ISAAC PENINGTON had, at that time, two sons and one daughter, all then very young: of whom, the eldest son, JOHN PENINGTON, and the daughter, MARY (the wife of DANIEL WHARLEY), are yet living at the writing of this [_? 1713_]. And being himself both skilful and curious in p.r.o.nounciation; he was very desirous to have them well grounded in the rudiments of the English tongue. To which end, he had sent for a man, out of Lancashire, whom, upon inquiry, he had heard of; who was, undoubtedly, the most accurate English teacher, that ever I met with or have heard of. His name was RICHARD BRADLEY. But as he pretended no higher than the English tongue, and had led them, by grammar rules, to the highest improvement they were capable of, in that; he had then taken his leave, and was gone up to London, to teach an English school of Friends' children there.

This put my friend to a fresh strait. He had sought for a new teacher to instruct his children in the Latin tongue, as the old had done in the English: but had not yet found one. Wherefore, one evening, as we sate together by the fire, in his bedchamber, which, for want of health, he kept: he asked me, his wife being by, "If I would be so kind to him, as to stay a while with him; till he could hear of such a man as he aimed at; and, in the meantime, enter his children in the rudiments of the Latin tongue?"

This question was not more unexpected, than surprising to me; and the more, because it seemed directly to thwart my former purpose and undertaking, of endeavouring to improve myself, by following my studies with my Master, MILTON; which this would give, at least, a present diversion from; and, for how long, I could not foresee.

But the sense I had, of the manifold obligations I lay under to these worthy friends of mine, shut out all reasonings; and disposed my mind to an absolute resignation to their desire, that I might testify my grat.i.tude by a willingness to do them any friendly service, that I could be capable of.

And though I questioned my ability to carry on that work to its due height and proportion; yet, as that was not proposed, but an initiation only by Accidence into Grammar, I consented to the proposal, as a present expedient, till a more qualified person should be found; without further treaty or mention of terms between us, than that of mutual friendship.

And to render this digression from my own studies, the less uneasy to my mind; I recollected, and often thought of, that Rule of LILLY--

_Qui docet indoctos, licet indoctissimus esset, Ipse brevi reliquis, doctior esse queat._

He that th'unlearned doth teach, may quickly be More learned than they, though most unlearned he.

With this consideration, I undertook this province; and left it not until I married; which was not till [_the 28th October in_] the year 1669, near[ly] seven years from the time I came thither.

In which time, having the use of my friend's books, as well as of my own, I spent my leisure hours much in reading; not without some improvement to myself in my private studies: which (with the good success of my labours bestowed on the children, and the agreeableness of conversation which I found in the family) rendered my undertaking more satisfactory; and my stay there more easy to me.

Although the storm raised by the _Act for Banishment [16 Car. II. c. 4.

1664_], fell with the greatest weight and force upon some other parts, as at London, Hertford, &c.: yet were we, in Buckinghamshire, not wholly exempted therefrom. For a part of that shower reached us also.

For a Friend, of Amersham, whose name was EDWARD PEROT or PARRET, departing this life; and notice being given, that his body would be buried there on such a day (which was the First Day of the Fifth Month [_July_], 1665): the Friends of the adjacent parts of the country, resorted pretty generally to the burial. So that there was a fair appearance of Friends and neighbours; the deceased having been well beloved by both.

After we had spent some time together, in the house (MORGAN WATKINS, who, at that time, happened to be at ISAAC PENINGTON's, being with us); the body was taken up, and borne on Friends' shoulders, along the street, in order to be carried to the burying-ground: which was at the town's end; being part of an orchard belonging to the deceased, which he, in his lifetime, had appointed for that service.

It so happened, that one AMBROSE BENNET, a Barrister at Law, and a Justice of the Peace for that county, was riding through the town [of Amersham] that morning, in his way to Aylesbury: and was, by some ill-disposed person or other, informed that there was a Quaker to be buried there that day; and that most of the Quakers in the country [_county_] were come thither to the burial.

Upon this, he set up his horses, and stayed. And when we, not knowing anything of his design against us, went innocently forward to perform our Christian duty, for the interment of our Friend; he rushed out of his Inn upon us, with the Constables and a rabble of rude fellows whom he had gathered together: and, having his drawn sword in his hand, struck one of the foremost of the bearers, with it; commanding them "To set down the coffin!" But the Friend, who was so stricken, whose name was THOMAS DELL (being more concerned for the safety of the dead body than his own, lest it should fall from his shoulder, and any indecency thereupon follow) held the coffin fast. Which the Justice observing, and being enraged that his word (how unjust soever) was not forthwith obeyed, set his hand to the coffin; and, with a forcible thrust, threw it off the bearers' shoulders, so that it fell to the ground, in the midst of the street: and there, we were forced to leave it.

