Atrocious Judges : Lives of Judges Infamous as Tools of Tyrants and Instruments of Oppression

Jeffreys had now the satisfaction of causing an information to be filed against Sir William Williams for having, as Speaker of the House of Commons, under the orders of the House, directed the printing of “Dangerfield’s Narrative,”[122 - Dangerfield had been a confederate of Oates as one of the false witnesses to the pretended Popish plot. —Ed.] the vengeful tyrant thus dealing a blow at once to an old enemy who had reprimanded him on his knees, and to the privileges of the House, equally the object of his detestation. He was in hopes of deciding the case himself, but he left it as a legacy to his successor, Chief Justice Herbert, who, under his auspices, at once overruled the plea, and fined the defendant ten thousand pounds.

Not only was Jeffreys a privy councillor, but he had become a member of the cabinet, where, from his superior boldness and energy, as well as his more agreeable manners, he had gained a complete victory over Lord Keeper North, whom he denounced as a “trimmer,” and the great seal seemed almost within his grasp.[123 - For the disputes between them, see ante, p. 228-240.] To secure it, he still strove to do every thing he could devise to please the court, as if hitherto nothing base had been done by him. When, to his great joy, final judgment was entered up against the city of London on the quo warranto, he undertook to get all the considerable towns in England to surrender their charters on the threat of similar proceedings; and with this view, in the autumn of 1684, he made a “campaign in the north,” which was almost as fatal to corporations as that “in the West,” the following year, proved to the lives of men. To show to the public the special credit he enjoyed at court, the London Gazette, just before he set out, in reference to the gift bestowed upon him for the judgment against Sir Thomas Armstrong, announced “that his majesty, as a mark of his royal favor, had taken a ring from his own finger and placed it on that of Lord Chief Justice Jeffreys.” In consequence, although when on the circuit he forgot the caution against hard drinking, with which the gift had been accompanied, he carried every thing before him, “charters fell like the walls of Jericho,” and he returned laden with his hyperborean spoils.

I have already related the clutch at the great seal which he then made, and his temporary disappointment.[124 - Ante, p. 230.] He was contented to “bide his time.” There were only two other occasions when he had it in his power to pervert the law, for the purpose of pleasing the court, during the present reign. The first was on the trial of Hampden, the grandson of the great Hampden, for a trifling misdemeanor. Although this young gentleman was only heir apparent to a moderate estate, and not in possession of any property, he was sentenced to pay a fine of forty thousand pounds – Jeffreys saying that the clause in Magna Charta, “Liber homo non amercietur pro magno delicto nisi salvo contenemento suo,” does not apply to fines imposed by the king’s judges. The other was the inquisition in the action of scan. mag. brought by the Duke of York against Titus Oates, in which the jury, under his direction, awarded one hundred thousand pounds damages.

Ever since the disfranchisement of the city of London, the ex-recorder had ruled it with a rod of iron. He set up a nominal lord mayor and nominal aldermen; but, as they were entirely dependent upon him, he treated them with continual insolence.

On the sudden death of Charles II., Jeffreys no doubt thought the period was arrived when he must be rewarded for the peculiar zeal with which he had abandoned himself to the service of the successor; but he was at first disappointed, and he had still to “wade through slaughter” to the seat he so much coveted.

Not dismayed, he resolved to act on two principles: 1st, If possible, to outdo himself in pleasing his master, whose arbitrary and cruel disposition became more apparent from the hour that he mounted the throne. 2dly, To leave no effort untried to discredit, disgrace, disgust, and break the heart of the man who stood between him and his object.

