LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.-No. 181.-30 OCTOBER, 1847. [We copy this from the National Era. It has the can be said, as a general thing, of their literary initials of J. G. Whittier.] THOMAS ELLWOOD. merits. Their authors were plain, earnest men and women, chiefly intent upon the substance of things, and having withal a strong testimony to bear against carnal wit and outside show and ornament. Yet, even the scholar may well admire the power of certain portions of George Fox's journal, where a strong spirit clothes its utterance in simple downright Saxon words-the quiet and beautiful enthusiasm of Pennington-the torrent energy of Edward Burrough—the serene wisdom of Penn― the logical acuteness of Barclay-the honest truthfulness of Sewell-the wit and humor of John Roberts, (for even Quakerism had its apostolic jokers, and drab-coated Robert Halls,) and last, not least, the simple beauty of Woolman's Journal the modest record of a life of good works and love. Let us look at the "Life of THOMAS ELLWOOD." published some sixty years before. Ellwood was born in 1639, in the little town of Crowell, in Oxfordshire. Old Walter, his father, was of "gentlemanly lineage," and held a com COMMEND me to autobiographies! Give me the veritable notchings of Robinson Crusoe on his stick -the indubitable records of a life long since swallowed up in the blackness of darkness, traced by a hand the very dust of which has become undistinguishable. The foolishest egotist who ever chronicled his daily experiences, his hopes and fears, poor plans, and vain reachings after happiness, speaking to us out of the Past, and thereby giving us to understand that it was quite as real as our Present, is in no mean sort our benefactor, and commands our attention, in spite of his folly. We are thankful for the very vanity which prompted him to bottle up his poor records and cast them into the great sea of Time, for future voyagers to pick up; for we note, with the deepest interest, that in him too was enacted that miracle of a conscious existence, the reproduction of which in ourselves awes and troubles us. He, too, had a mother; he hated and loved; the light from old-quenched hearths shone over him; he walked in the sunshine over the dust of those who had gone before him, just as we are now walking over his. These records of him remain, the footmarks of a long-extinct life, not of mere animal organism, but of a being like ourselves, enabling us, by study-mission of the peace under Charles I. One of his ing their hieroglyphic significance, to decipher and see clearly into the mystery of existence centuries ago. The dead generations live again in these old self-biographies. Incidentally, unintentionally, yet in the simplest and most natural manner, they make us familiar with all the phenomena of life in the by-gone ages. We are brought in contact with real flesh and blood men and women, not the ghostly outline figures which pass for such, in what is called History. The horn lantern of the biographer, by the aid of which, with painful minuteness, he chronicled, from day to day, his own outgoings and incomings, making visible to us his pitiful wants, labors, trials, and tribulations of the stomach and of the conscience, sheds, at times, a strong, clear light upon contemporaneous activities; what seemed before half fabulous, rises up in distinct and full proportion; we look at statesmen, philosophers, and poets, with the eyes of those who lived perchance their next-door neigh"For my part, I sought, and at length found, bors, and sold them beer, and mutton, and house-means to cast myself into the company of the daughhold stuffs, had access to their kitchens, and took note of the fashion of their wigs and the color of their breeches. Without some such light, all history would be just about as unintelligible and unreal as a dimly-remembered dream. poor The journals of the early Friends or Quakers are in this respect invaluable. Little, it is true, most intimate friends was Isaac Pennington, a gentleman of estate and good reputation, whose wife, the widow of Sir John Springette, was a lady of superior endowments. Her only daughter, Gulielma, was the playmate and companion of Thomas. On making this family a visit, in 1658, in company with his father, he was surprised to find that they had united with the Quakers-a sect then little known, and everywhere spoken against. Passing through the vista of nearly two centuries, let us cross the threshold, and look with the eyes of young Ellwood upon this Quaker family. It will doubtless give us a good idea of the earnest and solemn spirit of that age of religious awakening. "So great a change from a free, debonair, and courtly sort of behavior, which we had formerly found there, into so strict a gravity as they now received us with, did not a little amuse us, and disas we had promised ourselves. appointed our expectations of such a pleasant visit ter, whom I found gathering flowers in the garden, attended by her maid, also a Quaker. But when I addressed her after my accustomed manner, with intention to engage her in discourse, on the foot of our former acquaintance, though she treated me with a courteous mien, yet, as young as she was, the gravity of her looks and behavior struck such an awe upon me, that I found myself not so much master of myself as to pursue any further converse with her. "We staid dinner, which was very handsome, and lacked nothing to recommend it to me but the want of mirth and pleasant discourse, which we