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Author: Sally Latham Lawrence

  • Writing in Absentia

    Writing in Absentia

    When I started this journey, I was able to take advantage of a 9-week stay of marital execution. By which I jokingly mean, my husband was in England with his family and new grandson for a couple months and I was free to favor the execution of my work as a writer over my duties as a wife.

    As a result, Part I of this work flew by like a breeze, just me and ChatGPT-4 whistling while we worked.

    Back then, I would turn off the TV at 9am and write sometimes for the next 12 or 14 hours. At one point I completely forgot to attend a potluck until two hours after it ended. Fortunately I had put my ice cream cake in the church freezer the day before.

    Today, four weeks after Eddie’s return, my work has slowed to a crawl. Not all his fault. I have posted about my difficulties with Charles II and all the intricacies of his court, as well as the need to press the pause button earlier this week as I sought additional information.

    I believe what I was supposed to pause for was this: I had begun my written portrait of Charles II by having him followed into the great council room by a band of hangers-on, like a Leonardo DiCaprio posse. But as I watched hours of historic videos about Charlie 2, I realized the premise I have been following–that George Whitehead had an impact because his intelligence appealed to the king–would have been true of everyone the king surrounded himself with.

    That means, if this king had a posse, the least of these had better have some good witticisms to share. And more to the point, as I realized in the middle of the night recently, his mistresses would not have been air-heads either. So off I went to Google the next morning and yes, Barbara Villiers was a very bright woman who ran the palace (even with Queen Catharine there) for a decade. She was instrumental in the decision to sell the French port of Dunkirk back to France, mainly to support her lavish lifestyle.

    Even more influential was his next dalliance with the French noblewoman Louise de Kérouaille, who had a foot firmly in the household as a lady in waiting to the Queen. Louise acted as a French spy, influenced Charles in ways that would be advantageous to her country, and blatantly sold access to him. It reminds me of those stories you hear about pop stars whose lives are run by someone who gets close to them. I’m sure you can think of modern examples.

    So my task in the last couple days has been to understand those who were not in positions of authority, but who had access to King Charles II, and then to reimagine a scene where an intelligent woman inserts herself even in the Privy Council. The only problem is…I’m back to being half of a partnership. One in which we are flipping properties in an attempt to gain a foothold in an ever more inaccessible housing market. We’ve managed to purchase a property with a trashed-out mobile home an hour outside Raleigh.

    That means long drives to submit permits and arrange utilities. Luckily I didn’t have to be there to watch the destruction of the trailer and subsequent brush clearing. Although as a good wife I did have to watch the videos and respond with encouragement.

    After errands today I managed to get back to my story just before 2pm. An hour later Eddie asked if I wanted to go spend time with the kids. Not to be a bad grandma, but honestly, there is an entire universe in my brain. One with a boy starved and starving himself in prison, our young hero George Whitehead arguing compassion and human rights in the middle of a century that was tussling over the direction the Protestant Revolution should take humanity, and a wild and crazy king who was leaning toward religious freedom for his own secret reasons.

    So my response was…no.

    I asked Google for a good writer’s joke. Here’s what I got: “If you need me, I’ll be in another world for the next few hours. Don’t worry, I know the way back…mostly.”

  • John Bunyan, Quakers, and the King in a Tight Spot

    John Bunyan, Quakers, and the King in a Tight Spot

    As my time with Charles II stretches on toward a month together, I feel as though God is staying my hand from finishing the scene where he calls down fury upon the Quakers. And rightly so, because every day some new fact arises that educates me further on this pivotal moment in history. Especially on the point of who was to blame for making life intolerable for our Spirit-filled Friends.

    Recently, while Eddie and I were fishing around YouTube for something interesting to watch (Time Team is a favorite and has informed a surprising amount of this work), we stumbled across a video about John Bunyan, the author of The Pilgrim’s Progress. Even if you’ve never read it, you may be aware of the book as I am from its use in Little Women by Louisa May Alcott. The book is not just mentioned, but was used by Alcott as a framework for the entire story.

    Well as it happens, Bunyan was arrested in November 1660—the exact date of my scene. Now he needs a mention.