Being confirmed in the office of chief justice of the King’s Bench, he began with the trial for perjury of Titus Oates, whose veracity he had often maintained, but with whom he had a personal quarrel, and whom he now held up to reprobation – depriving him of all chance of acquittal. The defendant was found guilty on two indictments, and the verdict on both was probably correct; but what is to be said for the sentence – “To pay on each indictment a fine of one thousand marks; to be stript of all his canonical habits; to be imprisoned for life; to stand in the pillory on the following Monday, with a paper over his head, declaring his crime; next day to stand in the pillory at the Royal Exchange, with the same inscription; on the Wednesday to be whipped from Aldgate to Newgate; on the Friday to be whipped from Newgate to Tyburn; upon the 25th of April in every year, during life, to stand in the pillory at Tyburn, opposite the gallows; on the 9th of August in every year to stand in the pillory opposite Westminster Hall gate; on the 10th of August in every year to stand in the pillory at Charing Cross; and the like on the following day at Temple Bar; and the like on the 2d of September, every year, at the Royal Exchange;” – the court expressing deep regret that they could not do more, as they would “not have been unwilling to have given judgment of death upon him.”[125 - This rigorous sentence was rigorously executed. On the day on which Oates was pilloried in Palace Yard, he was mercilessly pelted, and ran some risk of being pulled in pieces; but in the city his partisans mustered in great force, raised a riot, and upset the pillory. They were, however, unable to rescue their favorite. It was supposed that he would try to escape the horrible doom which awaited him by swallowing poison. All that he ate and drank was therefore carefully inspected. On the following morning he was brought forth to undergo his first flogging. At an early hour an innumerable multitude filled all the streets from Aldgate to the Old Bailey. The hangman laid on the lash with such unusual severity as showed that he had received special instructions. The blood ran down in rivulets. For a time the criminal showed a strange constancy; but at last his stubborn fortitude gave way. His bellowings were frightful to hear. He swooned several times; but the scourge still continued to descend. When he was unbound, it seemed that he had borne as much as the human frame can bear without dissolution. James was entreated to remit the second flogging. His answer was short and clear. “He shall go through with it, if he has breath in his body.” An attempt was made to obtain the queen’s intercession, but she indignantly refused to say a word in favor of such a wretch. After an interval of only forty-eight hours, Oates was again brought out of his dungeon. He was unable to stand, and it was necessary to drag him to Tyburn on a sledge. He seemed quite insensible, and the tories reported that he had stupefied himself with strong drink. A person who counted the stripes on the second day said that they were seventeen hundred. The bad man escaped with life, but so narrowly that his ignorant and bigoted admirers thought his recovery miraculous, and appealed to it as a proof of his innocence. The doors of the prison closed upon him. During many months he remained ironed in the darkest hole of Newgate. It was said that in his cell he gave himself up to melancholy, and sat whole days uttering deep groans, his arms folded, and his hat pulled over his eyes. It was not in England alone that these events excited strong interest. Millions of Roman Catholics, who knew nothing of our institutions or of our factions, had heard that a persecution of singular barbarity had raged in our island against the professors of the true faith, that many pious men had suffered martyrdom, and that Titus Oates had been the chief murderer. There was, therefore, great joy in distant countries when it was known that the divine justice had overtaken him. Engravings of him, looking out from the pillory, and writhing at the cart’s tail, were circulated all over Europe; and epigrammatists, in many languages, made merry with the doctoral title which he pretended to have received from the university of Salamanca, and remarked that since his forehead could not be made to blush, it was but reasonable that his back should do so.Horrible as were the sufferings of Oates, they did not equal his crimes. Nevertheless, the punishment which was inflicted upon him cannot be justified. In sentencing him to be stripped of his ecclesiastical habit and imprisoned for life, the judges seem to have exceeded their legal power. They were undoubtedly competent to inflict whipping, nor had the law assigned a limit to the number of stripes; but the spirit of the law clearly was that no misdemeanor should be punished more severely than the most atrocious felonies. The worst felon could only be hanged. The judges, as they believed, sentenced Oates to be scourged to death. That the law was defective, is not a sufficient excuse; for defective laws should be altered by the legislature, and not strained by the tribunals; and least of all should the law be strained for the purpose of inflicting torture and destroying life. That Oates was a bad man is not a sufficient excuse; for the guilty are almost always the first to suffer those hardships which are afterward used as precedents for oppressing the innocent. Thus it was in the present case. Merciless flogging soon became an ordinary punishment for political misdemeanors of no very aggravated kind. Men were sentenced for hasty words spoken against the government to pain so excruciating that they, with unfeigned earnestness, begged to be brought to trial on capital charges, and sent to the gallows. Happily, the progress of this great evil was speedily stopped by the revolution, and by that article of the Bill of Rights which condemns all cruel and unusual punishments. —Macaulay’s History of England.]

