Quaker Women in the Seventeenth Century

 By Maren Halvorsen

The image of the Quakeress, from the 18th century on, is the very picture of decorum: a woman dressed in gray, solemn, even dour, her head covered, her eyes lowered. Quakers in general were seen, and are understood even now to be, plain and quiet. Even the Quaker women of the 19th century, active in their opposition to slavery and advocates of their own liberation, displayed a public image of rectitude and sobriety. The modern weekly Meeting can often be a peaceful place of utter silence, as the participants, men and women, wait for God’s Light to speak through them.  

But when we take a close look at the first generation of Quakers, those who followed the Quaker leader George Fox (1624-1691) as the movement swept like fire through the North of England and beyond, we are confronted with a very different picture. At the heart of the theology of the Society of Friends was, and is, their belief in the spiritual equality of all, and this belief trumped everything else. They refused to use honorifics, refused to doff their hats to their “betters,” and insisted on the primacy of faith over the concerns of this world. They adhered so closely to a literal interpretation of Scripture that they refused to take oaths,and insisted that “the sprinkling” (baptism) did no good. Some early Quakers took to heart Fox’s exhortation to “run naked for a sign,” stripping off their clothes and running naked through towns as a way of protesting worldly wealth. Their refusal to take oaths, combined with their disregard for earthly governments, made them suspect to the authorities, and for most of the 17th century they were subject to arrest and imprisonment.  

Fox by Lely

A key aspect of the egalitarianism of the Society of Friends was the inclusion of women as central figures in the spread of the movement. The most famous of these early converts was Margaret Fell (1614-1702).  Married to a barrister, prominent and wealthy, Margaret Fell met Quaker founder George Fox in 1652 and became an early member of his movement. She was sufficiently active as a proselytizer to be arrested more than once, her imprisonment lasting years as she continued to write pamphlets and letters to encourage her fellow Friends and win over new believers. After the death of her husband Judge Fell, Margaret married George Fox in 1669. Her subsequent canonization as the “Mother” of the faith lends her a propriety and formality that is at odds with her vibrant, fiercely iconoclastic defense of the movement. In fact, even her marriage to Fox was unconventional; they spent most of their married life either in jail or separate, as Fox continued to preach all over the British Isles until his death in 1691. It is worth noting that Fell was very much opposed to the plain “uniform” that was beginning to be adopted by the Quakers and instead celebrated her own fashion sense at every opportunity.  

Margaret Fell

In 1666 Fell wrote an essay answering St Paul’s injunction against women speaking in church. Women's Speaking Justified cites the numerous examples of powerful women in the Bible, from Judith and Sarah of the Old Testament to Mary Magdalene’s discovery of the empty tomb in the New. A century ahead of such early feminists as Mary Wollstonecraft, Fell demanded that women’s voices not only be heard but that they be central to the Quaker movement. By highlighting the discovery of the empty Tomb, one of the most significant moments in the development of the Christian faith, along with Mary Magdalene’s role, Fell is insisting upon the value and power of women’s speech. Parsing the language of Scripture, she argued that while women should seek the advice of their husbands before speaking in church, they themselves were the final arbiters of their decision to speak. 

While Margaret Fell was perhaps the most prominent, there were several other first-generation Quaker women who were viewed as leaders during that time of persecution and prophecy, both in England and the Colonies, including Elizabeth Hooton (1600-1672), Mary Fisher (c. 1623-1698), and Mary Penington (1623-1682). It’s easy to imagine the exhilaration and sense of possibility that these early Quaker women felt, being part of a new movement that at its very core rejected many of the societal values they had been raised to accept.  The days of the week were renamed, and the religious holy days that marked even the Protestant calendar were gone. Mary Penington, in her brief memoir written for her children, talks of a youth and young adulthood of spiritual seeking, resisting the religion of her family, and eventually finding her way to the Friends after her second marriage. There is a powerful sense of agency in her narrative, refusing to attend the church of her guardians, composing her own prayers, and eventually, as a young widow, refusing to have her own daughter baptized. During her second marriage, to Isaac Penington the Younger (1616-1679), she devoted much of her time to the design and reconstruction of their home near Chalfont St. Peter while Isaac was continually hauled off to jail for his religious writings and for his refusal to show proper deference to a local nobleman. Her daughter by her first marriage later married William Penn.  

Margaret Fell and Mary Penington exemplify the radical nature of that first generation of Quakerism, as it spread throughout the British Isles in the 17th century. Its appeal, for many, lay in its rejection of the rigid hierarchy of power, both spiritual and material, which the Quakers saw as oppressive and false. Unlike Fell and Penington, most new converts to the Friends tended to be from the lower or middling classes. They found in its message a powerful critique of the established order. For women too, there was a clear hierarchy that many chafed against. The Society of Friends was the pathway to making their voices heard.  