    Bunyan, Whitehead, and Charles II

    Thanks to the wit of our Quaker George Whitehead (and the King’s appreciation of wit), he met several times with Charles II even though he was considered by many to be a troublemaker. Meanwhile the Baptist John Bunyan, who would go on to write his international best seller from prison, was distinctly disliked by the King. Why is that, if both Dissenters were religious malefactors?

    Perhaps Bunyan was a poor conversationalist or worse yet, too free with his judgement of Charlie’s lascivious lifestyle. Though I’m sure George arched a disapproving eyebrow as well. Who can explain why we vibe with one person and not another?

    The Case for Tolerance

    The fact is, the King was a closet Catholic and could have used some religious tolerance for himself and his soon-to-be bride from heavily Catholic Portugal. Moreover, the Lord Chancellor and Charles’ closest advisor Edward Hyde, 1st Earl of Clarendon, was a staunch Anglican/Episcopalian. While he was free to be Anglican again at this point, he had been forced to keep a low profile during Charles’ exile in Scotland. Both men had every reason to lobby for at least some level of religious tolerance as the country moved forward.

    The Clarendon Code and Its Reach

    This brought me to Clarendon’s proposed “Quaker laws.” At first intended to keep order, they became crueler when Parliament took them up and shaped them into what would be called the Clarendon Code, parts of which remained in effect for more than 150 years.

    One part banned religious meetings of more than five people. In practice, that meant a pair of plain-dressed Friends speaking quietly in the street could be seen as conspirators. Enforcement relied on constables and informers—paid for turning in offenders. This created an atmosphere some historians liken to a police state.

    The Presbyterians were also swept up in this. As a result of the Code, ministers who had served in parishes in the past century since the Reformation were suddenly required to take communion from the Church of England. More than 2,000 ministers refused, losing their pulpits and their livelihoods. No wonder so many Presbyterians, alongside Quakers, later found their way to Pennsylvania.

    My Writing Crossroads

    So, back to Charles II and Clarendon. Did they simply say, “Send all the Quakers to jail!”? No. They actually tried to shield Presbyterians from the worst of the laws, even though their patience with radical dissent was thin. Charles still disliked Bunyan. Clarendon still wanted order.

    Oh and lest I forget, there is also Lady Margaret Fell’s petition to account for—she was bold enough to proselytize across the peerage and lobby for women’s rights, which became intrinsic to the Quaker movement. So you have the Crown caught between Fell’s influence from above, Bunyan’s in the streets, and the restless clergy in their pulpits. It’s no wonder the King and his advisor felt pressed to act.

    My task now is to imagine how Charles and Clarendon could sit together, weighing these voices, and convince themselves that laws restricting worship were not persecution but peacekeeping. To prevent mob violence, to steady a kingdom still raw from civil war, and another unfortunate necessity—to continue the flow of tithes to the Church of England, which supported not just churches but libraries, universities, and hospitals.

    That’s where my pen hovers today. I’d love to hear your thoughts. Comment below.

    Our story from the beginning: Prologue

  • Party Hearty Charlie!

    Party Hearty Charlie!

    I’m now two and a half weeks into the life of Charles II. The info keeps coming, like a firehose. There are so many complexities to his character, and ChatGPT tells me that while he is not the main emphasis of the story, he is a “hinge point” that must be addressed. Google tells me, “a hinge point in a story is a pivotal moment or event that causes a significant, often irreversible, change in the direction of the plot or a character’s journey.” So Charlie gets all the attention for now, until I can get past him.

    What a card this guy was, and what a departure from the austerity of Oliver Cromwell. I find myself wondering just how much I need to go into his rather sordid life; especially as I see this book becoming an important read for teenagers who are trying to understand what they believe, as I learned this week from a Kirk Cameron video. (Seriously, he learned on-camera that his kid became an agnostic for awhile.) So now I want to provide

    All of these questions about the personal faith of teenagers leads us carefully away from the man who *ahem* fathered many children but not one in wedlock who could be an heir. However, he had a soft side. He refused to divorce his barren wife (kind of the whole reason the Church of England was created, amIright?). He also remembered generously those who helped him escape to exile–even those who were Quakers.