Next came the trial of Richard Baxter, the pious and learned Presbyterian divine, who had actually said, and adhered to the saying, “Nolo episcopari,” and who was now prosecuted for a libel, because in a book on church government he had reflected on the church of Rome in words which might possibly be applied to the bishops of the church of England. No such reference was intended by him; and he was known not only to be of exemplary private character, but to be warmly attached to monarchy, and always inclined to moderate measures in the differences between the established church and those of his own persuasion.[126 - Fox’s Hist. James, ii. 96.] Yet, when he pleaded not guilty, and prayed on account of ill health that his trial might be postponed, Jeffreys exclaimed, “Not a minute more to save his life. We have had to do with other sort of persons, but now we have a saint to deal with; and I know how to deal with saints as well as sinners. Yonder stands Oates in the pillory, [Oates was at that moment suffering part of his sentence in Palace Yard, outside the great gate of Westminster Hall,] and he says he suffers for the truth; and so says Baxter; but if Baxter did but stand on the outside of the pillory with him, I would say two of the greatest rogues and rascals in the kingdom stood there together.” Having silenced the defendant’s counsel by almost incredible rudeness, the defendant himself wished to speak, when the chief justice burst out, “Richard, Richard, thou art an old fellow and an old knave; thou hast written books enough to load a cart; every one is as full of sedition, I might say treason, as an egg is full of meat; hadst thou been whipt out of thy writing trade forty years ago, it had been happy. Thou pretendest to be a preacher of the gospel of peace, and thou hast one foot in the grave; it is time for thee to begin to think what account thou intendest to give; but leave thee to thyself, and I see thou wilt go on as thou hast begun; but, by the grace of God, I’ll look after thee. Gentlemen of the jury, he is now modest enough; but time was when no man was so ready at bind your kings in chains and your nobles in fetters of iron, crying, To your tents, O Israel! Gentlemen, for God’s sake do not let us be gulled twice in an age.” The defendant was, of course, found guilty, and thought himself lucky to escape with a fine of five hundred pounds, and giving security for his good behavior for seven years.[127 - Macaulay gives the following account of this trial:“When the trial came on at Guildhall, a crowd of those who loved and honored Baxter filled the court. At his side stood Doctor William Bates, one of the most eminent Nonconformist divines. Two Whig barristers of great note, Pollexfen and Wallop, appeared for the defendant. Pollexfen had scarce begun his address to the jury, when the chief justice broke forth – ‘Pollexfen, I know you well. I will set a mark on you. You are the patron of the faction. This is an old rogue, a schismatical knave, a hypocritical villain. He hates the liturgy. He would have nothing but long-winded cant without book;’ and then his lordship turned up his eyes, clasped his hands, and began to sing through his nose, in imitation of what he supposed to be Baxter’s style of praying, ‘Lord, we are thy people, thy peculiar people, thy dear people.’ Pollexfen gently reminded the court that his late majesty had thought Baxter deserving of a bishopric. ‘And what ailed the old blockhead then,’ cried Jeffreys, ‘that he did not take it?’ His fury now rose almost to madness. He called Baxter a dog, and swore that it would be no more than justice to whip such a villain through the whole city.“Wallop interposed, but fared no better than his leader. ‘You are in all these dirty causes, Mr. Wallop,’ said the judge. ‘Gentlemen of the long robe ought to be ashamed to assist such factious knaves.’ The advocate made another attempt to obtain a hearing, but to no purpose. ‘If you do not know your duty,’ said Jeffreys, ‘I will teach it you.’“Wallop sat down, and Baxter himself attempted to put in a word; but the chief justice drowned all expostulation in a torrent of ribaldry and invective, mingled with scraps of Hudibras. ‘My lord,’ said the old man, ‘I have been much blamed by dissenters for speaking respectfully of bishops.’ ‘Baxter for bishops!’ cried the judge; ‘that’s a merry conceit indeed. I know what you mean by bishops – rascals like yourself, Kidderminster bishops, factious, snivelling Presbyterians!’ Again Baxter essayed to speak, and again Jeffreys bellowed, ‘Richard, Richard, dost thou think we will let thee poison the court? Richard, thou art an old knave. Thou hast written books enough to load a cart, and every book as full of sedition as an egg is full of meat. By the grace of God, I’ll look after thee. I see a great many of your brotherhood waiting to know what will befall their mighty Don. And there,’ he continued, fixing his savage eye on Bates, ‘there is a doctor of the party at your elbow. But, by the grace of God Almighty, I will crush you all!’“Baxter held his peace. But one of the junior counsel for the defence made a last effort, and undertook to show that the words of which complaint was made would not bear the construction put on them by the information. With this view he began to read the context. In a moment he was roared down. ‘You sha’n’t turn the court into a conventicle!’ The noise of weeping was heard from some of those who surrounded Baxter. ‘Snivelling calves!’ said the judge.“Witnesses to character were in attendance, and among them were several clergymen of the established church. But the chief justice would hear nothing. ‘Does your lordship think,’ said Baxter, ‘that any jury will convict a man on such a trial as this?’ ‘I warrant you, Mr. Baxter,’ said Jeffreys. ‘Don’t trouble yourself about that.’ Jeffreys was right. The sheriffs were the tools of the government. The jury, selected by the sheriffs from among the fiercest zealots of the Tory party, conferred for a moment, and returned a verdict of guilty. ‘My lord,’ said Baxter, as he left the court, ‘there was once a chief justice who would have treated me very differently.’ He alluded to his learned and virtuous friend, Sir Matthew Hale. ‘There is not an honest man in England,’ said Jeffreys, ‘but looks on thee as a knave.’”]

The lord chief justice, for his own demerits, and to thrust a thorn into the side of Lord Keeper Guilford, was now raised to the peerage by the title of “Baron Jeffreys of Wem” – the preamble of his patent narrating his former promotions – averring that they were the reward of virtue, and after the statement of his being appointed to preside in the Court of King’s Bench, adding, “Where at this very time he is faithfully and boldly doing justice and affording protection to our subjects, according to law, in consequence of which virtues we have thought him fit to be raised to the peerage of this realm.”[128 - It is remarkable that the first common law judge, ever as such raised to the peerage, was this infamous Jeffreys. We speak of Lord Coke, Lord Hale, and so of the other chief justices, but they were lords simply by their surnames and by virtue of their office, and not peers. —Ed.]