could neither have with them, nor, by reason of them, with one another; the weightiness which was upon their spirits and countenances keeping down the lightness that would have been up in ours." "He received me courteously, as well for the sake of Dr. Paget, who introduced me, as of Isaac Pennington, who recommended me, to both of whom he bore a good respect. And, having inquired divers things of me, with respect to my former progression in learning, he dismissed me to provide myself with such accommodations as might be most suitable to my studies. "I went, and took lodgings as near to his house (which was then in Jewen street) as I conveniently could, and from thenceforward went every day in the afternoon, except on the first day of the week, and, sitting by him in his dining room, read to him such books in the Latin tongue as he pleased to have me read. "He, perceiving with what earnest desire I had pursued learning, gave me not only all the encouragement, but all the help he could. For, having a curious ear, he understood by my tone when I understood what I read, and when I did not, and accordingly could stop me, examine me, and open the most difficult passages to me." Thanks, worthy Thomas, for this glimpse into John Milton's dining-room! as he calls one "first Not long after, they made a second visit to their sober friends, spending several days, during which they attended a meeting, in a neighboring farmhouse, where we are introduced by Ellwood to two remarkable personages-EDWARD BURROUGH, the friend and fearless reprover of Cromwell, and by far the most eloquent preacher of his sect; and JAMES NAYLOR, whose melancholy after history of fanaticism, cruel sufferings, and beautiful repentance, is so well known to the readers of English history under the protectorate. Under the preaching of these men, and the influence of the Pennington family, young Ellwood was brought into fellowship with the Quakers. Of the old justice's sorrow He had been with "Master Milton,' and indignation at this sudden blasting of his hopes him, only a few weeks, when, being and wishes in respect to his son, and of the trials day morning," at the Bull and Mouth meeting, and difficulties of the latter in his new vocation, it Aldersgate, the train-bands of the city, "with great is now scarcely worth while to speak. Let us step noise and clamor," headed by Maj. Rosewell, fell forward a few years, to 1662, considering mean- upon him and his friends. The immediate cause time how matters, political and spiritual, are of this onslaught upon quiet worshippers was the changed in that brief period. Cromwell-the famous plot of the Fifth Monarchy men, grim old Maccabeus of Puritanism-is no longer among fanatics, who (like the Millerites of the present day) men; Charles the Second sits in his place; pro- had been waiting long for the personal reign of fane and licentious cavaliers have thrust aside the Christ and the saints upon earth, and, in their zeal sleek-haired, painful-faced Independents, who used to hasten such a consummation, had sallied into to groan approval to the scriptural illustrations of London streets with drawn swords and matchlocks. Harrison and Fleetwood; men easy of virtue, The government took strong measures for supwithout sincerity, either in religion or politics, pressing dissenters' meetings or conventicles;" occupying the places made honorable by the Mil- and the poor Quakers, although not at all implitons, and Pyms, and Vanes of the commonwealth.cated in the disturbance, suffered more severely Having this change in view, the light which the than any others. Let us look at the "freedom of farthing candle of Ellwood sheds upon one of conscience and worship" in England under that these illustrious names will not be unwelcome. In his intercourse with Penn, and other learned Quakers, he had reason to lament his own deficiencies in scholarship, and his friend Pennington undertook to put him in a way of remedying the defect. "He had," says Ellwood," an intimate acquaintance with Dr. Paget, a physician of note in London, and he, with John Milton, a gentleman of great note for learning throughout the learned world, for the accurate pieces he had written on various subjects and occasions. "This person, having filled a public station in the former times, lived a private and retired life in London, and, having lost his sight, kept always a man to read for him, which usually was the son of some gentleman of his acquaintance, whom, in kindness, he took to improve in his learning. "Thus, by the mediation of my friend, Isaac Pennington with Dr. Paget, and through him with John Milton, was I admitted to come to him, not as a servant to him, nor to be in the house with him, but only to have the liberty of coming to his house at certain hours when I would, and read to him what books he should appoint, which was all the favor I desired. 