A Book of Quaker SaintsHodgkin, L. V. (Lucy Violet)
Religion
A Book of Quaker Saints
Hodgkin, L. V. (Lucy Violet)
Society of Friends
He came from Dent, 'with other officers of the militia and soldiers.'
Now Dent was a place of importance, in those days, and looked down on
even Sedbergh as a mere village. Wherefore to be sent off to a small
farm in the outskirts of Sedbergh in search of a nest of Quakers was a
paltry job at best for these fine gentlemen from Dent. Naturally, they
set about it, cursing and swearing with a will, to shew what brave
fellows they were. For here were all these Quakers whom they had been
sent to harry, brazening out their crime in the full light of day. By
Act of Parliament it had been declared, not so long ago either, that
any Quakers who 'assembled to the number of five or more persons at
any one time, and in any one place, under pretence of joining in a
religious worship not authorised by law, were, on conviction, to
suffer merely fines or imprisonment for their first and second
offences, but for the third, they were to be liable to be transported
to any of His Majesty's plantations beyond seas.' A serious penalty
this, in those days second only to death itself, and a terror to the
most hardened of the soldiery; but here was a handful of humble
farmfolk, deliberately daring such a punishment unafraid.
'Stiff-necked Quakers--you shall answer for this,' shouted Ensign
Hodgson as he entered 'cursing and swearing' (so says the old account)
'and threatening that if Friends would not depart and disperse he
would kill them and slay and what not.' 'You look like hardened
offenders, all of you, and I doubt this is not a first offence.' So
saying, the Ensign set spurs to his horse and rode up and down the
barn, overturning forms and chairs, slashing at the women Friends
with the flat of his sword, while some of the roughest of his
followers poked the sharp points of their blades through the coats of
the men, 'just to remind you, Quaker dogs, of what we could do, an' we
chose.'
Amid all this noise and hurly-burly, the men and women Friends sat on
in stillness as long as possible. Only when their seats were actually
overturned, they rose to their feet and stood upright in their places.
They were ready to be beaten or trampled upon, if necessary; but they
would not, of their own will, quit their ground. Strangely enough, the
wives did not rush to their husbands or cling to them; the men did not
seek to protect the women-folk. They all remained, even the lads and
lasses, self-poised as it were, one company still; resting, as long as
they could, quietly, in the inward citadel of peace. In spite of all
the hubbub, the true spirit of worship was not disturbed.
At last the soldiers, determined not to be baffled, came to yet closer
quarters and drove their unresisting victims, willy nilly, before them
from under the sheltering rafters of the barn. The Friends were
roughly hustled down the steep hillside and driven hither and thither,
but still the meeting was not interrupted, for their hearts could not
be driven out from the overshadowing presence of God.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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