He took his seat in the House of Lords on the first day of the meeting of James’s only Parliament, along with nineteen others either raised in the peerage or newly created since the dissolution of the Oxford Parliament – the junior being John Lord Churchill, afterwards Duke of Marlborough. The journals show that Lord Jeffreys was very regular in his attendance during the session, and as the house sat daily and still met at the same early hour as the courts of law, he must generally have left the business of the King’s Bench to be transacted by the other judges. He was now occupied day and night with plans for pushing the already disgraced lord keeper from the woolsack.

I have already, in the life of Lord Guilford, related how these plans were conducted in the cabinet, in the royal circle at Whitehall, and in the House of Lords – particularly the savage treatment which the “staggering statesman” received on the reversal of his decree in Howard v. Duke of Norfolk, after which he never held up his head more.[129 - Ante, p. 237, et seq.] The probability is, that although he clung to office so pusillanimously in the midst of all sorts of slights and indignities, he would now have been forcibly ejected if his death had not appeared to be near at hand, and if there had not been a demand for the services of “Judge Jeffreys” in a scene very different from the drowsy tranquillity of the Court of Chancery.

By the month of July, Monmouth’s rebellion had been put down, and he himself had been executed upon his parliamentary attainder without the trouble of a trial: but all the jails in the West of England were crowded with his adherents, and, instead of Colonel Kirke doing military execution on more of them than had already suffered from his “lambs,” it was resolved that they should all perish by the flaming sword of justice – which, on such an occasion, there was only one man fit to wield.

No assizes had been held this summer on the western circuit; but for all the counties upon it a special commission to try criminals was now appointed, at the head of which Lord Chief Justice Jeffreys was put; and by a second commission, he, singly, was invested with the authority of commander-in-chief over all his majesty’s forces within the same limits.

On entering Hampshire he was met by a brigade of soldiers, by whom he was guarded to Winchester. During the rest of his progress he never moved without a military escort; he daily gave the word; orders for going the rounds, and for the general disposal of the troops, were dictated by him – sentinels mounting guard at his lodgings, and the officers on duty sending him their reports.

I desire at once to save my readers from the apprehension that I am about to shock their humane feelings by a detailed statement of the atrocities of this bloody campaign in the west, the character of which is familiar to every Englishman. But, as a specimen of it, I must present a short account of the treatment experienced by Lady Lisle, with whose murder it commenced.

She was the widow of Major Lisle, who had sat in judgment on Charles I., had been a lord commissioner of the great seal under Cromwell, and, flying on the restoration, had been assassinated at Lausanne. She remained in England, and was remarkable for her loyalty as well as piety. Jeffreys’s malignant spite against her is wholly inexplicable; for he had never had any personal quarrel with her, she did not stand in the way of his promotion, and the circumstance of her being the widow of a regicide cannot account for his vindictiveness. Perhaps without any personal dislike to the individual, he merely wished to strike terror into the west by his first operation.

The charge against her, which was laid capitally, was that after the battle of Sedgemoor she had harbored in her house one Hickes, who had been in arms with the Duke of Monmouth —she knowing of his treason. In truth she had received him into her house, thinking merely that he was persecuted as a non-conformist minister, and the moment she knew whence he came, she (conveying to him a hint that he should escape) sent her servant to a justice of peace to give information concerning him. There was the greatest difficulty even to show that Hickes had been in the rebellion, and the judge was worked up to a pitch of fury by being obliged himself to cross-examine a Presbyterian witness, who had showed a leaning against the prosecution. But the principal traitor had not been convicted, and there was not a particle of evidence to show the scienter, i. e., that the supposed accomplice, at the time of the harboring was acquainted with the treason. Not allowed the benefit of counsel, she herself, prompted by natural good sense, took the legal objection that the principal traitor ought first to have been convicted, “because, peradventure, he might afterwards be acquitted as innocent after she had been condemned for harboring him;” and she urged with great force to the jury, “that at the time of the alleged offence she had been entirely ignorant of any suspicion of Hickes having participated in the rebellion; that she had strongly disapproved of it, and that she had sent her only son into the field to fight under the royal banner to suppress it.”

It is said by almost all the contemporary authorities, that thrice did the jury refuse to find a verdict of guilty, and thrice did Lord Chief Justice Jeffreys send them back to reconsider their verdict. In the account of the proceeding in the State Trials, which has the appearance of having been taken in short hand, and of being authentic, the repeated sending back of the jury is not mentioned; but enough appears to stamp eternal infamy on Jeffreys, if there were nothing more extant against him. After a most furious summing up, “the jury withdrew, and staying out a while, the Lord Jeffreys expressed a great deal of impatience, and said he wondered that in so plain a case they would go from the bar, and would have sent for them, with an intimation that, if they did not come quickly, he would adjourn, and let them lie by it all night; but, after about half an hour’s stay, the jury returned, and the foreman addressed himself to the court thus: ‘My lord, we have one thing to beg of your lordship some directions in before we can give our verdict: we have some doubt whether there be sufficient evidence that she knew Hickes to have been in the army.’ L. C. J.– ‘There is as full proof as proof can be; but you are judges of the proof; for my part, I thought there was no difficulty in it.’ Foreman.– ‘My lord, we are in some doubt of it.’ L. C. J.– ‘I cannot help your doubts; was there not proved a discourse of the battle and the army at supper time?’ Foreman.– ‘But, my lord, we are not satisfied that she had notice that Hickes was in the army.’ L. C. J.– ‘I cannot tell what would satisfy you. Did she not inquire of Dunne whether Hickes had been in the army? and when he told her he did not know, she did not say she would refuse him if he had been there, but ordered him to come by night, by which it is evident she suspected it… But if there was no such proof, the circumstances and management of the thing is as full a proof as can be. I wonder what it is you doubt of.’ Lady Lisle.– ‘My lord, I hope – .’ L. C. J.– ‘You must not speak now.’ The jury laid their heads together near a quarter of an hour, and then pronounced a verdict of guilty. L. C. J.– ‘Gentlemen, I did not think I should have had any occasion to speak after your verdict; but finding some hesitancy and doubt among you, I cannot but say I wonder it should come about; for I think in my conscience the evidence was as full and plain as could be, and if I had been among you, and she had been my own mother, I should have found her guilty.’”