66 irreverent Defender of the Faith, Charles II. Ellwood says: "He that commanded the party gave us first a general charge to come out of the room. But we, who came thither at God's requiring to worship Him, (like that good man of old, who said, we ought to obey God rather than man,) stirred not, but kept our places. Whereupon, he sent some of his soldiers among us, with command to drag or drive us out-which they did roughly enough." Think of it, grave men and women, and modest maidens, sitting there with calm, impassive countenances, motionless as death, the pikes of the soldiery closing about them in a circle of bristling steel! Brave and true ones! Not in vain did ye thus oppose God's silence to the Devil's uproar-Christian endurance and calm persistence in the exercise of your rights as Englishmen and men to the hot fury of impatient tyranny! From your day down to this, the world has been the better for your faithfulness. Ellwood and some thirty of his friends were marched off to prison in old Bridewell, which, as well as nearly all the other prisons, was already crowded with Quaker prisoners. One of the rooms of the prison was used as a torture chamber. "1 was almost affrighted," says Ellwood, "by the dismalness of the place; for, besides that the walls were all laid over with black, from top to bottom, there stood in the middle a great whipping-post.' "The manner of whipping there is, to strip the party to the skin, from the waist upward, and, having fastened him to the whipping-post, (so that he can neither resist nor shun the strokes,) to lash his naked body with long, slender twigs of holly, which will bend almost like thongs around the body; and these, having little knots upon them, tear the skin and flesh, and give extreme pain." length came for whom she was reserved,) she carried herself with so much evenness of temper, such courteous freedom, guarded by the strictest modesty, that as it gave encouragement or ground of hope to none, so neither did it administer any matter of offence or just cause of complaint to any." Beautiful and noble maiden! How the imagination fills up this outline limning of thee by thy friend, and, if truth must be told, admirer! Serene, courteous, healthful-a ray of tenderest and blandest light, shining steadily in the sober gloom of that old household! Confirmed Quaker as she is, shrinking from none of the responsibilities and To this terrible punishment aged men and deli- dangers of her profession, and therefore liable at cately nurtured young females were often subjected any time to the penalties of prison and whippingduring this season of hot persecution. post, under that plain garb and in spite of that From the Bridewell Ellwood was at length"certain gravity of look and behavior" which, as removed to Newgate, and thrust in, with other we have seen, on one occasion awed young Ell"Friends," amidst the common felons. He speaks wood into silence, youth, and beauty, and refineof this prison, with its thieves, murderers, and ment assert their prerogatives; love knows no prostitutes, its over-crowded apartments, and loath- creed, and the gay, and titled, and wealthy, crowd some cells, as a hell upon earth." In a closet, ad- around her, suing in vain for her favor. joining the room where he was lodged, lay for several days the quartered bodies of Phillips, Tongue, and Gibbs, the leaders of the Fifth Monarchy rising, frightful and loathsome, as they came from the bloody hand of the executioners! These ghastly remains were at length obtained by the friends of the dead, and buried. The heads were ordered to be prepared for setting up in different parts of the city. Read this grim passage of description: - 66 "Followed, like the tided Moon, "until he at length comes for whom she was 66 Meantime, one cannot but feel a good degree of sympathy with young Ellwood, her old schoolmate and playmate, placed, as he was, in the same family with her, enjoying her familiar conversation and unreserved confidence; and, as he says, the advantageous opportunities of riding and walking abroad with her, by night as well as by day, without any other company than her maid; for, so great, indeed, was the confidence that her mother had in me, that she thought her daughter safe, if I was with her, even from the plots and designs of others upon her." So near, and yet, alas! in truth, so distant! The serene and gentle light which shone upon him, in the sweet solitudes of Chalfont, was that of a star, itself unapproachable. As he himself meekly intimates, she was reserved for another. "I saw the heads when they were brought to be boiled. The hangman fetched them in a dirty basket, out of some by-place, and setting them down among the felons, he and they made sport of them. They took them by the hair, flouting, jeering, and laughing at them; and then, giving them some ill names, boxed them on their ears and cheeks; which done, the hangman put them into his kettle, and parboiled them with bay salt and cummin seed: that to keep them from putrefaction, and this to keep off the fowls from seizing upon them. The whole sight, as well that of the bloody quarters first, as this of the heads afterwards, was both frightful and loathsome, and begat an abhorrence in my nature." At the next session of the municipal court at the He seems to have fully understood Old Bailey, Ellwood obtained his discharge. After his own position in respect to her; although, to paying a visit to " my Master Milton," he made use his own words, "others, measuring me by the his way to Chalfont, the home of his friends the propensity of their own inclinations, concluded 1 Penningtons, where he was soon after engaged as could steal her-run away with her and marry a Latin teacher. Here he seems to have had his her." Little did these jealous surmisers know of trials and temptations. Gulielma Springette, the the true and really heroic spirit of the young Latin daughter of Pennington's wife, his old playmate, had now grown to be "a fair woman of marriageable age," and, as he informs us, very desirable, whether regard was had to her outward person, which wanted nothing to make her completely comely, or to the endowments of her