the Friends then enquired, " By
what Law are we convicted ? " We can imagine it
was John who was the disputant. And Squire Masters,
who may not have had a taste of John's dialectical
powers, thought the raatter was easily to be settled
by answering, " Why, you have confessed, that you
meet to worship God." — "Is that a Crime?" is asked
with suspicious quietness. — " Yes, that it is," said the
unwary Justice. — " Shew us the Law," persists the
Friend. — " Here is a Law, that you must not worship
above five together, except at the Church," and then
his temper rising, "And as for your Suffering [this
evidently apropos of something more that had been
said], be it upon us !." Then John, with all the
fervour and force of a prophet of old, felt all his soul
stirred within him. " So said the Jews,'' he cried,
" ' His Blood be upon us,' but it proved an heavy
Burden upon thera," in tones that rang out through
the raeeting. And as his irapressive, earnest utterance,
pregnant with terrible conderanation, fell on the
Justice's ears, he trerabled. But he came bent on

"STONE WALLS DO NOT A PRISON MAKE." 345
rough work if need be, with a rough crew. And
stung with self-reproach his passion mastered him.
Violently he seized some of the Friends, calling on
his helpers to assist him. The meeting was then
held in an upper room of a house occupying the
site of what was afterwards the present meeting-house.
The Friends were dragged to the top of the stairs,
and then, as Besse tells us, "One John Cooke, a wicked
FeUow, cried, ' Clear the stairs !' and Jenkins, said to
be an Hangman, assisting, they threw the Friends down
Stairs : An ancient Widow, named Hewlings, by the
violence of the Fall was lamentably bruised, and had
her Shoulder dislocated, of which she soon after died.
She was an useful Woman in the Neighbourhood, a
skifful Midwife, and ready to do Good to all. The
Coroner was sent for, a Jury called, and Jenkins
apprehended : But the Justice having an Influence
over the Jury, who were most of them his Tenants,
and the Coroner willing to favour the Persecutors,
sraothered the Blood of the Innocent : And the Jm-y,
notwithstanding the clearest Evidence of Eye Witnesses,
and the Sight of the bruised Body, grievous to
behold, gave in their Verdict, that she died of God's
Visitation. Thus the Murderer escaped, and -was no
more called in Question." This was in July, 1670.
There stands in St. Mary's Chapel, Cirencester, a
beautiful marble monument representing Sir William
Masters. When we look at it we may recall this
little episode in which his son figured, soon after its

346 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
erection ; but with the recollection coraes also the
raeraory of the better treatraent of John subsequently
— a little softening the picture.
The next persecuting Justice who appears on the
scene is Sir John Guise. The time is May, 1675.
Besse records the issuing of distress warrants against
Richard Bowly and others, whom we know by name,
Philip Gray and John Cripps and Jacob Hewlings ;
but we read nothing of John Roberts, although Daniel
gives a somewhat full account of a very pretty episode
that occurred, in which his father and Sir John Guise
were the chief actors. John Tirabrel's narae, however,
occurs — who figures in Daniel's narrative — and also
Amariah Drewett's. As far as we can learn, the issue
of warrants was not followed by commitraents to gaol
in their case ; though that would have no doubt
followed, had not the result of the quarrel in which
Guise engaged deterred hira.
In the course of Daniel's narration of this raatter,
his father describes an incident that had occurred in
the life of Sir John's parent. On his deathbed,
he, having been a persecutor of the Friends, felt
greatly troubled in his raind, and rauch deplored his
cruel treatraent of thera. In the voluraes of the his
torians of the Society these narratives abundantly
occur. In those awful raoraents, when the great
unknown existence is to be entered on, and the past
rapidly unfolds itself to the mental eye, their brutalities
to these patient, suffering, God-fearing people must

347
have looked very different to thera frora when, filled
with bigotry, or malice, or lust — with cruelty and
display of power — they had made thera their prey.
But often the historians' narratives add to these
stories terrible instances of what they believed to be
God's judgraents on the persecutors. Such is the
case of Governor Endicott, of whora Sewel says :—
"The last Act of Governor Endicot's bloody Part
that occurs, was the cruel whipping of Edward
Wharton at Boston ; For the tirae was now corae
that he raust go off the Stage, to give an account of
his extravagant Severity before another Tribunal than
that of his sanguinary Court. The measure of his
Iniquity was now fiUed up, and he was visited by a
loathsome disease, insomuch that he stunk alive, and
so died with Rottenness, his narae being like to give
a bad Savour through Ages to corae."
If this language of Sewel's is thought severe, let a
brief narrative of Edward Wharton's whipping be
perused. He was bound to a cart-wheel in the
raarket-place, and there stripped ; and, the hangman
being told to " do his work severely," he was so flogged
" that pease might have been laid in the holes that the
knots of the whip made in the flesh of his arms and
back. And his body was swelled and very black
from the waist upwards." And it raust be reraera
bered that Endicott, by whom the tortures were
ordered to be inflicted, had in the days of his poverty
acknowledged Wharton as his friend, and had been

348 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
indebted to him for many a meal. And Wharton's
sole offence had been that he had gone from Salem
to Boston to preach Quakerisra !
It was at Bosston, in New England, it should be
remembered, where the four Quakers had been
hanged ; and in connection with that fact another
very different, but very remarkable " judgment " is
recorded by Sewel. He tells us that, for twenty
miles round, the country about Boston, formerly very
fertile, was so " cursed" after these martyrdoms of the
Friends that no wheat could, by any possibility, be
made to grow to perfection upon it, and often not at
all, for many years ! That, though he himself was
incredulous at first, yet the testimonies he received
from so raany sources were so full and so well
authenticated, that he had no alternative but to believe
it. It was certainly a singular coincidence. But, as
has been said, the Quaker records of those tiraes
teera with these judgraents.
The next raention of John Roberts in the volumes
of Besse's Sufferings is only retrospective, and runs
thus: — "Anno 1681. John Roberts of Sidinglon had
Cattle, Malt, Goods, and Money taken from hira
for Tithes, at several Tiraes, to the Value of 76/.
The same Person was also committed to Cirencester
Goal, at the Suit of George Bull Priest ; but the Lady
Dunck [sic], of pure Charity and Compassion, paid the
Priest about 4Z. and also the Coaler's Fees, and so
set him at Liberty, saying that she could not be at

" STONE WALLS DO NOT A PRISON MAKE." 349
Peace till she had done it. Thus Providence sorae
tiraes unexpectedly raises up Friends to succour the
Distressed," which scarcely gives us a correct idea of
the case — though the figures are of interest.
If John was sent to prison again there is no
mention of it, though, early in the year of his death,
he was threatened with a seizure of his corn by
Justice George — a threat that, for reasons mentioned
in the narrative, is thought not to have been carried
out. The next case of imprisonment deals with John's
sons, Nathaniel and Daniel, but before that is reached
in the next chapter, this can best close by a brief
record of some of the other Friends already mentioned
and to be enumerated, with whose iraprisonraents our
past notices of the Memoir of Daniel are concerned.
Thus we find Nathaniel Cripps sent to gaol for
not going to church, in 1678 ; and in 1681, Lettice
Gush, whose singular narae we have raet in the
Memoir, was imprisoned for not paying tithes. The
same year Richard Bowley and Amariah Drewett are
sent to prison, as was also Theophila Townsend ;
and, in 1682, we corae upon the name of William
Loveday, of Painswick, to be referred to later.
There is also mention of an Anthony Roberts, of
Stow-in-the-Wold, but there is nothing in any way to
show that he is related to John. He had a large
amount in goods taken from him, as was also the
case two years later.

350 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Then, in 1683, we once raore find raention of our
old friend Philip Gray, as also of Richard Bowley ; and
in the following year of Daniel Hayward, who was
probably a cousin of Daniel Roberts, as the Chelten-
hara branch of the faraily, to which he belonged, had,
in separating the Roberts-Hayward, elected to retain
the latter as their narae. This same Hayward suffered,
as did Philip Gray and Nathaniel Cripps, frora the
loss of their possessions by distraints ; as also, again
and again, did Richard Bowley and Araariah Drewett.
The record ends in 1686 with a list of the Friends,
prisoners in Gloucester gaol, who were released by
the proclaraation of Jaraes II. It comraences with
Theophila Townsend, and comprises the names also
of Daniel Hayward, Thomas Loveday, sen., and
Henry Pontin.

CHAPTER VII.
WHAT IS A CHURCH ?
THE great reason-to-be of Daniel Roberts's Memoir
was his father's three conferences with Bishop
Nicholson.* Apart from John himself that great and
good Churchman is the prominent character of the
narrative. We have none too much inforraation to
guide us as to the dates of these conferences, but it
seems tolerably clear that they occurred during the
last three or four years of the Bishop's life. Why the
Bishop had not made himself acquainted with John
Roberts before can only be surmised. It was towards
this later period that the persecution of the Friends
culminated in its violence. The Bishop, we may
suppose, resisted the urging of his clergy to personally
take part in it as much as he possibly could, for it
was altogether distasteful to hira. At an early period
of his entering upon the occupancy of the See of
Gloucester — which was in 1660, at the latter end of
that year — he had tried a bout at poleraics with a
Quaker named Thomas Atkin, of Dursley. And some
of the questions put by the Bishop to Atkin are
• See Note 14 in Appendix.
351

352 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
almost identical with those addressed to Roberts.
Thus : —
" Bishop. ' Do you corae to Church ? '
Thomas Atkin. ' 1 ara in the Church.'
Bishop. 'What Church?'
T. A. ' In the Church of God.'
Bishop. ' Ay ; but do you come to the Con
gregation ? '
T. A. 'I ara in the Congregation.'
Bishop. ' What Congregation ? '
T. A. ' In the Congregation of the Faithful.' "
And so the dialogue proceeds. After other ques
tions on points of doctrine the Bishop desires to
know if Atkin believes in the Trinity ; and his
answers are alraost as John's — as are those respecting
baptism. " Come on," says the Bishop, " I thought
where I should have you anon : Do you not believe
the Trinity f " Repfies Atkin, " I have told thee
already : I do believe in God the Father, Son,
and Holy Spirit ; but as for the Word Trinity,
or three Persons, I know not any Scripture that
mentions any such Thing ; but I have read of
Christ that in him dwells the Fulness of the Godhead
bodily." The Bishop was worsted in the encounter, and
retired from it threateningly. But it was only a
brutum fulnien on the part of the good man, for
when he cooled down his conscience would allow
him to do nothing to injure his opponent.

what is a church ? 353
Between 1660 and the Bishop's death in 1671
there was, of course, an interval of about eleven years
in which the conferences with John could have
occurred. We know, however, that the last took place
either in 1670 or 1671 — the early part of the latter
year being the more probable ; and for reasons that
will be very fully entered upon presently the middle
one may be considered to have been in August, 1669.
With regard to the first, only one thing is clear.
John's son Thomas was killed, as we have seen, by a
kick from a horse in 1666 ; he was deceased at the
tirae of this conference ; and the way in which John
speaks of this bereavement to the Bishop leaves the
impression that it was not of very recent date. The
three conferences may then be regarded as taking place
within a period of at raost four years.
The Bishop, as we have seen, was not a persecutor.
He was a man of greater mental breadth and of a
kindlier heart than fitted in with such eraploy. Heber
(in his Life of Jeremy Taylor) says of hira in this
relation—" His treatraent of the non-conforraists in
his diocese was concUiatory. He connived at the
preaching of those he had reason to respect." As
John Roberts told him, it was only when egged on by
the surrounding clergy that he took action at all in
the matter.
The first conference turns on the question of what
constitutes a Church, and on other matters involving
Spirituality versus Formalism. John is in good fighting 23

354 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
condition, and his wit plays, in electrical coruscations,
round the court, as the sword of arguraent strikes
down opposing arras, or sweeps round defencefuUy to
guard the truth he cherishes, or is skilfully wielded
in a forward raoveraent. And the Bishop is man
enough to appreciate skill even in one who success
fully contends against him. John's temper is excellent
and his humour contagious. His smart retorts " bring
down the house." Daniel's report can only be a very
brief epitome of all that was said. And Daniel was
writing his narrative from the religious point of view,
and therefore reported only those utterances that
raore or less bore on that side of his father's character.
He was not writing — it must be remembered —
primarily, a biography of his father, still less a record
of his sraart and arausing sayings. He only introduces
the biographical, or auto-biographical, or humorous, or
dialectical aspects, as far as they illustrate his father's
and his own religious experiences. In those days, the
Quaker creed and persecution were almost everywhere
allied. Hence the introduction of the latter is as
necessary to the drama as the King is to the play of
Hamlet. Still, as is made clear even by this first interview
with the Bishop, John, though in the most serious
earnest, was a huraorist, and as such would not always
be exhibiting his gift in its severest aspect. It is
certain that he could indulge in pure pleasantries, and
be witty over secular things. And even in theological

WHAT IS A CHURCH ? 355
controversies he could, if occasion required it, " answer
a fool according to his folly," and answer him with a
quip or a drollery. Of course, if he recalled any such,
Daniel would not have given them to us — as they
were alien to his purpose. But no doubt some are
still floating about the world among the hereditary
jokes that live. Here for instance is one unearthed
from an old Jest Book, that, but for its frivolous ending,
an expert raight declare was a genuine old " John
Roberts " ; and which raay be one nevertheless ; for
humour will out : —
" A parson, thinking to banter an honest Quaker,
asked him where his religion was before George Fox's
time. ' Where thine was,' says the Quaker,
' before Harry Tudor's time — and now, thou hast been
SO free with me,' added the Quaker, ' pr'ythee let me
ask thee a question : Where was Jacob going when
he was turned ten years of age ? Canst thou tell
that ? ' — ' No,' said the parson, ' nor you neither, I
believe.' — ' Yes, I can,' replied the Quaker ; ' he was
going into his eleventh year; was he not?'"
The middle conference with the Bishop was, as
has been raentioned, raost probably in August, 1669.
Much of interest rests in being as clear as raay be in
this matter. For this purpose it is needful to review
George Fox's visits to Gloucestershire, for the date of
one of these, as the narrative shows, determines the
date of that conference. His first, in 1656, thirteen
years after leaving his horae at Fenny Drayton,

356 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
in Leicestershire, was a very brief one, and was
merely the holding of a small meeting — which, it
is most probable, took place in John Roberts's
house. In 1660 George Fox passed through
Gloucestershire, having meetings both at Tetbury and
Nailsworth, and frora thence to the city of Gloucester
— going northward afterwards. As these visits were
before the advent of Nicholson they do not concern us ;
but the following deserves our careful consideration.
It is in 1667. We find Fox recording in his Journal —
" We came into Gloucestershire and had a general
Men's Meeting at Nathaniel Cripps's house [at Tet
bury], where all the Monthly Meetings were settled.
. . Many blessed gatherings we had up and down
in that county before we carae to Bristol. And after
several powerful seasons, the Men's and Women's
Meetings were settled there also." Iraraediately after
this G. F. departs thence, feeling a call to London.
That John Roberts attended the meeting at Tet
bury — sorae nine railes only frora his house — raay be
taken for granted. That he may have accompanied
George Fox to some of the raeetings round was very
probable. But the subsequent details afford no special
reasons for his going to Bristol ; the settleraent of the
Monthly Meetings there being a purely local raatter.
What happened on the next visit of George Fox
to Gloucestershire is on a different footing. A large
meeting is held at Nailsworth, where there is a
raeeting-house that serves as a rallying-place for the

o H
O

Wa
owo

WHAT IS A CHURCH ? 359
Friends of the district. On this occasion a specially
great gathering takes place, which is noised throughout
that part of the country, and attracts many. John
could not have failed, therefore, to know that George
Fox was near. The latter says in his Journal — "After
this meeting in Gloucestershire was over, we traveUed
through that county till we came to Bristol." This
raeeting, just raentioned, took place on Sunday, and
our friend John raay have felt called upon to attend
his own little meeting in the upper-room in Thomas
Street, Cirencester, rather than going elsewhere. But
even in that case George Fox could have been met
at Tetbury, if he did not actually go round by way
of Siddington. Arrived in Bristol, George Fox finds that Margaret
Fell is there (on a visit to her daughter Yeomans).
He is impressed with the suitability of the occasion
for carrying out their long contemplated intention of
marriage. The meeting was apparently an undesigned
one. The marriage, however, having been decided
upon, some little stay in Bristol is necessary ; and
nothing is raore natural than that our friend John, if
he was one of the party, should incline to stay with
the rest.* It was a more than ordinarily interesting
event ; and, as soon as it was known to be irarainent,
it attracted the Friends frora far and near. We see
frora the narrative of Daniel that his father's detention
* The name, John Roberts, however, does not occur on the marriage
certificate of George Fox and Margaret Fell as a witness to the wedding.

360 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
at Bristol was unexpected, and rauch longer than
could anyway have been anticipated — which agrees
exactly with what would have been likely to have
occurred if this wedding was the cause of the de
tention. As the next recorded occasion of George Fox's
being in Bristol is on his return frora Araerica in
1673, and that is sorae two years after the Bishop's
death, the visit in 1669 to that city is the last possible
one that can be referred to in Daniel's book.
At the conclusion of the final interview with Bishop
Nicholson — then over seventy years of age — John
Roberts predicts that prelate's proximate decease. It
is not uttered in a warning way by John, nor accepted
in that spirit by the Bishop. The latter, however, from
the previous case of the kind he refers to, is no doubt
impressed by it.
The gift of " second- sight," as it is termed for want
of a better knowledge of what it actually is, was not
uncommon among the early Friends. George Fox
himself, it would appear, possessed it in some con
siderable degree. On the other hand, it must be
observed that so many seeming fulfilments of their
vague prophecies are so indistinguishable from mere
coincidences that it is difficult to draw definite con
clusions. It is a gift that has never wholly departed
from the Friends ; though, except in their own
writings and among theraselves, little is known of it.
Few traces may be found in the records of the

WHAT IS A CHURCH ? 361
Society for Psychical Research ; yet Quaker records
and well authenticated family narratives furnish rich
veins for the mining. As instances, one or two may
be mentioned here that have not yet found their way
into print, and although names and dates are not
given, these are available, and the facts may be refied
upon. One is of a Quaker, living in later years in John
Roberts's own neighbourhood, and bearing a narae
that is frequently raet with in conjunction with John
Roberts's and others' in the detaUs of the persecution
of the tirae. He had morally what the Rontgen rays
give physically— the ability to see the hidden past and
present (if not the future) of many a raan he looked
upon. It was a terrible gift, and its possession must
have been raore painful often to the possessor than
to those who experienced its power.
The other instances are of a different character —
examples of telepathic coraraunication. The subject
from whom these emanated was a prosperous Friend,
head of a raanufacturing concern, for which he did
the travelling, commercially. The time was a period
of the present century, before the introduction of
railways. He was some 200 miles frora home, and
proceeding about 5 o'clock in the afternoon frora one
town, where he had just corapleted his business, to
another adjacent. As his gig passed over a sorae
what dilapidated bridge in the outskirts of the town,
the near wheel caught against a projecting stone,

362 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
overturning the gig and causing the death of its
occupant on the spot. Thirty miles northward of the
city in which the Friend resided, and consequently
some 230 miles away, lived a married sister
to whora he was greatly attached. She and her
husband were, in fact, after his imraediate faraily,
his raost cherished relations. The husband was
a farmer, living quite in the country, and his
house stood on the slope of a hill, so that the
window of his bedroom, which was an upstairs back
room, was but little removed from the ground. On
the night that this accident occurred his wife had
retired to bed before him, and was asleep, when, as
he was preparing to get into bed himself, he heard
his name called distinctly at the window in the
familiar tones of his brother-in-law. He woke his
wife, saying, "  is at the window, calling." — " He
cannot be," she answered, " he is away in C  ,"
naming the county. And then came the call again,
which they both heard, and after a little interval it
carae a third tirae. A few days afterwards they
received the news that, that very evening, their
relative had lost his life.
Nor does the story end here, although the latter
portion, taken by itself, raight have less iraportance
attached to it. On the receipt of the intelligence by
the other partners, they desired two ladies, friends of
the widow, to go down and break the sad news to
her. That these ladies should have worn very serious

WHAT IS A CHURCH ? 363
countenances when they did so was not to be
wondered at ; but yet, although not in the sarae way
as the brother-in-law, the widow had been prepared
for the intelligence they came to convey, for as the
ladies entered the room she went towards them,
saying — before they had any opportunity to speak —
" I know what you have corae to tell rae. My husband
is dead ! "
We see later on in Daniel's narrative — in detailing
particulars of the narrow escape frora death sustained
by Sir John Guise — that John Roberts had a remark
able prevision of this in his sleep. The frequency of
such events among the early Quakers points to the
operation of some natural law, the manifestation of
which was affected by the mental-electrical conditions
of the time. The most reraarkable case is historical,
and, corabined with the chafing-dish exploit of Solomon
Eccles recorded by Pepys, has been woven by
Harrison Ainsworth — though without historical truth —
into his novel of Old St. Pauls. The actual facts
of the Great Fire incidents are believed to be those
related by Sewel: — "Thomas Ibbitt, of Huntingdon
shire, came to London a few days before the burning
of that City, and (as hath been related by Eye
witnesses) did upon his Coming thither alight from his
Horse, and unbutton his clothes in so loose a Manner
as if they had been put on in haste just out of Bed.
In this Manner he went about the City on the 6th
(being the day he came thither) and also on the 7th

364 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Day of the Week, pronouncing a Judgment by Fire
which should lay Waste the City. On the Evening
of these Days some of his Friends had meetings with
him to enquire concerning his Message and Call to
pronounce that impending Judgraent. In his account
thereof he was not more particular and clear than that
he said he for some Time had the Vision thereof, but
had delayed to come and declare it as coraraanded,
until he felt (as he expressed it) the Fire in his own
Bosora : which Message or Vision was very suddenly
proved to be sadly true. The Fire began on the
2nd of September, 1666, on the first day of the
week, which did immediately follow those two Days
in which the said Thomas Ibbitt had gone about the
City declaring that Judgment.
" Having gone up and down the City as hath been
said, when afterwards he saw the Fire break out and
beheld the fulfilling of his prediction, a spiritual Pride
seized on him, which, if others had not been wiser
than he, might have tended to his utter destruction :
For the fire being come as far as the East End of
Cheapside, he placed himself before the Flame and
spread his Arras forth as if to stay the Progress of it ;
and if one Thoraas Matthews, with others, had not
pulled hira (who seera'd now altogether distracted)
from thence, it was like he might have perished by
the Fire. Yet, in process of Tirae, as I have been
told, he came to sorae Recovery, and confessed this
Error : an evident Proof of human Weakness, and a

WHAT IS A CHURCH ? 365
notorious Instance of our Frailty, when we assume to
ourselves the doing of any Thing which Heaven
alone can enable us " — with which rebuke Sewel closes
that portion of his narrative.
In George Fox's Journal the detaUs differ slightly.
He says, " A Friend was raoved to come out of
Huntingdonshire a little before the Fire, and to scatter
his money up and down the streets, and to turn his
horse loose in the streets, to untie the knees of
his breeches, and let his stockings fall down, and to
unbutton his doublet, and tell the people so should
they run up and down, scattering their money and
their goods, half undressed, like raad people, as he
was a sign to thera ; and so they did when the fire
brake out, and the city was burning. Thus hath the
Lord exercised his prophets and servants by his
power, and sent thera to forewarn the people."
These conversations with the Bishop are, as has
been said, the great feature of Daniel Roberts's narra
tive. The kindly feeling towards, and the honest
appreciation of each other, shown by both, is a
charraing idyl. Although John would not have swerved
a hair-breadth frora the strict line of duty for all
the bishops on the episcopal bench, yet it was a gratifi
cation to hira — a great gratification — to have a bishop
for a friend — to have so lofty a dignitary upon his
side. It is not the least proof of the Bishop's raany
excellencies, and his sterling worth, that he was able
to appreciate so fully John's honesty and heroism.

366 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
As predicted, they saw each other no more after
this meeting. The worthy prelate rests in Gloucester
Cathedral, where a memorial is erected to him, with
an elaborate inscription written for it in Latin by Dr.
Bull ; and the many virtues ascribed to hira by the
latter were raore than ordinarily well deserved. But
without a thought of so doing, it was Daniel Roberts
who was to erect the best known monument, and
hand down to posterity the warmest recognition of
this prelate's worth.

CHAPTER VIII.
A GAOL A GOAL OF VIRTUE.
IT is not merely that which Daniel Roberts so
graphically tells us in his Memoir that is of interest,
but what he does not tell us. We should like to have
read raore, much more, about his family and their
own personal history. We should have liked to have
been made more fully acquainted, if even incidentally
only, with the life of the time, both in its doraestic
and political aspects, as seen by an acute observer
and discrirainating narrator, such as John's youngest
son. And as the period when the Society of Friends
grew in Cirencester frora early childhood to ripened
adolescence, it would have been of great interest to
have had raore, and more detailed pictures of the
¦Quaker development as Daniel saw it expanding
around hira. While one would begrudge any less
.space being given to the titled people that occupy so
large a portion of Daniel's canvas, yet we could have
been grateful for an extended canvas, with raore por
traits introduced upon it, or with some of those that
appear placed in the foreground, and, consequently,
enlarged in size. Especially is this the case with
respect to George Fox. Had John Roberts
hiraself written the Memoir, he could not have
367

368 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
allowed so potent a personality to pass with only one
accidental glirapse. He raight not, perhaps, have of
deliberate intent introduced hira raore fully, but he
must have done so unintentionally. For George Fox
was John's master in the faith — not John's dograatic
teacher, but he whose doctrines, and whose fearless
and consistent proraulgation of them, commended
theraselves alike to John's intellect and heart. And as
has been before pointed out, this self-abnegation on
the part of George Fox — a seff-abnegation hard to
practise because of his strong individualities — is one
of the raost splendid monuraents to his loftiness of
character, to his indisputable worth, and to his value
as one of the world's great teachers. There was not
a shred of hypocrisy in his nature. And as for fear !
he knew no craven fear, nor ever did. He had been
born without it in his raoral coraposition. As has
been remarked of John, and as was true of so raany
of the early Friends, they had no roora even for such
fear of God in their thoughts, for they loved Hira
with all their hearts and souls ; and lived their love
in deeds. The Roberts faraily, we know, were honestly
ambitious. The strongly vital root of this branch of
their character we raay trace to that somewhat
slighted Hayward origin. It was a Hayward's arabition
no doubt led hira to ally hiraself with a Roberts — as
a Roberts-Hayward did to graft a Solace on to the
faraily tree ; and a Roberts to unite with a Tyndale.