    The reason it was under Charles’ rule that the Quakers suffered most is in fact because he was so lackadaisical he allowed his closest advisor to run things on the Quaker front. Was this guy just evil in his hatred of the Friends? Evidently no. Google tells me the First Earl of Clarendon wanted to be more lenient in what would be called the “Clarendon Code” but the new Parliament, called the Cavalier Parliament, went a more ruthless route. So now I have to decide how to cover all that in a way that is both informative and compelling.

    GPT-5 tells me that what George Whitehead takes from all this is that government is mercurial. What I know is that God is faithful. Kind of what young David learned when his pal King Saul went on the occasional murderous rampage.

    So while I go back to my writing struggles, here’s a highly entertaining Charles II video from the Horrible History crew. This is why I’m portraying him like a modern celebrity with his posse on the sidelines!

  • Charles in Charge

    Charles in Charge

    This past week has been all about Charles II as we delve deeper into the royal negotiations that will set Tom and 500 other Quakers free. It is a significant move toward our Bill of Rights and the man in charge requires a maze of research topics.

    I have written much of what happens when Charles steps into the arena–at first to make life incredibly more difficult for dissenters and other dissidents with a Cold War type of lockdown that makes Putin seem friendly. These folks couldn’t even talk in the streets without being whipped and beaten by the locals who had been stirred into a frenzy by their clergy. Not unlike the frenzies stirred by our own media today, except theirs were far more vicious in terms of physicality. They watched bear-baiting for fun, remember.

    The question is, what will it take to bring this king to the point where he makes a concession to the Quakers? Well I happened to see something interesting on a History Hit video last night. I have to tell you, it’s like God shows me things on this journey right when I need them.

    So there is this oak that all British people know about but Americans do not, and that is the Royal Oak. It’s where young Charles–he would have been about 21 at the time–was being chased down by the “round heads” which were the Parliamentarian soldiers with their round helmets. He was running here and there, being hidden in this place and that, and finally he met William Careless (later called Carlos, the Spanish for Charles), a ranking officer who had escaped the routing of the Royalist army.

    The story is that William gathered some food and told Charles to climb up a large oak tree. Together they spent the day up there watching as the Parliamentarians and their dogs hunted for them. When Charles napped, William supported him so he wouldn’t fall. At one point, according to Charles, a soldier passed directly beneath them.

    Fast forward to the royal Restoration, and Careless/Carlos was made one of the Privy Council, the closest advisers to the king. He was also made a knight of the new Order of the Royal Oak and was given monies and favor and what-not. Which is to say, if Charles liked you, you were set. I will use this character trait to show how the very person who began by despising Quakers came to be a great help in whatever capacity he could muster.

    On a separate note, Charles evidently loved telling everybody about hiding in the tree and being that close to detection, calling it a miracle and even having the narrative printed and distributed throughout the land. Evidently many pubs changed their name to The Royal Oak after that and even today it is the third most popular pub name in all of England. So now I have these new threads to weave into my story. I hope GPT5 will have some good suggestions.

    Also…it goes without saying, we need another scene at the Green Fox, after it is renamed The Royal Oak.

  • GPT5 and Now What?

    GPT5 and Now What?

    I can’t believe I gained followers because I mistakenly pasted a section of my latest chapter into a post. Like our little Quaker Tom, I am thankful for a prayer answered in a strange way, because I really have been asking for encouragement, and your follows have indeed encouraged me.

    That being said, I’m not so sure about posting chapters independently going forward because it seems like it would be hard to follow. Anyone with thoughts on the matter please comment.

    Meanwhile, I am facing a challenge that will surprise nobody—GPT5 is far less helpful than its predecessor. As I discuss in this video, ChatGPT was amazingly helpful when I started this endeavor and I was even a little concerned it deserved credit for doing a chunk of the work. But as I developed more content I realized that AI is still just a big encyclopedia compiling and spewing back the information that is already out there (inaccuracies and all). Even if it does so in the style of Isaac Asimov.

    At the same time, this is not like writing alongside a sane person. In my video I compared it to writing with a brilliant college Freshman, but one that is really not paying attention to what you’re trying to do. It doesn’t get humans at all.

