Upon this occasion, Penn, doubtless, persuaded the maids of honor to moderate their demands; at the same time, representing to the parents the uncompromising character of those, with whom they had to deal, and the unavoidable necessity of making terms. It is impossible to judge of the transaction aright, without taking into view the character of those dark days of tyranny and misrule, and the little security, then enjoyed by the subject.
On page 659, ibid., Mr. Macaulay, once more, introduces Penn to his readers—“William Penn, for whom exhibitions, which humane men generally avoid, seem to have had a strong attraction, hastened from Cheapside, where he had seen Cornish hanged, to Tyburn, in order to see Elizabeth Gaunt burned. He afterwards related that, when she calmly disposed the straw about her, in such a manner, as to shorten her sufferings, all the bystanders burst into tears.” Here is another attempt to lower the Quaker, in public estimation.
That Penn ever, from the cradle to the grave, gazed, unsympathizingly, upon human suffering, nobody, but a madman, will credit, for a moment. Nor would Mr. Macaulay, notwithstanding the rather peculiar construction of the paragraph, venture directly so to represent him. It has been my fortune to know several men, of kind and warm affections, who have confessed, without reserve, a strong desire to witness the execution of criminals. Cornish and Gaunt were executed on the same day, and their fate excited universal attention. Penn’s account of the last moments of both was very minute; and shows him to have been a deeply interested observer. I am not aware, that he ever attended any other execution. And if he did not, the remark of Mr. Macaulay, which is general, can never be justified, in relation to Penn; though it would fairly apply to the celebrated George Selwyn, who, though remarkable for the keenness of his sensibility, and the kindness of his heart, was in the habit of attending every execution in London; and who, upon one remarkable occasion of this kind, actually embarked for the Continent.
Why could not Mr. Macaulay, who often refers to Clarkson, have adopted some of his charitable and gentlemanly constructions of Penn’s conduct, upon this occasion? Clarkson says—“Men of the most noted benevolence have felt and indulged a curiosity of this sort. They have been worked upon, by different motives; some, perhaps, by a desire of seeing what human nature would be, at such an awful crisis; what would be its struggles; what would be the effects of innocence or guilt; what would be the power of religion on the mind.” * * * * “I should say that he consented to witness the scenes in question, with a view to do good; with a view of being able to make an impression on the King’s mind, by his own relation,” &c.
In vol. ii. page 222, 1687, Mr. Macaulay says—“Penn had never been a strong-headed man: the life which he had been leading, during two years, had not a little impaired his moral sensibility; and, if his conscience ever reproached him, he comforted himself by repeating, that he had a good and noble end in view, and that he was not paid for his services in money.”
Again, ibid., page 227, referring to the effort of the King, to propitiate William Kiffen, a great man, among the Baptists, no phraseology would suit Mr. Macaulay, but this—“Penn was employed in the work of seduction.” What seduction? Indeed, whenever a good chance presents itself to reach the Quaker, anywhere and anyhow, through the joints of the harness, the phylactery of Mr. Macaulay seems to have been—semper paratus.
It was enough, that Penn was, in some sense, the confidant, and, occasionally, the unconstrained and perfectly conscientious agent of this most miserable King.
That posterity will sanction these politico-historical flings, at the character of William Penn, I cannot believe.
Tillotson knew him well. He had once expressed a suspicion that Penn was a Papist. A correspondence ensued. “In conclusion,” says Chalmers, “Tillotson declared himself fully satisfied, and, as in that case he had promised, he heartily begs pardon of Penn.”
Chalmers himself, who had no sympathy with the “cursed Quakers,” closes his account of Penn, as follows—“It must be evident from his works, that he was a man of abilities; and from his conduct through life, that he was a man of the purest conscience. This, without acceding to his opinions in religion, we are perfectly willing to allow and to declare.”