A GAOL A GOAL OF VIRTUE. 369
But in Daniel this development was still more raarked,
although its course of growth was inflected by his
Quakerisra. Circumstances and inclination combined
to raake the neighbourhood of Chesham, when he
removed there, congenial soil. He was surrounded by
Quaker aristocracy — and though he raight not have
been able, if he would, to have married into their
circle, he was more or less intiraate with thera. His
son Axtell, as we shall see, however, goes back to the
home-land of Gloucestershire, and marries frora there
the daughter of a leading Friend coraraercially en
gaged. And the faraily continues to develop on these
lines until they are numbered araong Bristol and
London merchants, and display all the glory of
emblazoned pedigrees.
As a rule throughout this period the Friends had
attained to, and maintained a happy raean. Speaking
of thera in the early-raiddle portion of the eighteenth
century, a political writer says : " They are univers
ally employed in Trade and Industry ; they have the
smallest number of Members either unprofitably Rich
or miserably Poor ; and they are the last to be
accused of Luxury, Corruption, or Law-suits of any
Sett of men in the Kingdora."
Although, in this coraplicated world no one pre
sentation of truth is a whole view of truth ; yet to
that representation of worldly prosperity as a reward
of comraercial virtue when allied with raoral virtue,
a large amount of surface fact belongs.

370 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Thus we see our friend John Roberts prospering
in spite of persecution, in spite of pillagings and
iraprisonments, for though nature gave him ability, and
fate a corafortable little estate, and environraent raany
neighbours appreciative of his worth ; and though the
Bishop the parsons brought to curse hira altogether
blessed him ; yet his combination of worth with
industry was the great factor in the case.
But to return to Daniel's narrative. If there has
not been given us by him rauch that we would like
to have had, we can the more appreciate what he has
furnished us with. Still regrets wUl creep in. If he
had only given us more narratives of the time as
fully — as graphically — told as the Sir John Guise
episode ! Probably of that particular incident it is
the fullest account to be found anywhere. Besse
chronicles it very briefly as a mere incident in the
persecution that was taking place, for apart from that
its interest was almost exclusively local. He simply
says : "In returning Home that Day from Cirencester
Sir John Guise quarrell'd with another Man, and was
run through the Body with a Rapier," and adds that
"this desperate Wound . . . diverted hira from
pursuing other Men's Ruin."
This duel was not the only one in which Sir
John Guise engaged, for Thoraas Read, in his
English Traveller, published in 1746, mentions
another. From his pages the account of the Guises
that follows is extracted : " Sir Christopher Guise new

A GAOL A GOAL OF VIRTUE. 371
built this house at Rendcomb in a very elegant
manner : the park and the gardens are fine, being
much improved by his son Sir John Guise, a
Gentleman of whora honourable raention is made in
history, having raised and clothed a troop at his own
expense at the time of the Revolution, he being the
first Gentleman who went to raeet the Prince of
Orange at his landing in the West ; and afterwards
driving the Duke of Beaufort out of the City of
Bristol, which he had taken possession of for King
James. As these services gained hira the love
and esteem of all true lovers of their country, so, on
the other hand, they made him enemies among the
Popish party, and drew upon him a duel withi one of
King James's officers, in the College Green, in
Gloucester, soon after the time of divine service,
where he had been greatly insulted by the officer,
who trod on his toes, and used other provocations
in the Church ; but Sir John soon disarmed his
antagonist, and shewed hiraself better skilled in arras
than the raan who made them his profession.
" This Gentleman before this had a very narrow
escape of his life in a private quarrel with Sir Robert
Atkyns, at a place called Perrott's Brook, when Sir
Robert ran Sir John through the body . . ."
In the Gloucester Corporation Minutes under date
February 23rd, 1684, Williara Larabe being Mayor,
there is a note of the passing of the following
resolution : —

372 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
" Whereas Sir John Guise, Baronet, a Burgess and
Freeman of this City, have ^sic'] upon all occasions
slighted the Government thereof, particularly a late
Mayor ; and in a late Parliaraent at Westrainster,
being a Meraber thereof, did maliciously and falsely
inform the said House of Comraons against a Meraber
of our Common Council to his very great charge ; and
have upon all occasions and in aU companies spoken
slightingly of his present Mayor, and refused to drink
his good health, and discouraged all others frora doing
it, here frora reasons aforesaid, the said John Guise
shall be disfranchised from being a Burgess and
Freeman of this City."
To this the Council all agreed. But Sir John, it
would appear, arranged his peace with the Municipal
authorities later on, as in 1690 he was raade Mayor
of Gloucester. Concurrent with the appearance of Sir John Guise
on the scene of the narrative was that of the successor
to Bishop Nicholson. This was not, however, until
some years after the death of the latter. Besse gives
us the date as 1675. The conduct of this Bishop —
John Prichett — like that of his predecessor, and
indeed of his successor,* Robert Frampton — does

» Dr. John Prichard, or, as sometimes written, Prichett, succeeded Bishop
Nicholson in the See of Gloucester in 1672. He died in 1680, and was followed
by Robert Frampton, D.D., who, in 1690, was deprived of his See "for refusing
oaths then appointed." Fosbrooke, contrasting the Friends of that and a later
period, says, " In those days the Qualters were as insane and outrageous as
they are now wise and benevolent."

A GAOL A GOAL OF VIRTUE. 373
not appear to have been marked by any prominent action
against the Quakers. His words to TheophUa Town-
send — " Enough, good woman, enough : desist, desist !"
are as mUd as could well be expected. And though
during his occupancy of the bishopric, and that of
his successor, the persecution of the Quakers reached
its severest condition, yet we feel bound to conclude
that, at worst, his part in the matter was a negative
one ; and have reason for thinking that his influence
may have been used, in effect, to mitigate it. For
we see by what Daniel reports Sir John Guise as
saying, when suffering frora his wound, that the
parsons found the squire a better weapon to use
against the Quakers than their Bishop. And other
squires in the years that iraraediately follow seera
equally araenable to such influence, or to that of the
pecuniarily interested inforraers.
Among the three classes, the Friends in Glouces
tershire had a terrible time, though, happily less so
than in many parts of the country. Those who had
a belief in a personal Prince of Darkness might well
have conceived that the Devil was indeed let loose.
The clergy, raany of thera, were keen to " raven and
devour " ; and the squirearchy only too eager to enter
with zest into the sport of Quaker-baiting. The
informers were scoundrels of the vilest character ;
and neither parson nor squire needed any worse
condemnation than is involved in the statement that
they were willing to employ them. And the law that

374 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
made their existence possible was an atrocious one.
In many respects, in no period of English history
could the principles of Quakerism have been put to
a severer test than during the reign of Charles II.
It is a record of the raost sickening character —
a record of hideous cruelties and wrongs — only out-
heroded by the conduct of the New England Puritans.
And in raagnificent contrast to tfie brutalities, the
meannesses, the utter defiance shown often of every
principle of honesty, and justice, and humanity, stands
out the dauntless courage of the unyielding sect, who
conquered all by this power of moral might. How
the thought of it ought to shame the armed cowardice
of to-day !
It may not be altogether amiss, in this nineteenth
century, to recall what the squires of England and
their hirelings could do in the seventeenth ; for we
have not reached that growth in moral evolution yet
when professed " gentleraanliness " no longer has the
tigress claws under the inoffensive-looking velvet.
Here, for instance, is the way in which John Meredith,
J. P., illustrated his notions of how Quakers should be
treated', who met together peaceably to worship God :
" He beat William Bennet and William Wade unmer
cifully with his own Hands : He took John Selcock
by the Hair of his Head, and pluck't him out of the
Meeting-house, at French-hay [near Bristol], into the
Yard, then drew his Knife and said he would mark
hira, but was prevented by the Interposition of his

A GAOL A GOAL OF VIRTUE. 375
Clerk and others : He drew his Knife at George
Peace, and probably had done hira Mischief had not
one of his own Servants restrained him : He pluck't
John Bawn out of a Meeting by the Hair of his Head,
and after that, finding him in the Highway, he fell
upon hira and beat him barbarously : He also beat
John Fryer and Joseph Glover, two Officers, because
they would not abuse People so much as he would
have thera. . . He also caused the Forms and
Benches of the Meeting-house to be cut in pieces ;
and with his Staff broke five Glass Windows to pieces,
not leaving one whole Quarry."*
Then another Justice (save the mark ! ), one Gabriel
Low, " excited the distraining Officers to take all
they could find, and to burn or break what was not
worth carrying away, insomuch that Thomas Holbrow,
an old blind man, having his Bed taken away, was
constrained to lie on Straw for eleven Months to
gether. . . . Thus fierce were the Justices, and as cruel
were the Informers." Three of the latter were
servants of the Marquess of Worcester. " One of them
shamefully punched, beat, and abused Sarah Ashby, so
that she fell sick by the Abuses she received ; and he had
been heard to say, ' It was no more sin to kill one of the
Quakers than to kill a Dog.' . . . They threw John
Boy over a Gate and Stile several Tiraes, dragged hira
through the Street in the Dirt, and drove him in a
* Quarry, "a diamond-shaped pane of a lead casement.'* — lEncyclopeedic
Dictionary.

376 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Wheelbarrow and threw Water upon hira ; they lifted
hira high frora the Ground, and let hira fall on his
Back. . . . Cook, the Informer, beat Nehemiah
Stinchcomb till his Flesh was black. . . . Thus
proceeded these wicked Informers in abusing the
Innocent . . . and would soraetiraes say, in the
Midst of their Barbarities — ' If we kill one of you, we
believe we shall not be hanged for it.' " These both
took place in Gloucestershire in 1677.
And so the gruesorae story goes on, these being
by no manner of means the worst stateraents, but
only some of those which by the simplicity of the
incidents are brought more readily horae to the
raind. Besse's account, alone, reaches to two volumes,
folio, each of some 750 pages, yet the details as a
rule are very brief, and the list is far from being
complete. Naraes and dates are generally given.
Not unfrequently these tales of injustice and brutality
of course end in death itself — a merciful relief often
to the poor sufferers. Bad as the persecution was
in England in Cromwell's time, when bigotry was
rarapant, it was far worse in the days of the " Merry
Monarch," when it was often indulged in with
out any excuse of a mistaken religious belief.
It is only just, however, to admit that there is
little reason — quite the contrary in fact — to think
that it was congenial either to the Protector or
the King. The latter was weakly vicious rather
than actively wicked hiraself. Indeed, if he could

A GAOL A GOAL OF VIRTUE. 377
have believed some of the panegyrists of the tirae
he might have regarded himself as an actual saint.
Here is an extract frora a " poera," written in his
praise ; and it may be well to inform the reader
that it is not taken from a satirical comedy.
" Was ever Prince like him to mortals given,
So much the Joy of Earth and Care of Heaven !
Under the Pressure of unequal Fate
Of so Erect a Mind and Soul so great !
So full of Meekness and so void of Pride,
When borne aloft by Fortune's highest Tide.
* * * * *
Mercy, like Heaven, his chief Prerogative,
His Joy to save and Glory to forgive.
*****
Willing to hear and longing to redress,
His Mercy knew no bounds of Time or Place,
His Reign -was one continued Act of Grace.
Great Titus could, but Charles could never say
Of all his Royal life he lost a day." /.'
Had this verse come under the observation
of our friend John Roberts he at least could not have
endorsed it, however charitably he might have liked
to have judged the monarch, or his reign ; for the
latter, as regards the actual suffering inflicted, may
be ranked with the vei-y worst, if not actually the
worst in Engfish history.
Terrible as was the brief era when Queen Mary
ruled, the passage to death was often short and sharp
and mercy itself compared with the long-drawn-out
endurance of years of imprisonment in unwholesome

378 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
gaols, or noisorae dungeons, the details of which are
often of the raost painful character, and would at
tiraes pass belief were they not so well authenti
cated. It was araid such scenes as have been extracted
frora the Sufferings that John Roberts fived, that his
raarried life was largely passed, and that his sons
grew up. Personally he was everywhere respected,
with a respect that went far to disarra his per
secutors, and no doubt saved hira from suffering
as much as many of his brethren and sisters. We raay
still regard hira as being as active on their behalf
when opportunity offered, and even self-forgetful,
but latterly his persecutors seeraed to have contented
theraselves with simply plundering him, as they did
other Friends of sorae raeans in the neighbourhood,
and less often sending hira to gaol, if at all, in
the succeeding years of his life. He was now
about fifty-five years, not old even as those tiraes
went, but there is reason to think the strain
of persecution had told upon him. Compared with
many about him he was a young man, for Bull
narrates that during his rainistry in the parish of
Siddington (which, as we have seen, coraprised less
than 400 souls) , he had buried ten people whose
united ages araounted to a thousand years. Two he
mentions as being each of about one hundred and
twenty years of age at death. Possibly there was
sorae little error in this statement, but it was

A GAOL A GOAL OF VIRTUE. 379
clearly not John's surroundings that militated against
longevity on his part.
Although the stress of the persecution fell chiefly
on the men, and the raen as a consequence died very
often rauch in advance of their wives, the women
too suffered greatly; very little consideration seems
to have been shown them in those days on account
of their sex.
Mention has already been raade of one Friend —
Theophila Townsend — whose narae occurs in the
Memoir. In Besse's voluraes she figures raore promi
nently. She suffered long and cruel imprisonments,
even when greatly advanced in years, and was among
those in Gloucester Gaol who were liberated by King
James's Proclaraation. She was a woraan of consider
able ability — as Besse says, " of great Understanding,"
who though weak in body was by no raeans feeble
in heart or soul, as she deraonstrates during her
incarceration in Gloucester Gaol, and as is recorded
by her fellow-prisoner, Daniel Roberts.
Not raerely could she speak fearlessly, but make
vigorous use of her pen. Here is the title of one of
her pamphlets, which is also an excellent illustration
of the vast length of 17th century book-titles — ^"H
1Mor5 of Counsel in the Love of God to the Perse
cuting /niagiStrateS d ClergS for them to Read and
Consider : but chiefly to those of the City and County
of Gloucester that have been active to carry on that
unchristian work of persecution against their honest

380 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
neighbours, for the exercise of their tender consciences
towards God in matters of religion, by whora many
have been great sufferers." Speaking of this pamphlet,
Stratford, in his Good and Great Men of Gloucester
shire, says, " In it solemn reproofs and tender warnings
are mingled with the simple recital of grievous wrongs
done to herself and others. With stinging plainness
she reminds them of their evil deeds."
Especially, as it more immediately concerns some
of our Friends, a portion of it is well worth
quoting : —
" Remember your casting us into prisons, spoiling
goods, rifling houses, taking money-boxes, and putting
raoney in your own pockets, breaking doors with
your own hands, as Richard Parsons, Chancellor of
Gloucester, did, and endeavoured to do, making use of
an iron bar to break open the door of Nathaniel and
Daniel Roberts, and because they could not easily do
it, called for gunpowder to blow it open. . . .
" Ye persecutors, how can ye excuse yourselves,
who have imprisoned many of our Friends to
death ? Several died prisoners while I was prisoner
in the Castle ; an aged blind raan, Thoraas Holbrow,
he was thrust into prison and not brought before
any Magistrate, and Ralph Langley, prisoner several
years, tUl he died also, and several others ; this
kind of kUling we have had frora your hands, and
sometimes our Friends have been beaten and bruised

A GAOL A GOAL OF VIRTUE. 381
by knocking and throwing hither and thither, tUl
they died : this I have seen."
Another paraphlet of hers is addressed to the
" Inhabitants of the Town of Cirencester," and con
tains a painful record, amongst other raatters, of
her own personal sufferings at the hands of Justice
James George, who " gave the gaoler a charge not
to let rae go without the gate, so great was their
fury and rage against rae." At that tirae the poor
woman was three years and four months in gaol.
With the narrative of the story of the fining and
iraprisonraent of John Roberts's two younger sons we
have now to deal.
Though Daniel had the " head-piece " of the
faraily, and was devoted to his father, no raore
favouritism was probably shown hira than such as
might have been due to his ability, and to his being
the youngest son. He seems to have inherited more
of his father's temperament, but in his case it ex
hibited itself in its religious aspect, rather by preaching
as a Quaker minister than in poleraics. At a very
early period of his life — in his twenty-third year —
he became a "Public Friend" as the early preachers
of the Society were called.
Nathaniel and Daniel, instead of following agri
culture as an occupation, or dealing in corn, or
malt, or wool, became mercers in Cirencester, trading
in the finer kinds of woollens, in linens, and perhaps
in silks.

382 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
They were manifestly not in a large way of business ;
for their father's means had been crippled by his
many imprisonments and the distraints on his crops
and cattle and household goods. At the coraraence
raent of the Quaker propaganda great efforts were
made by the clergy and their friends to boycott
them in business ; but the Quakers so early
proved their uprightness and reliability that the
boycott was not efficacious for long, nor very widely
operative. Most of all they suffered frora absolute
plunder — from heavy exactions which, in raany cases,
had not even the pretence of legality — and against
which, in that lawless period, there was little
remedy. Yet the Quakers conquered.
We hear a great deal to-day of the necessity of
having enormous armaments — of the need of excessive
preparations for a possible warlike defence. The
Quakers won their way to everything by the very
opposite policy — by their seeming defencelessness ; by,
at tiraes, literally turning their cheeks to the sraiter ;
by returning good for evil ; by the bravest and raost
resolute and most uncoraproraising endurance ; and
by a practical, and not merely a theoretical belief
in God as the Governor of the universe. Nor did
they try this experiment only in comparative civiliza
tion, but also in the Araerican wilds. For seventy
years, in Pennsylvania, when under their governance,
they had no soldiers, no forts, no weapons of war,
with the result that they had perfect peace, though

A GAOL A GOAL OF VIRTUE. 383
all surrounding, states were engaged in conflict. A
more magnificent object-lesson, in the merits and
demerits of the two systems, could not be devised.
To allege that the perfect efficacy of a policy of
justice, honour, right, and humanity, though possible
among savages, must be a failure araong civilized
nations, is to assert that the measure of a nation's
material progress is the gauge of its raoral decline !
But let a less pessiraistic view be taken. From
tirae to time great men have arisen in the world to
show to how high a level it is possible for humanity
to rise, and that without by any raeans marking the
limits of progress. So that great man, William Penn,
having the opportunity, taught the world what simple
virtue, and practical righteousness, and genuine regard
for humanity might do in politics — in governance.
But we must to the little shop in Cirencester,
where John's younger boys are endeavouring to
build up a trade in soft woollen stuffs, and we
raay see that worthy butcher's wife we wot of, trying
to cheapen a new kerchief to enable her to
bear herself raore bravely at the church on the
coming Sunday, or as she shall sit and gossip
in the wainscoted parlour of a good neighbour.
And Daniel is ready of tongue, but careful to say
no more than he thinks the truth in praise of his
goods. It is Saturday, and the excellent dame had
been fine and busy at the Friday raarket, and so
is terapted to the outlay she has intended for

384 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
some tirae. As she goes out of the half-door, and
down the step, she meets John and exchanges a
word of greeting, and tells hira, with assuraed
condemnation, that Daniel is too good a man of
business. But John's wonted fund of pleasantry is
wanting. His heart is sore. The previous day had
seen an unusually large wool-market, and, necessit
ating John's coraing into Cirencester to attend
to business, made it also raore iraperative to
drop in and see his boys. As he sits in the
kitchen at the back of the shop, in the chair
Daniel sets for him, they fall to talking over the
present aspect of affairs. Trouble is brewing.
Justice George had instructed his officers to take
the names of those who met at the Quaker meeting
house on the following Sunday ; and the officers, being
well disposed towards their fellow townsmen, did
not care about the coraraission, and had put Daniel
on his guard, urging him and others not to go
to their gathering as usual. As well might they
have tried to dissuade his name-sake of Babylon,
where it was a question of duty to be done !
Daniel, Nathaniel, and their father did not meet
to discuss such a point. They would content them
selves with encouraging each other in what they
deemed well-doing. And if John was tearful, he
was none the less uncoraproraising. It was not the
least of the virtues of the early Quakers, not the
least of those that have been handed down to

A GAOL A GOAL OF VIRTUE. 385
posterity to our social and political gain, that they
were of unflinching firmness — obstinate if you will —
in the unmoved tenacity with which they held to
what they believed to be right. They would not
willingly deviate one iota. Like George Fox's, their
yea was yea and their nay was nay. Others might
try to evade the law by various devices, such as
preaching in one house through a series of open
ings into another at a little distance, in order to
over-ride the Conventicle Act. But to such sub
terfuges the Quakers never stooped. What they did,
they did openly and fearlessly. They raight have to
suffer, but they suffered and flinched not. Among no
people, nor at any time, is there a grander record
of more dauntless courage than they displayed.
Of such a people George Fox was a consistent
example from the onset, and such as he was, was
the Society of Friends to the persecution's close.
It is thus Skeats, in his Free Churches, writes of
thera : " The raembers of one denoraination alone
continued, by raeeting openly and without concealraent,
to defy and not to evade the law. These were the
Quakers. The brutality with which the members
of this sect were treated exceeded anything known
in the recent history of persecution in England.
Their meetings were broken up by the military, and
their attendants stunned by bludgeons or hacked by
swords. The feraale members were stripped and
flogged with shameless indecency."

386 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
But the Sunday coraes, and with it a constable,
who takes down the names of several persons pre
sent, and carries the list to Justice George.
John escapes a seizure of his corn, for reasons
fully set down in the narrative ; while Nathaniel
and Daniel are mulcted in the sura of £,']0 — an
amount equivalent to some ;^25o to-day. The con
tinuing history as given by Daniel is thus briefly
adverted to by the historian of the Sufferings :
" Nathanael Roberts and Daniel Roberts, Brothers
and Partners in Shop-keeping, after their Shop had
been broken open, and rauch Goods taken away for
Meetings, had the Oath tendred thera, and were
sent Prisoners to the Castle : Their House was left
empty, and their Trade lost, to the very great
Detriment of those conscientious young Men."
Poor John ! As we see in the story, he took
this ruin of his sons' business and their iraprison
ment greatly to heart. He could bear his own
hardships and persecutions, but the suffering of his
children was a different raatter. It raust, however,
have been a source of much mitigation to his
sorrowing to see that they were as steadfast in the
faith as he, and that frora their gaoler was to be
expected better treatraent than that which had once,
at least, been his own lot.
Henry Pontin, the ex-fencing raaster, of whom
Daniel tells, was a very earnest Quaker, who suffered
nuraerous imprisonments on that account. The inci-

A GAOL A GOAL OF VIRTUE. 387
«
dent of the meeting in Gloucester Castle in which
he figures in connection with Chancellor Parsons —
who combined the parson with the squire — Besse
thus briefly notes under date May nth, 1683:^
" The Friends, who were Prisoners in Glocester
Castle, raet together for the Exercise of religious
Worship in the Prison, for which they were all fined
by Richard Parsons, a Justice of the Peace : But most
of their Houses had been so rifled before, that the
Officers sought in vain to make Distress : At length
flnding two Cows, the property of William Wake,
one of the Prisoners, they made Seizure of them,
being worth 61."
Our friend John has ridden over, putting up his
horse at his inn, then kept by the Mayor of
Gloucester ; while the worthy Mayoress, knowing
what is afoot, would fain dissuade him from
attending the meeting. It may have been his last
visit to the gaol ; but to do what he believed his
duty was to raake it a court of Heaven to him.
Though it were to have been to witness his last
days, even away from those he loved, the " saint
and hero " could have endured to the end, and
would have won the martyr's crown within the
walls of a prison. He valued something raore than
personal comfort — personal happiness, valued some
thing more than life — and that was loyalty to duty.
He was a true soldier of the Cross he had taken
up.