To some extent this seizure of power was short-lived: the Women’s Meeting, originally a feature of Quakerism fought hard for by women such as Penington, and seen initially as a symbol of women’s power within the movement, quickly became more of a women’s auxiliary, focused mostly on “women’s issues” having to do with children, family, and service. Indeed, the writings of Mary Penington likely only survived because of the fame of her husband and her son-in-law (see Norman Penney’s introduction to her memoir in Experiences in the Life of Mary Penington, Friends Historical Society, 1992). On the other hand, the potential was there, and we see a “second wave” of Quaker feminist activism especially in the United States, mostly linked to the abolitionist movement of the 19th century. Lucretia Mott (1793-1880) and the Grimke sisters (Sarah, 1792-1873, and Angelina, 1805-1879) went well beyond finding their place within the faith to making real change in the world around them.

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Maren Halvorsen is a novelist whose most recent manuscript, The Bailiff’s Wife, was a Finalist in the category of historical fiction at the Pacific Northwest Writers Association annual literary competition.  Earning her Ph.D. in History at the University of Washington in 2002, she is a specialist in Medieval and Early Modern Europe.  She currently lives on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State. 

Sunderland Point - Cotton and Slaves

by Annie Whitehead


According to Wiki, Sunderland point is "a small village among the marshes, on a windswept peninsula on the mouth of the River Lune and Morecambe Bay". Hardly a description to pique one's interest. But come with me on a little tour of a place that stands immune to the passage of time, beyond the fact that the ships no longer dock here, and the warehouses are now domestic dwellings...


On this virtual tour, your feet will stay dry, but in reality Sunderland Point is only accessible via a single-lane track, which, much like the Island of Lindisfarne, is submerged at high tide. (Although unlike Lindisfarne, it is not an island and is unique in being on the British mainland and yet dependent on the tides for access. The name Sunderland is reputed to mean "sundered from the land").

Local places nearby named 'Catchems' and 'Snatchems' hint at a murky past of Press Gang operation in the area.

Developed as an 'outport' for Lancaster by a Quaker named Robert Lawson in the 18thc, in its heydey, Sunderland Point was rivalled only by London, Bristol and Liverpool. Reputedly, it was the place where the first bale of cotton landed in Britain.

The stump of the Sunderland point cotton tree is preserved - According to legend, the Cotton Tree grew from a seed imported in a bale of cotton. Although the tree was not grown from a cotton seed, it might actually have come from the USA. It is not a tree normally found in this part of the country, and the female is relatively uncommon in England. It might have been brought as a cutting by one of the sea captains on a return voyage from America.The wood was also used for brake blocks, clogs and even arrows (a clutch was found in The Mary Rose.)

A short, circular walk from the end of the causeway takes you along 'First Terrace', from where you can turn and walk past Upsteps Cottage, where the 'slave Samboo (or Sambo) is said to have been lodging when he died there in 1736. The walk to his grave takes you past the chapel, where if you look closely at the sign you can see that services are 'subject to tides'.


The story goes that Samboo/Sambo was a slave. His grave is out on the middle of the point because as a non-Christian he had to be buried in non-consecrated ground. That much is probably true, but whether he died, as is rumoured, from a broken heart waiting for his master to return from sea, or whether he contracted an illness, is open to conjecture. It seems more likely that he was a crew member of a West Indian trading ship. Reverend James Watson's verse, written in 1796, is still visible on the grave, although the original plaque was, unfortunately, vandalised and had to be recast. It reads:

"Full many a Sand-bird chirps upon the Sod And many a moonlight Elfin round him trips Full many a Summer's sunbeam warms the Clod And many a teeming cloud upon his drips. But still he sleeps - - till the awakening Sounds Of the Archangels's Trump new life impart Then the GREAT JUDGE his approbation founds Not on man's COLOR but his worth of heart."

As you walk away from Sambo's grave, turn round and see a stark reminder of the current largest employer in the area: Heysham Power Station, looming on the horizon.


Returning to the village you can see across to Glasson Dock, which eventually came to serve Lancaster as Sunderland Point fell into disuse. In 1728, Robert Lawson went bankrupt. By 1830, over 10,000 tons passed through Glasson Dock, most of it taken then to the Lancaster canal, construction of which had begun in 1792.


But reminders of Sunderland Point's heyday remain. Rounding the point, one catches sight of Sunderland Hall, a now slightly faded building of grandeur, dating originally from 1683, but with a 'Colonial' style façade added at a later date.



Walking back along second terrace takes you past the old warehouses (pictured at the top of this page) and past walls and gateways that offer glimpses of otherwise hidden gardens. Many of the buildings here are Grade II listed, and the whole village is so untouched by modern building that it was used as a location for the television production of "Ruby in the Smoke".