    I have come to see AI as the tool that it is, like upgrading from a horse and plow to a tractor. The farmer doesn’t worry that he’s not giving enough credit to the tractor for his increased yield. Rather, he does the work of figuring out the tractor and reaps a fine harvest for his investment. But that was version 4. To carry on my analogy, it’s now as if I had a very serviceable tractor and someone took it away and replaced it with Jeremy Clarkson’s Lamborghini tractor. Which is maddening. [If you don’t get the reference, watch Clarkson’s Farm. Know the plight of the British farmer.]

    So now I am halfway through my book, and AI has helped me infuse my story with a glorious depth of Asmovian detail. Maybe too much at times, but if you want to be steeped in 17th century England, you’ll need to wade through some descriptive paragraphs.

    Although this may only be true for the first 50,000 pages, because my cohort is suddenly stupid, and not in a brilliant way. Or perhaps it’s now designed to be very unhelpful for authoring novels.

    Let me be specific. Whereas before I could ignore its last prompt to rewrite the prior passage with even more detail (and wiping away some really good prose in the process), and instead move on to another question about period or character development, the new version answers my every question by, yes, rewriting the last scene in a novel way. I can’t get it to move on. I am now on my third novel-related session because the first one can’t finish the graphic I requested, and the second one is stuck on the scene rewrites.

    Full disclosure…I am writing all of this without paying $20 for a month of the personal plan, so I suppose my next step is to pony up the cash and see if it helps. Although my hopes are not high because I’ve seen a number of complaints about 5 on X and Substack.

    Ok enough complaining. For those who are following along, my most recent work fills the gap between the two scenes in Under the Shadow of Persecution where I bring a now-sober Duffy back into the picture. This section also develops Tom’s religious character, as we bring him more in line with the Quaker-famous Thomas Lightfoot who emigrated to Pennsylvania in 1712. Let me know your thoughts!

    [Picture by Sora, which admittedly builds far better graphics than the ones created in the chatbot]

  • The Restoration’s Lash

    The Restoration’s Lash

    November, 1660

    A hard wind blew dry leaves against Whitehall’s towering windows. Inside, beyond the heavy oak doors that guarded the entrance, the long corridor now shone with newly-polished marble columns and flickering sconces. It was no longer the plain, functional passageways of the interregnum, but instead a procession of grandeur restored—walls hung with tapestries depicting the Tudor rose and Stuart lion, gilded frames containing portraits of monarchs past staring down like silent sentinels. Chief among them and most prominent was Van Dyck’s portrait of Charles I with his family, a declaration in itself.

    The floor was laid with a carpet woven in deep reds and blues. A close inspection might reveal places where it was worn thin by decades of shuffling feet; however with a trade war yet raging, now was not the time for such repairs.

    Footsteps echoed ahead; Charles Stuart with sure tread made his way with attendants in tow, passing beneath the portrait of his father. The light was fading, pale through the high windows and throwing long shadows that mingled with the golden candlelight that already burned in heavy brass chandeliers. There was a sense of power still unsettled; haunted by years of exile.

    The group entered a chamber at the far end of the hall; the monarch’s chosen place of meeting, as it had been for those who came before him. The chamber where the Protector once sat in plain buff coat was now half-filled with disused trunks and moth-eaten hangings.

    Two members of His Majesty’s Privy Council had convened to bring news and discuss the unrest still simmering beneath the surface of his restored realm. The door was flung open, revealing a room both sumptuous and commanding.

    Inside, a long table of dark oak stretched between two banks of windows, each pane bordered with lead and diamond-cut glass. Heavy curtains were drawn aside, revealing the Privy Gardens, now reeling from the winds that cruelly tore the leaves from carefully cropped branches. Charles took note as he entered, always the botanist.

    He passed walls hung with rich tapestries, their threads catching the candlelight in a way that made the images shimmer—scenes of English victories and royal triumphs, of kings crowned and realms united. A vast fireplace carved with heraldic lions and dragons dominated an entire wall with a fire that crackled and spat to life. Charles made his way to the windows, remembering again the years he had enjoyed this same view—though it was very different now.

    He watched as the wind came in gusts off the Thames, driving spray against the stone and sending dead leaves swirling across the neat lawns. The trees bent and twisted like supplicants in some ancient ritual. Charles seemed for a moment less a king restored than a gentleman of leisure gauging the temper of the elements.