CHAPTER IX.
A SAINTLY PEACE WITH REVERENT HONOUR.
AT this period — the early part of the year 1683
— it would appear as if the Quaker Meeting
held at the little conventicle in Thoraas Street,
Cirencester, had been virtually removed to Gloucester
Gaol, so many of those who coraprised it were to
be found there, imprisoned with the raembers of
the Society from other centres. A few years later,
when, by the proclaraation of Jaraes II, all the
Quakers in the gaol were liberated, a list of fifty-
six of tfiem is given by Besse, in addition to the
names of some confined in another gaol in the
sarae city, who obtained their freedora also. There
is one stateraent in Daniel's story of his experience
in Gloucester Castle which appears as though it
might have been a clerical error. He tells us that
at one time there were as raany as frora 1,500 to
2,000 " Debtors " in the prison. Presumably this
would be exclusive of malefactors. It is true the
apartments were often crowded ; and the Castle,
Martin tells us — ^writing in 1758 — was " large and
airy," while debt was the offence for which im
prisonment was raost frequently inflicted ; but an

A SAINTLY PEACE WITH REVERENT HONOUR. 389
army of even 1,500, all told, would be a very con
siderable one, at a period when the population of
the kingdom was so vastly less than to-day. In
1680 it was about 5,000,000 souls. Certainly, at the
time, the Gloucester district was a busy — a very
busy — and, consequently, a populous one ; and we
read of 1,000 prisoners being confined for some days
in Cirencester church, and of Quakers being so
massed in their rooms, that the latter came at
times to bid fair to rival the Black-hole at Cal
cutta for scenes of suffering. But Daniel Roberts's
narrative leaves no impression of crowding among
the prisoners of Gloucester — rather the reverse.
The raanuscript, however, that contains the state
raent is as clear as possible in its entry of it.
Elizabeth Roberts, writing at the dictation of her
father, pens the figures thus : — " 15 : hun^ : &
2000^' : " Daniel raust have read it, or had it read
to hira, often. He had rainor alterations, of little
moment, made in the manuscript, how then does
it occur that, if this was an error, so great a one
was passed over ? If it is not an error what an
idea of the condition of the period it gives us !
As if, what with debtors, dissenters, and actual
criminals, one fourth of England was in gaol and
three-fourths out !
No complaint of the condition of the gaol
buildings in Gloucester Castle is made, either by
John Roberts or by his son Daniel ; but in the

390 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
year 1681, Besse tells us, in mentioning the con
dition of the women imprisoned there, and the
great discomforts sorae of thera suffered through
their recent or approaching raaternity, that " the
Prison being out of Repair, they were rauch in-
coramoded for want of Roora." It seems probable that
the Keep was the portion of the prison in question,
as, in the latter end of the next century, we read
that it had grown so dilapidated as to need
pulling down sorae years before the Castle generally
was demolished.
Although most forms of " torture " had been
done away with, as punishments, nearly half-a-
century before the tirae of Daniel's narrative, we
learn incidentally frora it that the thumb-screw was
still in use. It was formally abolished, however,
at the Revolution. Haydn's Dictionary of Dates
mentions that " the Rev. Wm. Carstairs was the
last who suffered by it before the Privy Council,
to make him divulge secrets intrusted to hira,
which he firraly resisted. After the Revolution,
in 1688, the thurab-screw was given him as a
present by the Council. King William expressed a
desire to see it, and tried it on, bidding the doctor
turn the screw, but at the third turn he cried out,
' Hold, hold I doctor ; another turn would make
me confess anything.' " Carstairs was supposed to
have been concerned in the " Rye-house Plot " —
about 1682. As a raatter of fact, " torture " had

A SAINTLY PEACE WITH REVERENT HONOUR. 39 1
never been actually legal in England, although it
was in Scotland, and was not abolished there until
1690. To hang a raan or woman was then, as for so
long afterwards, a trifling procedure that a theft of
five-shillings might incur. A felon was regarded as
one hardly to be treated as a huraan being, especially
if his felony had been only on a sraall scale. If
indeed he plundered in the narae of religion, or under
some form of law, or in pursuit of " glory," he
might even be " honoured " for the procedure.
But for the common thief, a gallows — often of stone
— was erected, outside the town frequently, and the
records of the time note its public situation, as
we raight mention now the proximity to a railway-
station. And thereon the man (or woman) was
hanged very informally, and soraetiraes left hanging
for days. To stand hira in a cart, put the noose
round his neck, and then drive the cart on, and so let
the man drop, was the raore frequent method. There
is a well-authenticated story that was told by a worthy
Quaker, of his having once, on humanitarian grounds,
officiated as hangman. He was travelling on horse
back near one of these gallows, erected on a
common, when, as he passed the small crowd
surrounding a man to be executed, he reined in
his horse and for a moment looked on. The poor
wretch had already had the rope put round his
neck, but in so clumsy a raanner that the Friend
saw at a glance that when the raan was pushed

392 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
off, as he would have been a raoraent after, great
and prolonged suffering would ensue. Juraping
off his horse, he pushed his way through the crowd,
and, with some short words to the hangman, thrust
him aside and adjusted the noose in a raore
satisfactory way. Then the raan was hanged ; but
the crowd were lost in astonishraent at seeing a
gentleraan in Quaker garb officiating, until he
explained his reasons before riding off.
Even a man like Daniel , Roberts — a man of
humanity and much enlightenment — could scarcely
realize that " a fellon," though an erring member
of society, was still " a man and a brother." And
as he felt towards raalefactors so his persecutors
felt towards hira. The raalefactor was a crirainal
as regarded his fellow raen, the "heretic" they
considered a crirainal in relation to his God. And
so little was Christianity understood then (and is
possibly, in raany respects, so little understood to
day) that, as we have seen, even the common
rights of humanity were frequently denied to the
Quakers. Often they were treated worse than
criminals. And their raost unchristian treatment, as
the result of bigotry, was frequently on the part of
those who made the greatest boast of their
Christianity. But the persecuted retaliated not. They returned
good for evil ; and though they prayed against
evil they prayed for the evU-doers. They predicted

A SAINTLY PEACE WITH REVERENT HONOUR. 393
retributions ; they regarded such as evidences of
God's power, as a method of His governance ; but
their doctrine of the Inner Light enabled them to
cUng to the hope of reformation, on the part of
the wrong-doer, to the last, and always to see
something of the raan in raan. Still fewer appear,
however, to have realized all involved in the virtue
of charity as enunciated by Paul, and fewer still the
love" of all men as taught by Christ. The study of
the Old Testament had filled their imaginations to
the cramping of their conceptions of the message
of the New. Whether enforced by Puritan or
Churchraan, their ideas of religion were hard and
stern. In the Quaker this quality of mind exhibited
itself mainly in dogged endurance, though even he
was wont at times to indulge in much denunciation.
For though chiefly engaged in passive defence they
had much energy at first to spare for proselytizing.
Nor did they stand on ceremony in this matter. A
curious instance of this occurs in the narrative
Mary Penington has left us. She was the mother
of Gulielma Maria Springett (who became the
wife of William Penn). One day (it was after her
second marriage, to Isaac Penington), she and her
husband walking in a park, " A man," she narrates,
" saw us as he rode by, in our gay and vain
apparel. He cried out to us against our pride, at
which I scoffed, and said he was a public preacher
indeed who preached on the highways. He turned

394 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
back again, saying he had a love for my husband,
seeing grace in his looks. He drew near to the
pales, and spoke of the light and grace which had
appeared to all raen. My husband and he engaged
in discourse. The man of the house coraing up
invited the stranger in ; he was but young, and my
husband too hard for him in the fleshly wisdom."
Thereupon the young raan, who proved to be a
Quaker, proposes to bring George Fox to assist
hira in the argument ; but George Fox not being
able to come, Thoraas Curtis and WiUiara Sirapson
are pressed into the service. In the end, as we
know, and after due consideration, the Peningtons
join the despised sect and become among its raost
prorainent and raost persecuted representatives.
An interesting fact in connection with this
anecdote in relation to good Mistress Penington
is that, being a raore than ordinarily earnest
Puritan, as was also her first husband. Sir William
Springett, they were married without a ring. This
non-wearing of wedding rings, like the adoption of
numerical names for the days of the week and
month, we find borrowed by George Fox from either
Puritans or Anabaptists, as a "testimony," and
incorporated araong the " peculiarities " of the Friends.
From careful examination of his tenets and his
" peculiarities," it appears probable that George
Fox actually originated nothing, but selected from
the varied and conflicting notions, that were then

A SAINTLY PEACE WITH REVERENT HONOUR. 395
afloat in the world, those that commended them
selves to his soul and his intelligence. The
doctrine of the Inner Light was old — old as Socrates
or older — but not, of course, in the highly spiritualized
form that it presented itself to Fox. It was his
to refine, exalt, and enlarge the soul-elevating
conception. Save by Christ, and the Apostles who
had immediately learned of Him, no loftier and
more practical realization of the union of God with
man has perhaps been given to the world.
And if among one of the least obtrusive of the
disciples of the new faith was our friend John Roberts
(by whose bed-side we have now to find ourselves),
he was not among the least of those who were valiant
for the truth, and who were raised to greatness by
the fulness of soul, resultant from the reception of a
lofty thought.
It is to a hero's dying couch that we are called ;
a hero of peace, because a wholly courageous one ;
a man who conquered all, because he could endure
all. His son Daniel, at least, was with him. The
gaoler has given him leave of absence ; and Nathaniel
seems also to have obtained it later on and been
with his father at the last. It is January — towards
the close of the year, in the Old Style. In the
county at large the persecution is growing worse
and worse, and John is being called upon to leave,
in their sore trouble, the lads he so loves, and the
wife who has been such a real help-meet to him. It

396 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
is times like these that put a man's fortitude to the
severest test. But John bears up bravely. If he
troubles, it is for others, not himself. He has fought
a noble fight. He has never once turned his back to
the enemy. His creed has led hira to believe that by
keeping his eyes ever turned in love to God he could
regard his Maker fearlessly, with that perfect love
that casts out fear. And he has looked Heavenward,
and loved, and doubted not. God bless thee ! honest
John, as thou liest there in bodily feebleness, but in
raental and spiritual strength. At least thou hast the
happiness to feel that in the love of all that is good —
and in syrapathy with the Quaker creed — you are a
united faraily. All thy sons have been given thee.
Thou hast faith that they will follow thee in thy
footsteps. And if only thou couldst know that ere the
Angel of death shall visit him — some forty years
after thou art gone — that thy youngest one shall put
his loving memories of thee on paper that thy good
deeds and brave words may live after thee — even
live through coming centuries to cheer full raany a
tender heart and strengthen raany a truth-seeking
soul — thou wouldst have rejoiced yet more for the
Truth's sake.
God bless thee, honest John ! And as wife and
children softly gather round thee to press lingeringly
what is felt to be a last kiss of love and tenderness
upon thy kindly lips (for fast the breath is failing),
would that something of the thousands of thoughts

JOHN ROBERTS'S SIGNATURE.

A SAINTLY PEACE WITH REVERENT HONOUR. 399
of honest regard and reverence from others that have
been, and will be given thee could be experienced
by thee now to add to thy holy joy !
The burial ground of a few square yards' ex
tent, and protected now by a small moat that
surrounds it, is situated little raore than a stone's
throw frora the house. The exact spot within it
where John was laid is not known. The ground
was purchased for the Friends from Mary Roberts,
the mother of John, for ;^I2 ; and the plain, brief
deed, that legafized the transference, is still in
existence, and bears John's autograph. In the
record of the transaction it appears to have been
purchased by, and for the members of the Society;
but Daniel's statement, that it was his father's gift,
is probably explained by supposing the latter to
have been the chief contributor. Although some of
the Friends, like the Bowleys and a few others,
-were of considerable means, as shown by the
heavy fines inflicted on them, and by their usually
being only fined, yet others were but poor, so
poor that, when necessary, the fines were paid for
by other Friends. Thus we find Daniel's and his
brother Nathaniel's payment of ;^7o in fines com
prised the indebtedness of " unable persons."
The exact date of John Roberts's death was
the 19th of January, 1683. His age, as near as can
be traced, was 63 or 64 years. He was not "an
ancient Friend," to use the old Quaker phraseology,

4O0 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
and his life may be fairly regarded to have been
shortened by the troubles and anxieties of his time.
There is no direct knowledge regarding his personal
appearance, but his mental portraiture is distinct
enough. We know hira to have been a man of
nervous temperaraent, with a tendency to heat
and impetuosity well held in restraint by good
sound sense and by religious feeling ; not free
from pride, but possessed of a pride so allied
with prudence, self-respect, and honest indepen
dence as at least to wear the semblance of a
virtue, even when attired in the russet coat of
brusqueness. To his friends he was eminently loyal.
To thera he was a strong raan, to whom they
looked, and not in vain, for advice, for support, for
championship. Shrewd without craft, honest with
out weak siraplicity, truly religious without a
shadow of cant ; of a clear, well-balanced intellect
and sharp wit, yet using neither to over-reach ;
an eminently manly man, yet with more than a
woman's tenderness of heart, it is no wonder that
his faraily were devoted to hira and that his
neighbours and friends held hira in high regard.
Without detracting frora the merits of others who
were called to a different sphere of labour, yet
it confirms our conviction of John's honest worth
that, with all these abilities, he contented himself
with devotion to home duties and to local friends.
That the Friends were aware of his worth and

A SAINTLY PEACE WITH REVERENT HONOUR. 40I
efficiency as a member of the body is shown by
thera sending him — under date the 13th of May,
1671 — the then considerable sum of ;^30 to dis
tribute among " suffering Friends." George Fox, it
is evident, knew him. It is most probable indeed
that the former held meetings at his house, before
one was taken in Cirencester and the upper room
adapted for a meeting-house. When staying in that
neighbourhood Fox seems invariably to have made
his way to his friend Nathaniel Cripps, of Tetbury.
It was a very natural thing — travelling so much —
that George should have liked, when possible, to
stay at the same places again and again — places
which would become second homes in consequence.
What traveller ever cares to needlessly change his
hotel ? But for the proximity of Nathaniel Cripps's
house, that of John Roberts raight have had hira
for a visitor raore often, John being the leader of
the Quakers in that district, and Lydia by no
means wanting in hospitality. It would have been
a mere raatter of convenience. As a Friend, George
Fox at most was but one of themselves. Daniel
mentions his father being with him as a mere
matter of narration. George Fox was no pope.
He assumed no superiority over his fellows. He
followed to the fuU the teaching of Christ, " Who
soever wUl be the chiefest shall be servant of aU."
And the only deference (in a sense) that John
Roberts paid him was that which George Fox
26

402 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
raost appreciated — a loyal and intelligent following
of his teaching.
It has been previously noted- that nothing
throws any definite light on John Roberts's
physique. Contemporary portraits or contemporary
records do not help us. The early Quakers, in the
little that is known of them, physically, varied
greatly. George Fox was big and burly ; James
Parnel sraall and spare. Williara Penn was portly
and well favoured. Solomon Eccles was tall and
gaunt. The Parliamentary Coraraanders — of whora
portraits were engraved by a friendly publisher in
1647 — were of varied types. "The Religious success
ful and truly Valliant Leutenant Generall Cromwell"
would not be recognized by those who know only
Watts's picture. His hair is cut straight across
the forehead, though long locks fall on each side.
His nose is thick and heavy, though firm, his
forehead lined, heavy ridges circle round his mouth,
his face is irregular and insufficiently filled out, his
eyes sraall and thoughtful, but half buried under
their lids. We have a portrait of Bull as of many
other divines of the time, but, as is the case with the
aforesaid commanders, the observer is raore
irapressed by the dress and the way the hair is worn
(as compared with the present) than with the faces
theraselves. Costumed and barbered in the mode
of to-day they would look undistinguishable from
the raen about us.

A SAINTLY PEACE WITH REVERENT HONOUR. 403
Roberts was presumably of fair stature, and a
wirily-built rather than a portly man. His face
would be a sharp and intellectual one, in which
humour struggled with a certain hauteur and
brusqueness — arising raore from a dread of com
promising his principles than a conterapt for his
fellow raen ; for the one thing he raost hated was
hypocrisy. Unless he had been stalwart enough to
bear arras there had been no necessity for his
joining the array ; unless wiry he could scarcely,
when so wounded, have escaped with his life ;
unless of active habits he would not have been
so constantly in the saddle ; unless possessed of con
siderable physical strength he would not have been
required to perform, in his turn, the duties of
constable, nor would Sir John Guise have felt it
expedient to get John's other arm taken hold of,
when it was desired to expel him from the meeting
house ; whUe unless a man of fair presence he could
not, as he so often did, have made that presence felt.
But with all these facts known to us, no two readers
will yet see the man alike. Well may Cowper say in
reference to painting, " Blessed be the art that
can imraortalize " ; but thrice blessed is that art that
can photograph enduring copies for us all. In all
probabUity then we shaU have to content ourselves
with the portrayal of John Roberts's raind only.
He was not of sufficient note, as raerely a
Gloucestershire yeoman, to tax the skill of artist or

404 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
engraver. Says Williara Howitt, " John was not
one of those whose naraes will be found very
prominently blazoned on the history of the Society.
He was like thousands of others, who desire to
go on their way in their own circle, but there to
do and suffer to the utmost for the truth. With
thousands of others he raight have suffered, and
gone down to oblivion, but the readiness of his
wit has perpetuated his raemory."
We read but comparatively little of John in the
records of the Society. His name does not appear in
Fox's Journal, although occasionally, and for some
weeks at one time, in his company. Except when
a sense of duty or the defence of a friend impelled
him, John was wUling to mind his own affairs.
He was a disciple of George Fox, and content,
figuratively, to sit at his feet. He was a busy man
in his business ; and in spite of his neighbour
Bull's and other exactions was at best fairly pros
perous. He was cordially appreciated by his
neighbours, beloved by his family, and feared and
respected by parson and justice even while they
persecuted hira. His enthusiasm for his faith was
contagious. His wife and children were more than
raerely loyal ; his neighbours, many of them, joined
him and suffered with him ; his relatives appear
very generally to have become Friends. There is,
for instance, a Mary " Hayward alias Roberts "
buried at Siddington in 1669. She was the wife

A SAINTLY PEACE WITH REVERENT HONOUR. 405
of a WiUiam Hayward, and would appear to have
resided at Latton, WiUs. A son of hers, Samuel
Roberts, was also buried at Siddington in 1670.
Not a few Friends named Roberts or Hayward
(and occasionally registered as both) are to be
found mentioned. But the register is far from
perfect. This may be occasioned, in part, by the
Friends dying at a distance from their Meetings,
in prison, and being buried and registered in the
town where the death occurred. Sometimes but a
portion of a faraily will have been Friends and
their naraes, therefore, only appear. Occasionally,
although registered, it is added, in conjunction with
the narae, that they were not Friends. Some of
the Haywards probably represented that branch of
the family ; and were not Roberts- Haywards. This
may have been the case with Daniel and Elizabeth
Hayward, of Cheltenham, who were staunch mem
bers of the Society. Daniel Hayward was imprisoned
in 1684, and in the same year he and others
were fined to the extent of ;^i76 i8s. lod. ; but
he was still kept a prisoner until 1686. We find
the record of his marriage to Elizabeth White, of
Cheltenham, in 1665, at Stoke Orchard. If it may
be inferred that this Daniel Hayward was John
Roberts's kinsman, it is not improbable that the
latter may have attended the wedding, and that
during his stay at Stoke Orchard the incident of the
attack of Sir John Guise's father upon a meeting may

406 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
have taken place. It is probable, also, that John
Roberts's son Daniel may have been naraed after
this member of the family. If the relationship be
tween the farailies was close, as appears likely, that
raay account also for Daniel Hayward's first son being
named John. There was an Elizabeth in Daniel
Roberts's family — the spinster lady to whom was
dictated the major portion of Daniel Roberts's
Memoir — as there had been an Elizabeth, as the
wife of Daniel Hayward, of Cheltenham, and as
their eldest daughter. The links are slight, but they
all point to these families being united, and closely'
united. It seeras certain that our John Roberts was an
only son. In that case these Roberts, or Roberts-
Haywards, or Haywards, were uncles and cousins-
some of them ; a portion electing to call themselves
Roberts and a portion Hayward. If Roberts and
Hayward were not soraewhat coraraon naraes in
that part of the country it would appear that prior
to the Roberts-Hayward raarriage the farailies had
been prolific on both sides, as so raany of each
narae appear upon the Friends' register, of the
district, kept at Cirencester.
The next member of the Siddington family to
follow Jofin to the grave was his wife Lydia
Roberts. She was buried in the little graveyard
there, on October 23rd, 1698 — having thus survived
her husband fifteen years. As she was born in

A SAINTLY PEACE WITH REVERENT HONOUR. 407
October, 1619, she was thus seventy-nine years of
age. In a note to his edition of the Memoir, Oade
Roberts says, speaking of his ancestress : " She
survived to witness a prosperous issue to those
eventful vicissitudes of which both the farailies had
participated, and under whose various trials her
own conduct had manifested an amiable assemblage
of the raost interesting private and social virtues.
Fortitude and tenderness, regulated by the dictates
of a genuine and consistent piety, marked her
character ; and she seems to have inherited a raind
worthy of the raartyred ancestor who has been
styled ' the glory and reproach of his country.' "
Daniel Roberts, in An Elegy on a Memoriall of
my Dear Mother, thus puts her virtues into verse : —
? * * # #
Her love to God -was strong, Her faith -was great,
And he Preserved her in an Heavenly State.
'Tis no-w -with me a little to revive
The Path she trod in -while she -was alive.
In fellowship with faithfull Friends she stood,
And al-ways took delight in doing good.
When Persecution did our Meetings break,
She -was a help and Strengthener to the Weak.
A Lover of all such as walked in Truth,
Which she Incouraged both in Age and Youth,
This in her Life and Practise did appear,
Who in her day did as a star shine clear.
For Meekness, Patience, Charity, and Love,
She well might be resembled to a Dove.
She was an Israelite in very deed,
Careful that nought might hurt the Precious Seed.

408 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Her Councell and Advise were ever Such
I never thought I had thereof too much,
Her Company was sweet and Innocent,
Her Countenance bespoke her heart's content.
After speaking of his father as well as of his
mother, he writes : —
When Justice and Informer Spoyl did make,
They suffered Cheerfully for Christ his sake.
When Greedy Priest and Lawyer have combined,
And wicked Bayliffs not left much behind —
When threat' ned that they should not have a Bed
Where on to lay their own or Children's head —
When thus the Persecutors did them plunder —
Their Patient suffering caused some to wonder.

They in the Battle did not turn them back,
Nor to Incourage others were they slack,
Yet God Permits his People to be try'd
That they might know that he is on their Side.
Though some them mock't, and others did them flatter,
They heeded not the former nor the latter ;
Now in my heart I feel <i Living Cry
Ascend to God for their Posterity.

This, Daniel's one piece of versification that is
preserved (and about half of it is given), if not
brilliant, is at least very interesting as affording us
a fuller glirapse of his mother's excellence of
character, and, incidentally, of his own feelings as
one who had experienced persecution. She, good
woraan, also, once or twice indulged in metrical

A SAINTLY PEACE WITH REVERENT HONOUR. 4O9
composition on a small scale, but as this cannot
be nurabered among her many excellencies the
verses may remain unquoted.
Lydia Roberts, both by direct statement and by
inference, was possessed of many excellencies ; and
John had not merely in her a loving, loyal, sym
pathetic wife and friend, but a capable, executive one,
able to take efiicient control during his many
absences frora horae on business, pleasure, or the
reverse. Of necessity a fair horse-woraan, yet the
impression remains that she was a horae-loving
woman, her journeyings being pretty much confined
to riding a-pillion behind her husband, or one of the
boys, to meetings or markets. The raeans of judging
of this, however, are sraall, but are probably raore
eloquent in their silence. In those days, when
viragoes seera to have been rauch in evidence,
the village of Siddington appears to have had much
to congratulate itself upon ; for both Roberts and
Bull were favoured with excellent wives.
That Lydia Roberts was proud of her connec
tion with the martyred Tyndale, and with that
great judge. Sir Matthew Hale, may be taken for
granted, as also that her pride in them was chiefly
for the splendour of their moral qualities ; but of
her husband she was prouder still. As we know,
that pride was well deserved, and it is not the
least of her many good qualities that she was so
thoroughly able to appreciate our Friend. Like

410 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
most men possessing ability to talk well, he felt
the natural impulse of his talents, and it raust
have been his wife's pleasure and inclination to
raake a good listener. In that matter no doubt
she was an excellent foU ; and to be well fistened
to more than doubles the delight of the talker.
To possess skill is to crave opportunity for its ex
ercise ; and it would have been a feather in John's
cap — if even in imagination or as a metaphor he
would tolerate such a vanity — to know that a bishop,
of the character and ability of Dr. Nicholson,
enjoyed, as opportunity offered, to listen to his talk.
And the Bishop relished the dialectical excitement
too. One has only to read Boswell to understand
the keen zest with which a clever conversationalist
can be listened to. And in Daniel Roberts we
have a Boswell on a smaller scale, with just those
excellencies that have given to the Life of Johnson
such enduring charms. We must, however, picture
John in his home as repeating those conversations
probably again and again, as Daniel could not have
been with his father on every occasion, and con
sequently, not always, at least, have acquired them
at first hand. We can realize how John would
have enjoyed his victories in argument ; since even
his son's readers to-day so heartily sympathize with
this gratification in perusing the mere record of
them. It is the charm of good speaking, it may
be repeated, that it is alike an exquisite delight to

A SAINTLY PEACE WITH REVERENT HONOUR. 4II
hira who listens and to him who engages in it.
A young man of really brilliant abilities as a talker,
and who had raore than ordinarily distinguished
hiraself at an evening party, of which he had been
the life and centre of attraction, said to a friend
very naively on leaving, " I have enjoyed rayseff !
/ have talked so much ! "
It is characteristic that we hear nothing more,
either incidentally from John Roberts or frora his
son Daniel of the distinguished relatives of John's
wife — or even of the Uncle Solace and the
Cousin Andrew, on his own side — than is essential
to the narrative. In turning Quaker it seeras
reasonable to infer that a barrier was raised up
to rauch intercourse with his raore wealthy relatives.
If many of his humbler — or- at least less aristo
cratic — relations on his father's side syrapathized
with and followed his Quaker views, those on
his wife's and his mother's side do not appear
to have done so. His mother probably remained a
Churchwoman, and so would be buried by her husband
in St. Peter's churchyard ; but there is no register
to be found of her interraent, nor is the date of
it known. His wife became as earnest a Quakeress
as he a Quaker ; but the conviction is compulsory
that, had she loved a Churchman instead, she
would have been a devout Churchwoman. These
are the days of " advanced " women — of women
clamouring for their "rights." But, from the days

412 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
of George Fox, the Quakeress has been regarded
in every respect as the equal of the religionists of
the other sex. For over two centuries this equality
has existed without displacing man — without rele
gating him to a lower position. He still, outwardly
at least, retains his executive supremacy, for the
experience of their shrewd comraon-sense has
shown that such is for the best, and for the
rautual happiness of both.
Lydia Roberts had spent the remainder of her years
at Siddington, her son John assisting with the
farm and living at it after her death till his own
in 1706. He died unmarried ; as did also his
younger brother Nathaniel, a year and a half after
wards, in 1707. John seems to have been a good
son if not brilliant ; • and a quiet, retiring nature
—like his raother's — raay have helped hira to escape
iraprisonment — though it would not protect him frora
plunder. Nathaniel's tastes evidently did not incline
to agriculture. He shared in the quiet ways of his
brother John, but found exercise for his abilities
in attending to the financial departraent of his
business, and to the buying. Although during his
imprisonment the shop had to be kept closed, yet
the good-will of the business was not lost, though
the stock raust have been rauch depleted by the
distraint upon it. It can only be inferred that he
continued to carry it on alone when Daniel went
to Chesham. All we know is that he, like Daniel,

A SAINTLY PEACE WITH REVERENT HONOUR. 413
remained not merely a Friend but an active Friend,
as shown by the rainutes of the Cirencester
Meeting. And except for the excessive exactions
of the Church — raore or less great at the will
of the parson, according to the Court in which he
chose to proceed — the last years of the family at
Siddington were years of peace — of calm.