For, immediately thereupon, the Justice giving command for the apprehending us; the Constables with the rabble fell on us, and drew some, and drove others in the Inn: giving thereby an opportunity to the rest, to walk away.

Of those that were thus taken, I was one. And being, with many more, put into a room, under a guard; we were kept there, till another Justice, called Sir THOMAS CLAYTON, whom Justice BENNET had sent for, to join with him in committing us, was come.

And then, being called forth severally before them, they picked out ten of us; and committed us to Aylesbury gaol: for what, neither we, nor _they_ knew. For we were not convicted of having either done or said anything, which the law could take hold of.

For they took us up in the open street, the King's highway, not doing any unlawful act; but peaceably carrying and accompanying the corpse of our deceased Friend, to bury it. Which they would not suffer us to do; but caused the body to lie in the open street, and in the cartway: so that all the travellers that pa.s.sed by (whether hors.e.m.e.n, coaches, carts, or waggons) were fain to break out of the way, to go by it, that they might not drive over it; until it was almost night. And then, having caused a grave to be made in the unconsecrated part, as it is accounted, of that which is called the Church Yard: they forcibly took the body from the widow (whose right and property it was), and buried it there.

When the Justices had delivered us prisoners to the Constable, it being then late in the day, which was the seventh day of the week: he (not willing to go so far as Aylesbury, nine long miles, with us, that night; nor to put the town [of Amersham] to the charge of keeping us, there, that night and the First day and night following) dismissed us, upon our _parole_, to come to him again at a set hour, on the Second day morning.

Whereupon, we all went home to our respective habitations; and coming to him punctually [_on Monday, 3rd July_, 1665] according to promise, were by him, without guard, conducted to the Prison.

The Gaoler, whose name was NATHANIEL BIRCH, had, not long before, behaved himself very wickedly, with great rudeness and cruelty, to some of our Friends of the lower side of the country [_i.e., Buckinghamshire_]; whom he, combining with the Clerk of the Peace, whose name was HENRY WELLS, had contrived to get into his gaol: and after they were legally discharged in Court, detained them in prison, using great violence, and shutting them up close in the Common Gaol among the felons; because they would not give him his unrighteous demand of Fees, which they were the more straitened in, from his treacherous dealing with them. And they having, through suffering, maintained their freedom, and obtained their liberty: we were the more concerned to keep what they had so hardly gained; and therefore resolved not to make any contract or terms for either Chamber Rent or Fees, but to demand a Free Prison. Which we did.

When we came in, the gaoler was ridden out to wait on the Judges, who came in, that day [_3rd July, 1665_], to begin the a.s.size; and his wife was somewhat at a loss, how to deal with us. But being a cunning woman, she treated us with a great appearance of courtesy, offering us the choice of all her rooms; and when we asked, "Upon what terms?" she still referred us to her husband; telling us, she "did not doubt, but that he would be very reasonable and civil to us." Thus, she endeavoured to have drawn us to take possession of some of her chambers, at a venture; and trust to her husband's kind usage: but, we, who, at the cost of our Friends, had a proof of his kindness, were too wary to be drawn in by the fair words of a woman: and therefore told her, "We would not settle anywhere till her husband came home; and then would have a Free Prison, wheresoever he put us."

Accordingly, walking all together into the court of the prison, in which was a well of very good water; and having, beforehand, sent to a Friend in the town, a widow woman, whose name was SARAH LAMBARN, to bring us some bread and cheese: we sate down upon the ground round about the well; and when we had eaten, we drank of the water out of the well.

Our great concern was for our Friend, ISAAC PENINGTON, because of the tenderness of his const.i.tution: but he was so lively in his spirit, and so cheerfully given up to suffer; that he rather encouraged us, than needed any encouragement from us.

In this posture, the gaoler, when he came home, found us. And having, before he came to us, consulted his wife; and by her, understood on what terms we stood: when he came to us, he hid his teeth, and putting on a shew of kindness, seemed much troubled that we should sit there abroad [_in the open air_], especially his old friend, Mr. PENINGTON; and thereupon, invited us to come in, and take what rooms in his house we pleased. We asked, "Upon what terms?" letting him know, withal, that we were determined to have a Free Prison.