    A light cough behind him advised that he was expected to take his seat in the grand chair at the head of the table—a throne of carved oak, gilded with gold leaf, the arms terminating in fierce lion heads that seemed to leer at the gathered men. To the right of it Edward Hyde, Lord Chancellor, stood expectantly in heavy robes and powdered wig. He was man whose sharp eyes missed nothing. His voice carried the cool authority of law hardened by years of political survival.

    Opposite him stood with rather more impatience John Maitland, Duke of Lauderdale, a soldier and politician both, his bearing lean and intense, his gaze restless and calculating. He was a man used to command, used to pressing advantage, and well acquainted with those who sought to challenge the status quo.

    The Chancellor leaned slightly. “It is a fine prospect, Your Majesty. But even the neatest garden will not withstand a winter such as this promises to be.”

    “You would be amazed at the strength of such trees,” Charles replied, gesturing toward the embattled yews. “Left alone, they would overrun every wall and path, as with our Roman ruins—still standing after fourteen centuries—our present craft can scarcely match the old strength. The masons of England have chased Roman concrete for generations, yet even now we build with envy.”

    He turned and sat, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. “They tell me Cromwell had the gardeners mending these grounds for months, then locked the gates to all but himself—the old Puritan fox. I mean to open them again—when the treasury can bear the cost. And perhaps a sundial I have in mind that will tell far more than the day’s time,” he added, one brow arched, “to remind our people that the House of Stuart holds a finer command of science than any commonwealth could boast. Cromwell, for all his sums and calculations, was a mere dabbler.”

    The king’s mind, like his forebears’, ran to instruments that marked not just the hour, but the harmony of the heavens themselves. “But that will wait,” he said, “until the kingdom’s debts are stanched and the accounts stop bleeding like a bad wound.” He settled into his chair, and despite the magnificence surrounding him, the king’s posture was cautious, almost tentative, as though the weight of history pressed upon his shoulders more than the soft velvet and ermine could conceal.

    Hyde cleared his throat, breaking the silence with a hint of wryness.

    “Your Majesty, I spoke with Mr. Pepys recently. You recall, the diligent clerk who accompanied your return from exile?”

    Lauderdale grunted. “Pepys says the weather of this century is worth noting in his diary. Records the temperature as though it were a state paper.”

    “Aye,” Charles chuckled, “and I like him for it. Pepys is no sailor, yet we have given him the Navy. He asks what others are too proud to ask—and that may save us from another Dutch humiliation. He tells me he has lately tried a tea from China that was quite extraordinary.”

    This brought a smothered laugh from Lauderdale. “Then he has not travelled as we have. Your interest in Portugal made us well-acquainted with their fetish for this China tea.”

    Hyde added, “One would think his sailors would have told him, for they claim it warms the body against biting winds.”

    Charles’s mind turned. “And what of your meeting? Tell me of the marriage.” His eyes darkened with calculation. “It is our hope this agreement cools the fires of dissent in our midst.”

    The Chancellor inclined his head. “It is all but sealed, sire. The treaty is signed, though the formal ceremonies await the spring. Still, the agreement binds us now. A useful alliance, strengthening our hand against Spain and France alike.

    Maitland added, “She brings not only a dowry but ports—Tangier and Bombay—gifts that expand England’s reach and influence.”

    The Lord Chancellor’s tone shifted, his fingers tightening on the desk. “And yet, Your Majesty, not all fires are quelled by marriage. If we are ready for our next business?” As both nodded, Hyde continued, “We have petitions from the ‘Georges.’”

    His majesty groaned. “These Quakers! Queen Elizabeth would have swept them from the realm before they’d learned to call a meeting.”

    Again, the unfortunate Chancellor coughed, and the duke nearly asked if he was suffering from cold. But Hyde continued, “There is another petition, quite similar, from Lady Fell. Both speak of change with quiet but firm conviction.”

    Maitland’s gaze hardened. “They may say they seek peace ‘quietly,’ but their refusal to bend threatens the order we are charged to preserve. As for this woman, she is a known trouble-maker. Entertains the heretics at Swarthmoor all the more now her husband is dead.”

    Charles shook his head. “Has her son no spine to bring his house into order?”