CHAPTER X.
A TRANSPLANTING OF THE FAMILY TREE.
THE only one of the faraily of John Roberts
that raarried was his youngest son Daniel.
To hira in tirae descended, as his inheritance, the
sraall estate at Siddington and the horaestead of
solid stone and substantial oak that had been his
father's and his grandfather's before hira ; and that
in part at least had existed at a still earlier
period. The stone-work and the tirabers are in
good condition to-day in the newer portion of the
building. It is only the interior of the older part
that is showing signs of dUapidation.
After the death of their father we may infer
that Nathaniel and Daniel continue to carry on the
Cirencester shop, untU, in the end of 1684, or the
very beginning of 1685, Daniel moves to Chesham,
or, as then spelt, Chesshara, in Buckinghamshire. He
engages in business there as a mercer, and on the
9th of AprU, 1685, he is married to Rebecca Axtell,
daughter of Abrahara Axtell, of Chesham. The
wedding takes place at Jordans, " situate in the
parish of Gyles Chalfont," and the certificate of
marriage is signed, amongst others, by John Roberts,
414

A TRANSPLANTING OF THE FAMILY TREE. 415
John Penington, Mary Penington, Thoraas Ellwood,
Mary Ellwood, and Abrahara AxteU. The John
Roberts will be Daniel's brother John, who has
corae to attend the wedding and be " best-raan."
The John and Mary Penington are probably the
son and daughter of Isaac and Mary Penington,
and consequently the half-brother and half-sister of
Gulielma Penn. Isaac Penington had died in 1679,
and his widow in 1682, and their eldest son Isaac
had fallen overboard on a homeward voyage frora
Barbados in 1670. Daniel is described on the
certificate as of Siddington and as a mercer.
Abrahara Axtell is also described as a raercer.
Daniel Roberts's new location is situate among
historic surroundings. His horae adjoins the Penn
country. He is the neighbour of Ellwood, and
becomes, as shown by their names appearing
conjointly on many documents, his intimate acquain
tance. The meeting-house of Jordans is a very
short ride away, and a little beyond it is Chalfont
St. Giles, and the house that Milton occupied
during the Plague, and while writing his deathless
poem. Daniel must have known William Penn and
Gulielma Maria, his handsome and accomplished
wife. She had recently had a sore sickness ; and
Ellwood, who had been sent for — for WUliara Penn
was in America — was himself in trouble over an
heretical pamphlet ; but the illness had been over-
got, and William Penn had returned by the time that

4l6 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Daniel had come to reside there. Ellwood had
been the friend of Milton, and the suggester of
Paradise Regained ; and later on, besides doing
much literary work of his own, he edited
the Journal of George Fox frora the original
manuscripts. But of all these matters Daniel tells
us nothing. With the death of his father he seems
to have felt his story was ended. But its ending
plunges us at once into a sea of speculation.
Now commence our uncertainties and specula
tions. How came Daniel to go to Chesham ? and
what brought this wedding about ? We raust try
and guess.
There is first a negative to be considered — one
suggested raotive that need only be mentioned to
be dismissed as quite incornpatible with Daniel
Roberts's character. In the before-mentioned book,
The Snake in the Grass, which contains a violent
assault on the Quakers, there is the following passage :
" The surest raethod for a young raan to step into an
Abounding Trade and a Rich Wife is to set up first
for a Preacher — of which many examples daily occur."
Certainly Daniel was a young man — he was just
entering his twenty-eighth year — he had become a
preacher, and he had stepped, we may suppose,
into an " Abounding Trade." But we cannot think
that, had the writer ever known Daniel, he would
have had him in view. It is only surmise — though
probably well founded — that he had raarried to

A TRANSPLANTING OF THE FAMILY TREE. 417
advantage. But we must look further than this for
an explanation of the step that Daniel took, and
for a raore reasonable one.
Abrahara Axtell being a raercer, and the district
from Cirencester westward to the Severn and
north-west to Gloucester, comprising within the
triangle thus indicated the greatest seat of the
woollen industry of the country — particularly in fine
goods — what more probable than that he occasionally
came westward to buy ? Another motive taking him
to that part of the country was that he raay have
had relatives there — as it seems to be probable that
his family and that of the Lovedays were connected.
Or, as large quantities of wool were sent frora
Buckinghamshire to Cirencester Market, he may
have added to his trade as a mercer by dealings
in the raw material.
Abraham Axtell, if increasing his business, raay
have felt the need of additional help ; while the
union of prosperity with advancing years may have
made him anxious, in part, to shift the business
on to younger shoulders. An energetic raan, of
high principle, and of good business ability, such
as Daniel, would coraraend hiraself to hira. Had
he met hira ? Had the crippled condition of the
business of the brothers raade it more desirable to
be conducted by one than by two ? And had
Daniel felt — if the offer was made him to ' join
Abraham Axtell at Chesham — that, being but the
27

4l8 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
younger member of their little firm, more scope
would be offered him than, under all the circum
stances, the Cirencester affair seemed to afford ?
All that we know with certainty is that Daniel
went to Chesham to settle as a raercer, and that
a few raonths after his doing so, he married the
daughter of a presumably prosperous mercer there.
Daniel raust have had very strong reasons for
making the change. That he removed to Chesham to
start in business for himself in opposition to another
Friend there, and yet raaintained such amicable
relations under such circumstances, as to be
accepted, in a few months, as a son-in-law by that
opponent, is a supposition utterly untenable. Daniel
went at the suggestion or invitation of Abraham
Axtell ; and, if in inviting him the latter had an eye
to marrying his daughter to hira, or Daniel in
accepting the arrangement to marrying the lady,
if the lady and he mutually commended themselves
to each other, what could happen better ? If he
had met Rebecca Axtell at Cirencester and desired
to marry her there, and there settle, he would
probably have been asking her to quit comparative
affluence for comparative poverty. Abraham Axtell,
we may be satisfied, was a thriving man. For all
we know to the contrary Rebecca was an only
daughter. The marriage was a happy one. So
thoroughly indeed does Daniel feel to take root in his
new surroundings, that the first male shoot on his

A TRANSPLANTING OF THE FAMILY TREE. 419
family branch is not naraed John but Axtell. True
his brother John was still living and still unmarried,
and he may have looked to hira to perpetuate the
honoured narae of John Roberts. As it happens
Daniel has no other son, so that the next John
Roberts does not appear until the next generation.
Axtell Roberts is born on the 9th of Nov-
eraber, 1686. On the 9th of February, 1688,
a daughter who is naraed Lydia is added to the
faraily. But not long after, the register has to have
entered upon it the death of their raother Rebecca
Roberts. On the 5th of August, 1691, Daniel proposes to
marry again, this time, at " Rygate in Surry," to
Elizabeth Blatt, of that town. A certificate "liberating
him " to do so, as being free frora any other
engageraents, is signed at the above date by about
twenty Friends, including again Thomas Ellwood
and John Penington. The marriage duly takes
place — the birth of three more daughters being the
result. The eldest, Elizabeth, died a spinster, the
next one — naraed after her father's deceased first wife
— Rebecca, raarried Thomas Mildred, and the
third, Sarah, who became the wife of Richard
Chester, bore, we may conclude, the Christian name
of Abraham Axtell's wife. It is of interest to note
that we may find proof, if we needed it, of Daniel's
affection for his first wife by his naming one of
the daughters by his second after her. And

420 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
the absence of jealousy on the part of this second
wife, and evident syrapathy with her husband, are
very pleasant traits of character.
Of Daniel's two younger daughters we know
nothing more of raoraent ; but Elizabeth is of
interest as being the transcriber of the raajor
portion of her father's narrative. She took up her
pen in the raiddle of a conversation with the
Bishop, where that worthy puts the question to
John Roberts — "Do you own but one Baptism?" —
and continues to the end. There are intervals inter
spersed, every now and then, showing that the
raanuscript has been laid aside and taken up again,
and a fresh pen raade use of ; but the hand
writing is the same. It is a distinct, compact style,
less rounded than her father's, less diffuse than as
he laid down his pen — when he appears to have
grown weary — but it bristles raore with abbreviations,
and is devoid of all those little fiourishes that the
caligraphic bent in the soul of Daniel loved. But
if written frora dictation, as it appears to have
been, it is singularly regular and remarkably free
from inadvertencies. The impression rests on the
reader's mind, especially perhaps when he reraera-
bers that the writer reraained unraarried, that it
was possibly better so. It is easy to fancy that
the writing looks old-maidish. But at least, in that
case, Elizabeth Roberts was a useful old-maid, and
has left us a subject for lasting gratitude. She

A TRANSPLANTING OF THE FAMILY TREE. 42 1
seems to have been devoted to her father — as he
had been to his.
The more than forty years that Daniel Roberts
passed at Chesham have left little record behind.
He was a minister among the Friends, as we know,
" in good esteem," though there is no intimation
of any kind that he ever " travelled in the ministry."
He took, latterly, a very active part in the business
of his Meeting — the district known as " Upper-Side "
— as shown by the frequent appearance of his
name among minutes and on certificates and other
documents. Business, of itself, must have occasionally taken
him to Siddington ; for, on the death of his brother
Nathaniel, the estate came in full to him. A copy
of a letter is extant in which some ;^40, owing by
one Benjamin Sparkes to the estate of Nathaniel,
is arranged to be given to the children of John
Harding, "if they walked orderly" and "kept a mongst
Friends." The letter is addressed to " Edmond
Sraith." None of these names, however, are among
those raentioned during the period of persecution
in the district ; nor are those of Williara Worm,
Joseph Welch, and William Hinton, which are enu
merated towards the letter's close.
Equal lack of information, with the first, at
tended Daniel Roberts's second marriage, as far as
the records at this remote date reveal. The Yearly
Meetings of the Friends in London had begun

422 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
some tirae before 1691 ; and what raore probable
than that Daniel had seen the attractive face of
Elizabeth Blatt at one of these gatherings ? Those
were the days when the more sedate women still
wore their hoods ; indeed, there had been a revival of
the fashion just at that time, though the straw
hats were the raore usual wear, as indicated by
their being mentioned when the women's hats were
torn oft' their heads by persecutors. As yet, how
ever, the " coal-scuttle " bonnet was not. It came
into fashion early in the eighteenth century, but
was not generally adopted by the Quakers until
long after. It was some fifty years becoming the
uniform wear of the Quaker ladies ; and then it
remained fixed for so long a period that it was
known — and is known to this day — as " the Quaker
bonnet." The manuscript of the Memoir -was, written in 1725.
The evidence rather points to its production being an
effort of memory on Daniel's part at the time, rather
than to his being in possession of any voluminous notes.
Those were the days of better memories probably.
Moreover the chief events had occurred at a very recep
tive period of his life ; and he had been wont to recount
them again and again. The closest examination shows
their accuracy as a whole ; and even the conversa
tions must have been well preserved.
Nor was it merely the words of the history that
were engraven on Daniel Roberts's raeraory. He

A TRANSPLANTING OF THE FAMILY TREE. 423
saw the scenes vividly in his mind's eye, as he
lived the incidents over and over again. And
herein lies the secret of the reafism of his
narrative. After his settlement in Chesham we raay infer
that the world went well with him. It was not a
large town by any raeans ; but it was a superior
district ; and our Friend's shop was doubtless well
known to all the "Woraen Friends" for raany railes
round. Death came to hira peacefully in his 68th year.
He died on the i6th of February, 1726, and was
buried in the " Friends' burieng ground," Chesham, on
the 20th of the sarae month. A brief " Testimony "
has been left by his Meeting to his worth, and
another is found in a volurae of a Quaker work
entitled. Piety Promoted, which is devoted to
similar notices. The latter speaks of him as " an
ancient Friend of Chesham in the county of Bucks,"
— and, after reference to his father and his " con-
vinceraent " by Richard Farnsworth, gives us these
particulars about Daniel hiraself : — " This our worthy
friend was one whom in his early age the Lord
was pleased to call into his vineyard, and committed
a dispensation of the gospel to hira ; in the exer
cise of which he was often made an instrument of
edification and comfort, and by his labour therein
some were convinced before his removal to Chesham ;
and he not only had to do but to suffer for his

424 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
testimony, being imprisoned in Gloucester Castle
about two years, till discharged about the year
1684. " After his settlement at Chesham, great was his
care to show forth an exemplary conversation of a
meek and peaceable spirit ; seeking the peace and
unity of the Church ; being often opened in tender
Counsel to the weak, yet steady in his zeal against
every appearance of Evil. In his family a loving
husband, a tender father, and a kind master ; to
his neighbours courteous and kind, his honest and
innocent conversation raising an honourable esteem
for him.
" In his last illness he appeared to be in a
sweet frarae of mind, much to the comfort of some
friends who visited hira, and gave them good cause
to believe he died in peace with the Lord and
entered into rest."
The Testimony of " Upper-Side Monthly Meeting "
is to the same effect but less full. It notes that
he lived in it " about forty-two years," and mentions
that " his infirmities of body were such as rendered
him incapable of performing his usual service in the
ministry for above 12 months before his decease."
His son Axtell thus supplements the above Testi
mony : — " Concerning my dear deceased father, Daniel
Roberts, being chiefly a memorial of his Christian
labours during his residence at Chesham, I was
willing to add . . . there are divers still living in

A TRANSPLANTING OF THE FAMILY TREE. 425
Cirencester aforesaid, and parts adjacent, who can set
to their seals, that by his fervent labours and constant
and patient suffering ... he was raade instru-
raental for their conversion and encourageraent. I
shall only add farther that ever since I was capable
to remember it, his whole life has been one con
tinued series of practical conformity to the precepts
of Christianity. He, by a steady application of his
mind to the dictates of divine grace, becarae a
proficient in the school of Christ, and was to us —
his children — a pattern of humility. Love, Patience,
Self-denyal, and those other christian virtues which
are the neccessary qualifications of a disciple of Christ
— ready on all occasions to succour the distressed
both in body or mind."
His daughter Elizabeth thus writes : — " On a
First-day, the 13th of the loth month, 1724, my dear
father appeared to have a more than usual weight
on his spirit, from a desire that we raight becorae
as clay in the potter's hand, and in all things obedient
to the divine requireings. After many exhortations
he concluded nearly as follows : — ' If in this service
thou wantest strength, wisdom, or understanding,
ask of the Lord in faith and He wiU give it thee ;
but if thou art disobedient He will be as a swift
witness against thee, and when thou caUest He will
not answer, when thou criest He will not hear, but
will laugh at thy calamity, and mock when thy fear
coraeth. This indeed were a dreadful state. I pray

426 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
God it raay never be the experience of any present ;
give up, therefore, every darling object for the Lord's
sake, and think nothing too near or too dear to part
with for the Kingdora of Heaven.'
"Another tirae, on a simUar occasion, he was
rauch affected under a sense of the different
hardships and difficulties which our faithful fore
fathers and elders had laboured through in the first
breaking forth of their religious profession, with a
desire that, as a way had been paved for us of a
younger generation, we might not take our fiight in
a day of outward rest and liberty ; nor like Esau,
part with a blessing for that which is of small
value, for that, if we did, we might seek it again
with tears and not find it. He added that he
thought the Lord would bring a winnowing day,
in which He would separate the sheep from the
goats, the faithful frora the unfaithful, but that,
while the hypocrites would be scattered, He would
through all their trials preserve His people.
" My dear father was taken with his last illness
about ten at night. Before I reached his charaber
he had becorae speechless, and soon after fell
asleep. He continued this, with little interraission,
unless interrupted by medical assistance, apparently
free from pain, and with a very pleasant counten
ance, till he quietly passed away frora this trouble
sorae world to his eternal rest through the mercies
of Him whora he defighted in and served. He

A TRANSPLANTING OF THE FAMILY TREE. 427
departed a little after three in the morning on
Fifth-day, the i6th of the 12th month [February],
1726-7." As this is written by " Efiz. Roberts, Jun.," it is
to be inferred that Daniel's second wife survived
him. The style has evidently been modernized by
some later hand, and the narration condensed.
It is noteworthy how the old-world phraseology,
like their styles of costume and speech, lingered
among the Friends. And as their dress became by
slow degrees modified, so also did their speech and
literature. Some of the phrases and words employed
in George Fox's day are still in use by thera — often in
a sense that is now obsolete. " Ancient " was long
used where now we say "old," and "weighty" is
still eraployed to iraply sound sense and judgraent,
the usual phrase being " a weighty Friend." The
expression has nothing to do with physical weight.
Many other instances raight be given. They
abound in the letter of Elizabeth Roberts just
quoted. Why, for instance, does she call it a
" troublesome world " ? If we may judge by
inference, life had passed smoothly for her — unless
indeed it was to some unrecorded trouble that her
spinsterhood was due !
As we turn, in fancy, with the mourners from
the little Quaker grave-yard in Chesham, where
Daniel Roberts was laid to rest, even those of us
who are only the readers of his narrative, and are

428 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
not of his kith and kin, must remember him very
lovingly, as, but for hira, his father's eventful history,
with all the . pleasure its perusal can bestow, and
the good its lessons may be able to accomplish,
would have died with our friend John.

CHAPTER XI.
life's FADING LEAVES.
THE family of the Roberts begins now so to
widen out that we can do little other than
keep close to the main line to the end.
Axtell Roberts was Daniel Roberts's only son,
and by his first wife. As has been mentioned, he
turned to Gloucestershire when he married, finding
a wife among the Lovedays of Painswick, as his sister
Lydia had already found a husband. The former
was married at Painswick on the 15th of May,
1712, to Hannah, the daughter of Thomas and
Sarah Loveday ; and the Tatter to their son John
Loveday at Chesham, November 9th, 1710.
Hannah Loveday had been her father's favourite
daughter, as the following letter of hers shows : —
" My clear father was. taken wth a fainting fit
the 28th of Sep., 1725. When his dear wife and
children were standing round his bed weeping, he
told us that if he had swooned quite away he
thought he should have come again ; but if he
had not he was well satisfied as to his well being,
and signified he had done his day's work and
could be no longer servicable in his family. He

430 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
desired us to submit to ye Will of God and give
him up ; for yt it had been raany tiraes of late
— even in a state of Health — his ernest desire his
days here raight be few ; and desired rae to goe to
bed and be content, for all was well.
" Next day, as my dear father lay on a Couch,
he and I was, as it were, taking a finall farewefi of
each other, beleiving we should never see one
another in this world again. He told me he
hed little lay on his conscience ; he desired the
Lord to bless me, and hoped we should meet again,
never more to part.
" He gave a great deel of good advice to ray
sister, and desired the Lord raight bless us. My
sister replyed she desired only to walk in his foot
steps. His ansr was, he could say wth ye Apostle
Paul, he could accuse hiraself of nothing, yet ara
I not thereby justified, but it's ye Lord jl judgeth
rae. "A relation (who was not a Friend) came to
see him, and desired ye Lord might be his com
fort ; he answered, ' He is my comforter, and doth
comfort me in yt he gives rae patience to bear
these extreera pains.'
" He asked a friend, standing by his bed side,
if he had not told him were he would have his
grave made. He told him he had. He again told
him he desired he might not dig too near ye Coffins
of his frds, but rather dig it in another place.

LIFE S FADING LEAVES. 43I
"When he had done speaking concerning his grave,
seeing rae sit by his bed-side, he look't upon rae,
and desired rae to write to Chesham and remem
ber his dear love to all his children and grand
children, for yt he loved all alike, wth his own,
and desired we might live in love together ; but,
taking rae by the hand, he said, ' Thee hast been
a tender, dutifuU child to rae, and, if any, I do love
thee the best, for many times I have thought
there has been a raore nearness in spirit betwixt
us then ye rest. And I desire the Lord's blessing
for thee, and yt dear child Johnny. Thee must
take great care how thee lets him know of my
death ; for to tell him hastily, his tender age will
not bear it — for there was great love betwixt us.'
" He much desired patience to bear his pains,
wch were extreera ; and ye Lord ansrd his
desire in a wonderfuU raanner. But he was much
concerned if he saw us greive, and would say, ' Be
content, all is well. Why should you greive seeing
it is what I so much desire — to goe?'
" That morning, before he departed, he told a
frd by him he was going to his long home ; and
lay on ye 5th of October from about nine a'clock
in ye morning till three in ye afternoon, as it
were free from all pain, in a sweet sleep, and so
departed wthout a sigh or groan, and is at rest
wth ye Lord."
A son of the "Johnny" raentioned in this little

432 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
memoir, writing in 1790, tells us, in continuation of
the foregoing, that, " He [Thomas Loveday] was
buried the 9th of October, 1725, in the burial
ground at The Dell at Painswick, in the 72nd
year of his age," and that " Sarah, his widow, and
mother of Hannah Roberts — (who wrote the pre
ceding letter) — departed this life on the i6th of
December, 1732, at the loth hour in the raorning,
after having lain sweetly sleeping three days, and
died without sigh or groan, and was buried at
Cirencester on the 20th of Deceraber."
It was a long way to go for a wife at that
period, from Chesham to Painswick ; but it would
appear that Hannah Loveday was well worth going
for. And as we read in the old faded manuscript,
from which the foregoing matter has been copied,
the simple story of the poor suffering father's thought
fulness for all belonging to hira, in his excruciating
agony — in which disease has been the persecutor and
death becoraes his deliverer — the strong affection that
lingered in the heart of Axtell and his wife, and
after hira for generations with his descendants, for
that Painswick home becomes quite intelligible.
As, therefore, for raany a year to come, the
real interest of the story centres in the pleasant
little Gloucestershire town in the Stroud 'Valley, it may
be as well to make its acquaintance more intimately.
A glirapse of it, as it was towards the conclusion
of this period, will enable us to do so.

life's FADING LEAVES. 435
It is situated some six miles from the city of
Gloucester, in a south-easterly direction on a rising
ground called Spoonbed Hill, at the foot of which
runs a sraall streara that is a branch of the Stroud.
At the beginning of the century it had fittle over
3,000 inhabitants, and sorae 620 houses. It is
described as being very irregularly built, but as
containing a few good houses belonging to the
principal raanufacturers. We may hope that they
and their employees prospered, for they were not
lightly taxed. The little township had considerably
over ;^i,ooo to raise, and was rated at eight shillings
in the pound. Its manufactures then consisted of
fine woollen cloth, " in which," we are told, " not
only the inhabitants but those of the whole neigh
bourhood are eraployed." It raay be in relation to
this raanufacturing that a curious custora prevailing
in that part of the country is mentioned. " A wife,"
we are informed, " has right to her free bench
during life on payraent of one penny." Did not
the chronicler give us this information quite away
from his notice of the church, we might have
supposed that it referred to a sitting there.
The church, it raust be said, is noteworthy — a
soraewhat imposing " steeple-house " — for it is large
and has a very lofty spire, " and possesses some
singular grotesque ornaments." There was, and raay
be stiU, on the surarait of Spoonbed HiU " an
^.ncient fortification, doubly intrenched, caUed Kims-

436 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
bury Castle, King's Barrow, and Castle Godwin. In the
time of Edward the Confessor it appears to have been
occupied by Earl Godwin during the insurrection caused
by the expulsion of foreigners ; it was also occupied
by the Royalist Army after the siege of Gloucester."
Martin, writing in 1758, of the adjoining Stroud
Valley, says, " No part of Gloucestershire wears
a more agreeable Aspect that this about Stroud-
Water. From the Borders of the Hills (under which,
upon the Streams in the small 'Vallies, the Manu
facturers have their Dwellings) there appear delightful
Prospects of several 'Villages, forming, as it were,
one Town, in a straggling "View, intermixed with
scarlet Cloths, upon the Racks or Tenters, which
agreeably varrigates the View, and give the more
Pleasure to a Lover of his Country, and to a
benevolent Mind, as they are the Produce of
Industry, the only Support of a trading Country."
The finest wool for the finest cloths came frora
the district round Cheshara. Caraden, speaking of
that, says, " The rich meadows feed an incredible
number of sheep, whose soft and fine fleeces are
sought after, even frora Asia itself." So that the
supposition is open to us that it may have been
one of the Lovedays who first went to Chesham
instead of an Axtell to Painswick, and that Daniel
raay have accompanied hira. The need to go to
Cheshara to buy wool raay have been more urgent
than to go to Painswick to buy cloths.