A final reminder before we leave, is of the capricious nature of the elements. These elegant Georgian buildings testify to more than just their history; all have flood defences - modern technology which must surely be an improvement on the past.

But the village, still inhabited but with a large 'holiday home' population, remains quiet, undisturbed by modern development and has the air, especially 'out of season', of an abandoned film set. To walk here, especially on a quiet day, is to get a real sense of how it must have been centuries ago. But you must imagine the noise and bustle of the great days of the ships' cargo being unloaded into the warehouses. Today, an eerie silence is broken by the sound of seabirds calling, and the fishing boats seem to add to the air of abandonment.



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Annie Whitehead is an historian, and the author of To Be a Queen, a story of 9th/10thc Mercia. She also writes regularly for magazines and is rarely happier than when discovering the little nooks and crannies of the British countryside and digging into their past.

Find Annie at Casting Light upon the Shadow.

Prophecy and Polemic—The Earliest Quaker Women

by Susanna Calkin

In 1659, over seven thousand women across England, proclaiming themselves “the handmaids and daughters of the Lord” signed Mary Foster’s petition to Parliament. "It may seem strange to some that women should appear in so public a manner," she explained, "but because the blood of our brethren hath been spilt, and also many thousands have had their goods spoiled and taken away, and many of them imprisoned to death…you [must] keep the nation from the plagues and judgments of God."

The signatories belonged to the newly formed Religious Society of Friends, a non- conformist sect known for “quaking in the presence of the Lord” that emerged during the tumultuous Civil Wars. The members, embracing the derogatory name “Quakers,” became known for their exuberant religious expression and for respecting the spiritual equality of their female members.

Like many seized by the millennial fever that gripped England in the waning years of the Protectorate (1658-1660), Quakers urged the people and government of England to repent their sins, to embrace the teachings of God, and to take the biblical teachings of justice and retribution to heart. Emulating the ancient biblical prophets, early Friends openly preached and harangued passers-by, disrupted church services, and shouted out what often seemed to their listeners to be blasphemous declarations and warnings. Dramatically expressing their “Inner Light,” both male and female Quakers shrieked, cried, sang, cast off their clothing and “ran naked as a sign," and otherwise buoyantly proclaimed the word of God in the streets, taverns, marketplaces, prisons and, most provocatively, in Anglican "steeplehouses.”

Not surprisingly, the earliest Quakers from the mid-1640s through the 1660s elicited controversy, harassment, and popular contempt wherever they traveled. Although Oliver Cromwell initially supported the idea of an all-inclusive state church in the 1650s, in practice both local and state authorities did not welcome the frenetic and disruptive activities of the early Quakers. Most early Friends faced physical and verbal assault by villagers and townspeople (often after being incited by local clergymen).

When Cromwell died in September 1658, the Quakers clamored for the restoration of the monarchy, believing they could convince the Stuart king to establish a broadly tolerant policy concerning religion. Although King Charles II promised toleration with the Declaration of Breda (1660), thousands of Quakers were imprisoned when they refused to take the Oath of Allegiance to the King. Shortly after, the conservative Cavalier Parliament passed the Act of Uniformity (1662), the Quaker Act of 1664 and the Conventicle Acts, legislation designed to quash religious dissent among the Quakers and other riotous “schizmatics.” While intermittent periods of toleration in the form of Declarations of Indulgence (1662, 1672, 1687, and 1688) occurred within the years of persecution, these moments were usually short-lived. Even after the Act of Toleration (1689), Friends continued to face imprisonment and loss of property throughout the 1690s for refusal to pay tithes to the Church of England.

While many female Friends shouted their apocalyptic visions on the streetcorners, others furiously composed their admonitions in hastily prepared tracts addressed to Parliament, Cromwell, the king, local and royal authorities and "the world." Although women in the sect could not take the same steps as their male counterparts--most notably, they could not vote in elections or hope to be elected to Parliament--they could petition government, seek to sway public sentiment in their favor, speak their minds publicly, and publish their views in political and religious tracts, despite the repercussions. While female Quakers only wrote 220 tracts of 3855 before 1700, as a group they wrote more than any other English women before the eighteenth century.

In a period when the monarchy and Parliament fought colonial authorities and themselves, Quaker women recognized and positioned themselves within these larger contests of power—physically, spiritually, and intellectually--allowing them to participate in the political community in ways that women usually could not.

Susanna Calkins is an early modern British historian. Her first novel, Monster at the Gate, is a mystery set in 17th century England. It will be published by Minotaur/St. Martin’s Press in winter 2012. Come visit her blog and website at www.susannacalkins.com.

References: Excerpted from Calkins, S. (2001) Prophesy and Polemic: Quaker Women and English Political Culture, 1650-1700, unpublished dissertation, Purdue University.