    “Thomas Fell left the house and grounds to her, to prevent marriage with one of these dissenters. It was to preserve the family, though an ill choice to my mind.”

    At this the king turned fully, unfolding the petitions deliberately. “Then let us give our answer speedily, for I fear she will gather all the women of the gentry to her bosom lest we act with authority for the realm’s peace, and for the Crown’s future. We hardly need another dissenter to overtake these grounds.”

    The wind gave a sharp knock at the windows, as if to punctuate the thought, and the king looked at his two advisors expectantly.

    Hyde was first to reply, his voice a rasp like dry parchment, “Sire, the chief difficulty is that these petitions are brought for as in humility, yet the very words strike at the root of our Church and Crown, threatening the very order that holds this realm together. You are correct; to permit such dissent unchecked invites even greater chaos than the last reign’s failings.”

    Lauderdale nodded sharply, eyes hard. “They refuse oaths, spurn the militia, reject lawful authority. Their meetings disrupt the peace. This faith is but sedition in disguise.”

    Charles sighed impatiently. “Yes, yes, all are agreed. What is your counsel?”

    With a gaze sharpened with resolve, Hyde set forth the plan he had been crafting since Cromwell’s death. “The Corporation Act, Your Majesty. Soon to be presented to Parliament. It will secure municipal offices for those loyal to Church and Crown, requiring oaths that exclude these recusants. Constables under the old regime held sway, but many proved timid or corrupt. This law ensures municipal authority remains steadfast and uncompromised. Their influence will be curtailed; their gatherings suppressed by law.”

    Lauderdale’s eyes darkened. “The militia must be ready to quell disturbances swiftly and decisively. Constables alone cannot withstand the uproar—those howling sectaries, disrupting worship and irritating ministers and magistrates. Nor even the ministers and magistrates inciting mobs against these Quakers. Let us be clear–loyalty is not a matter of convenience but an unyielding allegiance to King and Church alike. But above all we keep the peace.”

    The king considered his council, voice steady and firm. “Let the law bind all subjects equally. None may claim conscience as a shield from obedience. Disorder will find no refuge in these realms.”

    The chamber quieted, the candle flames flickering like watchful eyes as the weight of the decision settled. Outside, the wind whispered through bare branches, carrying rumors of unrest that would soon swell into storm.

  • The Part I Journey

    The Part I Journey

    Even with the help of AI lending a bit of Asimov grittiness to my text, this has been quite a research project. Who knew there was so much of today in the actions of the 1600s? Having attended a Lutheran church I’ve been aware of the Reformation, but the English Civil War and Cromwell and especially the Quakers…that was all new to me.

    I continue to add more layers even as I move forward to Part II. For example I only realized yesterday while talking with my daughter about tea and coffee that it was Oliver Cromwell and his Puritan ideals that brought us coffee. It was favored by the Jews, whom he protected (as Lord Protector), and also of interest to him—and not just because Puritans disliked beer being distributed to one and all (you couldn’t drink the water because it could kill you, so yes even the kids had weak beer or cider to drink). Cromwell suffered for years from malaria and gout and all kinds of fevers or agues. He saw coffee as a health drink, and it gave him a boost of energy. So I wrote coffee into the end of Part I.

    I also did not know until I looked it up that coffeehouses came into fashion around 1650 and had become salons where ideas were exchanged by the time of Cromwell’s death. So Part II begins in a coffee house. We’re also about to learn why the Brits drink tea! I love a good narrative that gives you all kinds of information bites along the way.

    Another thing I’ve wanted to write about regarding my Part I journey is that to get into the mindset of these young Spirit-filled activists, I decided to surround myself with a kind of “Quaker quiet.” And by that I don’t mean utter silence because I don’t function that way. I had heard a song by Sounds Like Reign some months ago, so I was drawn back there. I discovered on their YouTube channel and Notes from Home vlog a family that was part of a whole network of homeschoolers and YouTubers living a minimalist life. And although Bracken’s well-appointed workshop and equally awesome sound studio aren’t exactly “minimalist” in some aspects, it is a non-commercial life, plugged into God, not man. And that is where I sort of existed while the characters flowed from my keyboard into a noisy and disruptive world.