life's FADING LEAVES. 437
Axtell Roberts is described in the marriage
register as a " draper," which probably implies that
the business was increased by the addition of a
greater variety of goods than properly belonged to
a " mercer." Linen was at that time a soraewhat
expensive article, and the Dutch raake in the
greatest repute. So that as in the greater centres
the exclusive dealers in silks were silk-mercers, so
those who dealt mainly or exclusively in linens were
linen-drapers. A raercer, of course, was originally
raerely a merchant ; and a draper, as the derivation
of the word implies, one concerned in cloths ; though
probably the term had as much connection with
the arranging of the clothing as with the materials
themselves. At the period when Axtell fiourished as a draper
in Chesham the consumption of the goods purveyed
in his trade was great. It was not merely that
raany dresses were worn, and of raore expensive
stuffs — largely foreign — but that the size of these
dresses was so greatly increased by the prevailing
fashion of hoops. Of course it was " the quality "
who chiefly indulged in these extravagancies, but
the rest of the feminine world foUowed as best
they could, with some exceptions, of which the
Friends were still conspicuously one. For an M.P. of
the time, previously quoted, says, " If sorae little Singu
larity in their Forras may occasion Witles Drollery
on their Persons, wise Men wiU excuse them frora

438 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
the good Effects even of their raost rigid Institutions.
For by this Means they preserve a Modesty of
Apparel amongst their People, which no sumptuary
Laws that have been raade in England could
produce amongst us ; and a Purity of Manners
which shews our Reforming Societies to be as dis-
picable as they are Useless, or Worse." Mr. Salmon,
writing a little earlier (in 1731) of the people of
means generally, tells us : — " About the time Queen
Anne's Statue was erected in the Front of St.
Paul's, the Women's Coats begun to advance to a
vast Circumference ; first Quilted Coats upon Quilted
Coats, and then Hoops of the Form and Size of
Bow-Bell, and their outward Coats proportionately
large ; insomuch that the Mercers found it necessary
to increase their Stocks, and we begun to be appre
hensive that our Houses as well as our Coaches
raust be enlarged to adrait a Lady of Fashion ; and
a Seat in a Church, which wou'd hold a Dozen
before, wou'd scarce contain two of these well-
dressed Ladies." And then he goes on, after a few
further details, to irapress the actuality of his
narration upon us. Says he : — " I believe it will be
necessary to caution Posterity here, that I am not
speaking by way of Figure, but, as an Historian,
say no more than what is literally true."
Going on to chronicle, in an interesting and
humorous way, the male and female costumes of
the period, he comes at length to deal with wigs;

life's FADING LEAVES. 439
and here, perhaps, he gives some little information
to the Quakers of to-day that may be new to
many of them. Few realize that at one time some
of the leading raembers of the body wore them.
But it is not merely our author, who, in speaking
of perukes, says, "The Clergy stood out a great
while against them, the Dissenters still longer, and
the Quakers till very lately," for we find William
Penn writing from England to his steward in 1685,
to allow his deputy-governor in Pennsylvania the use
of his wigs in his absence ; and in a letter from
a Quaker in Araerica to a London correspondent,
he thus instructs him, " I want for rayself and three
sons, each a wig — light, good bobs." Jacob Post,
who quotes this, says, '' In those early days wigs
were generally worn by gentleraen," and adds, "even
members of the Society of Friends, who profess to
exclude all superfluities, adopted this mode of head
dress so essentially useless ! " When we see how,
frora at first a new fashion in the earlier part of
last century, the " Coal-scuttle " bonnet gradually
won its way into general use among the Friends,
and then so long remained with them, it would not
have been great matter of surprise if the wig had
thus struggled into general use among the Society
and its use lingered to this generation. For the
"Coal-scuttle" was expensive, very liable to injury,
as awkward — if the comparison may be pardoned —
as blinkers to a hOrse, and, except for a certain

440 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
picturesqueness when raade of a colour and size to
suit the face of the wearer and to harmonize with
her other dove-like costume, it had absolutely
nothing to recomraend it in itself. The elderly
Friends might appreciate it for its associations.
But even to the " Friendesses, " as an Italian
Count caUs them (in 1833 when visiting Elizabeth
Fry and her husband), in his effort to be respect
ful — even to these excellent and often affectionate
woraen they were awkward. It was a standing
joke among the Quaker boys at school, and an
endless source of wonderment to them, how incon
venient it must be for two " Women Friends, "
buried in these bonnets, to kiss each other, and
how, indeed, they managed it !
But the winding and unwinding of this little
panorama of Quaker life necessitates that, as it
moves, one figure should disappear that another may
occupy the view. And before Axtell Roberts and
his period pass awa^- to make room for the next,
it is desirable to quote a letter or two belonging
to this period, that are of interest, archseologically,
as well as in relation, raore or less close, to the
subject of our history. It is believed they have
never yet been published.
The first, bearing date "Ye 20th of 7 mo.
1699," is written from Coulsdon in Surrey. It is
an exquisite piece of penmanship, in the sort of
engrossing hand in use then and for raany years,

LIFE S FADING LEAVES. 44I
and is as legible as if printed. Whether the
acquaintance between the famifies concerned in it was
merely one of friendship, or whether they were
connected by marriage in any way, does not
appear in it, nor is it known from other sources.
If there was already any family connection, raore
or less reraote, as seeras possible, this raight have
led in some way to Daniel's going to Reigate, or at
any rate to his making the acquaintance of Elizabeth
Blatt. It is interesting to know that her age at the
time was twenty- two.* This is the letter : —
"Worthy Friend, D R
" I have long waighted to hear of thee and
thyne. Who are often in my mind, and tho
my unhappy ness is so great as to be deprived
of ye injoyment of your good company, yt let me
begg the favour not to be quit forgot by you,
and ye way to let me know I ara not is to aford
me a few lines, wch would be extreera wellcome
at any tirae, tho : the obligation I confess is on
my part, therefore shall acount the returns as the
greater favour.
" De frd, in the Remeraberance of yt sweet
» Ann Owen was the only child of Nathaniel and Ann Owen, who were
married at the house of John Blatt, at Reigate, in 1676. She was born in 1677, and
married, at Reigate, in 1713, Thomas Belch, of London. Her friend Daniel Roberts
was present at the wedding. She died in 1743. The Owen family had joined the
Friends at their rise, and was, says J. J. Green, of Tunbridge Wells, a descendant
of the Owen family, "indirectly connected by marriage with the families of
Penn, Fox, and Barclay."

442 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
opertunity that we had when I was last wth thee
cant but leave earnest desiers to ye Lord to aford
us raore, for it is a doubel injoyrat where frds
raeets, and ye Lord's presence is wth thera in ye
unitey of there spirits, where in I desier we may
ever be keept in that nearness of spirit as we have
witnessed of hetherto. And in ye retiredness of my
raind it often coraes before me of thy good prayers
to ye Lord on ray behalf that I might be pre
served and keept faithfull to ye end of my days.
And, kind frd, as it is our lot to be deprived of
ye injoyrat of each others conversation, yt let rae
beg of yee to reraeraber rae in thy near aproches
to ye great god of heaven, that he would still
Look down upon me and direct me in all ray
undertaking, that I raay act nothing but what will
be to his honour and ray one [own] comfort.
" Oh that thou wast but senciable how much I
Long for some of thy corapany. I have so good
an opinion of yee as to think thee woulds endevour
to aford me more then I have had latly, for true
bosom frds are realy very scarce to find. I ara
now very lonly, for ray fathe and raothe are both
at Reygat, and have been much there this severall
weeks, and great part of our goods are gon, and
I expect that in a lettel time yt we shall all go ;
and before that hurry, raade use of this opertunity
to send yee a few lines, desiering thee to except of
thera in the sincerrity of that love yt is unchainable,

life's fading leaves. 443
in wch I desier thee to give ray De Love to thy
wife and Lettel ones, hoping thee wilt except of the
same from me, who lives in hops of seeing you
at Reigat before it be very long, and In the mean
time shall "Rest thy ever oblidged and most Constant
"Friend to Searve thee or thyne,
" Ann Owen.
"Pleas to give ray Respects to Mary and Jacob.''
Between the writing of this letter and the copy of
John Roberts's letter from gaol, and also the penman
ship of the latter portion of the Memoir, there are
certain points of general resemblance in the matter
of the caligraphy — though Ann Owen has the
advantage over Elizabeth Roberts in that respect —
which lead to the inference that as girls they had
been taught writing by the same raaster. Mary
and Jacob are names unknbwn to us in connection
with our Cheshara friends, but the farailiar way
they are spoken of iraplies close intiraacy.
The next letter in date carries us back to the
Memoir, introducing a name we are familiar with
there. Amariah Drewett was alike a friend and fellow
sufferer of John Roberts's ; and this letter is from
his widow, Mary Drewett. Her husband had suffered
much persecution both by heavy finings and im
prisonraents. Frequently fiis house was broken open
and his goods distrained. He died, however, calmly

444 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
in his bed on the 25th of September, 1687, in his
sixtieth year. Theophila Townsend writes of him : —
" He stood in his Testimony steadfast, and was
bold for the holy Truth, notwithstanding all the
rage and fury of our persecutors." Mary Drevirett
was his second wife. At the tirae he raarried her
she was a widow with several children, but he
proved a good stepfather ; for she writes of hira : —
"He was a tender husband, and a father to ray
children which I had by a forraer husband."
This raarriage took place on the 28th of April,
168 1 ; Mary's narae previously being Timbrel. Her
letter was addressed to Daniel Roberts.
" Ye 2d of the 12th mo., 1709-10."
" Dear Freind D. R.,
" by this thou may know I rescieved thy tender
Lins : and I hade right to thee befor this time
but hath been very 111. " I was taken with Coald fitts
in the night sason, and after it settelled in my
Lims so that it brought mee very weak that I
Could hardly get into my bed without help : but
the Lord was good to me and gave me pactions
to bare till it placesed hira to remove it in part
and gave me strenth in mesure againe to help
ray self, which I desire to value, and to bee thank-
full. It is a grat priviLedg from the Lord that
in a time of weaknes and Exsociess, that the
Lord hass made us sencabell wher to retire to

life's FADING LEAVES. 445
feell a stay to our minds, which I desire wee raay
be presarved near to it.
" and Dear Danell ray desire is wee may allways
remeraber our furst Love wherein the Lord visited us,
that wee may feell the renewings and fresh visitations
of it, which aLone Can presarve us near to himself
and in this wee shall be near to Each other in that
Love which is beyound words. I cannot InLarg. The
wether is Could for mee to right. Friends here
are generally prety weell as to thair helth, all but
pore Mary Worme, who, by a fauU in the street,
brock som splinter bone in her Ankly, and put
out her Ankly bon, that she was brought hom in
a Chaire. Church set it. She keept her Chamber
and bed about a month, but now she is prety weell
recovered, that she Can get doune stairs, allthough
she Cannot stand, nor goe rauch upon it. I thought
at on tira it would have Caried her of. She
was . . with such fainting fitts ; but I did not find
but that she was given up in the will of the
Lord, if he was plaesed to take her away. Her
Dear Love, with her husband and daughter, is to
thee and wif and all the Childern. Richard Hows
desirs the same : Few Freinds knows of ray
righting. I have not been much out this month
by reson of my lines. Brother and sister
Tounsend hath thair dear Love to thee and Wif
and Childern aU. He is but IU with a Could. I
must now ConClud with my owne indeared Love

446 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
to thy self and wif and Axl and Lidia and all
the rest of thy Childern, and should be glad to
see thy wif with thy self and Lidia and Axl. I
hope when the wether is warmer way will be
mad for your Coming and Bety, Rebeca and
Litall Sarah. I shall be glad to see them all if
way Could be raad for it.
" sister would desire thee to send her 12 papers
of powder the furst opertunity.
" so shall bid thee now farweell, and rest thy
Freind,
" Mary Drewett."
The sheet is torn in the left hand bottom
corner unfortunately, or it might have added some
important item of inforraation. It looks — the few
words left, or partly left — as if the first line ended
with "  Rescieved," the second with " — iers
for Painsweek" (? carriers), and the third "this week,"
whUe the raessage ends with " thay are pretty weell,"
unless there was another line wholly torn off.
Before reproducing other letters of interest from
the Roberts MSS., we must travel on a little.
Axtell continues to five at Cheshara until his death
in 1759, and he is buried in the little grave-yard
there. He too has prospered ; so much so, that,
with the help of two more progressive marriages,
his son — John the Fourth — is able to exchange
the occupation of a draper for that of a merchant.

LIFE S FADING LEAVES. 447
Both these marriages occur before AxteU's death.
The first is on the 12th of March, 1740, and is
to " Mary, daughter and heiress of Thomas OUiffe,
of High Wicombe in the county Bucks," so the
pedigree tells us. She, however, dies childless. The
second is on the 5th of May, 1748, at Bristol,
and is to Amelia Daniel, a daughter of Thoraas
Daniel. Thoraas Daniel, it appears, raarried twice,
but Araelia was by his first wife, who, the said
pedigree tells us, was " Sarah, daughter and heiress
of Thomas Oade, Gent.," also of Bristol. John
Roberts with this abandons the drapery and becomes
a raerchant of that city. It is not so stated, but
the presumption is that he either joins or succeeds
his father-in-law in his business. His wife presents
hira with two sons, Daniel and John — John the
Fifth — and one daughter, Lydia, who was raarried
at Reading, on the 27th of Sept., 1786, to Joseph
Davis, a son of Joseph and Hannah Davis. This
seeras to be the connection between the two families
of Roberts and Davis.
Axtell Roberts had also one daughter, Mary. She
married Williara Barr ; but, otherwise, no particulars
are given.
The pedigree carefully notes that it was in the
2ist of George II, 1748, that John Roberts reraoved
to Bristol, but otherwise furnishes no clue to why
this prorainence is given to that circumstance, the
surmise being either that he may have purchased

448 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
the freedora of the city of Bristol then, or that
the specification of the period raay have been
found attached to sorae other unraentioned document
of importance. In 1761, however, he reraoves to London to
carry on his mercantile operations on a more
extended scale. All goes well for a time, until the
American Revolution. With America he has had
large dealings, but now all is changed, and he,
with many others, sustains imraense losses in con
sequence. He takes it, we have reason to suppose,
rauch to heart, and retires to the quiet little town
of his boyhood and early raanhood to die araong
his friends. We raay infer as rauch, for it is
there that he is buried in 1782, on the 13th of
January. His father-in-law, Thomas Daniel, the date
of whose birth is given as 1698, had died in 1761,
being buried the 29th of October. As John reraoved
to London " about " the sarae year, it would point
to sorae connection between that circumstance and
his father-in-law's death.
John's son Daniel succeeded him as a raerchant
in London. He had raarried, in 1778, " Ann,
daughter of Jonah Thorapson, of Nether Compton, in
the County of Dorset, Schoolmaster." Had his great
grandfather been writing he would have spoken of
those concerned on the bride's side by his familiar
phrase " of good family," and with reason, for
Ann's father was the son of Isaac Thompson, of

life's FADING LEAVES.

449

Penrith in Cumberland, an " Esquire, and sometime
High Sheriff for the County," by his first wife,
Hannah Lawson, a daughter of Thomas Lawson,
" forraerly of Raraside, in Lancashire, Clerk, an able
botanist and Scholar." Jonah Thompson left Cum
berland seven years before* his marriage in 1735
to Mary Beaton, daughter of Samuel Beaton, of
Nether Compton, Dorset, where he resided after his
marriage, and where he died in 1780. Besides their
daughter Ann, Jonah and Mary Thorapson had two
boys : John, the elder, born in 1744, who died in
Philadelphia in 1819 ; and Thomas, who succeeded
his father at Nether Compton, and who was born
in 1746, and died in 1827.
Daniel's business, though crippled, was not ex
tinguished. Possibly some measure of prosperity
returns to him as a reward of the business energy
and acumen which characterized the family, for about
1809, or a little earlier, he would seera to have re
moved from Fenchurch Street, London, where he
and his mother had resided, to the beloved Pains
wick — becoming a meraber of the Nailsworth Monthly
Meeting of the Friends. His mother died there on
the 30th of March, 1809, at the age of eighty-one, her
son's death occurring not many days after. He,
too, was buried at Painswick, on the 9th of April,
1809. It is a curious circumstance, but again and
again this date — the 9th of April — crops up in con
nection with this family.

45° MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Like his ancestor, this Daniel Roberts had literary
proclivities. He was the author of two or three books
and pamphlets of passing interest. The subjects
that chiefly exercised his pen were matters con
nected with Joanna Southcott and her followers,
and respecting some Friend who had incurred dis
ownment from the Society on account of his
joining the former body.

CHAPTER XII.
" LIKE A TALE THAT IS TOLD."
THE scene changes in the next generation to
the Temple, and the John Roberts of the
family — John the Sixth — has assuraed the profession
of the Law. But ere we follow hira into the pre
cincts of Purap-court there are letters requiring our
attention. The first takes us back to Cirencester, but also
to the Lovedays ; for the writer had been one of
that family before her marriage to a Hinton. She
was the sister of the John Loveday who espoused
Lydia Loveday, nee Roberts, and consequently was
"Quaker Cousin" of Axtell Roberts. She was
writing to her brother, but firstly and chiefly to
her sister-in-law, so she indited two letters on one
sheet, and then inscribed " To John Loveday, at
Chesham, Bucks " — where he resided — putting " For
L.L." in the corner. The letters it wiU be seen
are written Deceraber ist, but the Cirencester post
mark is only for " 4 DE." Those days were not as
these. 451

452 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
" Cirencester, Decembr ist, 1746.
" Dear Sister,
" The Letters I have wrote since ye receipt of
thine haveing been on business, I had not oppor
tunity to give thee my sentimts thereon. I am
sorry to find thee art disappointed of Wintering
in thy new Habitation. And on ye other hand ye
thoughts and perplexities raay be equally ye same
to J.R. In consideration of a secret thou was
pleased to favour me wth (wn. at Chesham), viz.
ye request of a certain Person (after ye loss of
Poor Molly) yt he would not engage hiraself wth
out his knowledge, also giveing sorae intimation of
a fresh settlemt for him agn ; now if he has any
inclination yt way I think we can't much blame
him for not being hasty in removing, whn probably
he has sorae prospect of doeing ye same trouble
some work over again. But yt I wU assure thee
I have kept an intire secret. I never raentioned
anything touching or raoving towards any such
affairs to him or he to me, and yt is but barely
ray own private opinion. As to other affairs I agn
entreat thee not to trouble thyself over rauch
abt yra, let 'era not be thy constant raelanchoUy
corapanions, but let ym pass away wth Time
wch cannot be recall'd agn. For ray part I
befieve there's no fair Gourd wth out a Worra pre
pared for it, and but few People wth out a Share

" LIKE A TALE THAT IS TOLD." 453
of afflictions, wch seems to be ye common Lot
of Mankind. "Abt 3 weeks ago was sent a Basket of Cheese
by Sheen's Waggon No. lo, of wch we wd desire
yr acceptance, and last 6th Day by ye sarae was
sent a Baskett wch carae from thy Tenant, Mrs.
Cox, wch I presume are Pears, because she sent
some to rae wth a Letter desiring rae to send ye
Basket by ye ist conveniency to thee, but sd
nothing abt paying any Rent. R. Marry was here
lately, sd he had sent a Letter a little before to
you. I am, "Thy"
" Dear Brother, " Thine of 8br 5th, wth ye acct we
receiv'd, and soon after recei'd 10 Packs by Sheen's
Waggon, but took no acct of ye weight of 'em,
and last week reed 4 Packs raore containing 12
Todd each. I have added i Pack more {Vidt) 12
Todd to thy acct, wch makes 181 Todd. Ye
account is as under. The Bill was agn return'd
from Taunton, and according to thy directions I
sent to Fletcher & Surgis with Patten's Letter,
enclosed, wch they returned by ye next Post in a
Letter where in they sd they wd have nothing to
do wth it, as being under ;^20 they think ym
selves secure. I have sent Patten a Copy of
their Letter and now have Filed ye Bill waiting ye

454 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
event of it. Cornelius wth both our dear Loves.
Ye children's dutifuU respects. Yr ever Affte Sisr,
" S. Hinton.
" I have not time to give ye acct as above
proposed. Pray let us hear frora you soon. Our
kind Loves to ray Cousns E. & R."
The Molly we raust suppose was Mary Roberts,
the first wife of AxteU's son John. He had pro
bably lost her sorae little tirae, for he raarried
again in 1748 ; and the little " secret " no doubt had
reference to such an event in the future being
already in prospect.
At an earlier date we find two interesting
entries in the Cirencester register. The first is the
raarriage of Sarah Roberts, daughter of Sarah
Roberts, of Sheepscrote (parish of Painswick), to
Thoraas Hinton, of South Cerney (here spelt Sarney),
at Painswick, June 21st, 1723 ; the second of Marey
Roberts, another daughter of Sarah Roberts, sen., of
Painswick, to Richard Merry, July i6th, 1733 — the
R. Merry that Sarah Hinton mentions in her letter.
And respecting this Sarah Hinton it remains to
add that, becoming a widow, she was raarried on the
19th of July, 1753, to D. E. Bowly, Jun., another
descendant of the sufferers frora the persecution.
The next raanuscript raay be either a copy
of a letter, or siraply intended as a " testiraony."
It has sorae of the raannerisra which often cha
racterized these documents, and one which seemed

" LIKE A TALE THAT IS TOLD." 455
specially to mark the Lovedays — the use of the
phrase " without sigh or groan." The handwriting
is rauch more modern than any of the others ; the
coraposition more flowing. The letter is well written
and well indited. The expression in it "I am
confident in Jesus " seems to mark the period of
Evangelicalism. There is no name of the writer
mentioned, nor of her father, but to the word " Parent "
is a penciUed asterisk referring to the words " Daniel
Roberts ? " also in pencil at the top of the sheet.
In the register there is a death noted at Pains
wick of a Daniel Roberts, who died the 15th
of June, 1811, aged 57, and who was buried at
Painswick on "the 25th of 6th," 1811, and no doubt,
in the little Quaker burial-ground, although it is
mentioned that he was "not a member." The
realism of the writer of the manuscript marks her, who
ever she was, as a person of rauch feeling and refine-
raent of character. Her docuraent runs as follows : —
" The dissorder which terrainated the earthly
career of our beloved and laraented Parent was
an Apoplexy. He was first seized the 2nd of
June between seven and eight in the evening, con
tinued very restless through the night till three in
the following morning, when medical assistance was
called in, and a Physician iraraediately sent for,
who pronounced, when informed the usual remedies
had been unawailingly tried, the case to be an
hopeless one. For three days he continued per-

456 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
fectly insensible, with every symptom of dissolution,
so much so indeed that Dr. Snowdon remarked he
had ' never seen a person nearer death,' when, to
the astonishraent of every one present, his eyes,
which before had been fixed, and dira, gradually
recovered their accustomed brilliancy, his recollec
tion returned, and he faintly expressed a wish to
see all his faraily round hira. On which day, and
repeatedly afterwards, we had the unspeakable
happiness of hearing him express the serenity of
his mind, frequently observing, " O how happy I
am ! ' — ' I ara passing frora this world ! ' — ' I experi
ence great happiness ! ' — ' I ara confident in Jesus ! '
Indeed his countenance often evinced the most
heavenly composure ; the expression that beamed
frora it was inexpressible, it seeraed to be sorae
tiraes alraost raore than huraan ; and often when
engaged in raental prayer (as the oppression of the
disorder frequently rendered hira unable to speak),
after gazing earnestly upwards, he would look
towards his family and smile. It was, indeed, with
great difficulty we were sometimes able to under
stand what he said ; and frequently this was
perfectly impracticable, as his speech was very
much affected ; but the expressions which I have
raentioned were distinctly heard, and rauch — very
rauch — more he endeavoured to say.
" Indeed, independant of those painful emotions
which the thought of parting with a beloved

" LIKE A TALE THAT IS TOLD." 457
Parent raust naturally awaken, it was an happiness
to be with hira, so calra, so happy, and resigned
were the last moments of his existence.
" After an illness of two weeks, without any
apparent change, only continual increase of weak
ness and considerable difficulty of breathing, about
half after two on the i6 the clear object of our
tears calmly resigned his spirit into the Hands of
Him who gave it, without a sigh, a groan, or the
least discoverable motion. And so peacefully did
he glide from this world to a better that one of
ray brothers, who was holding his hand at the
raoraent of dissolution, felt, without designing it,
the last flutter of his pulse."
Before returning to the Temple, the faraily of
the deceased Daniel Roberts raay be enuraerated.
There were three brothers and two sisters. John —
John the Sixth — the eldest brother, was born
Noveraber i8th, 1779 ; Mary Anne, March 30th,
1781 ; Oade, March 4th, 1786 ; Mary, March i8th,
1788 ; and Daniel, again the youngest of a faraily,
October 26th, 1789.
The John Roberts of this generation, as we
have learned, became a lawyer. Why he did not
pursue the avocation of a merchant — and who did
continue that branch of business — has to be
guessed. Daniel, the London merchant, had retired
frora business to Painswick with his aged mother. She

458 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
died in 1809, at which tirae her grandson Oade
would be but 23 years of age, and had her death
iraraediately followed her son's retirement from
business it would have been an early age for him
to hand over the manageraent to Oade. It seeras
very probable that the raercantile business in London
was parted with wholly. There is good reason for
thinking that Oade's tastes, like his sister Mary's,
were literary. He was the editor of one of the
last and best known editions of his ancestor's
Memoir. He collected and copied the faraily
MSS. and deeds. He had at least one elaborate
pedigree prepared and was probably responsible for
another. The former is thus inscribed in conclusion :
" This roll contains the well authenticated pedigrees
of the faraily of Roberts, with paintings, etc., of
coat armour complete, frora deeds and other
docuraents in the possession of Oade Roberts, of
Painswick, July 7th, 1805." Then Oade would have
been but nineteen — a young enthusiast in faraily
records — and with the means to gratify his enthusiasm.
John the Sixth pursues life with his books, his
folios, and his parchments, amid the legal cloisters
off Fleet Street until his death in 1850. A raem-
ber of the family, now living, says, " I can just
recollect calling upon hira in the Inner Teraple,
but cannot recall his personality."
Oade Roberts had been so named after his
somewhat distant relative, Thomas Oade, of Bristol

" LIKE A TALE THAT IS TOLD." 459
and Winterbourne (and formerly of London), who had
been a man of some importance and of considerable
wealth. Oade died at Painswick on the 29th of
July, 1821, at the age of thirty-five. The pedigrees
were never continued. The emblazoned one on
parchment has upon it the shields of the Roberts,
the Solers, the Tyndales, the AxteUs, the Lovedays,
the Daniels, and the Thompsons, all, as has been
stated, appropriately coloured, and with fuU descrip
tions. The larger and more extended pedigree, on
paper, goes back in point of tirae to the Hunt
of Hunt's Court, Nibley, who, in the reign of
Edward IV, married his daughter Aficia*— and
his sole heiress — to Hugh Tyndale (descendant of
Robert, Baron de Tyndale, of Langley Castle, North
umberland — time of Henry II), whose son John, of
Hunt's Court, was the father of Thomas (time of
Henry VIII), whose son Richard is described as " of
Melksham's court, Stinchcorabe," in the 3rd of Efiza
beth. Through Richard Tyndale's son Richard, who
died in the i8th year of Jaraes I, we come to
Thomas, the father of our John Roberts's wife Lydia.
This Thomas Tyndale died in 1636. He had married
Catherine, sole heiress of one Harris, who had,
himself, been united in marriage, in 1580, to a
Mary Poyntz, whose grandfather, Sir Robert Poyntz,
of Iron Acton, and whose father, his younger son
* This name appears in pencil only on the above-mentioned chart, which is
entitled Tyndale and Roberts, of Gloucestershire, etc., 1460-18x1.