He (like the Sun and the Wind, in the fable, that strove which of them should take from the traveller, his cloak) having, like the wind, tried rough, boisterous, violent means to our Friends before, but in vain; resolved now to imitate the Sun, and shine as pleasantly as he could upon us. Wherefore, he told us, "We should make the terms ourselves; and be as free as we desired. If we thought fit, when we were released, to give him anything; he would thank us for it: and if not, he would demand nothing."

Upon these terms, we went in: and dispose ourselves, some in the dwelling-house, others in the malt-house: where they chose to be.

During the a.s.size, we were brought before Judge MORTON [_Sir WILLIAM MORTON, Recorder of Gloucester_], a sour angry man, who [_being an old Cavalier Officer, naturally_,] very rudely reviled us, but would not hear either us or the cause; referring the matter to the two Justices, who had committed us.

They, when the a.s.size was ended, sent for us, to be brought before them, at their Inn [at Aylesbury]; and fined us, as I remember, 6s. 8d. a piece: which we not consenting to pay, they committed us to prison again, for one month from that time; on the _Act for Banishment_.

When we had lain there that month [_i.e., not later than the middle of August, 1665_], I, with another, went to the gaoler, to demand our liberty: which he readily granted, telling us, "The door should be opened, when we pleased to go."

This answer of his, I reported to the rest of my Friends there; and, thereupon, we raised among us a small sum of money, which they put into my hand, for the gaoler. Whereupon, I, taking another with me, went to the gaoler, with the money in my hand; and reminding him of the terms, upon which we accepted the use of his rooms, I told him, "That though we could not pay Chamber Rent nor Fees, yet inasmuch as he had now been civil to us, we were willing to acknowledge it by a small token": and thereupon, gave him the money. He, putting it into his pocket, said, "I thank you, and your Friends for it! and to let you see that I take it as a gift, not a debt; I will not look on it, to see how much it is."

The prison door being then set open for us; we went out, and departed to our respective homes.

Some little time before I went to Aylesbury prison [_on 3rd July, 1665_], I was desired by my quondam Master, MILTON, to take a house for him in the neighbourhood where I dwelt; that he might get out of the City, for the safety of himself and his family: the Pestilence then growing hot in London.

I took a pretty box for him [_i.e., in June, 1665_] in Giles-Chalfont [_Chalfont St. Giles_], a mile from me [_ELLWOOD was then living in ISAAC PENINGTON's house, called The Grange, at Chalfont St. Peter; or Peter's Chalfont, as he calls it_], of which, I gave him notice: and intended to have waited on him, and seen him well settled in it; but was prevented by that imprisonment. [_Therefore MILTON did not come into Buckinghamshire at this time, till after the 3rd July, 1665_.]

But, now [_i.e., not later than the middle of August, 1665_], being released, and returned home; I soon made a visit to him, to welcome him into the country [_county_].

After some common discourses had pa.s.sed between us [_evidently at ELLWOOD's first visit_], called for a ma.n.u.script of his: which being brought, he delivered to me; bidding me, "Take it home with me, and read it at my leisure; and, when I had so done, return it to him, with my judgement thereupon!"

When I came home [_i.e., The Grange; from which ISAAC PBNINGTON, with his family (including THOMAS ELLWOOD) was,_ by military force, _expelled about a month after their first return from Aylesbury gaol (i.e., about the middle of September); and he again sent to the same prison_], and had set myself to read it; I found it was that excellent poem, which he ent.i.tled, _Paradise Lost_.

After I had, with the best attention, read it through: I made him another visit, and returned him his book; with due acknowledgment of the favour he had done me, in communicating it to me.

He asked me, "How I liked it? And what I thought of it?" Which I, modestly but freely, told him.

And, after some further discourse about it, I pleasantly said to him, "Thou hast said much, here, of _Paradise lost_: but what hast thou to say of _Paradise found_?"

He made me no answer; but sate some time in a muse: then brake off that discourse, and fell upon another subject.

After the sickness [_Plague_] was over; and the City well cleansed, and become safely habitable again: he returned thither.

And when, afterwards [_probably in 1668 or 1669_], I went to wait on him there (which I seldom failed of doing, whenever my occasions drew me to London), he showed me his second poem, called _Paradise Regained_: and, in a pleasant tone, said to me, "This is owing to you! For you put it into my head, by the question you put to me at Chalfont! which, before, I had not thought of."

[_Paradise Regained_ was licensed for publication on 2nd July, 1670.]

ADVICE TO A YOUNG REVIEWER, WITH A SPECIMEN OF THE ART.

1807.

ADVICE TO A YOUNG REVIEWER, &c.