LETTER I - ON THE QUAKERS

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_ I was of opinion that the doctrine and history of so extraordinary a
people were worthy the attention of the curious. To acquaint myself
with them I made a visit to one of the most eminent Quakers in
England, who, after having traded thirty years, had the wisdom to
prescribe limits to his fortune and to his desires, and was settled
in a little solitude not far from London. Being come into it, I
perceived a small but regularly built house, vastly neat, but
without the least pomp of furniture. The Quaker who owned it was a
hale, ruddy-complexioned old man, who had never been afflicted with
sickness because he had always been insensible to passions, and a
perfect stranger to intemperance. I never in my life saw a more
noble or a more engaging aspect than his. He was dressed like those
of his persuasion, in a plain coat without pleats in the sides, or
buttons on the pockets and sleeves; and had on a beaver, the brims
of which were horizontal like those of our clergy. He did not
uncover himself when I appeared, and advanced towards me without
once stooping his body; but there appeared more politeness in the
open, humane air of his countenance, than in the custom of drawing
one leg behind the other, and taking that from the head which is
made to cover it. "Friend," says he to me, "I perceive thou art a
stranger, but if I can do anything for thee, only tell me." "Sir,"
said I to him, bending forwards and advancing, as is usual with us,
one leg towards him, "I flatter myself that my just curiosity will
not give you the least offence, and that you'll do me the honour to
inform me of the particulars of your religion." "The people of thy
country," replied the Quaker, "are too full of their bows and
compliments, but I never yet met with one of them who had so much
curiosity as thyself. Come in, and let us first dine together." I
still continued to make some very unseasonable ceremonies, it not
being easy to disengage one's self at once from habits we have been
long used to; and after taking part in a frugal meal, which began
and ended with a prayer to God, I began to question my courteous
host. I opened with that which good Catholics have more than once
made to Huguenots. "My dear sir," said I, "were you ever baptised?"
"I never was," replied the Quaker, "nor any of my brethren."
"Zounds!" say I to him, "you are not Christians, then." "Friend,"
replies the old man in a soft tone of voice, "swear not; we are
Christians, and endeavour to be good Christians, but we are not of
opinion that the sprinkling water on a child's head makes him a
Christian." "Heavens!" say I, shocked at his impiety, "you have
then forgot that Christ was baptised by St. John." "Friend,"
replies the mild Quaker once again, "swear not; Christ indeed was
baptised by John, but He himself never baptised anyone. We are the
disciples of Christ, not of John." I pitied very much the sincerity
of my worthy Quaker, and was absolutely for forcing him to get
himself christened. "Were that all," replied he very gravely, "we
would submit cheerfully to baptism, purely in compliance with thy
weakness, for we don't condemn any person who uses it; but then we
think that those who profess a religion of so holy, so spiritual a
nature as that of Christ, ought to abstain to the utmost of their
power from the Jewish ceremonies." "O unaccountable!" say I:
"what! baptism a Jewish ceremony?" "Yes, my friend," says he, "so
truly Jewish, that a great many Jews use the baptism of John to this
day. Look into ancient authors, and thou wilt find that John only
revived this practice; and that it had been used by the Hebrews,
long before his time, in like manner as the Mahometans imitated the
Ishmaelites in their pilgrimages to Mecca. Jesus indeed submitted
to the baptism of John, as He had suffered Himself to be
circumcised; but circumcision and the washing with water ought to be
abolished by the baptism of Christ, that baptism of the Spirit, that
ablution of the soul, which is the salvation of mankind. Thus the
forerunner said, 'I indeed baptise you with water unto repentance;
but He that cometh after me is mightier than I, whose shoes I am not
worthy to bear: he shall baptise you with the Holy Ghost and with
fire.' Likewise Paul, the great apostle of the Gentiles, writes as
follows to the Corinthians, 'Christ sent me not to baptise, but to
preach the Gospel;' and indeed Paul never baptised but two persons
with water, and that very much against his inclinations. He
circumcised his disciple Timothy, and the other disciples likewise
circumcised all who were willing to submit to that carnal ordinance.
But art thou circumcised?" added he. "I have not the honour to be
so," say I. "Well, friend," continues the Quaker, "thou art a
Christian without being circumcised, and I am one without being
baptised." Thus did this pious man make a wrong but very specious
application of four or five texts of Scripture which seemed to
favour the tenets of his sect; but at the same time forgot very
sincerely an hundred texts which made directly against them. I had
more sense than to contest with him, since there is no possibility
of convincing an enthusiast. A man should never pretend to inform a
lover of his mistress's faults, no more than one who is at law, of
the badness of his cause; nor attempt to win over a fanatic by
strength of reasoning. Accordingly I waived the subject.

