When Fox came back to the world from his lonely wanderings, he had no thought of setting up a church in opposition to, or in any sort of competition with, existing churches. His message was for all, worshipping under whatever name or form; his sole concern to reveal to men their own wealth, to wean them to turn from words and ceremonials, from all merely outward things, to seek first the inner reality. Many of the Puritan leaders were brought by their contact with Fox to a more vital attitude with regard to the faith in which they had been brought up. Several of the magistrates before whom he and his followers were continually being haled, unable after hours of examination and discussion not only to find any cause of offence in these men, but unable, also, to resist the appeal of their strength and sincerity, espoused their cause with every degree of warmth, from whole-hearted adherence to lifelong, unflagging interest and sympathy. But the general attitude, from the panic-stricken behaviour of those who regarded the Quakers as black magicians, incarnations of the Evil One, or Jesuits in disguise, to the grave concern of the Calvinist divines, who saw in the Quaker movement a profane attack upon the foundation-rock of Holy Scripture, was one of fear--fear based, as is usual, upon misunderstanding. A concise reasoned formulation of the Quaker standpoint, though it may be picked out from the writings of Fox and the early apologists, was to come, and then only imperfectly, when the scholarly Robert Barclay joined the group; meanwhile, the sometimes rather amorphous enthusiasm, the "mysterious meetings," the apocalyptic claims and denunciations--meaningless to those who had no key--stood as a barrier between the "children of the light" and the religious fellowship of the Commonwealth church. Fear is clearly visible at the root of the instant and savage persecution of the Quakers, not only by the mob, but by official Calvinism, throughout the chapter of its power. The keynote was struck by the local authorities at Nottingham, who responded to Fox's plea for the Inner Light during a Sunday morning's service in the parish church by putting him in prison. It is usually maintained that his offence was brawling, but it is difficult to reconcile this reading with the facts of the case. Theological disputations were the most popular diversions of the day. There were no newspapers, nor, in the modern sense of the word, either "politics" or books; popular literature consisted largely of religious pamphlets; amateur theologians abounded; the public meetings arousing the maximum of enthusiasm were those gathered for the duels of well-known controversialists; while speaking in church after the minister had finished was not only recognized, but far from unusual. In this instance the minister had preached from the text, "We have also a more sure word of prophecy; whereunto ye do well that ye take heed, as unto a light