mind, which were every way extraordinary, or to her outward fortune, which was fair." From all which, we are not surprised to learn that "she was secretly and openly sought for by many of almost every rank and condition." "To whom," continues Thomas, "in their respective turns, (till he at 66 master. His own apology and defence of his conduct, under circumstances of temptation which St. Anthony himself could have scarcely better resisted, will not be amiss : "I was not ignorant of the various fears which filled the jealous heads of some concerning me, neither was I so stupid nor so divested of all huworth and virtue which adorned that excellent dame, manity as not to be sensible of the real and innate and attracted the eyes and hearts of so many, with the greatest importunity, to seek and solicit her: nor was I so devoid of natural heat as not to feel some sparklings of desire, as well as others; but the "What ground, alas, has any man To set his heart on things below, force of truth and sense of honor suppressed what- [ton's son, is trite, but not inaptly or inelegantly ever would have risen beyond the bounds of fair and expressed : virtuous friendship. For I easily foresaw, that, if I should have attempted anything in a dishonorable way, by fraud or force, upon her, I should have thereby brought a wound upon mine own soul, a foul scandal upon my religious profession, and an infamous stain upon mine honor, which was far more dear unto me than my life. Wherefore, having observed how some others had befooled themselves, by misconstruing her common kindness (expressed in an innocent, open, free, and familiar conversation, springing from the abundant affability, courtesy, and sweetness of her natural temper) to be the effect of a singular regard and peculiar affection to them, I resolved to shun the rock whereon they split; and, remembering the saying of the poet 'Felix quem faciunt aliena Pericula cantum,' I governed myself in a free yet respectful carriage towards her, thereby preserving a fair reputation with my friends, and enjoying as much of her favor and kindness, in a virtuous and firm friendship, as was fit for her to show or for me to seek." Which to a well-composed mind But in itself its grave will find. Us, having Him who's ALL IN ALL! In the year 1663 a severe law was enacted against the "sect called Quakers," prohibiting their meetings, with the penalty of banishment for the third offence! The burden of the prosecution Well and worthily said, poor Thomas! What- which followed fell upon the Quakers of the meever might be said of others, thou, at least, wast tropolis, large numbers of whom were heavily no coxcomb. Thy distant and involuntary admi- fined, imprisoned, and sentenced to be banished ration of “the fair Guli" needs, however, no ex- from their native land. Yet, in time, our worthy Poor human nature, guard it as one may, friend Ellwood came in for his own share of trouble, with strictest discipline and painfully cramping in consequence of attending the funeral of one of environment, will sometimes act out itself; and, in his friends. An evil-disposed justice of the counthy case, not even George Fox himself, knowing ty obtained information of the Quaker gathering; thy beautiful young friend, (and doubtless admiring and, while the body of the dead was her too, for he was one of the first to appreciate and honor the worth and dignity of woman,) could have found it in his heart to censure thee! cuse. "borne on Friends' shoulders through the street, in order to be carried to the burying-ground, which was at the town's-end," says Ellwood, "he rushed out At this period, as was indeed most natural, our upon us with the constables and a rabble of rude young teacher solaced himself with occasional ap- fellows whom he had gathered together, and, havpeals to what he calls "the Muses." There is rea-ing his drawn sword in his hand, struck one of the son to believe, however, that the Pagan sisterhood foremost of the bearers with it, commanding them whom he ventured to invoke seldom graced his to set down the coffin. But the Friend, who was study with their personal attendance. In these so stricken, being more concerned for the safety of rhyming efforts, scattered up and down his journal, the dead body than for his own, lest it should fall, there are occasional sparkles of genuine wit, and and any indecency thereupon follow, held the cofpassages of keen sarcasm, tersely and fitly ex-fin fast; which the justice observing, and being pressed. Others breathe a warm devotional feeling; in the following brief prayer, for instance, the wants of the humble Christian are condensed in a manner worthy of Quarles or Herbert : "Oh! that mine eye might closed be That no vain thought might ever rest But what are wishes? Lord, mine eye The thought in the following extracts from a poem, written on the death of his friend Penning enraged that his word was not forthwith obeyed, set his hand to the coffin, and with a forcible thrust threw it off from the bearers' shoulders, so that it fell to the ground in the middle of the street, and there we were forced to leave it; for the constables and rabble fell upon us, and drew some and drove others into the inn. Of those thus taken," continues Ellwood, “I was one. They picked out ten of us, and sent us to Aylesbury jail. "They caused the body to lie in the open street and cartway, so that all travellers that passed, whether horsemen, coaches, carts, or wagons, were fain to break out of the way to go by it, until it was almost