He passed sentence upon her with great sang froid, and, I really believe, would have done the same had she been the mother that bore him – “That you be conveyed from hence to the place from whence you came, and from thence you are to be drawn on a hurdle to the place of execution, where your body is to be burnt alive till you be dead. And the Lord have mercy on your soul.”

The king refused the most earnest applications to save her life, saying that he had promised Lord Chief Justice Jeffreys not to pardon her; but, by a mild exercise of the prerogative, he changed the punishment of burning into that of beheading, which she actually underwent. After the Revolution, her attainder was reversed by act of Parliament, on the ground that “the verdict was injuriously extorted by the menaces and violence and other illegal practices of George Lord Jeffreys, Baron of Wem, then lord chief justice of the King’s Bench.”

From Winchester, the “lord general judge” proceeded to Salisbury, where he was obliged to content himself with whippings and imprisonments for indiscreet words, the Wiltshire men not having actually joined in the insurrection. But when he got into Dorsetshire, the county in which Monmouth had landed, and where many had joined his standard, he was fatigued, if not satiated, with shedding blood. Great alarm was excited, and not without reason, by his being seen to laugh in church, both during the prayers and sermon which preceded the commencement of business in the hall – his smile being construed into a sign that he was about “to breathe death like a destroying angel, and to sanguine his very ermine in blood.” His charge to the grand jury threw the whole county into a state of consternation; for he said he was determined to exercise the utmost rigor of the law, not only against principal traitors, but all aiders and abettors, who, by any expression, had encouraged the rebellion, or had favored the escape of any engaged in it, however nearly related to them, unless it were the harboring of a husband by a wife, which the wisdom of our ancestors permitted, because she had sworn to obey him.

Bills of indictment for high treason were found by the hundred, often without evidence, the grand jury being afraid that, if they were at all scrupulous, they themselves might be brought in “aiders and abettors.” It happened, curiously enough, that as he was about to arraign the prisoners, he received news, by express, that the Lord Keeper Guilford had breathed his last at Wroxton, in Oxfordshire. He had little doubt that he should himself be the successor, and very soon after, by a messenger from Windsor, he received assurances to that effect, with orders “to finish the king’s business in the west.” Although he had no ground for serious misgivings, he could not but feel a little uneasy at the thought of the intrigues which in his absence might spring up against him in a corrupt court, and he was impatient to take possession of his new dignity. But what a prospect before him, if all the prisoners against whom there might be indictments, here and at other places, should plead not guilty, and seriatim take their trials! He resorted to an expedient worthy of his genius by openly proclaiming, in terms of vague promise but certain denunciation, that “if any of those indicted would relent from their conspiracies, and plead guilty, they should find him to be a merciful judge; but that those who put themselves on their trials, (which the law mercifully gave them all in strictness a right to do,) if found guilty, would have very little time to live; and, therefore, that such as were conscious they had no defence, had better spare him the trouble of trying them.”

He was at first disappointed. The prisoners knew the sternness of the judge, and had some hope from the mercy of their countrymen on the jury. The result of this boldness is soon told. He began on a Saturday morning, with a batch of thirty. Of these, only one was acquitted for want of evidence, and the same evening he signed a warrant to hang thirteen of those convicted on the Monday morning, and the rest the following day. An impressive defence was made by the constable of Chardstock, charged with supplying the Duke of Monmouth’s soldiers with money; whereas they had actually robbed him of a considerable sum which he had in his hands for the use of the militia. The prisoner having objected to the competency of a witness called against him, “Villain! rebel!” exclaimed the judge, “methinks I see thee already with a halter about thy neck.” And he was specially ordered to be hanged the first, my lord jeeringly declaring “that if any with a knowledge of the law came in his way, he should take care to prefer them!”