460 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
John, of Alderley, were the ancestors also of Matthew
Poyntz, whose daughter, Jane, became the wife of
Robert Hale, and raother of the great Sir Matthew.
In 1859, the edition of John Roberts, to which
reference has once or twice been made, was
brought out by John Thorapson. In the preface,
he thus states his reason for doing so : —
" The Meraoirs, as originally written by his son,
Daniel Roberts, in 1725, and for sorae years cir
culated in the family and among friends in manuscript,
were first printed without the concurrence of the
faraily of the writer, and some passages altered,
and others omitted. A few years since a manu
script copy in the handwriting of my late relative,
Oade Roberts, a lineal descendant of John Roberts,
was placed in ray hands by one of the faraily
with the request that if another edition should be
called for, I would bring it forward. The following
short preface was affixed to this raanuscript : —
" ' A new impression of the following pages
having been called for, the present editor has taken
the opportunity of revising with the original some
inaccurate extracts contained in forraer editions, all
of which were published without the concurrence
of the family interested. Several omitted passages
and letters have been also restored from the same
authority, which will render the whole a more
regular and connected narrative.' "
Respecting this issue, John BeUows, of Gloucester,

" LIKE A TALE THAT IS TOLD." 461
in explaining why, for the purposes of a new
edition, he has recourse, in preference, to an
earlier one for his " copy," says very justly, " Oade
Roberts smoothed and modernised the style of the
original account, and added some notes, interesting
to an historian but not necessary to a clear under
standing of the narrative itself. Daniel Roberts, who
wrote the original account in 1725, was the son of
John Roberts ; and his language — that of a man
brought up as a plain Cotteswold farmer — although
now somewhat antiquated, is perfectly clear, even to
the simplest reader, and is more natural, as well as
raore in keeping with the tiraes and the events
described, than that of his descendant." Still Oade
Roberts added the two letters of John Roberts which
his edition contains, and somewhat more of the narra
tive from the original manuscript.
Of the last Daniel Roberts of this generation we
have no record, nor have we of his sister Mary
Anne ; but the younger sister, Mary, was a writer of
numerous works on Natural History and other
subjects. One bearing the title of the Sea Side
Companion was illustrated by woodcuts executed
by Baxter, and pubhshed in 1835. Another con
taining some probably imaginary adventures during
the Great Plague, appeared in 1832 under the nom
de plume of Mary de Gleva. The last of her cata
logued works (which numbered 17 in aU, large and
small), appeared without a date, but in 1851 she

462 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
published an octavo book of 400 pages. But
she was as facile with her needle as her pen.
Having, as the relative before mentioned tells us,
" strayed far away from the Quakerisra of her
ancestor" she became fascinated by the mystical
doctrines of Edward Irving, and relinquished the
plainness of her earlier faith for the ornateness of
his Church. Much time and talent she spent in
embroidering the gorgeous vestments of the arch
angels that figured in the imposing ceremonies.
" She was a stately and accomplished lady of the
old school," adds her relative, and when he saw
her, though then venerable in years, she was still
majestic in appearance. We can imagine Death,
when, in 1864, on January 13th, he raade his
inevitable call upon her, touching her as gracefully
as he knows how with his dart, and leading her
to the shades with courteous deference. She never
raarried. She was Mary Roberts to the end. Under
ihe circurastances, and at this length of tirae, we
can wound no feelings, however susceptible, by
revealing that her age at her decease was 76. She
was buried in Brorapton Cemetery.
And, with this imposing figure, the direct line
of the family of John Roberts closes.
Once more, and for the last time, we turn back
to the early Quakerisra and the early Quakers, and
to him whom these pages raost concern. For he
stands an excellent example of the Friend, with

" LIKE A TALE THAT IS TOLD." 463
more of the virtues and fewer of the defects of
the raembers of that body than most ; and yet he
was a God-fearing Quaker first and everything else
afterwards. His consciousness of the Spirit of God
within him, and that that precious possession required
the most loyal and unselfish cherishing, made him
as manly, as Christian. Honouring his belief it
honoured him. He went not about rolling up the
whites of his eyes, and in a nasal tone declaring
himself " a miserable sinner." He did not believe
he was a miserable sinner. He loved his God and
he loved his fellow raen, and to the utraost of his
ability he endeavoured faithfully to serve both ; so
that, even when the victira of persecution, he was
not miserable. The Spirit of God within he trusted
to guide him, and he unswervingly followed its
leadings. The teaching of Christ to His disciples,
" Be ye therefore perfect even as your Father in
Heaven is perfect," John Roberts accepted, fully
and literally, as a comraand to be sought to be
unquestioningly obeyed.
That want of thought, rather than deliberately
evil intent, is responsible for so much of life's
unavoidable ills, ejcperience sadly teaches us, but to
this, as to all else in existence, there is a reverse.
All life's moral, and much of its material progress
comes from active, ¦ forward thought. The germ of
an idea may fall into a man's mind he knows not
how. So subtle is its appearance and development,

464 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
that it seems to him of the nature of an inspira
tion, and may be by hira so regarded. But if it
has fallen on good soil it gerrainates and expands,
and raay becorae, in tirae, a raagnificent growth,
spreading its branches widely, throwing off shoots
abundantly — a grand tree under which generation
after generation raay shelter, and find sweet shade,
or coraforting rest, and pluck frora overhanging
branches fruits that nourish and invigorate.
It raay be true that George Fox did not actually
originate anything. It raay be true that his " open
ings" were only glimpses of growths existing
around him, and that all he did, as a wise
husbandman, was to make selection of these plants
and cultivate and perfect. But if this capacity in its
highest form is not genius, it is something better
than genius frora a working point of view, because
it is practical, because it is so potent a factor in extend
ing the world's happiness — the world's well-being. If
this spirit that stirred in George Fox was, as he avers,
the Spirit of God, it could, as far as our finite
capacity for comprehending goes, scarcely have
shown itself in a raore practically God-like raanner.
By its fruits we may surely know it. And a spirit
that prompted loyalty to God, and its convictions
of God's teachings, to the death if need be, as
the first great article of its creed — a spirit that
taught that all men were truly brothers, all alike
children of the one great Father — a spirit that

" LIKE A TALE THAT IS TOLD." 465
would not, consequently, permit to kiU at aU,
would not allow to wantonly injure at all, would
not do unjustly at aU, but required an en
deavour, in every offering way to do to others,
and those others all men, as they would be done
by — a spirit that specially sought out for sympathy
and help the poor, the suffering, the down-trodden,
the ready-to-perish — a spirit that brought those
pervaded with it, even in all the minute acts of
their daily life, to live as near to their conception of
God as they were able, and that not in a selfish
but in a world-loving way, raust have been of God,
because of none raore worthy than of Hira. And
to say that it was of God is not to say it was
His exclusive mode of exhibiting His purposes, but
that it was manifestly one of them.
And when raen like George Fox and his dis
ciple John Roberts, and raany thousands of others,
were thus impressed — -were filled heart and soul
with the sense of God's desires as regards all men,
and sought to live up to thera, not as a theory
for the cloister or the study, but as a practice of
the raarket-place and the workshop, who shall
raarvel in the time to come at the mighty work
that unobtrusively was done by them for our
country, for the whole Engfish-speaking race, in a
measure for the world ! For everywhere, whether
acknowledged or not, it has penetrated. George
Fox has left his raark upon us here to-day.

466 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
America — indeed civilization itself — would have been
the poorer but for the splendid lessons taught by
William Penn. The shackles of the slave had
been less fully and less early loosened but for the
quiet, but effective work of that simple Quaker
tailor, John Woolman. And how much the prison
reform of the day was helped by the sweet, if
stately womanliness of Elizabeth Fry ! As we look back
down the vista of the Quaker past we may smile
at the quaintnesses, at its little excesses of zeal, i'cs
early extravagancies and its mediaeval formalities, as
they are presented to us, but these seeming defects
in the picture are but as rough shells attached
holding valuable pearls within. We are not yet far
enough reraoved frora this period of early Quaker
development to realize all it taught and did. More
over, so unobtrusive as a body are the merabers of this
Society that even to-day the outside world knows
little of its inner life and the special raethods of its creed.
There is, for instance, the Quaker wedding, only
just taken cognizance of by art, pictorially ; and yet
the idea that pervades the Quaker marriage is in
itself a raore artistic one still. Novelists exhaust
aU their fancies and aU their stiraulated thought,
to picture an ideal union ; but, when they have
done all this, they can conceive of no more ideal
union as a fitting climax to a real love than the
marriage ceremony of the Quakers.
" The sweet Quaker bride's ' Until death I am thine ' "

" LIKE A TALE THAT IS TOLD." 467
is a conception as ideally perfect in a thought as
might be a statue in marble from the chisel of
Praxiteles. It is exquisitely simple, but sublime in
its simplicity ; it is brief in words, but full in
meaning ; plain in symbol, but potent in lasting
feeling ; not a union in part, but one in fulness ;
in its highest and truest phase one of body, heart,
and soul, solemnly seeking to be united for life in
ihe immediate presence of the Life-giver, and de
siring to lead the fullest rautual existence earth's
iraperfections and uncertainties can give. This is, in
a measure, true of all real marriages ; but in the
¦Quaker ceremony there is this impressive difference :
It is not the priest or the registrar or the magistrate who
unites the raan to the woraan — they marry themselves, as
they believe, in the direct presence of God. " I take
this ray friend to be ray wife," says the Quaker
bridegroora, addressing the Friends, as he and his
tride rise in the meeting after a period of reverent
silence, "promising, through Divine assistance, to
be unto her a loving and faithful husband, until
it shall please the Lord by death to separate us."
And the bride, with hand clasped in the hand of
her husband in a raoment to be, says the same,
with the substitution of "husband" for "wife" and of
his narae for hers. And that is all. There is, as
a raatter of legal form, the reading and the ample
signing of the " Marriage Certificate " immediately
following. If a ring is used it is put on afterwards.

468 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
It is no part of the ceremony. Due notice has
been given, as by law required, to the registrar of
the district of the intentions of the parties con
cerned to marry. But there is no form of marriage
gone through at the registry office, nor is the
registrar required to be present at the meeting.
The words " In the fear of God and in the
presence of this assembly " are soraetiraes prefixed —
it is optional ; but the introduction of a forraal
phrase and a self-evident statement that are in no
way necessary rather appear to weaken, by de
tracting from the majestic simplicity of the more
usual wording. This is a detail ; but where will
you find so large a number of happy marriages,
and consequently of faithful raarriages, as among
the followers of Fox ? Whether he was the author
of the originally exquisitely beautiful ceremony, or
whether it was due to another, matters not in arriving
at a conviction that on him who conceived it the gift of
genius had been bestowed by Heaven's direct creation.
The funeral ceremony of the Quakers, again,
is equally simple, and in a way as irapressive.
The speciality of the Quaker practice least under
stood is that of silent worship. Yet Charles Lamb
could grow enthusiastic over it in an Elian essay ;
and the more it is realized in its fulness by a
thoughtful mind the raore it wUl be found to reach
to the Ultima Thule of the soul's progress in com
munion with God.

" LIKE A TALE THAT IS TOLD." 469
All this might have been compatible with a
faith, a small select faith, fike a dainty edition of
a choice but fastidiously written volume that was
known to few, but by them idofized ; but such a
faith could not have raoved the world. It would
want the larger human element. Something practical
was required ; soraething that touched the heart
and conscience of humanity ; and it was not because
the early Quakers loved their God less, but because
they loved Him more, that they were so devoted
to the good of their fellow raen.
In relation to this phase of their work, how
little there was they did not foresee ! George Fox,
for example, was a Socialist of a truly practical type.
One of his first "openings" was directed to inter
viewing a bench of magistrates to urge them to
deal justly and considerately with servants and
labourers, and to see that they were paid fair
wages for reasonable work. He says, " When I was
come to the house where they were, and many
servants with them, I exhorted the justices not to
oppress the servants in their wages, but to do that
which was right and just to thera ; and I exhorted
the servants to do their duties, and serve honestly ;
and they all received my exhortation kindly, for I
was moved of the Lord therein." The occasion was
a "hiring." Soon after, he writes, "About this time
I was sorely exercised in going to their courts to
cry for justice, and in speaking and writing to

470 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
judges and justices to do justly, and in warning
such as kept public-houses for entertainraent that
they should not let people have more drink than
would do them good. . . In fairs, also, and in
markets, I was raade to declare against their deceitful
merchandise, and cheating, and cozening." Alas 1
there it still much need of such " openings " to-day.
In many raatters Fox and his friends were centuries
in advance of their time.
In Pennsylvania William Penn abolished capital
punishraent, except for wilful raurder, one hundred and
fifty years before our criminal code was thus
modified in England. There is perhaps only one
great humanitarian matter that was untouched — the
rights of animals. The exhibition of consideration
for them can be only inferred. The early Friends
merely denounced bear and bull baiting, cock-
fighting, and throwing at cocks, and conflicts
between dumb animals as " vain sports.'' There is
no testimony to be met with that protests against
them as cruelties. It can only be that " man's
inhumanity to man " was so great, and so demand
ing consideration, that this raatter got overlooked.
They had not awakened to it. Indeed they
scarcely comprehended to the full the rights of
children, though therein they were in advance of
others ; for those were largely days of alternations
between stern treatment and callous neglect.
A suddenly converted character, in an old book

" LIKE A TALE THAT IS TOLD." 471
of the time, can find no better method commend
itself to him for the " conversion " of his children,
to whose moral welfare he has been previously
indifferent, than severe beatings and deprivations.
The narrative is contained in a sort of religious
novel ; and the author, before the printed sheets
were bound up, submitted them to his minister,
who, in a prefatory notice, highly commends the
" moral teaching " and has no doubt but that it will
do much good! For such "good old times" we are
very willing to exchange our moderately good new
ones. Indeed, whether we will or no, the irrepres
sible evolutionary changes are at work, and will work.
We are' now in an avowedly new era. But the
" new " things are little raore than re-crudescence of
the old, raodified in form by the thoughts and
necessities of the time. Araongst them Quakerism is
changing too. With the same slow but steady
onward growth, that has so long been characteristic
of the creed and its professors, it is undergoing
material modifications. Essentially they are
reversions to the earlier belief ; but are enlarged
by the growth of knowledge, accretion of thought,
and the consequent expansion of the mind. By
none would the newer phases of Quaker thought
have been more welcomed than by George Fox and
the earlier Friends. If they were workers rather
than dreamers (precious, as a gift to the world, as the
dreamer often is), and did not sing "a man's a man
for a' that," they heartily lived the sentiment.

472 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Democrat, socialist, humanitarian, the champion
of freedom of thought as well as of physical free
dom, God-loving and raan-loving, and practising in
courage and in charity all that he professed, " The
Quaker of the Olden Tirae," if he could find him
self in the present, would, of necessity, as soon as
he understood the altered position, be foremost
among the stalwarts. He would accept proved
science as further knowledge of God's revelations.
He would regard the Higher Criticism as an en
deavour to clear the precious truth from the incrus
tations of ages. He would regard temperance as
the cultivation of all that helpful developraent of
the higher nature and man's physical well-being,
and the rejection of all that militated against it.
He would regard purity as contained not in con
ventionality but in essence. He would regard
huraanitarianisra as not raerely the rights of the
adult raan or woraan, but those of the child and
of the lower aniraals, as all sentient creatures of
God. The woraan question would not trouble him,
for at the very onset he was " in unity " with it,
and would be still, where only equal " rights " were
clairaed. More than ever he would be opposed to
all war, not raerely because, like slavery, it is " the
sura of all villainies,'' but because it is the measure,
in its extent and raethods, of our barbarisra as
opposed to our real civilization. Politically and
socially he would, above all things, seek to be just

" LIKE A TALE THAT IS TOLD." 473
and honest and humane ; while in matters of
religion he would endeavour to be as wide as the teach
ing of the Spirit of God itself. Far into the infinite as
the most penetrating telescope would reach, he would
see material worlds, and know that God was there.
Into the equally unseen by the naked human
eye, the microscope would enable him to peer,
and reveal to him myriads of existences of almost
incredible minuteness, but each as perfectly formed,
for the purposes of its existence, as he hiraself,
and he would know that God was there. It is the
first article of his creed that God is in every
human soul as a palpable, and not a theoretical
presence ; so that however fallen from its high
possibilities, however undeveloped its potentialities,
the existence of a human soul would be to him
the knowledge that God was there. For himself
he would look into his inmost being, into his soul's
deepest depths, and he would feel, livingly within
hira, that God was there — feel His presence in all
higher irapulses, feel it in all loftier love of raan
or nature, feel it in all life, in all genius-inspired
art, in all that is specially God-given ; feel that
there is a goal, though that goal he knows not,
yet feels that the finger of God points the way,
and that he raust, so far, walk towards it in faith.
And his heart and soul would go out in unselfish
love and reverence, for he would be conscious he
was not alone ; and he would stretch out his hands

474 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
to grasp those of his fellows, and would feel the
magnetic fervour of that holy chain ; and, looking
fearlessly into infinitude with his eyes fixed on that
limited spot that is visible to him, he would boldly
step forward with a loving recognition, as, with
full heart and soul, he breathed " Our Father ! "
But beyond the modern Quaker with his new-old
thoughts, beyond the "ancient" Friend with his
cherished raeraories, beyond the Society itself, there
lies that wider circle of friends, with whom all
that is really advanced, and is therefore loftiest in
thought, all that is most beautiful in imagination
and most truly true, finds acceptance, but only as
they are conscious of being clothed with the
enveloping sense that all this is only for the
individual as far as he is part and parcel of
humanity as a whole. For there are bodies to be
thought of as well as spirits, minds as well as souls,
and sorrows as well as raptures. For while there
are periods of devotion, and moments of ecstatic
thought and heavenly joy, such as our friend John
raight feel in the sacred silence of a "week-day
meeting," yet, when it is "broken-up," and he turns
into the busy street, with its noise, its turmoil, its
surging fife, it wiU be "borne in" upon him once
more, that the highest service of God yet remains
for hira to engage in — the service of his fellow man
— the highest, because it is that that is nearest to
his hand, and therefore his clearest duty.

APPENDIX.

THE BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE
Memoir of John Roberts.
with particulars of critical papers, etc., on the
Memoir; AND ALSO OF the manuscript copies of
the same at present known.
THE Memoir of John Roberts by his son Daniel
Roberts was written in 1725, but did not
find its way into print until 1746, and then only in
an abridged form. From the first it was rather regarded
as a tract than as a volurae of intrinsic interest
apart from its religious teaching. Hence, probably, its
first condensation. As all subsequent editions, with one
exception, are understood to be copied from the first, or
frora copies originally taken from the first, the
continued appearance of the Memoir in that form is
accounted for. Various slight modifications, as
noted elsewhere, have from time to tirae taken
place : certain editions, indeed all before and
including the one issued in 1829, being, from the
wording of a sentence, entitled to be called the
" breech " editions. After that date this sentence is
rendered variously. As regards the present issue,
477

478 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
fidelity to the original has prevented a following of
any of the various readings, but, as a reproduction
of the words theraselves would scarcely be suitable,
blanks have been left to denote their omission (see
pages 69 and 217). In many editions a blank is left
before the " Nicholson," the Christian name of the
Bishop not, apparently, being known to the compiler.
For the list that follows of all at present known issues
much is due to the large and valuable Catalogue
of Friends' Books compiled by Mr. Joseph Smith.
Of course the British Museum Catalogue has been
helpful, but even more has been a list supplied
by Mr. Lawson Thorapson of a collection of John
Roberts editions of a very extensive character made
by his father, the late Mr. John Thorapson, who,
as has been mentioned, issued the one printed frora
the raanuscript of Oade Roberts, who compiled it
from the original manuscript. Others have been
added frora information otherwise supplied to the
Editor or that is in his own possession.
Some Memoirs of the Life of John Roberts, "Written
by his Son, Daniel Roberts, ist edition. "Exon: Printed
hy Andrew Brice, at his Printing-Office in Northgate-street.
1746." 8vo., 48 pages. "Another copy — imperfect; -wanting
title page " is in the possession ofthe British Museum.
[Reprinted.] 2nd. edition. " Bristol : Printed and sold
by Sam. Farley, near the White-Hart, in the Old-Market.
1747." i2mo., 52 pages. "Cropped." {B.M.L.)
"The steps of a good Man are ordered of the Lord ; and he delighteth in his
Way. He is his Strength in the Time of Trouble." — Ps. xxxvii. 23, 39.
[Reprinted.] "York: By John Gilfillan, in Coffee- Yard ;
and sold by Nathaniel Bell, Bookseller, in Pavement." No
date. Small 8vo. (i'^zz'A^). ? 1750. \(ixi\o.{B.M.C.). 64 pages.

BIBLIOGRAPHY. 479
[Reprinted — and called — ] 4th edition. "Bristol: Printed.
Philadelphia : Reprinted, and sold by James Chattin, next
door to the Pipe in Church-Alley. 1753." Very small 8vo.,
70 pages. [Reprinted — and called — ] 3rd edition. "Dublin:
Printed for, and Sold by Isaac Jackson, at the Globe in
¦Meath street. 1754." 8vo. {B.M.C.). i2mo. {Smith and
Thompson). 52 pages.
[Reprinted.] " London : Sold by Luke Hinde, in George-
yard, Lombard-street." No date. Large Bvo., 60 pages.
[Reprinted.] " London : Reprinted and sold by Samuel
Clark, in Bread street, near Cheapside. 1760." Small
8vo., 62 pages.
[Reprinted.] "London: Printed and sold by Mary
Hinde, at No. 2, in George yard, Lombard street."
? 1760. i2mo. {B.M.C.). Large 8vo. {S?nith). Small 4to.
{Tho-mfison). The size is 8f x 5f, "but the sheets are
folded in 4 and the water mark runs horizontally." 60 pages.
[Reprinted — and called — ] Ne-w edition. "London:
Printed and Sold by James Phillips, in George yard, Lom
bard street. 1786." i2mo., 87 pages.
[Reprinted — and miscalled — ] 3rd edition. "London:
Printed and sold by James Phillips, George yard, Lombard
street. 1796." i2mo., 76 pages.
[Reprinted — and miscalled — ] 4th edition. "Bristol:
Printed and sold by J. Mills, Castle Street. 1799." i2mo.,
76 pages.
[Reprinted.] Tanford, United States. 1802. i2mo.
[Reprinted — and miscalled — ] 5th edition. "Bristol:
Printed and sold by J. MiUs, St. Augustine's Back. 1805."
i2rao., 74 pages.
[British Museum Catalogue has — ] " Another edition.
From the first London edition. 'Walpole, N. H. 1805." i2mo.

480 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
[Reprinted and called — ] Ne-w edition. " London
Printed, and sold by PhiUips and Fardon, George yard,
Lombard street. 1806." i2mo., 84 pages.
[Reprinted — and called — ] New edition. "London:
Printed and sold by 'William Phillips, George yard, Lombard
street. 1817." i2mo., 72 pages.
[Reprinted — and called — ] New edition. " London :
Printed and sold by '\A''illiam Phillips, George yard, Lombard
street. 1825." i2mo., 82 pages.
[Reprinted.] "Bristol: Printed by 'Wright and Bagnall,
Bridge Street. 1829." i2mo., 50 pages.
[Translated into 'Welsh — entitled — ] " Ychydig Gofion o
Fywyd John Roberts. Gan ei fab Daniel Roberts. 'Wedi
eu cyfieithu gan T. Hughes, Rhythyn." " Rhythyn :
Argraffwyd gan R. Jones. 1832." i2mo., 72 pages.
[Reprinted.] Ne-w edition, with an Epistle dedicatory
tothePublic, by William Howitt. "London: 'William Darton
and Son, Holborn Hill." 1834. 12 mo., 96 pages.
Note. — This edition was produced by William Howitt when residing in
Nottingham, and is dated there. At that time he was greatly interested in the
Anti-State Church agitation. Three letters, " The Three Death-Cries of a Perishing
Church," — of a very stirring character, appeared in the Nottingham Pemew, and
were republished, "with additions and corrections," in 1835, by Richard Sutton,
Bridlesmithgate, Nottingham. They have no name attached, but the publisher,
commenting on the sensation they have occasioned, intimates that the authorship
is well-lmown and will be readily recognized. No reader of A Popular History of
Priestcraft in all Ages and Nations, which appeared in 1833, or of the preface
to the above edition of John Roberts, could have any doubt on the matter.
[Reprinted in The Friends' Library, Vol. xii., edited by
'William Allen, and published at] " Lindfield : Printed at the
Schools of Industry, and sold by Longman & Co., Paternoster
Row, London; Harvey and Darton, Gracechurch Street;
J. and A. Arch, Cornhill ; W. Darton, Holborn ; Edmund
Fry, Bishopsgate Street, and by all the booksellers. 1836."
i6mo., 88 pages.