    And speaking of Disruptive, the Quakers were called to be just that. In our modern parlance we would think of people yelling, jumping, screaming, holding up signs not just to point out the wrongs of that society, but also pointing TO what was right. And in God’s good timing I happened upon Brackin’s recommendation to follow another homeschooling family, who produce the Jordan Michael Tuesday Show for their YouTube channel. Jordan does not wear plain garb, but he and his family give of their tremendous energy to teach Biblical truths through entertaining parables. So yes, Jordan Michael Tuesday is woven into my story even if there is little humor in it. There is disruption and a dogged hold on what is true and a tired perseverance even when it seems like people aren’t watching.

    And to that point, in this echo chamber with no followers even amongst my own family (at this writing), I remember that I am the follower of God’s voice and God’s leading. Maybe the time for this story to be made known will be after I’m gone. And if that is the case my job is to get it all out there and share the message God has planted within it.

    So there you go. Part I finished, two more to go. We shall see how George Whitehead and his compatriots bravely met with kings and appeared before Parliament, seeking relief for God’s people. What he could not know in the 1650s is what greater good will come of his efforts a century later in the form of the American Bill of Rights, and ultimately in the entire concept of liberty we espouse today 400 years later. This is inspiration for the rest of us to continue laboring at tasks that seem pointless or vain. We don’t know where God is taking this, but we trust and labor on.

  • Who Was James Parnell?

    Who Was James Parnell?

    Yesterday I wrote more about the trial delays for the teenager James Parnell. To be clear, he was already in prison when ten-year-old Thomas Lightfoot was jailed for talking back to a theologian. In my fictional account, the boys’ joint trial and imprisonment represents a dramatic and heartfelt moment in Tom’s journey. Their experiences are intended to convey all the deeply felt convictions of the Spirit-filled youth at that time, the Valiant Sixty who grew to be an organization of more than 60,000 English Quakers, all standing against the established church and the means by which it supported itself financially.

    We only follow his brief life for a time, but unlike Thomas, James Parnell is well-remembered today as a regular tourist stop at Colchester Castle. So who was this diminutive little Quaker?

    At 17, he is recorded as being present when George Whitehead (also 17 but having been in ministry for three years by this time and making quite the name for himself) decided to go minister in Norwich. James was notably small for his age, and quite sickly—probably from having rickets as a child, which was not uncommon at that time. In spite of having great difficulty in movement, he had left his home and walked 60 miles to meet Whitehead up north in Yorkshire. Where it is cold even in summer, and we’re talking mini Ice Age here.

    In Parnell’s first courthouse appearance he was branded a pamphleteer, meaning he wrote content meant to incite action. He did the unthinkable, leveling accusations against all organized churches and their “tithe-mongering.” The Tithe-Mongers were basically tax collectors who made the rounds of peoples’ homes in the parish and took their ten percent. We can assume they made this a liberal share of whatever goods they might find. This practice left families without food and necessities, causing a hardship severe enough to embolden the populace to revolt.

    James was also accused, according to court records, of heckling a minister during a church service. One did not heckle one’s parish minister. This was a local leader with his own connection to law enforcement—the parish jail. He could also call upon the local government, and it became an issue for town mayors faced with complaints from both pastors and villagers who claimed the Quakers were disturbing the peace.

    As a thought leader, Parnell was highly effective, helping to build a significant group of believers in Cambridge and surrounding areas. There is a moving summary of his life in this post about Overcoming Limitations, which I recommend as a quick read. Another site, YouthQuakeNow tells about his life in context with Colchester.

    As far as why I used James as a tidy help to my story, I couldn’t imagine Tom sauntering into a university hall or courtyard alone, though I suppose perhaps he could have had some errand or work there that might have put him in front of such personages. But it seems clear to me that Tom was parroting language he had heard elsewhere but did not understand fully. And so it helps my story to imagine him riding the coattails of the older boys. Parnell, having already taken his faith to great lengths, provides the perfect escort as well as the comparative element so we can view Tom’s unremarked imprisonment against the well-documented events of Parnell’s life and death.

    And to that end, since tourists can and do visit his last prison cell, I decided to depart from fantasy and return James to the correct court and prison, although one year later, to follow the rich narrative to his demise. There is never enough cruelty in the pen (certainly not this one) to match what people in their hatred have actually done to their perceived enemies.

