_ Such was the substance of the conversation I had with this very
singular person; but I was greatly surprised to see him come the
Sunday following and take me with him to the Quakers' meeting.
There are several of these in London, but that which he carried me
to stands near the famous pillar called The Monument. The brethren
were already assembled at my entering it with my guide. There might
be about four hundred men and three hundred women in the meeting.
The women hid their faces behind their fans, and the men were
covered with their broad-brimmed hats. All were seated, and the
silence was universal. I passed through them, but did not perceive
so much as one lift up his eyes to look at me. This silence lasted
a quarter of an hour, when at last one of them rose up, took off his
hat, and, after making a variety of wry faces and groaning in a most
lamentable manner, he, partly from his nose and partly from his
mouth, threw out a strange, confused jumble of words (borrowed, as
he imagined, from the Gospel) which neither himself nor any of his
hearers understood. When this distorter had ended his beautiful
soliloquy, and that the stupid, but greatly edified, congregation
were separated, I asked my friend how it was possible for the
judicious part of their assembly to suffer such a babbling? "We are
obliged," says he, "to suffer it, because no one knows when a man
rises up to hold forth whether he will be moved by the Spirit or by
folly. In this doubt and uncertainty we listen patiently to
everyone; we even allow our women to hold forth. Two or three of
these are often inspired at one and the same time, and it is then
that a most charming noise is heard in the Lord's house." "You
have, then, no priests?" say I to him. "No, no, friend," replies
the Quaker, "to our great happiness." Then opening one of the
Friends' books, as he called it, he read the following words in an
emphatic tone:- "'God forbid we should presume to ordain anyone to
receive the Holy Spirit on the Lord's Day to the prejudice of the
rest of the brethren.' Thanks to the Almighty, we are the only
people upon earth that have no priests. Wouldst thou deprive us of
so happy a distinction? Why should we abandon our babe to mercenary
nurses, when we ourselves have milk enough for it? These mercenary
creatures would soon domineer in our houses and destroy both the
mother and the babe. God has said, 'Freely you have received,
freely give.' Shall we, after these words, cheapen, as it were, the
Gospel, sell the Holy Ghost, and make of an assembly of Christians a
mere shop of traders? We don't pay a set of men clothed in black to
assist our poor, to bury our dead, or to preach to the brethren.
These offices are all of too tender a nature for us ever to entrust
them to others." "But how is it possible for you," said I, with
some warmth, "to know whether your discourse is really inspired by
the Almighty?" "Whosoever," says he, "shall implore Christ to
enlighten him, and shall publish the Gospel truths he may feel
inwardly, such an one may be assured that he is inspired by the
Lord." He then poured forth a numberless multitude of Scripture
texts which proved, as he imagined, that there is no such thing as
Christianity without an immediate revelation, and added these
remarkable words: "When thou movest one of thy limbs, is it moved
by thy own power? Certainly not; for this limb is often sensible to
involuntary motions. Consequently he who created thy body gives
motion to this earthly tabernacle. And are the several ideas of
which thy soul receives the impression formed by thyself? Much less
are they, since these pour in upon thy mind whether thou wilt or no;
consequently thou receivest thy ideas from Him who created thy soul.
But as He leaves thy affections at full liberty, He gives thy mind
such ideas as thy affections may deserve; if thou livest in God,
thou actest, thou thinkest in God. After this thou needest only but
open thine eyes to that light which enlightens all mankind, and it
is then thou wilt perceive the truth, and make others perceive it."
"Why, this," said I, "is Malebranche's doctrine to a tittle." "I am
acquainted with thy Malebranche," said he; "he had something of the
Friend in him, but was not enough so." These are the most
considerable particulars I learnt concerning the doctrine of the
Quakers. In my next letter I shall acquaint you with their history,
which you will find more singular than their opinions. _