THOMAS ELLWOOD. 297 liament arrayed against you, vindicated the Rights of Conscience, at the cost of home, fortune, and life. English liberty owes more to your unyielding firmness, than to the blows stricken for her at Worcester and Naseby. The next year, 1670, an act of Parliament, in relation to "Conventicles," provided that any person who should be present at any meeting, under colour or pretence of any exercise of religion, in other manner than according to the liturgy and practice of the Church of England, "should be liable to fines of from five to ten shillings; and any person preaching at or giving his house for the meeting, to a fine of twenty pounds; one third of the fines being received by the informer or informers." As a natural consequence of such a law, the vilest scoundrels in the land set up the trade of informers and heresy-hunters. Wherever a dissenting meeting or burial took place, there was sure to be a mercenary spy, ready to bring a complaint against all in atattendance. The Independents and Baptists ceased, in a great measure, to hold public meetings, yet even they did not escape prosecution. Bunyan, for instance, in these days, was dreaming, like another Jacob, of angels ascending and descending, in Bedford prison. But upon the poor Quakers fell, as usual, the great force of the unjust enactment. Some of these spies or informers, men of sharp wit, close countenances, pliant tempers, and skill in dissimulation, took the guise of Quakers, Independents, or Baptists, as occasion required, thrusting themselves into the meetings of the proscribed sects, ascertaining the number who attended, their rank and condition, and then informing against them. Ellwood, in his journal for 1670, describes several of these emissaries of evil. One of them came to a Friend's house, in Bucks, professing to be a brother in the faith, but, overdoing his counterfeit Quakerism, was detected and dismissed by his host. Betaking himself to the inn, he appeared in his true character, drank and swore roundly, and confessed over his cups, that he had been sent forth on his mission by the Rev. Dr. Mew, 298 THOMAS ELLWOOD. Vice Chancellor of Oxford. Finding little success in counterfeiting Quakerism, he turned to the Baptists, where, for a time, he met with better success. Ellwood, at this time, rendered good service to his friends, by exposing the true character of these wretches, and bringing them to justice for theft, perjury, and other misdemeanors. While this storm of persecution lasted, (a period of two or three years,) the different dissenting sects felt in some measure, a common sympathy, and, while guarding themselves against their common foe, had little leisure for controversy with each other; but, as was natural, the abatement of their mutual suffering and danger, was the signal for renewing their suspended quarrels. The Baptists fell upon the Quakers, with pamphlet and sermon; the latter replied in the same way. One of the most conspicuous of the Baptist disputants was the famous JEREMY IVES, with whom our friend Ellwood seems to have had a good deal of trouble. "His name," says Ellwood, " was up for a topping Dispu tant. He was well read in the fallacies of logic, and ready in framing syllogisms. His chief art lay in tickling the humour of rude, unlearned, and injudicious hearers." The residue of Ellwood's life seems to have glided on in serenity and peace. He wrote, at intervals, many pamphlets in defence of his Society, and in favour of Liberty of Conscience. At his hospitable residence, the leading spirits of the sect were warmly welcomed. George Fox and William Penn seem to have been frequent guests. We find that, in 1683, he was arrested for seditious publications, when on the eve of hastening to his early friend, Gulielma, who, in the absence of her husband, Governor Penn, had fallen dangerously ill. On coming before the judge, "I told him," says Ellwood, "that I had that morning received an express out of Sussex, that William Penn's wife with whom I had an intimate acquaintance and strict friendship, lay now ill, not without great danger, and that she had expressed her desire that I would come to her as soon as I could." THOMAS ELLWOOD. 299 The judge said, "He was very sorry for Madam Penn's illness," of whose virtues he spoke very highly, but not more than was her due. Then he told me, "that for her sake, he would do what he could to further my visit to her." Escaping from the hands of the law, he visited his friend, who was by this time in a way of recovery, and, on his return, learned that the tion had been abandoned. prosecu At about this date his narrative ceases. We learn, from other sources, that he continued to write and print in defence of his religious views up to the year of his death, which took place in 1713. One of his productions, a poetical version of the Life of David, may be still met with, in the old Quaker libraries. On the score of poetical merit, it is about on a level with Michael Drayton's verses on the same subject. As the history of one of the firm confessors of the old struggle for religious freedom, of a genial-hearted and pleasant scholar, the friend of Penn and Milton, and the suggester of PARADISE REGAINED, we trust our hurried sketch has not been altogether without interest; and that, whatever may be the religious views of our readers, they have not failed to recognise a good and true man in THOMAS ELLWOOD. J. G. W. I HAVE often wished myself the owner of the whole mountain of Ophir. I would scatter its yellow dust upon the human intellect, until, if there be ONE fertilising property in it, every young idea should shoot forth with overshadowing luxuriance. THADEUS STEVENS. KNOWLEDGE, when wisdom is too weak to guide her Che Forest Moss. BY forest fountains hast thou seen The winsome, fairy sight Where banks are clad in mosses green, As when upon a velvet lawn, But in the moss a sunshine dwells In hearts where sorrow's shadow lies, And happy, in a world like this, The heart, that, like the forest moss, Hath sunshine of its own. EDWARD BRown. GOOD, kind, true, holy words, dropt in conversation, may be little thought of, but they are like seeds of flower, or fruitful tree, falling by the wayside, borne by some bird afar, haply thereafter to fringe with beauty some heretofore barren mountain-side, or make some nook of the wilderness to rejoice. My Soul and I.. STAND still, my soul, in the silent dark Alone in the shadow drear and stark What, my soul, was thy errand here? Or heaping up dust from year to year? Speak, soul, aright in His holy sight And steadily on thee through the night: What hast thou done, Oh soul of mine, Hast thou wrought His task, and kept the line What silent all!-art sad of cheer? Art fearful now? When God seemed far and men were near, Aha! thou tremblest!-well I see Thou'rt craven grown. It is so hard with God and me Summon thy sunshine bravery back Oh, wretched sprite! Let me hear thy voice through this deep and black Abysmal night. |