That "a popular sketch of the Life and Work of George Fox was wanted," was proved by the sale of 1500 copies of this pamphlet within six months of its publication. The opinions expressed by competent judges made me feel that I had not laboured in vain. Ministers of various denominations wrote to thank me, and to confess that they had not understood George Fox before.

This Second Edition contains little that is new, but in the sketch of Barclay will be found several extracts from Fox's letters hitherto unpublished.

GEORGE FOX,
THE
FIRST OF THE QUAKERS.

The Protestant Reformation was at once a revolt against the claims of Popery, and an assertion of the authority of the New Testament. In neither particular did it satisfy the early Quakers. In their opinion it retained some remnants of Popery to its great disfigurement, whilst it was timid and halting in its acceptance of some of the teachings of the Christian dispensation. They regarded it as their work to reject the forms and ceremonies and "priestly pretentions" that had been retained, in order to reproduce the spiritual worship and simple church life of the apostolic days. Especially they believed themselves raised up to assert the living presence of Christ with his church by his Holy Spirit. They protested that feeble life, however orthodox its creed, was as dishonouring to Christ, and as unworthy of these days of the large outpouring of the Holy Ghost, as was formalism itself. The first and chief exponent of these views was George Fox.

George Fox was born at Fenny Drayton, in Leicestershire, in 1624. His parents were pious members of the Church of England, and he tells with satisfaction that his father was generally denominated "righteous Christer," whilst his mother sprung from "the stock of the Martyrs."

His religious life seems to have commenced almost in infancy. His childhood and youth were marked by a sober bearing, a precocious thoughtfulness, and a love of solitude, which made many notice him; and it was proposed to make him a clergyman. Accordingly, Nathaniel Stevens, the parish priest, seems to have regarded him hopefully, until his deepening experience made the youth aware how blind his guide was, when the former friend became a bitter persecutor. But as some of George's friends objected to his entering the church, he became, in the mingling of businesses so common in that day, shoemaker and shepherd, excelling in the latter contemplative employment, which his friend, William Penn, regards as a fit emblem of his future work. Though he had received only the plainest English education, yet the keen cravings of his strong mind, together with his earnest Bible-reading and much careful thought, soon made him at home in Christian truth, the great topic of conversation and theme of discussion in that age. A noble, severe truthfulness foreshadowed his future teachings, and indicated the stamp of the man. It "kept him to yea and nay," refusing all asseveration or other strengthening of his statements, excepting his favourite "verily." But people remarked that if George said "verily" it was impossible to move him. His own strict and pure life made him feel keenly the poor living of some who made great professions.

But his great preparation for his future work was soon to begin. In his 20th year, his soul began to be racked with conflicts, the nature and source of which he could not understand. This crisis in Fox's history is generally spoken of as his conversion. In some respects it resembles more the deepening and intensifying of a life which already existed. His spiritual nature was waking up to vigorous life. The slight and ill-grasped views which had satisfied the boy did not satisfy the man. They seemed to give no real and sufficient answer to his questionings. He wanted to understand the meaning of life, the plans of God, and his own part in them. In religion he felt that there should be the clearest and strongest mental grasp, insight into the very heart and core of things. He had only seen as in a mist. Where was the seer that could show, by his apt and living words and his accent of conviction, that the veil had been lifted up for him, and that he had verily seen the Shekinah? To such a one he would listen reverently if he could find him; all others seemed mere triflers to his earnest mood. Then again, if God was a real Father, he felt that real and close relations with him must be possible, but he sadly owned that he did not enjoy those relations, and asked himself and others "Why am I thus?" He began to look facts intently in the face, to find out their meaning. He looked at himself and saw only sin; he looked into the professing church, and even there saw the same sad sight. It made him ask, was the gospel a mistake and Christ powerless? Or was he worse than others that his soul should be in such darkness and distress? Was he worse than in former days when he enjoyed comfort, and when the Lord shewed him some of his truth? Had he sinned too deeply to be allowed to enjoy peace? Had he sinned against the Holy Ghost?

In his anguish, like a good churchman he went to his vicar, and asked him to explain his condition to him, but he could not. Then he sought other clergymen, who had a name for strict living or wisdom, but they could give him no help, though he went as far as London in the quest. Some of the advice which he received, he mentions with a pity that is keener than the severest sarcasm. One bade him sing psalms and chew tobacco; another wished to bleed him, but his large frame had been brought into such a condition by his distress, that no drop of blood would flow from him. Such blindness was not peculiar to the clergy. His friends proposed to relieve his sorrows by excitement, and by diverting his attention. Some recommended him to marry, but he sadly replied he was but a lad and must gain wisdom. Others would have him enlist and seek diversion in the exciting events of the civil war; but says Marsden, the historian of the Puritans, "though the bravest man in England, perhaps, if moral courage is bravery, he detested the business of the soldier. Far other thoughts possessed his mind. He had been religiously educated by Puritan parents of the Church of England, and he was now awaking to the consideration of his eternal state."

Meanwhile he fasted often and searched the Scriptures with desperate earnestness. He wandered in solitary places, and spent hours in the trunks of hollow trees in meditation and prayer. Disappointed in the clergy, he turned to the dissenters with no better success. Evidently the thing was of God, for he missed men like Baxter, who could have given him at least good counsel and Christian sympathy. Fox was for some time in Coventry, in 1643, when Baxter was preaching there, one part of the day to the garrison, and the other to the civilians. But possibly if they had met, Baxter's hatred of heresy might have overborne his charity, and obscured his spiritual vision, and he might have branded Fox as a heretic, just as he afterwards dubbed his followers "malignants."[1]