"Well," said I to him, "what sort of a communion have you?" "We
have none like that thou hintest at among us," replied he. "How! no
communion?" said I. "Only that spiritual one," replied he, "of
hearts." He then began again to throw out his texts of Scripture;
and preached a most eloquent sermon against that ordinance. He
harangued in a tone as though he had been inspired, to prove that
the sacraments were merely of human invention, and that the word
"sacrament" was not once mentioned in the Gospel. "Excuse," said
he, "my ignorance, for I have not employed a hundredth part of the
arguments which might be brought to prove the truth of our religion,
but these thou thyself mayest peruse in the Exposition of our Faith
written by Robert Barclay. It is one of the best pieces that ever
was penned by man; and as our adversaries confess it to be of
dangerous tendency, the arguments in it must necessarily be very
convincing." I promised to peruse this piece, and my Quaker
imagined he had already made a convert of me. He afterwards gave me
an account in few words of some singularities which make this sect
the contempt of others. "Confess," said he, "that it was very
difficult for thee to refrain from laughter, when I answered all thy
civilities without uncovering my head, and at the same time said
'thee' and 'thou' to thee. However, thou appearest to me too well
read not to know that in Christ's time no nation was so ridiculous
as to put the plural number for the singular. Augustus Caesar
himself was spoken to in such phrases as these: 'I love thee,' 'I
beseech thee,' 'I thank thee;' but he did not allow any person to
call him 'Domine,' sir. It was not till many ages after that men
would have the word 'you,' as though they were double, instead of
'thou' employed in speaking to them; and usurped the flattering
titles of lordship, of eminence, and of holiness, which mere worms
bestow on other worms by assuring them that they are with a most
profound respect, and an infamous falsehood, their most obedient
humble servants. It is to secure ourselves more strongly from such
a shameless traffic of lies and flattery, that we 'thee' and 'thou'
a king with the same freedom as we do a beggar, and salute no
person; we owing nothing to mankind but charity, and to the laws
respect and obedience.

"Our apparel is also somewhat different from that of others, and
this purely, that it may be a perpetual warning to us not to imitate
them. Others wear the badges and marks of their several dignities,
and we those of Christian humility. We fly from all assemblies of
pleasure, from diversions of every kind, and from places where
gaming is practised; and indeed our case would be very deplorable,
should we fill with such levities as those I have mentioned the
heart which ought to be the habitation of God. We never swear, not
even in a court of justice, being of opinion that the most holy name
of God ought not to be prostituted in the miserable contests betwixt
man and man. When we are obliged to appear before a magistrate upon
other people's account (for law-suits are unknown among the
Friends), we give evidence to the truth by sealing it with our yea
or nay; and the judges believe us on our bare affirmation, whilst so
many other Christians forswear themselves on the holy Gospels. We
never war or fight in any case; but it is not that we are afraid,
for so far from shuddering at the thoughts of death, we on the
contrary bless the moment which unites us with the Being of Beings;
but the reason of our not using the outward sword is, that we are
neither wolves, tigers, nor mastiffs, but men and Christians. Our
God, who has commanded us to love our enemies, and to suffer without
repining, would certainly not permit us to cross the seas, merely
because murderers clothed in scarlet, and wearing caps two foot
high, enlist citizens by a noise made with two little sticks on an
ass's skin extended. And when, after a victory is gained, the whole
city of London is illuminated; when the sky is in a blaze with
fireworks, and a noise is heard in the air, of thanksgivings, of
bells, of organs, and of the cannon, we groan in silence, and are
deeply affected with sadness of spirit and brokenness of heart, for
the sad havoc which is the occasion of those public rejoicings." _

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