Mary Forster, These Several Papers was [sic] sent to the Parliament the twentieth day of the Fifth Month, 1659 (London, 1659), 1; William C. Braithwaite, The Beginnings of Quakerism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1955); Hugh Barbour, The Quakers in Puritan England (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1964); Elbert Russell, The History of Quakerism (Richmond, IN: Friends United Press, 1979); Barry Reay, The Quakers and Early Restoration Quakerism (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1985); and Rosemary Moore, "Leaders of the Primitive Quaker Movement," Quaker History 85 (1996): 29-44; Kenneth Carroll, Quaker History 2 (1978): 69-87 and “Singing in the Spirit in Early Quakerism,” Quaker History 73 (1984): 1-13; Norman Penney, ed., Extracts from State Papers Relating to Friends (London: Headley Brothers, 1910); Anne Gargill, A Brief Discovery of That Which is Called the Popish Religion (London, 1656); Anne Gargill, A Warning to All the World (London, 1656), 4.

Why I write historical fiction - Deborah Swift

A few years ago I would have been surprised to find I had produced a historical novel. So why write one?
Before I came to write The Lady's Slipper, most of my writing was contemporary. I read a lot of contemporary fiction, and was a member of a book group that read mostly literary fiction.So what won me over to writing historicals?

The answer is that it wasn't a case of me deciding on a period and then setting the novel there, it was more that my characters demanded certain conditions to flourish and tell their story. I started with a character who wanted to paint an orchid - I had seen the rare lady's-slipper orchid myself and wanted to write (initially) a poem about it. This desire was subverted into my character's desire to capture it in paint. From then on the character grew and developed. I thought for the flower to have impact I needed a time when ideas about botany and images of flowers were new and fresh. Perhaps a time before mass printing, a time when herbs and flowers were used for healing. This led me to the 17th century when herbalists such as Nicolas Culpeper were just making their mark on history and the science of botany was in its infancy.

The idea of the medicinal use of the lady's-slipper then sparked the character of Margaret the herbalist, whose views on "the web of the world" were a very different religion from the conformist view of the time, and would probably be pigeon-holed as 'pagan' today. I have always been interested in the different ways that faiths have shaped the world and this tied in nicely with the burgeoning Quaker movement, viewed in the 17th century as radical and dangerous. I couldn't resist having a Quaker character, so Richard Wheeler  - the soldier turned quaker - was born. In addition, the Quaker movement started close to my home, and visits to the still surviving 17th century historical sites fascinated me.

My creative writing class were always telling me that conflict drives a novel so I was also keen to exploit enmity between the Quakers and the ruling class, and to create an atmosphere of unease. The English Civil War where the King had been beheaded by his own people supplied the background disturbance I needed.So my first book's period grew from the desire to find a setting for my characters and not the other way round. The setting has a function to allow me to explore certain ideas and let them flourish to the maximum effect.

The book I am just finishing now and which is about to land on my agents and editors desk - tomorrow if I can get it done, is set in a different period, which has difficulties in that it involved a whole new area of research in a whole new country. As with the first two I was looking for a time and place where my characters and ideas would collide in the most satisfying way and that led me to turn of the 17th century in Seville, with its clash of Islamic and Iberian cultures, the threat of the Inquisition, and its reputation for swordsmanship and bravado.So I'm afraid my characters had to be taken away from their usual English comfort, the drizzle and the cold, and into the heat, dust and passion of Spain.

17th century Seville

My second book, The Gilded Lily (out later in the year) is set in England through necessity as it features Ella, one of the characters from The Lady's Slipper. It is a very different book though as it is set in Restoration London, a choice made so that I could exploit the desire for wealth and luxury which is a part of Ella's character. Ella is considered beautiful and her sister Sadie, plain, so I needed an environment where the attitudes to beauty would be able to feature heavily in the plot. How would the two girls fortunes differ because of their difference in appearance? The period of the Restoration is perfect because after the monarchy returned everyone was obsessed with fashion and glamour, and the theatricality and artificiality of this led me to be able to explore the idea of storytelling, how the girls re-invented themselves, and how we all shape our own stories.

In all my books I start with the characters and then find the way to give them maximum rein through the setting. I used to be a scenographer so I draw on my experience of how a theatre setting can interact with the action in my writing. I choose history because I can examine contemporary ideas as if in a mirror. I am sure many other writers do the same, and would be really interested to hear what the process is like for them. I find I enjoy the researching part of writing enormously, and the wonderful excuse it gives me to hang around museums, historic houses, art galleries and libraries. And I have had to catch up quickly with my reading of historicals. I've discovered some fantastic writers in the  genre, who have given me further insights into our rich heritage, and  so I cannot imagine that I will run out of ideas from the wealth of our history, and I guess that will keep me writing historical fiction for a while yet!

You can find out more about my writing on my blog

www.deborahswift.blogspot.com

Thanks for reading!