    For those who have read Chapter 4 previously, I apologize because now you have to read it again. I had only stubbed it out before and now we have the full goings-on that lead to the change in venue.

    -Sally

  • Thomas Lightfoot

    Thomas Lightfoot

    I happened upon this story while researching my family tree in Ancestry. Although my efforts proved I am probably not related to Thomas Lightfoot, there are two very interesting pieces of evidence that when combined create a remarkable scenario.

    First, we turn to a compilation of journal entries and remembrances by the noted Quaker George Whitehead, prepared just before his death. In this lengthy tome, he names many of those who were part of the early movement, as well as some who were decidedly not Friends. Early on, he briefly recounts a time when he was 17 years old, and how Thomas Whitehead had accompanied him in one of his first missionary journeys, how he had to compel an innkeeper to give them a place to sleep though it was snowing outside, and how their tiny garret was woefully exposed to the bitter cold.1

    What caught my attention is that the entry is brief and lacks the detail or the ire that would have come from a 17-year-old who writes well. It could be based on a fuller rant or a dim memory that comes up as a nod to the Thomas Lightfoot who is quite well-documented and was well-loved and respected both in Pennsylvania and Ireland, and active in communications with London when the book was published.2

    In fact, the funeral of this Thomas Lightfoot was noted by a Friend this way:

    “In the Ninth month, 1725, I was at the funeral of our worthy ancient Friend, Thomas Lightfoot. He was buried at Darby; the meeting was the largest that I have ever seen at that place. Our dear Friend was greatly beloved for his piety and virtue, his sweet disposition and lively ministry. The Lord was with him in his life and death, and with us at his burial.”

    So without a statement in the remembrance that the Thomas Lightfoot who accompanied George Whitehood as a teen was not in fact the Thomas Lightfoot known and loved by all, it seems likely to me that these are indeed one and the same persons. One historical society guesses the man of the early movement could have been Lightfoot’s father by the same name, but in such case the published narrative would surely have referred to him as Thomas Lightfoot the elder.

    The second fact that becomes downright astonishing is that in the year following this missionary journey, the Book of Sufferings by Joseph Besse records that a Thomas Lightfoot was sent to jail for stating “Jesus is the Word of God, not the Bible” even though he was basically quoting John 1:1. And he made this statement before the High Professors at Cambridge University, where Quaker activists (who like today’s activists were mainly in their twenties) had taken up the practice of interrupting lectures and challenging the very theologians responsible for training the clergy in the way they should go. Besse goes on to say that there were some who wanted Thomas killed.3

    I can well imagine this scenario, having read a few other stories mainly by Whitehead of how clergymen had tried to put him in prison and he was able to debate himself free. In fact, Whitehead was intelligent enough to gain meetings with several heads of state, in particular the brilliant Charles II (he who created the three-piece suit just to spite France).

    Let us imagine you are a frustrated professor who has heard complaints from clerics far and wide about these Quakers who want to end tithing, the economic force that keeps the theocracy in power. And yet you can’t seem to make headway against Fox, Whitehead and others like him. Having an unlearned sort pipe up with a bit of nonsense he barely understands would have been like an answer to prayer. Take this puny mascot and make an example of him. Anyone who has had a teacher who amused themselves by picking on the weakest person in the classroom would understand what I mean.

    And this leads us to the most remarkable part of the story. Because the well-known Thomas Lightfoot’s year of birth was “about 1645.” The fact that the year isn’t certain is testament to the Ancestry data that makes him motherless at four and an orphan by the age of eight, leaving him without a family to keep and remember his year of birth. All of which means that when 17-year-old George Whitehead went on that early mission, Thomas Lightfoot would have been an orphan of about nine years old.

    Now you have a story worth telling.

    1. The Christian Progress of That Ancient Servant and Minister of Jesus Christ George Whitehead, by George Whitehead, pub. 1725, p. 236 ↩︎
    2. https://www.wikitree.com/wiki/Lightfoot-54#_note-TheFriend ↩︎
    3. A Collection of the Sufferings of the People called Quakers Vol I by Joseph Besse, pub. 1753, pp 85-86 ↩︎