BIBLIOGRAPHY. 48 1
[Reprinted — and called — ] New edition. "Manchester:
Printed and sold by John Harrison, Market street. 1838."
i2mo., 48 pages.
[Another Edition.] " Some Account of the Persecutions
and Sufferings of the Peofile called Quakers in the Seven
teenth Century, exe-mf>lified in the Memoirs of the Life of
John Roberts, 1665. Philadelphia: Kimber and Sharpless.
1840." i2mo., 72 pages.
[Reprinted — and called — ] Ne-w edition. " York : John
L. Linney, 15, Low Ousegate ; London : Charles Gilpin. 1843."
i2mo., 48 pages.
[Reprinted in The Friends' Library, Vol. viii., edited
by 'William and Thomas Evans.] Philadelphia : Printed by
Joseph Rakestraw. 1844. Imp. 8vo.
[Reprinted.] People's edition. "Manchester: Printed
and sold by William Irwin, 39, Oldham street. 1846."
i2mo., 48 pages.
[Reprinted.] "Manchester: John Harrison and Son,
New Market Chambers. 1852." i2mo., 48 pages.
[Reprinted — and called — •] Ne-w edition. "Brighton:
Arthur Wallis, Bookseller, 5, Bartholomews; and C. Gilpin,
5, Bishopsgate street, London. 1852." 24mo., 80 pages.
Note. — This edition has an engraving of John Roberts's house as a frontispiece
— drawn by J. Beecham and engraved by W. Willis. The latter was of some httle
note, and the view is well engraved ; but the details of the drawing are not quite
accurate. [Reprinted.] New edition. " Manchester : Printed and
sold by WiUiam Irwin, Nicholas Croft, High street. 1855."
8vo., 32 pages.
[Another Edition.] " The Bishof> and the Quaker : being
some Memoirs of the Life of John Roberts, written by his son
Daniel Roberts. A New edition, by Thomas Dersley, of
Tottenham, Middlesex. London : Printed by George Rymer, 31

482 MEMOIR OF lOHN ROBERTS.
of 7, Gloucester terrace, New Road, Commercial Road.
1855." 8vo., 72 pages.
About this date an edition was brought out at Leicester
by Marmaduke Ashton Long, a printer and stationer, and sold
by him in his shop, 78 & 80, High Street. It is believed to
have been printed in bourgeois type, probably a i2mo., and
retailed at 4d. in tract form.
[Another Edition.] " Some Memoirs of the Life of John
Roberts, one of the early Friends, written by his son Daniel
Roberts, in 1725. A new edition, carefully compared with
the original manuscript ; and some letters and explanatory
notes added by his descendant, Oade Roberts. London :
A. W. Bennett, 5, Bishopsgate Without. 1859." Fcp. 8vo.,
98 pages. Note. — This edition was edited by John Thompson, of Hitchin. It was bound
in cloth boards, and had as a frontispiece a weh executed wood-cut of John
Roberts's house, differing in many details from the picture previously mentioned.
Its retail price was is. 6d. In addition to a fuller abstract of the original
Memoir, there is added to this edition a " Testimony of Upper-Side Monthly
Meeting, &c., respecting Daniel Roberts, deceased 1726-7," and some further
words by Axtell Roberts.
[Reprinted.] "Salford: John Roberts, Printer, 164,
Chapel Street. Printed for the Manchester District Friends'
Tract Association. 1861."
[Reprinted.] Ne-w edition. "London: G. H. Farring
ton, II, Knight Rider Street, Doctors' Commons, E.C. 1873."
i2mo., 70 pages.
[Reprinted from edition "published by Luke Hinde."]
"Gloucester: Reprinted and stereotyped by John Bellows.
1876." Toned paper edition. Demy 8vo., 54 pages.
Note. — This edition has been again and again reprinted from the stereotypes,
with modifications in colour of paper-cover and arrangement of type on same, so
practically forming a succession of " editions." Of their number no record has been
kept — but they probably amount to at least half-a-dozen.
[Another Edition.] "B. (SluaFlCC Of tbc ©Iften XTime, being
a Memoir of John Roberts by his son, Daniel Roberts, etc.

BIBLIOGRAPHY. 483
Edited by Edmund T. Lawrence. "London: Headley
Brothers, 14, Bishopsgate Street Without, E.C. 1898."
Crown 8vo., 508 pp., with 12 illustrations. Cloth boards, 6/-.
In addition to the foregoing reprints, sundry papers have
appeared referring to John Roberts, and containing copious
extracts from his son's Memoir. Amongst these may be
noted : —
[No. v. Gloucestershire Tracts, by Joseph Stratford,
entitled,] John Roberts, the Persecuted Quaker. " Ciren
cester : C. H. Savory. Price one penny."
This tract was in time bound up with others of local
interest in a volume entitled, Good and Great Men of
Gloucestershire. All were by the same author, and were
issued by the same local publisher, and also by Morgan &
Chase, 38, Ludgate Street, London. The preface is dated
from "Chesterton, Cirencester, June, 1867." The volume
contains the same view of John Roberts's house as does
Oade Roberts's edition ofthe Memoir. Another tract in the
issue is devoted to Am.ariah Drewett and other Quakers
(such as Giles Fetiplace, father of the defender of Cirencester,
and Theophila Townsend) connected with Gloucestershire.
The book is a crown 8vo. of 478 pages, cloth boards, gilt edges.
The sixth volume of Whittier's Prose Works (crown 8vo.
London : Macmillan & Co. 1889) contains a paper, in the
series of Old Portraits and Modern Sketches, entitled simply
John Roberts, of a highly appreciative character.
A reference to John Roberts is to be found in Poetical
Sketches of Scarborough, a volume in large 8vo., published at
2is., and issued by " R. Ackerman, loi. Strand," for whom
it was printed by J. Diggins, Saint Ann's Lane. It contains
twenty-one coloured pictures, " made from sketches on the
spot by J. Green," and etched by Rowlandson and others.
The introduction of a reference to iht. Roberts Memoir occurs
in "The Library" portion, but the name there is given as
"Robins." This, however, is manifestly an error; as, in a

484 MEMOIR OF lOHN ROBERTS.
note, the author of the section — who signs himself " J.F." —
after mentioning the Quakers incidentally, and saying that
" Scarborough has many worthy and respectable inhabitants
ofthis Sect," tells us, in referring to the book, that it is "a
very clever and amusing little account of John Robins, one of
the early Society of Friends." As there was wo Robins of any
note among the early Quakers, and the description exactly
applies to Daniel's work, there can be no doubt that John
Roberts was actually intended. The extract from the Sketches
gives such an amusing picture of the formal Quaker of the old
school (as distinct from the early Quaker), that the reader
will no doubt be interested in its perusal : —
* * * *
" As Joe went out, a man stalk'd in,
Who caused an universal grin :
Of form erect — with solemn pace,
Fast fixt each muscle of his face,
A Quaker reach'd the counter end,
And said, ' I want Johji Robins, Friend.'
Shopman.
' John Robins, Sir — he don't live here :
He did, but left his place last year ;
He's gone away — '
Quaker.
' It is not he,
Of whom I make demand of thee,
John Robins -was a Friend like me ;
Like me ! but I my words should mend :
John Robins was indeed a Friend ! '
Shopman.
' That alters not, good Sir, the case,
There is -ao friend within this place;
Do tell me, Sir, what is your will ? '
Quaker.
' Why, child, I want John Robins, still ! '

bibliography. 485
Shopman.
' He don't live here, again I say,
John Robins long has gone away :
What would you have ? and why this strife ? '
Quaker.
' Why, Friend — I'd have John Robins' Life.'
The ladies scream'd, and fled amain —
' It is the Monster come again !
The Monster ! — 'tis the Monster ! ' all
With vehemence began to squall.
The Shopman hid himself — for he
Suspected 'twas;insanity.
Quid-nunc, with terror, quickly fled,
By policy, to save his head.
The 'Squire displayed so fleet a pace,
It might have won the Donkey race.
Old Totter said — ' 'Tis plain, I see,
In this there is a mystery :
In all his features I can find
No mark of an assassin's mind ;
I know these people, and 'tis true,
They wish their words should be but few :
Too many is but useless stuff,
But there should always be enough —
Tell me, my Friend, what 'tis you want ? '
Quaker.
' My words have been too few I grant ;
'Tis for John Robins' Life I look,
As printed in a little book.'
Spirits restored — the party greeted,
And such as chose to stop re-seated ;
The greater portion walk'd away,
To change the pleasures of the day."

486 memoir of IOHN ROBERTS.
MANUSCRIPTS.
There are three manuscript copies of the Mem.oir known.
The first is the original one, written in part by Daniel
Roberts himself, and the remainder transcribed by his
daughter Elizabeth to his dictation. It is not quite perfect —
finishingat the words " set at Liberty." It is in a remarkably
good state of preservation, and shows the least possible traces
of handling. Careful examination of it leads to the conclusion
that it was afterwards copied in an abridged form, and that
copy used for other transcripts. As far as can be traced, its
pedigree is as follows : — Descending through the main line of
the family until the death of Oade Roberts, it passed into the
possession of Lydia Davis, of Cheltenham, and was in her
hands in 1859. Subsequently it was the property other sister,
Sarah Davis, of Leeds, by whom in 1875 it was presented to
the late John Thompson, of Hitchin, and it is now in the
possession of his son, Mr. Lawson Thorapson, also of Hitchin,
who has numerous manuscripts and documents relating to
the Roberts family.
The second manuscript is beautifully transcribed. It
bears the name of Benjamin Talwin, as the " scrivner," and
appears to have been completed in the year 1738. It is con
siderably abridged from the original. It contains very little
of the narrative respecting Daniel himself and his brother
Nathaniel, and the circumstances attending their imprison
ment. Although not word for word as the first and many
succeeding^rz'wi'ei^ copies, it approximates much more nearly
to them than does the original manuscript, and commences,
too, to abridge where the printed copies commence to do so,
and omits pretty much what they omit. It is, however, a
little fuller, rather than otherwise, giving one or two small
matters that they omit. In all probability the printed matter
was put into type from a copy edited from this one. This
manuscript contains the final lines that are wanting in the
original, and, it is believed, is originally written. For that
reason they are used in this edition. Although showing

BIBLIOGRAPHY. 487
marks of somewhat greater handling than the original one, this
manuscript, as also the parchment book in which it is written,
has been preserved with very great care. After the lapse of
a generation it passed into the hands of Joseph Talwin
Shewell, of Rushmere, near Ipswich, and on his decease
became the property of Miss Wilhelmina Peckover, of Wis
bech, its present possessor.
The third manuscript is in the handwriting of Oade
Roberts. It is the copy of his editing, and is the one used by
John Thompson for the edition of 1859, issued by him. This
manuscript, like the original one, is now in the possession
of Mr. Lawson Thompson, of Hitchin.

NOTES.
Note i. — Clerical Caps, Page 119.
Grainger, in his Biographical History of England, tells
us, in writing of the end of the reign of Charles II, and
in reference to the dress of the clergy, "The satin cap was
laid aside, and the formal screwed-up face was for the
most part changed for a more natural and unconstrained
aspect." And then after quoting the remark of Dr. Eachard,
that there had been "plenty of religious face-makers, in
these late times," he adds these other satirical observa
tions on the subject from the same source: "Then it was
that godliness chiefly consisted in the management of the
eye ; and he that had the least pupil was the most righteous,
because most easily concealed by the rolling white. Then it
was that they would scarcely let a round-faced man go to
heaven ; but if he had but a little blood in his cheeks his
condition was accounted very dangerous, and it was almost an
infallible sign of absolute reprobation." Grainger goes on to
add, "Nothing is more certain than black satin caps, tipped
and edged with white, were then worn by some divines to give
an appearance of langour and mortification to their coun
tenances." Note 2. — Antiquity of Quakerism, Page 123.
'Voltaire, in Letters Concerning the English Nation,
says, " You have already heard that the Quakers date
from Christ, who, according to them, was the first Quaker.
Religion, say they, was corrupted a little after his death,
and remained in that state of corruption 1,600 years. But
there were always a few Quakers concealed in the world who
carefully preserved the sacred fire, which was extinguished
in all but themselves, until, at last, this light spread itself in
England in 1642."

NOTES. 489
Note 3. — Early Quaker Literature, Page 145.
The early Quakers were great pamphleteers, and even
inditers of considerable-sized books, occasionally, in large
numbers. The literature of early Quakerism is very
voluminous, and is strongly characterized by the hard
hitting spirit of the times. Its form was more that of the
denunciations of the Hebrew prophets than of the milder
utterances of apostolic Christianity, but it had marked
characteristics of its own. Thus we read in Records of a
Church of Christ, by Edward Terrill, "After this Sathan
in these Quakers being inraged, Dennis Hollister, one of ye
Apostate members, puts forth a Booke in print against ye
Church, entitled: Ye Skirts of ye Whore Discovered. In
answer to which ye Church was fain to put forth another
Booke, printed in ye year 1657, entitled : Ye Church of Christ
i?i Bristol recovering her Vail out of ye Hands of them, that
had Smitten, wounded her, and taken it away." This
controversial exchange took place practically between the
Quaker meeting-house and the Baptist meeting-house, in
Broad-mead, Bristol.
The Baptist record goes on to say: "Thus ye Church
proceeded and kept ye ways and Ordinances of ye Lord ;
labouring in their Generation-worke, holding forth ye Gospell
to ye World, and conflicting with this new upstart Error of
Quakerisme. Begun (no doubt) by Sathan, and carried on by
his Instruments, . . . ignorant, bewitched, deluded
people." Note 4. — Priest Rich, Page 146.
" Samuel Rich, D.D., son of Thomas Rich, Esq., of North
Cerney, and Anne his wife, daughter of Thomas Bourchier,
'S.^c^., ol Barnsley . He held the living till 1683." Stratford:
Good and Great Men of Gloucestershire.
North Cerney is a village situate about five miles north
of Cirencester. Remains of an ancient camp have been
discovered there.

49° memoir of iohn Roberts.
Note 5. — Mounteer Cap, Page 155.
This appears to have been a cap of Spanish origin,
combining conditions that admirably adapted it to the
needs of both huntsmen and sailors, and which was varied
in material and pattern to suit the fancy of the wearer. It
was manifestly a cap giving both warmth and protection to
head and ears — and possibly the neck — which would fit
tightly, and be held closely and securely. Essentially it was
a good ordinary travelling-cap of to-day, with ear pieces
having strings attached, that enable them either to be tied
down over the ears when the latter need protection, or tied up
over the head out of the way when neither wind nor storm
nor extreme cold has to be encountered.
The name has undergone several modifications ; and the
same article of head-gear received different appellations in
different countries. John Roberts, as quoted by his son, calls
it a " Mounteer Cap." Blount, in his Glossographia (1670),
spells it Montera and describes it as "a hunter's or
seaman's cap which was (not long since) much in request
with us." Sterne, in Tristram. Shandy, tells us, in noting a
special feature of his hero's attire, " The Montero cap -was
scarlet, of superfine Spanish cloth, dyed ingrain, and
mounted all round with fur, except about four inches- in front,
which was faced with a light blue, slightly embroidered,
and seemed to have been the property of a Portuguese
quartermaster, not of foot, but of horse, as the word denotes."
Dr. Brewer, in Phrase and Fable, gives this as its origin : —
" Monteer Cap, so called from the Monteros d'Espinoza
(mountaineers), who once formed the interior guard of the
palace ofthe Spanish King."
The original pattern of the cap was probably the one
quoted (and illustrated) in the Encyclopcsdic Dictionary as
" Montero, a kind of cap, properly a huntsman's cap, having
a spherical crown and a flap which could be drawn over the
ears."

notes. 491
In John Roberts the cap is especially referred to as a
"Cloath" cap, as if there were other recognized makes in
fur or wool ; while as being the ordinary wear of a man
keeping cattle on a moor such a cap of cloth as described in
the Eficyclopcsdic Dictio7iary would combine convenience,
comfort, and economy, and be therefore the one John
Roberts meant to describe. It could evidently be taken off
readily and thrown into the air.
Johnson, in his Dictionary , quoting Bacon — " His hat was
like a helni or Spanish Montero" — gives a spelling that is
alike the oldest and most recent.
In The History of Thomas Ellwood written by himself
towards the close of the seventeenth century, there are
references to the same head-covering. Owing to each wearing
" a montero cap (a dress more used then than now), because
the weather was exceedingly sharp, and we had drawn our
caps down, to shelter our faces from the cold," Edward
Burrough and he passed one another on the road without
recognition. Later in The History the article is called
m.onter cap. See reprint in Morley's U?iiversal Library.
In the First Edition of John Roberts, and all subsequent
ones to the present, the word is spelt Montier ; but in the
original copy, as will be seen, Daniel Roberts spells it
Mounteer. The Spanish word for hunting-cap is, however, Montera ;
and if the word be pronounced with a strong accent on the e
it, approximates in sound very nearly to Mounteer — which
was manifestly the way of pronouncing the name of the cap
which was familiar to the ear. We have a very clear proof
of Daniel Roberts being given to writing by ear in his spelling
of the name of the Cirencester 'Vicar. It was Carles — with a
similar accent over the e, — but Daniel invariably writes it
Careless. For further information on the subject see Covent Garden
Drolleries {\ti']2), p. 14; Notes and Queries for September
12th, 1896 ; etc.

492 memoir of iohn ROBERTS.
Note 6.— Rights of Animals, Page 156.
Whether the calling off of the dogs from the hare
arose chiefly from a regard to the Game Laws, or from
a humanitarian consideration, there is no direct evidence
to show ; for the instruction to the old man who had lost
his cows, and was to go with John in search of them, to
provide himself with a fresh horse may have been dictated
purely by prudential reasons. It is, however, some indirect
evidence of kindness for dumb animals on John's part that
their rights and man's duties towards them were well under
stood by some at that time. If Judge Hale, for instance,
were writing to-day, no fuller and more satisfactory pronounce
ment could well be made than he put in writing in the middle
of the seventeenth century, as its quotation will show: — "I
ever thought that there is a certain degree of justice due
from man to the creatures, as from man to man ; and that an
excessive use of the creatures' labours is an injustice for which
he must account. I have, therefore, always esteemed it a
part of my duty, and it has always been my practice, to be
merciful to my beasts ; and upon the same account I have
declined any cruelty to any of God's creatures, and, as much
as I could, prevented it in others, as a tyranny. I have
abhorred those sports that consist in torturing them ; and if
any noxious creature must be destroyed, or creatures for food
must be taken, it has been my practice to do it in a manner
that may be with the least torture or cruelty ; ever remem
bering that though God has given us dominion over his
creatures, yet it is under a law of justice, prudence, and
moderation, otherwise we should become tyrattts and not
lords over God's creatures; and, therefore, those things of
this nature which others have practised as recreations I have
avoided as sins."
Note 7. — William Bourchier, Page 165.
"William Bourchier, Esq., Patron of the living of
Barnsley. A portion of the ancient residence of the
Bourchiers still stands in the middle of the village. The

NOTES. 493
manor, which they held for a long time, devolved by marriage
to Henry Perrott, Esq., by whom the present mansion,
Barnsley Park, was built." — Stratford: Good and Great
Men of Gloucestershire (1867).
Note 8. — Siddington, Page 231.
The name of this parish has passed through several vari
ations. In the days of Edward the Confessor it appears in an
old chronicle as Suditone. In Domesday-book it is SuDl-
TONE also. In Edward the First's time it has become
Southerington. In Henry the Fourth's time it appears as
SODDINGTON. Nelson's Life of Bull has Suddington
throughout. Note 9. — Roberts-Hay-w^ard, Page 244.
"The custom formerly prevailed in England of sometimes
giving children their mother's family name as well as their
father's. ... In Belgium at the present day it is not
unusual to retain both names in such a manner that the family
mentioned would be called Roberts-Hayward." — Note to
edition of John Roberts published by John Bellows, of
Gloucester. Note 10. — Taking of Cirencester, Page 254.
The following account of the taking of Cirencester by
Prince Rupert is from Corbet's Military History of
Gloucester: — " The first and maine Assault was made on a
House a slight Shot from the Towne, which was defended for
an Hour's Space by a Hundred Musketeers against two Regi
ments of Foot and a Regiment of Horse, which was led on by
the Prince, till at Length having drawne up their Musketeers,
and by Granades fired the Barns and Ricks, and smothered
the Guard, the Enemie's Horse drove their Foote before them
and entered the streets by Maine Force, and possessed them
selves of the garrison within two Hours. Yet it cost them the
lives of many, amongst whom the Welsh were reported to
suffer the greatest Slaughter. Few of ours were slaine in the
Fight, but many murdered after the taking of the Towne ;
Eleven hundred taken prisoners, and at least two Thousand

494 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
Armes lost, which the County had there laid up as in a secure
Magazine. The miserable Captives were entreated with all
Despight and Contumely ; Commanders and Gentlemen had
no better Quarters than the Common Soldiers, but were all
thrust into the Church to be reserved for a Triumph." (1641.)
From another account, published by Prince Rupert's
Chaplain, we gather that " Colonel Fittiplace, who was the
Governor, Captain Walneford, and John George, Esq., Member
of Parliament for the Borough, were among the Prisoners, and
Great Numbers of Arms were found in the Houses and drawn
out of the River to the Amount of 3,000."
There is an old pamphlet in the British Museum, by
E. King, entitledyi True Relation, etc., giving an interesting,
if painful, account of the sufferings that were endured by the
prisoners after the taking of Cirencester. It is referred to in
a. loca-1 guide book published by Savory, of Cirencester.
Note ii. — Richard Farns-w^orth, Page 279.
Richard Farns-\vorth, who belonged to Balby, a village
some three miles south of Doncaster, became a Quaker at an
early period, his convincement by George Fox, in 1651,
being almost simultaneous with those of William Dewsbury
and James Naylor. A record tells us that he " was one of
those whom the Lord raised up early in the work of the
ministry ; he suffered about twelve months' imprisonment in
Banbury in Oxfordshire, in the year 1655, and many were
turned to God by him." Another account, presently to be
quoted, puts his imprisonment at six months only. The date
and other matters given confirm Daniel Roberts's account of
his father's adhesion to Quakerism.
The imprisonment mentioned came about in this way — as
narrated by Besse :—" Richard Farnsworth, waWmgvixth one
of his Friends up Banbury- Street, met the Mayor, and a
Justice of the Peace. The Justice, looking very angrily upon
Richard, struck off his Hat ; by which he discovered his own
Pride and Wrath, and how little he merited the Homage he
looked for. After this the Mayor and Justice sent for Richard,

NOTES. 495
and committed him to prison. Next day, when their Pride
and Passion were a little abated, they sent for him, and told
him, ' If he would pay the Coaler's Fees, and promise to go
out of Town that Night he should have his Liberty.' But
he would promise nothing ; knowing that they had committed
him illegally. Wherefore, to cover their unlawful Procedure,
they tendred him the Oath of Abjuration, which his Refusing
to take furnished them with a Pretext for his Recommitment
to Prison, where he lay about six months."
While he was in prison at Banbury his books were suffering
elsewhere ; for at Evesham, with publications by other Friends,
they were burnt by a Justice of the district, " at the Market
Cross in the Fair."
A few years later we find Farnsworth himself again in
trouble, and with no less noted a person than Richard Baxter.
Farnsworth "was hailed out ofthe Steeple-house at Worcester
for asking the sa.i&. Richard Baxter a sober Question. For
the Priests of those Times rather chose to stop the Mouths
than satisfy the Doubts of religious Enquirers." This occurred
in the same year as his imprisonment at Banbury, but prior to
it, presumably. From a letter written by him a couple of years previously
to two Friends whom he addresses as "Dear Brethren"
occurs so graphic a picture of the religious enthusiasm pre
valent at the period as to be worth quoting at some length : —
"... I. have gone through much since I was with
you, but I found the Lord exceeding large to me.
In the Market-place [Wakefield] I was drawn forth to speak,
and the people -were very audible [sicl till a schoolmaster
came and stirred them up. Then as we were in the crowd,
came Captain Siddall's wife, and she was wrought on in the
tumult, and cried out, ' This is the power of the Lord' ; she
was very proud but now is humbled. Doctor Hodgson was
shaken a little, and he is very loving to us ; we went into his
house, and there the people got in as many as could thrust.
I was drawn forth much to speak unto them ; they wondered
at the work of the Lord. There was such confusion among