On the Monday morning, the court sitting rather late on account of the executions, the judge, on taking his place, found many applications to withdraw the plea of not guilty, and the prisoners pleaded guilty in great numbers; but his ire was kindled, and he would not even affect any semblance of mercy. Two hundred and ninety-two more received judgment to die, and of these seventy-four actually suffered – some being sent to be executed in every town, and almost in every village, for many miles round. While the whole county was covered with the gibbeted quarters of human beings, the towns resounded with the cries of men, and even of women and children, who were cruelly whipped for sedition, on the ground that by words or looks they had favored the insurrection.

Jeffreys next proceeded to Exeter, where one John Foweracres, the first prisoner arraigned, had the temerity to plead not guilty, and being speedily convicted, was sent to instant execution. This had the desired effect; for all the others confessed, and his lordship was saved the trouble of trying them. Only thirty-seven suffered capitally in the county of Devon, the rest of the two hundred and forty-three against whom indictments were found being transported, whipped, or imprisoned.

Somersetshire afforded a much finer field for indulging the propensities of the chief justice, as in this county there had not only been a considerable rising of armed men for Monmouth, but processions, in which women and children had joined, carrying ribbons, boughs, and garlands to his honor. There were five hundred prisoners for trial at Taunton alone. Jeffreys said in his charge to the grand jury, “it would not be his fault if he did not purify the place.” The first person tried before him here was Simon Hamling, a dissenter of a class to whom the judge bore a particular enmity. In reality, the accused had only come to Taunton, during the rebellion, to warn his son, who resided there, to remain neuter. Conscious of his innocence, he insisted on pleading not guilty; he called witnesses, and made a resolute defence, which was considered great presumption. The committing magistrate, who was sitting on the bench, at last interposed and said, “There must certainly be some mistake about the individual.” Jeffreys.– “You have brought him here, and, if he be innocent, his blood be upon your head.” The prisoner was found guilty, and ordered for execution next morning. Few afterwards gave his lordship the trouble of trying them, and one hundred and forty-three are said here to have been ordered for execution, and two hundred and eighty-four to have been sentenced to transportation for life. He particularly piqued himself upon his bon mot in passing sentence on one Hucher, who pleaded, in mitigation, that, though he had joined the Duke of Monmouth, he had sent important information to the king’s general, the Earl of Feversham. “You deserve a double death,” said the impartial judge; “one for rebelling against your sovereign, and the other for betraying your friends.”

He showed great ingenuity in revenging himself upon such as betrayed any disapprobation of his severities. Among these was Lord Stawell, who was so much shocked with what he had heard of the chief justice, that he refused to see him. Immediately after, there came forth an order that Colonel Bovet, of Taunton, a friend to whom this cavalier nobleman had been much attached, should be executed at Cotheleston, close by the house where he and Lady Stawell and his children then resided.

A considerable harvest here arose from compositions levied upon the friends of twenty-six young virgins who presented the invader with colors, which they had embroidered with their own hands. The fund was ostensibly for the benefit of “the queen’s maids of honor,” but a strong suspicion arose that the chief justice participated in bribes for these as well as other pardons. He thought that his peculium was encroached upon by a letter from Lord Sunderland, informing him of “the king’s pleasure to bestow one thousand convicts on several courtiers, and one hundred on a favorite of the queen – security being given that the prisoners should be enslaved for ten years in some West India island.” In his remonstrance he said that “these convicts would be worth ten or fifteen pounds apiece,” and, with a view to his own claim, returned thanks for his majesty’s gracious acceptance of his services. However, he was obliged to submit to the royal distribution of the spoil.

Where the king did not personally interfere, Jeffreys was generally inexorable if he did not himself receive the bribe for a pardon. Kiffin, a Nonconformist merchant, had agreed to give three thousand pounds to a courtier for the pardon of two youths, his grandsons, who had been in Monmouth’s army; but the chief justice would listen to no circumstances of mitigation, as another was to pocket the price of mercy. Yet, to a buffoon who attended him on the circuit and made sport by his mimicry, in an hour of revelry at Taunton, he tossed the pardon of a rich culprit, expressing a hope “that it might turn to good account.”

The jails at Taunton being incapable of containing all the prisoners, it was necessary to adjourn the commission to Wells, where the same horrible scenes were again acted, notwithstanding the humane exertions of that most honorable man, Bishop Ken, who afterwards, having been one of the seven bishops prosecuted by King James, resigned his see at the Revolution, rather than sign the new tests.

The Cornishmen had all remained loyal, and the city of Bristol[130 - Bristol at this time was next to London in population, wealth, and commerce. —Ed.] only remained to be visited by the commission. There were not many cases of treason here, but Jeffreys had a particular spite against the corporation magistrates, because they were supposed to favor dissenters, and he had them very much in his power by a discovery he made, that they had been in the habit of having in turn assigned to them prisoners charged with felony, whom they sold for their own benefit to be transported to Barbadoes. In addressing the grand jury, (while he complained of a fit of the stone, and was seemingly under the excitement of liquor,) he said, —

