"Oppression and imprisonment awakened the benevolent, never the malevolent impulses of his nature,—only adding fervour to his plea for the captive and the oppressed. His tender conscience could know no fellowship with the pleasures of the world; his tender heart could know no weariness in seeking to make less its sum of suffering. He is a Cato Howard.... In the prison experiences of George Fox are to be found the germs of that modern philanthropy in which his followers have distinguished themselves so nobly. In Derby gaol he is 'exceedingly exercised' about the proceedings of the judges and magistrates, concerning their putting men to death for cattle, money, and small matters,—and is moved to write to them, showing the sin of such severity, and, moreover, what a hurtful thing it was that prisoners should lie so long in gaol; how that they learned badness one of another in talking of their bad deeds; and therefore speedy justice should be done.... As to doctrine again, consider how much religious extravagance was then afloat, and let us set it down to the credit of Fox that his mystical excesses were no greater."
The historian Bancroft says:—"His fame increased; crowds gathered like flocks of pigeons to hear him. His frame in prayer is described as the most awful, living, and reverent ever felt or seen; and his vigorous understanding, soon disciplined by clear convictions to natural dialectics, made him powerful in the public discussions to which he defied the world.... The mind of George Fox had the highest systematic sagacity."—Bancroft's History of the U. S., Vol. II. pp. 508-9.
But finally let us appeal to the high authority of Carlyle, who estimated truly the spirit and aim of Fox's life. There was much in common between them in their sturdy love of truth and reality, leading to a hearty hatred of empty forms and mere conventionalities. Both had a striking directness of thought and purpose, going right to the heart of things; an intense earnestness that did not stop nicely to weigh words, but hit hard at all unrighteousness. There was in both a strong sense of personal responsibility that made them indifferent what others might think or do. Carlyle gives us in "Sartor Resartus" (Popular edition, pp. 144, 5) a striking eulogium on George Fox, from which we will select the following characteristic passage:—"Perhaps the most remarkable incident in modern history is not the diet of Worms, still less the Battle of Austerlitz, Waterloo, Peterloo, or any other battle; but an incident passed carelessly over by most historians, and treated with some degree of ridicule by others; namely, George Fox making to himself a suit of leather. This man, the first of the Quakers, and by trade a shoemaker, was one of those to whom, under ruder or purer form, the divine idea of the universe is pleased to manifest itself; and across all the hulls of ignorance and earthly degradation, shine through in unspeakable awfulness, unspeakable beauty on their souls; who therefore are rightly accounted prophets, God-possessed, or even Gods, as in some periods it has chanced."
The length of these quotations needs some apology; but the influence of the vigor and cleverness of Macaulay's caricature needs to be counteracted; and the confidence with which he pronounces judgment will doubtless lead many unwary readers to accept his opinion. It should at least be known that men equally able, and more competent to estimate a nature like Fox's, have admired his character and valued his work. But after all the best testimony to his worth is contained in the devoted life which we have been endeavouring to sketch.