496 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
the people, that I was moved to stand upon the table, and
spoke with much power amongst them ; they were all silent,
and were very attentive to hear me a long time ; neither did
they speak anything to me afterwards. But at night when we
came out of the town, the devil did rage amongst them — his
kingdom being so struck at, so that they stoned us ; stones
flew as fast as bullets in a battle, but the Lord did carry
everyone above it, that not so much as one received any harm,
but were all made to rejoice. But had not the Lord's power
been much manifested, none could have escaped with their
lives ; had not the Lord been on our side, when the enemies
rose up against us, we had been swallowed up quick. . . .
So I see the Lord glorifying himself every way to his own
praise ; but the world is all on a fire. I am much threatened
of my life, but I fear not what man can do. I hear there are
warrants out against me for blasphemy. Ah ! dear hearts, be
valiant ; the Lord rides on triumphantly ; ever praised be his
name ! " — Barclay : Letters, etc., of Early Friends.
Farnsworth is said to have published " Many small tracts
in defence of truth " which have not been collected.
He died in Lo'ndon, very peacefully, in 1666.
Note 12. — The Inner Light, Page 279.
"The one corner-stone of belief upon which the Society of
Friends is built is the conviction that God does indeed com
municate with each one ofthe spirits He has made, in a direct
and living inbreathing of some measure of the breath of His
own life ; that He never leaves Himself without a witness in
the heart as well as in the surroundings of man ; and that in
order clearly to hear the Divine voice thus speaking to us we
need to be still ; to be alone with Him in the secret place of
His Presence ; that all flesh should keep silence before Him."
— Caroline Emelia Stephen : Quaker Strongholds, 1890.
Note 13.— William De-wsbury, Page 305.
The life of this good man is throughout singularly
interesting, and is indelibly woven into the historic record
of the commencement of Quakerism. From the time he

NOTES. 497
met George Fox, in 1651, he became one ofhis ablest, most
active, and most earnest coadjutors. He was the one of
the early Friends whose organizing ability ranked next,
perhaps, to that of George Fox himself. To him was due
the earliest systematic disciplinary arrangements. And
he it was who reconciled George Fox and other leading
Quakers of the time to erring, but repentant James Naylor.
He appears to have been a man of great intelligence and keen
insight, gifted with a powerful eye that seemed to read into
the very inmost hearts of those he looked upon, so that if they
were conscious of wronging him they would dread, he tells us,
to meet his gaze. As shown by the instance given in the
Roberts narrative, on which occasion he was travelling from
London to the West, and by others of equally striking char
acter mentioned in other Quaker records, his gift of " second
sight " was pronounced and remarkable. He was a man born
to be a Quaker, for even before knowing of such a people he
had given up bearing arms on conscientious grounds.
In the year 1654, according to Besse, who gives, in his
Sufferings, a long account of the circumstances, Dewsbury
was put on his trial at the Assizes at Northampton before
Judges Hale and Wyndham. In common with so many others,
Hale had at that time the idea that the Quakers were a
political faction, whose object was the upsetting of the
Government, and consequently was disposed to deal somewhat
harshly with Dewsbury, while this sentiment in Wyndham was
still more marked. It was in answer to some questions put to
him by the latter Judge that Dewsbury gave a brief epitome of
his life till then. He stated that he was born " nine miles from
York towards Hull," i.e. at Allerthorpe ; that when thirteen
years of age he was bound apprentice to " a Clothmaker " at
Holbeck, by Leeds, and remained with his master until "the
Wars began," when he "went into the Service of the Par
liament." His birth, consequently, would be about the year
1620 or 1621. His earlier occupation had been the keeping
of sheep. In 1649 he married a young lady of a religious turn
of mind, whose congenial views on spiritual matters com-

498 MEMOIR OF JOHN ROBERTS.
mended themselves to him. They had three children. He
continued to reside at Allerthorpe for some years, and then
removed with his family to Wakefield, which they made their
home. As he himself for the rest of his life was either in gaol
or engaged in mission work through the country, to say that
he settled there would be to use an inappropriate phrase.
Though on the first occasion when he was before Judge
Hale he fared hardly — being condemned to continue for some
months longer, together with others of his friends, in a
wretched underground dungeon ; yet on a subsequent appear
ance at Worcester, before the same Judge — in 1672 — he met
with very different treatment. Then he was at once set free
" by proclamation." "After the decision ofthe Court had
been given in the prisoner's favour, some of his adversaries,
knowing the consequences of his refusing to swear, used their
endeavours to persuade the judge to tender to him again the
oaths of allegiance and supremacy, on the pretended ground
of his being a dangerous person to be at liberty. Judge Hale
replied that he had indeed heard some such report of him, but ¦
he had also heard many more good reports ; he, therefore,
with the other Judges, ordered him to be set at liberty." From
this we may fairly suppose that John Roberts may have had
something to do with enlightening his wife's kinsman re
specting the Quakers.
William Dewsbury was twice married, the second wife
being named "Alice Meades, of y^ Burrough of Warwick" —
and he was united to her on the 17th of May, 1667. At
that time he is described as of " Durker, in the County of
Yorke," so that on his marriage he appears to have removed
to Warwick. He knew that old town well. From first to last
he had been imprisoned there for nineteen years. From
London, where he had been taken ill — visited as he says by
" my ancient distemper, which hath accompanied me many
years in prison and since I was released" — he was able to
travel by easy stages to Warwick, and there he lingered for
seventeen days, surrounded by his friends, dying on the 17th
of July, 1688, and being buried on the following day.

NOTES. 499
Note 14. — Bishop Nicholson, Page 351.
Bishop Nicholson is represented by Wood, in Athenm
Oxoniensis, as "a man of great erudition, prudent, modest,
and of a temperate mind." In Bishop Heber-'s Life of
Jeremy Taylor there is the following note respecting Bishop
Nicholson (vol. 1, page 313, note k) : —
" William Nicholson was the son of Christopher Nicholson,
a rich clothier of Stratford, near Hadleigh, Suffolk. He was
brought up as a chorister, at Magdalen College, Oxford,
where he was afterwards Bible clerk, and eventually became
tutor to the Lord Percy, and chaplain to his father, the Earl
of Northumberland. In 1616 he was elected master of the
Free School, Croydon, where his discipline and powers of
instruction were much celebrated. He resigned this situation
in 1629 when he obtained the rectory of Llandilo Vawr, in
Caermarthenshire, to which were afterwards added the
dignities of Residentiary of St. David's and Archdeacon of
Brecknock. " In 1643 he was named as one of the Assembly of Divines
at Westminster, probably by the interest of the Earl of North
umberland, but he never took his place amongst them ; and
his livings being shortly after sequestered, he again taught
school for his maintenance, in which way of life he continued
till the Restoration.
"In 1 660- 1 he was appointed Bishop of Gloucester, by the
interest of Lord Clarendon, whom Wood insinuates that he had
bribed ; but as his character appears to have stood high with
all parties, and as he had a strong and legitimate claim on
the patronage of Government for his unshaken loyalty, and
bold and pertinacious defence of the Church during its most
helpless and hopeless depression, it seems most reasonable, as
well as most charitable, to ascribe his preferment rathertohis
merits than to simony. He died February 5th, 1671, and was
honoured with a Latin epitaph by the learned George Bull,
aftei-wards Bishop of St. David's. Bishop Nicholson's pub
lished works, of which a catalogue is given by Wood, are all
of a practical and useful character."

500 memoir of JOHN ROBERTS.
MINUTE OF MEETING FOR SUFFERINGS,
HELD THE I2TH OF 3RD MONTH, 1682.
Present: — Geo. Fox, Geo. Whitehead, John Burnyeat,
Wm. Gibson, John Edge, John Staples, Edw. Brookes,
Rich. Richardson, and others.
A letter of y^ 7th instant from Dan. Roberts of Ciren
cester giving account of y'= sufferings of those parts. That
he & many others are fined on the Act agt. conventicles,
and he particularly 20. los. And that Theophila Townesend
is committed to Glocester castle, being y<= county Goale.
A letter from John Roberts als Heywood of Seddington
near Cirencester in Glocestershire ; Giving a narration of
his sufferings for tythes, for some years past to this day.
It's agreed the same be delivered to Rich. Richardson to
keep with the sufferings of that county.

MINUTE OF A MEETING FOR SUFFERINGS,
HELD THE 28TH OF THE STH MONTH, 1682.
A letter from Theoph : Towensend of ye 21st of the 5th
mo : 1682, Intimating That Thomas Lowdy of Painswick
by Excommunicato Capiendo, Another by Assizes'] Proces
Daniell and Nath : Roberts for refusing to take the Oath of
Allegiance Demanded by one Cutler and [George], Justices
of the Peace, Intimates further that ys Justices of y= Peace
have prosecuted Daniell and Nath : Roberts p. Twenty Six
pounds. The Justices broke open their Houses. Their
patient Sufferings tendred y« Hart of all their Neighbours &
was a great Testimony for Truth. Twenty six Prisoners in
Glocester Goal. Agreed That John Dew & J. 'Vaughton
¦write a Letter to them yt are Sufferers in yt Prison, particularly
to Theophila Townesend, Dan. & Nathan : Roberts. Ye letter
delivered to John Dew.

INDEX.

Some references not indexed separately will be found under ROBERTS,
JOHN, THE SECOND.
Some names occurring very frequently, and a few others but slightly con
nected with the Memoir, have been omitted owing to lack of space.
Roberts names which appear in capital letters represent the direct line of
descent in the Memoir.
i = and next page.
ff = and succeeding pages.
n = note at foot of page.

Ainsworth quoted, 363
America, 16, 268, 275, 285ff,
347f, 360, 374, 382, 415,
439, 448, 466, 479,481
"Animals, Rights of," 156,
492
Arnold, Richard, 334
Ashby, Sarah, 375
Atkin, Thomas, 3511
Atkyns, Sir Robert, i73ff, 371
Axtell family, 4i4f, 4i7ff, 436,
459
Banbury, 71, 262, 274, 494f
Baptists, 49, no, 282ff, 322,
394. 489
Barbados, 283n, 285, 415
Barclay family, 25, 44 m
Barnett, Edward, 148, 150,
I59f
Barnfield, Thomas, 334
Barnsley, 165, 292, 489, 492f
Barr, William, 447
Bawn, John, 375
Baxter, Richard, 495
Beard, John, 220, 222

Beaton family, 449
Belch, Thomas, 44in
Bellows, John, 7, 46of, 482,
493
Bennet, William, 374
Besse quoted, 26, 274f, 285ff,
289f, 29if, 319, 332ff, 348ff,
370. 372. 374ff. 386ff, 390,
494f. 497
Bishop, George, 7
Bishops Cleeve, 103, 116
Blatt family, 419, 422, 441
Bourchier family; 165, 168,
i7of, 489, 492f
Bowley family, i65f, 342, 346,
349f. 399. 454
Boy, Francis, 217
Boy, John, 375
Brend, William, 338
Brewster, Margaret, 285f
Brierton, Mr., 90
Bristol, S, 7, 26, 112, 236,
262, 283f, 311, 339f, 342f,
356, 359f. 369. 371. 374.
447f, 4S8, 478ff, 489
Brookes, Edward, 500

502

INDEX.

Brown, Dr. John, quoted,
268n
Browning quoted, 56
Bull, Priest, 84, 90, I26f,
i39ff, 150, i.ssff, 159, 238ff,
249f, 292, 3iiff, 3i9ff,
324ff, 33off, 348, 366, 378,
402, 404, 409, 499
Burnell, Baron, 13, 329
Burnyeat, John, 500
Burrough, Edward, 491
Cambridge family, 70, 235,
264f, 291
Camden quoted, 243, 247, 436
Careless [Carles], Parson,
177, 292f, 491
Carey quoted, 247
Cariyle quoted, 20
Carstairs, Rev. Wm., 390
Cerney, North, and South, 5,
146. 454. 489
Charles II, 19, 29, 32, 59,
III, 166, 180, 197, 238,
268, 313, 374, 3761, 488
Cheltenham, 240, 255, 350,
405 f, 486
Chesham, 224f, 245, 369,
412, 414, 4i6ff, 421, 423f,
427, 429, 432, 436f, 443,
446, 448, 45if
Chester, Richard, 419
Cirencester, Guide /i5,quoted,
249, 494
" Cirencester, Taking of,"
254. 493f
Clarendon, Earl of, 313, 316,
^499
Clark, John, 335
Clark, William, 189
"Clerical Caps," 119, 488
Coleridge quoted, 60
Cooke, Informer, 345, 376

Corbet quoted, 493
Cornwall, Alexander, 87ff,
loif, 335. 337f
Coulsdon, 440
Cowper quoted, 22, 403
Cricklade, 186
Cripps family, 334ff, 342f,
346, 349f, 356, 401
Cromwell, Oliver, i9f, 22, 66,
105, i24f, 26of, 276f, 329,
343. il(^, 402
Crowther, Richard, 335
Cuckerton, 148
Cunningham quoted, 23
Curtis, John, i56f
Curtis, Thomas, 394
Cuthbert, — , 134
Cutler, Sir Thomas, i89ff,
500
Daniel family, 447f, 459
Davis family, 447, 486
Dew, John, 500
Dewsbury, William, 82, 304f,
307, 494, 496ff
D'Israeli, Isaac, quoted, 10
Dixon, W. Hepworth, quoted,
31. 309.322
Dooding, Henry, 211
Down Ampney, 84ff, 9of,
329
Drewett family, 116, I34f, 199,
220ff, 346, 349f, 443ff, 483
Dunch, Lady, 13, 87ff, 326ff,
332f, HI
Dursley, 70,351
Eccles, Solomon, 288ff, 363,
402
Edge, John, 500
Eldridge, Thomas, 335
Ellwood, Thomas, 15, 185,
318, 4i5f, 419,491

INDEX.

503

EncyclopcBdic Dictionary,
The, quoted, 375n, 49of
Endicott, Governor, 286, 347
Evans, George, i35f, 143, 289
Farnsworth, Richard, 7iff,
274, 276, 278f, 423, 494ff
Fell, Margaret, 359
Fettiplace, Giles, 36, 483,
494
Fisher, Mary, 275
Fletcher, Elizabeth, 274
Fosbrooke quoted, 341, 372n
Fox, George, 16, 22ff, 26,
30ff, 41, 47, 53f, 56, 65n,
112f, 251, 267, 272f, 279f,
283f, 291, 3o8ff, 336, 355ff,
367f. 385. 394f. 40if. 404.
412, 427, 44in, 464f, 468!?,
494. 497. 500
Fox, George, The Journal of,
quoted, 26, 272, 28of, 283f,
336n, 356, 359, 365, 404,
416, 469f
Frampton, Bishop, 36, 372
Freame, Surgeon, i76f
Fry, Elizabeth, 440, 466
Fryer, John, 375
George, Justice James, I78ff,
195, 2i9ff, 292, 381, 384,
386, 500
George, John, M.P., 494
George, William, 22off
Gibson, William, 500
Glover, Joseph, 375
Grainger quoted, 488
Gray, Philip, 74, 30of, 333f,
336, 342. 346. 350
Green, J. J., quoted, 44in
Gregory, Priest, 292, 313, 332
Guise family, i64ff, 346, 37off,
405

Gush, Lettice, 215, 349
Gwin, Paul, 283f
Hale, Sir Matthew, 21, 70,
263, 265, 409, 460, 492, 497f
Hall, Priest, i48ff
Harding family, 421
Harris family, 459
Hawkins, Walter, 335
Haycroft quoted, 282
Hayward family, 65, 244f, 247,
291. 350, 368, 404ff, 493
Hearne quoted, 330
Heavens, Elizabeth, 274
Heber quoted, 353, 499
Henton, William, 335
Hewlings family, 84, 87f, 334,
336, 342, 345f
Hinton family, 421, 45 iff
Holbrow, Thomas, 375, 380
Hollister, Dennis, 7, 283,489
Holmes, Oliver W., 7f, I3ff,
Hooton, EUzabeth, 273, 289
Hopper, Isaac T., 46
Howitt, William, 267, 331,
480
Hows, Richard, 445
Hunt family, 459
Hutchins family, 263
Ibbitt, Thomas, 363ff
Jenkins, Hangman, 345
Jordans, 4i4f
Juggins, justice, 286
Knight, Thomas, 335
Lamb quoted, 288, 468
Langbourn, Gaoler, 190, 20iff
Langley, Ralph, 380
Latton, 405

504

INDEX.

Lawson family, 449
Lingard quoted, 254
London, 240, 282nf, 289, 322,
332, 340. 356. 363. 369,
372, 421, 438, 44in, 448f,
451, 457ff, 462, 479ff, 496ff
Longfellow quoted, 35
Loveday family, 235f, 349f,
417, 429ff, 436, 451, 455,
459. 500
Low, Justice, 375
Lypeat, 75, 83, 304
Lytton, Lady, quoted, 28
Macaulay quoted, 255, 315
Malmsbury, 154
Martin quoted, 388, 436
Masters family, i35f, 138,
292, 343ff
Matthews, Thomas, 364
McFingal quoted, 59
Merchant, Nicholas, 198
Meredith, Justice, 374f
Merry family, 453f
Mildred, Thomas, 419
Milton, John, 48f, 4i5f
Morse, Attorney, 334
" Mounteer Cap," 155, 49of
Nailsworth, 70, 255, 262,336,
356, 449
Naylor, James, 15, 59, 288,
337. 494. 497
Neale, O., 214
Nelson quoted, 239, 312, 315,
3i9ff. 493
Nicholson, Bishop, 36, 59,
164, 289, 294, 313, 35iff,
366, 370, 372, 420, 478, 499
Noble quoted, 329
Oade family, 447, 458f
OUiffe family, 447

Onion, Thomas, 74, 335f, 342
Overall, John, 103, 109
Owen family, 44inff
Oxford, 176, 203f, 221, 262,
274f, 311, 315. 343. 494.
499
Painswick, 236, 257, 349, 429,
432, 435ff. 446. 449. 454f.
457ff. 500
Parnel, James, 402
Parsons, Justice, i9iff, 2i2ff,
380, 387
Payton, Bailiffs, 114
Peace, George, 375
Peckover, Wilhelmina, 487
Penington family, 393f, 415,
419
Penn, William, 41, 53, 280,
322, 383,393,402, 415,439,
44in, 466, 470
Pennsylvania, 29, 51, 382,
439. 449. 470
Pepys quoted, 32, 289,363
Perrott's Brook, 173, 371
Perry, John, 221
Pledwell, Mr., 91
Pontin, Henry, 213, 350, 386
Pool, Lady, 313
Poyntz family, 459f
Prichard, Bishop, 36, 164,
372f
Pudhill, 70
Quaker Anecdotes, 28, 36f,
40, 43. 47f. 312, 3i9f, 355,
36if, 39if, 483ff
Quaker Literature, 7, 26, 51,
145. 280, 282, 307, 404, 416,
423. 439. 450, 46if, 477ff,
489, 491, 493ff. See also
under Besse, Fox, Sewel
Whittier.

INDEX.

505

Quaker Peculiarities, intro
duction passitn, 73, 95,
109, i27ff, i46f, 193, 267f,
272, 279ff, 285, 292ff, 306,
3i6f, 360, 369, 372n, 382,
422, 437ff, 4623, 488f, 496f
" Quakerisra, Antiquity of,"
i22f, 127, 488
Read quoted, 37of
Reigate, 419, 44iff
Rich, Priest, 146, 489
Richardson, Richard, 500
ROBERTS, JOHN, THE
FIRST, 65, 68f, 240ff, 247ff,
• 258f, 399, 411, 462
Roberts, Mary (i), 66, 245,
250, 258f, 267, 270, 299,
301, 399, 411.(2), 447, 452,
454- (3). 447- (4). 457f.46if
ROBERTS, JOHN, THE
SECOND, his birth, 250,
406 ; Hayward alias, 65,
80, 87f, 90, 92ff, 104, 109,
116, 119, 134, 143, 148, I52f,
162, 167, 182, 240, 245,
342f; early education, 125,
25off; early religion, 122 ;
military experiences, 2 if,
66ff, 69, 124, 252ff, 259ff,
403 ; settlement at Sidding
ton, 69, 261 ; marriage,
21, 70, 262ff ; children, 70,
105, 269ff, 299, 301 ; his
Quakeiism, 41, 7iff, 272ff,
276, 291, 378, 494; " testi
mony " in Cirencester
church, -Ji, 145, 232, 249 ;
fines and imprisonments,
76, 84, 102, 126, 162, 171,
259, 29off, 294, 296ff, 326,
332ff, 342, 348f, 370, 443,
500; interviews with Justice

Stephens, 75, 78, 83, 246,
304 ; and with his uncle
Solliss, 76, 246 ; meets
Lady Dunch, 46, 87ff,326ff,
348 ; his discussion with
Parson Careless, g2ff, 329f;
conferences with Bishop
Nicholson, 225, 326, 35 iff,
365,410. (ist), i03ff,353ff,
420. (2nd), ii6ff, 324, 355ff.
(3rd), i4iff, 360; he travels
with George Fox, ii2f;
bailiffs sent to his house,
ii2ff, 119, 133; his dreams,
115, 176,363; the Bishop's
visit, i35ff, 145, 343; he
meets with Sir John Guise,
i64ff, 346, 363, 403; with
William Bourchier, i68ff ;
with Justice George, i78ff,
349 ; and with Justice
Masters, 343f ; his grief at
his sons' imprisonment,
185, 384, 386 ; he visits
them in Gloucester Castle,
212, 387; his death, 223,
395ff ; and burial-place,
58, i36f, 223,270, 399,406;
his letters, 251, 299ff, 324ff,
443 ; his character, i7f, 22,
ii' 73, 245f,25if,26if,z76ff,
378, 395f. 4ooff. 462f, 474.
492 ; his outward position,
21, 263, 266, 313, 370, 382;
his personal appearance,
40off ; his humour, ;iiT„ 49f,
i79f, 261, 354f, 384
Roberts, Lydia (i), 70, 77, 82,
112, 115, 135, i37f, 141,
199, 262ff, 291, 296ff, 304,
401, 4o6ff, 459, 498. (2),
70,270. (3), 419, 429, 446,
451- (4). 447

33

5o6

INDEX.

Roberts, John, the Third, 70,
82, 114, 153, 181, 199, 269,
271. 30of, 304, 412, 414.
419
Roberts, Joseph, 70, 269
Roberts, Thomas, 70, 27of,
353
Roberts, Nathaniel, 70, 142,
i77ff, i85ff, 204, 2i9ff, 271,
349, 38off, 395, 4i2ff, 421,
500
ROBERTS, DANIEL (i),
6ff, 16, 50, 63, 70, i77ff,
224f, 245, 271, 349, 354,
38off, 395, 407f, 4i4ff,
423ff, 44iff, 500
Roberts, Rebecca (i), 414,
4i8f. (2), 419, 446
Roberts, EHzabeth (i), 419,
422, 427, 445f. (2), 6, 299,
389. 406, 4i9f, 42Sff. 443.
446, 486
ROBERTS, AXTELL, 369,
419,424, 429, 432,437,440,
446f. 451.454. 482
Roberts, Hannah, 4293
Roberts, Sarah (i), 419, 446.
(2). 454- (3). 454
ROBERTS, JOHN, THE
FOURTH, 419, 431, 446ff,
452, 454
Roberts, Amelia, 447, 449,
4S7f
ROBERTS, DANIEL (2),
447ff. 457
Roberts, Ann, 448f
Roberts, John, the Fifth,
43 if. 447
ROBERTS, JOHN, THE
SIXTH, 451,4571
Roberts, Oade, 6, 9, 245n,
407, 457ff, 478, 482f, 486f

Roberts, Mary Anne, 457,
461
Roberts, Daniel (3), 457, 461.
(4). 455
Roberts-Hayward, 65, 240,
244ff, 291, 350, 368, 404ff,
493
Roberts, Anthony, 349
Salmon quoted, 438f
Selcock, John, 374
Sewel quoted, 26, 341, 347f,
363ff
Shakespeare quoted, 41, 55,
60, 6sn, 354
Sharp, Anthony, I42ff
Shewell, Joseph T., 487
"Siddington," 231, 493
Silvester, Robert, 74, 292,
300f, 336, 342
Simonds, Edward, iS7f
Simpson, William, 289, 394
Skeats quoted, 385
Sketches of Scarborough,
Poetical, quoted, 4833
Smith, Edmond, 421
Smith, John, 2o8ff
Sollace family, 66, 68, 76, 78,
245ff. 255, 259, 266f, 291,
293. 299. 368, 411, 459
Southcott, Joanna, 450
Spark, Roger, 334, 342
Sparkes, Benjamin, 421
Springett family, 393f
St. George's, 31 if
Stacey, Henry, 334
Staples, John, 500
Stinchcorabe, 70, 263ff, 376,
459
Stoke Orchard, 171, 405
Stow-in-the-Wold, 349

INDEX.

507

Stratford quoted, 380, 483,
489. 493
Stroud, 240, 257, 265, 432, 43sf
Stubbs, Sam, 114
Talwin, Benjamin, 486
Terrill quoted, 489
Tetbury, 82, 113, I35f, i4if,
200,304, 333, 335f, 343, 356,
359. 401
Thatcher, Priest, 286
Theyer family, 264
Thompson family, 9, 448f,
459f, 478f, 482, 486f
Thumhscrew, The, 209, 390
Tiffin, Turnkey, 2i4f
Timbrell family, i68ff, 346,
444
Tithes, 46, 84, 126, 215, 250,
3i7ff. 325f
Townsend faraily, i64f, 2i3f,
334ff. 342. 349f. 373. 379ff.
444f, 483, 500
Tyndale faraily, 21, 70, 235,
2635, 268, 291, 368, 409,
4". 459
Uncle Tom's Cabin quoted,
46

Upper-Side, 421, 424, 482
Upton, 82, 304
Vaughton, John, 500
Voltaire quoted, 488
Wade, William, 374
Wake, William, 387
Wales, 202ff, 330, 480, 493,
499
Wardell, Lydia, 287
Welch, Joseph, 421
Wellden, William, 240
Wharton, Edward, 347f
White, Elizabeth, 405
Whitehead, George, 500
Whittier quoted, i4ff, 19,
25f, 48, 59, 285, 288, 331,
483
Williaras, Elizabeth, 275
Williams, Rather, 205-ffi
Witchell, Gaoler, 209
Wood quoted, 499
Woodchester, 264
Woolman, John, 466
Worm, William, 421
Worrae, Mary, 445
Wright, Lydia, 286

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