“I find a special commission is an unusual thing here, and relishes very ill; nay, the very women storm at it, for fear we should take the upper hand of them too; for by-the-bye, gentlemen, I hear it is much in fashion in this city for the women to govern and bear sway.” Having praised the mild and paternal rule of King James, he thus proceeded: “On the other hand, up starts a puppet prince, who seduces the mobile into rebellion, into which they are easily bewitched; for I say rebellion is like the sin of witchcraft. This man, who had as little title to the crown as the least of you, (for I hope you are all legitimate,) being overtaken by justice, and by the goodness of his prince brought to the scaffold, he has the confidence, (good God, that men should be so impudent!) to say that God Almighty did know with what joyfulness he did die, (a traitor!) Great God of heaven and earth! what reason have men to rebel? But, as I told you, rebellion is like the sin of witchcraft: Fear God and honor the king is rejected for no other reason, as I can find, but that it is written in St. Peter. Gentlemen, I must tell you I am afraid that this city hath too many of these people in it, and it is your duty to find them out. Gentlemen, I shall not stand complimenting with you; I shall talk with some of you before you and I part, I tell you; I tell you I have brought a besom, and I will sweep every man’s door, whether great or small. Certainly, here are a great many of those men whom they call Trimmers; a Whig is but a mere fool to those; for a Whig is some sort of a subject in comparison of these; for a Trimmer is but a cowardly and base-spirited Whig; for the Whig is but the journeyman prentice that is hired and set over the rebellion, whilst the Trimmer is afraid to appear in the cause.” He then opens his charge against the aldermen for the sale of convicts, and thus continues: “Good God! where am I? – in Bristol? This city it seems claims the privilege of hanging and drawing among themselves. I find you have more need of a special commission once a month at least. The very magistrates, that should be the ministers of justice, fall out with one another to that degree they will scarcely dine together; yet I find they can agree for their interest if there be but a kid in the case; for I hear the trade of kidnapping is much in request in this city. You can discharge a felon or a traitor, provided they will go to Mr. Alderman’s plantation in the West Indies. Come, come, I find you stink for want of rubbing. It seems the dissenters and fanatics fare well amongst you, by reason of the favor of the magistrates; for example, if a dissenter who is a notorious and obstinate offender comes before them, one alderman or another stands up and says, He is a good man, (though three parts a rebel.) Well, then, for the sake of Mr. Alderman, he shall be fined but five shillings. Then comes another, and up stands another goodman alderman, and says, I know him to be an honest man, (though rather worse than the former.) Well, for Mr. Alderman’s sake, he shall be fined but half a crown; so manus manum fricat; you play the knave for me now, and I will play the knave for you by and by. I am ashamed of these things; but, by God’s grace, I will mend them; for, as I have told you, I have brought a brush in my pocket, and I shall be sure to rub the dirt wherever it is, or on whomsoever it sticks.” “Thereupon,” says Roger North, “he turns to the mayor, accoutred with his scarlet and furs, and gave him all the ill names that scolding eloquence could supply; and so, with rating and staring, as his way was, never left till he made him quit the bench and go down to the criminal’s post at the bar; and there he pleaded for himself as a common rogue or thief must have done; and when the mayor hesitated a little, or slackened his pace, he bawled at him, and stamping, called for his guards, for he was still general by commission. Thus the citizens saw their scarlet chief magistrate at the bar, to their infinite terror and amazement.”

Only three were executed for treason at Bristol; but Jeffreys looking at the end of his campaign to the returns of the enemy killed, had the satisfaction to find that they amounted to three hundred and thirty, besides eight hundred prisoners ordered to be transported.[131 - Macaulay states the number of the transported at eight hundred and forty-one, and of the hanged at three hundred and twenty. —Ed.]

He now hastened homewards to pounce upon the great seal. In his way through Somersetshire, with a regiment of dragoons as his life-guards, the mayor took the liberty to say that there were two Spokes who had been convicted, and that one of these left for execution was not the one intended to suffer, the other having contrived to make his escape, and that favor might perhaps still be shown to him whom it was intended to pardon. “No!” said the general-judge; “his family owe a life; he shall die for his namesake!” To render such narratives credible, we must recollect that his mind was often greatly disturbed by fits of the stone, and still more by intemperance. Burnet, speaking of his behavior at this time, says, “He was perpetually either drunk or in a rage, liker a fury than the zeal of a judge.”

I shall conclude my sketch of Jeffreys as a criminal judge with his treatment of a prisoner whom he was eager to hang, but who escaped with life. This was Prideaux, a gentleman of fortune in the west of England, who had been apprehended on the landing of Monmouth, for no other reason than that his father had been attorney general under Cromwell. A reward of five hundred pounds, with a free pardon, was offered to any witnesses who would give evidence against him; but none could be found, and he was discharged. Afterwards, two convicts were prevailed upon to say that they had seen him take some part in the insurrection, and he was again cast into prison. His friends, alarmed for his safety, though convinced of his innocence, tried to procure a pardon for him, when they were told “that nothing could be done for him, as the king had given him to the chief justice,” (the familiar phrase for the grant of an estate about to be forfeited.) A negotiation was then opened with Jennings, the avowed agent of Jeffreys for the sale of pardons, and the sum of fifteen thousand pounds was actually paid to him by a banker for the deliverance of a man whose destruction could not be effected by any perversion of the formalities of law.[132 - He bought with it a large estate, the name of which the people changed to Aceldama, as being bought with innocent blood. —Ed.]

