CHAPTER XV.

THE CENTURY OF QUIETISM.

AFTER the ejection of George Keith, for a hundred years the Quakers had peace, unmolested by persecution, undisturbed by schism. Imprisonment for refusal to pay tithes continued, but with this exception they had no longer any complaint against the law of the land, other than the disabilities common to all nonconformists. They were vexed by no internal dissensions, because no one ventured to question either the doctrine or the discipline received from their fathers. No great thinker developed the system of Robert Barclay, to oppose its spiritualism to the growing rationalism of the age. No great preachers went forth to attack the apostate churches and their hireling clergy, to denounce God's judgment in the market-place and proclaim the gospel of universal grace on the hill-side. They stood on the defensive in their intrenchments, content to let the great world alone, striving only to guard their camp against the intrusion of its corrupting influence. It was the peace of stagnation. One may call this period of their history, the century of quietism, understanding by the term that habit of mind which shrinks from aggressive effort, allows the churches and the world to go on their own way, seeks only to worship God in retirement, to

nourish one's own religious life, and to commend the truth rather by conduct than by preaching. Quietism has a pale beauty of its own, attractive to timid, gentle, humble souls; but it is the beauty of evening twilight and of autumnal decay. Its humility, its sense of human impotence, its scrupulous dread of insincerity, its purpose rather to be than to talk,-these excellent qualities may lead one to mistake quietism for the path of wisdom, the narrow way, the true Christian life. A grave mistake it would be; for that which differentiates quietism is not the possession of these good qualities, of which it has no monopoly, but the absence of, or deficiency in, other good qualities, the faith which has a mission from God to the world; the love which cannot rest in personal salvation; the zeal which sacrifices all, even one's own quietness of spirit, in the service of Christ and humanity. When the Light shone with noon-day clearness in their hearts, the Children of the Light were light-bearers in a dark world; when the seed of God sprang up within them, and brought forth abundant fruits of love, joy and peace, they went forth to sow the seed everywhere. They had been quietists in the days when they were seekers; but when the revelation came they were quietists no longer. Quietism is not perfect Christianity; for Jesus Christ was no quietist, or there had been no crucifixion.

The transition from the boiling enthusiasm of the earlier quakerism to the death-like stillness of its middle period was slow, and at first unsuspected. One by one the aged preachers, who had shared the vigorous life of the time of persecution, passed away, unconscious of the impending change. We first hear the accents of alarm

in the pages of William Bromfield1 who, returning to England after an absence of more than twenty years, was startled to see the change in the appearance and habits of the once poor despised self-denying Children of Light. Their gay apparel scandalized him; in their dress they were hardly distinguishable from the world. The men wore flaunting periwigs, abominations made of women's or goats' hair, cocked hats, coats cut à la mode: the women had their hooped petticoats, laced shoes, clockt hose, gold chains, lockets, jewels, and fine silks. Bromfield roundly accused the Quakers of apostacy so great was the change. Formerly their cry had been against an apostate Christendom. Now a prophet of themselves cried against apostate Quakers, acknowledging only a remnant as true to their principles. This Bromfield must have been a notable figure in his time and as perhaps the last echo of primeval quakerism, the last, or among the last, who boldly claimed the gift of prophecy, his story deserves some attention. He was a medical man, a presbyterian in Cromwell's time, who became a Quaker in 1674. The favour shown by James II. to the Quakers, attached him to the cause of the falling monarch. Having tried in vain to dissuade him from flight, he followed the King to Ireland, and afterwards to Paris, where he acted for years as his confidential secretary. In this situation he incurred the enmity of the Earl of Middleton, who, after King James's death, succeeded in getting him imprisoned in the Bastille. There for nine years he endured much suffering, not with the serene equanimity which had

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1 The Faith of the True Christian, and the Primitive Quaker's Faith, by W. Bromfield: 1725.

distinguished George Fox and many more in their imprisonments. Released at length, he returned to England, to be again seized and confined in Newgate, where he penned his Confession of Faith in 1711.

In his own story of his life, appended to this Confession, the reader is struck by the frequency of visions and predictions. Such impressions were common among the early Quakers, but become rare in their later history. This is evident from a comparison of the records of four ministers, Bromfield, Richardson, Chalkley, and Bownas, who were born in the seventeenth century, with those of four others, Churchman, Griffith, Gough, and Woolman, who belong wholly to the eighteenth century. It is noticeable also that the first quarter of the eighteenth century had its crop of religious fanatics, but there is nothing to connect them with the quaker body. There were prophets in Glasgow and in Edinburgh, and three prophetesses in Bristol, as we learn from contemporary pamphlets; though they were so little regarded that there is no record of their origin or connections. Some French prophets who came to London excited more attention, but the Quakers exposed their pretensions.2 Putting these facts together, one would naturally conjecture that the later Quakers were indisposed to believe in supernatural manifestations, such as had been unquestioningly accepted in the first days. The journal of Samuel Bownas gives positive proof of this change. He frankly details the process by which the elders of the society in London threw cold water upon quaker pre1 A Collection of Prophetical Warnings, by Mary Beer, &c. Bristol, 1709.

The Honest Quaker, or the French Prophets Exposed. London, 1707.

tensions to prophecy, and succeeded in silencing them. His friend, Isaac Alexander, first foretold in the Bristol meeting that divine judgment was coming on the people for their pride and wickedness, and that there would be a great mortality. In London, at the Yearly Meeting, he wished to repeat his prophecy, but the elders of the Church were not satisfied, and advised him to return home, which he did, in much trouble of mind. Thereupon Bownas himself felt an impulse to go to London on the same errand, determining however to consult some faithful brethren, before delivering his message. Him also, the elders succeeded in silencing, not by peremptory authority, but by judicious procrastination. They advised caution, and waiting upon the Lord, meanwhile visiting him daily with fatherly tenderness, until he was himself content to refrain from publishing the prophecy. Treatment of this kind, steadily persisted in, would place a check upon excited imaginations. Henceforth severe self-repression characterized the Quakers; their grave formality discouraged ebullitions of enthusiasm ; and fanaticism had to seek other outlets. Thus the strange American sect, the Shakers, sprang indirectly from the society of Friends. Jane Wardlaw, a prophetess, who announced in the market-place of Bolton, in Lancashire, that the end of all things was at hand, that Christ was about to reign, and that His second appearance would be in a woman's form, was originally a Quakeress. She converted Ann Lee, a poor woman of Manchester, to her faith. Ann Lee gained disciples, and led them to America, where they multiplied, until there are now six thousand of them in eighteen village settle. ments.1

1 New America, by Hepworth Dixon, Vol. II., p. 114.