night. And then, having caused a grave to be made in the unconsecrated part of what is called the churchyard, they forcibly took the body from the widow, and buried it there." He remained a prisoner only about two months, during which period he comforted himself by such verse-making as follows, reminding us of similar enigmas in Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress: and read it at my leisure, and when I had so done, return it to him with my judgment thereupon." Now, what does the reader think young Ellwood carried in his great-coat pocket across the dikes and hedges and through the green lanes of Giles Chalfont that autumn day? Let us look further: "When I came home, and had set myself to read it, I found it was that excellent poem which he entitled PARADISE LOST. After I had, with the best attention, read it through, I made him another visit; and, returning his book with due acknowledgment of the favor 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 66 mystery. One would like to know more precisely what the first critical reader of that song "of man's first disobedience" thought of it. Fancy the young Quaker and blind Milton sitting some pleasant afternoon of the autumn of that old year, in "the pretty box" at Chalfont, the soft wind through the open window lifting the white hair of the glorious old poet. Backslidden England, plaguesmitten, and accursed with her faithless church and libertine king, knows little of poor "Master Milton," and takes small note of his puritanic verse-making. Alone, with his humble friend, he sits there, conning over that poem which, he fondly hoped, the world, which had grown all dark and strange to the author, "would not willingly let die." The suggestion in respect to Paradise Found, to which, as we have seen, "he made no answer, but sat some time in a muse," seems not to have been lost; for, "after the sickness was over," continues Ellwood, "and the city well cleansed, and become safely habitable again, he returned thither; and when afterwards I waited on him there, which I seldom failed of doing whenever my occasions drew me to London, he showed me his second poem, called 'PARADISE GAINED;' 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." In the mean time, where is our "Master Mil- told him; and, after some further discourse about ton?" We left him deprived of his young com- it, I pleasantly said to him, 'Thou hast said much panion and reader, sitting lonely in his small here of Paradise Lost; what hast thou to say of dining-room, in Jewen street. It is now the year Paradise Found?' He made me no answer, but 1665-is not the pestilence in London ?-A sinful sat some time in a muse, then brake off that disand godless city, with its bloated bishops, fawning course, and fell upon another subject.” around the Nell Gwyns of a licentious and profane I modestly but freely told him what I thought” Defender of the Faith-its swaggering and drunken of Paradise Lost! What he told him remains a cavaliers its ribald jesters-its obscene balladsingers-its loathsome prisons, crowded with Godfearing men and women-is not the measure of its iniquity already filled up? Three years only have passed since the terrible prayer of Vane went upward from the scaffold on Tower Hill : "When my blood is shed upon the block, let it, oh God, have a voice afterward!" Audible to thy ear, oh bosom friend of the martyr! has that blood cried from earth; and now, how fearfully is it answered! Like the ashes which the seer of the Hebrews cast towards heaven, it has returned in boils and blains upon the proud and oppressive city. John Milton, sitting blind in Jewen street, has heard the toll of the death bells, and the night-long rumble of the burial-carts, and the terrible summons, "BRING OUT YOUR DEAD!" The Angel of the Plague, in yellow mantle, purple-spotted, walks the streets. Why should he tarry in a doomed city, forsaken of God? Is not the command, even to him, "Arise! and flee for thy life?" In some green nook of the quiet country, he may finish the great work which his hands have found to do. He bethinks him of his old friends, the Penningtons, and his young Quaker companion, the patient and gentle Ellwood. "Wherefore," says the latter, some little time before I went to Aylesbury jail, I was desired by my quondam Master Milton to take an house for him in the neighborhood where I dwelt, that he might go out of the city for the Golden days were these for the young Latin safety of himself and his family, the pestilence then reader, even if it be true, as we suspect, that he growing hot in London. I took a pretty box for was himself very far from appreciating the glorious him in Giles Chalfont, a mile from me, of which privilege which he enjoyed, of the familiar friendI gave him notice, and intended to have waited on ship and confidence of Milton. But they could him and seen him well settled, but was prevented not last. His amiable host, Isaac Pennington— by that imprisonment. But now being released a blameless and quiet country gentleman—was and returned home, I soon made a visit to him, to welcome him into the country. After some common discourse had passed between us, he called for a manuscript of his, which having brought, he delivered to me, bidding me take it home with me 66 dragged from his house by a military force, and lodged in Aylesbury jail; his wife and family forcibly ejected from their pleasant home, which was seized upon by the government as security for the fines imposed upon its owner. The plague was in |