There is to be found only one defender of these atrocities. “I have indeed sometimes thought,” says the author of A Caveat against the Whigs, “that in Jeffreys’s western circuit justice went too far before mercy was remembered, though there was not above a fourth part executed of what were convicted. But when I consider in what manner several of those lives then spared were afterwards spent, I cannot but think a little more hemp might have been usefully employed upon that occasion.”[133 - Perhaps this writer had in his eye the case of John Tutchin, a noted political writer, satirized by Pope, a mere boy at the time of the rebellion, and of whose case Macaulay gives the following account: “A still more frightful sentence was passed on a lad named Tutchin, who was tried for seditious words. He was, as usual, interrupted in his defence by ribaldry and scurrility from the judgment seat. ‘You are a rebel; and all your family have been rebels since Adam. They tell me that you are a poet. I’ll cap verses with you.’ The sentence was, that the boy should be imprisoned seven years, and should, during that period, be flogged through every market town in Dorsetshire every year. The women in the galleries burst into tears. The clerk of the arraigns stood up in great disorder. ‘My lord,’ said he, ‘the prisoner is very young. There are many market towns in our county. The sentence amounts to whipping once a fortnight for seven years.’ ‘If he is a young man,’ said Jeffreys, ‘he is an old rogue. Ladies, you do not know the villain as well as I do. The punishment is not half bad enough for him. All the interest in England shall not alter it.’ Tutchin, in his despair, petitioned, and probably with sincerity, that he might be hanged. Fortunately for him, he was, just at this conjuncture, taken ill of the small pox, and given over. As it seemed highly improbable that the sentence would ever be executed, the chief justice consented to remit it in return for a bribe which reduced the prisoner to poverty. The temper of Tutchin, not originally very mild, was exasperated to madness by what he had undergone. He lived to be known as one of the most acrimonious and pertinacious enemies of the house of Stuart and of the Tory party.” —Ed.]

A great controversy has arisen, “who is chiefly to be blamed – Jeffreys or James?” Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham, declares that “the king never forgave the cruelty of the judge in executing such multitudes in the west against his express orders.” And reliance is placed by Hume on the assertion of Roger North, that his brother, the lord keeper, going to the king and moving him “to put a stop to the fury which was in no respect for his service, and would be counted a carnage, not law or justice, orders went to mitigate the proceedings.”

I have already demonstrated that this last assertion is a mere invention,[134 - Ante, p. 000.] and though it is easy to fix deep guilt on the judge, it is impossible to exculpate the monarch. Burnet says that James “had a particular account of his proceedings writ to him every day, and he took pleasure to relate them in the drawing-room to foreign ministers, and at his table, calling it Jeffreys’s campaign; speaking of all he had done in a style that neither became the majesty nor the mercifulness of a great prince.” Jeffreys himself, (certainly a very suspicious witness,) when in the Tower, declared to Tutchin that “his instructions were much more severe than the execution of them; and that at his return he was snubbed at court for being too merciful.” And to Dr. Scott, the divine who attended him on his death bed, he said, “Whatever I did then I did by express orders; and I have this further to say for myself, that I was not half bloody enough for him who sent me thither.” We certainly know from a letter written to him by the Earl of Sunderland at Dorchester, that “the king approved entirely of all his proceedings.” And though we cannot believe that he stopped short of any severity which he thought would be of service to himself, there seems no reason to doubt (if that be any palliation) that throughout the whole of these proceedings his object was to please his master, whose disposition was now most vindictive, and who thought that, by such terrible examples, he should secure to himself a long and quiet reign.[135 - One of the strongest testimonies against James is his own letter to the Prince of Orange, dated Sept. 24, 1685, in which, after giving him a long account of his fox-hunting, he says, “As for news, there is little stirring, but that the lord chief justice has almost done his campaign. He has already condemned several hundreds, some of which are already executed, some are to be, and the others sent to the plantations.” —Dalrymple’s App. part ii. 165. The only public man who showed any bowels of compassion amidst these horrors was Lord Sunderland. Whig party writers are at great pains to exculpate Pollexfen, the great Whig lawyer, who conducted all these prosecutions as counsel for the crown; but I think he comes in for no small share of the infamy then incurred, and he must be considered as principal aide de camp to Jeffreys in the western campaign. He ought to have told the jury that there was no case against the Lady Lisle, and when a few examples had been made, he ought to have stopped the prosecutions, or have thrown up his briefs.]

The two were equally criminal,[136 - I hope I have not been prejudiced in my estimate of James’s character by the consideration that when acting as regent in Scotland he issued an order (afterwards recalled) for the utter suppression of the name of Campbell, “which,” says Mackintosh, “would have amounted to a proscription of several noblemen, a considerable body of gentry, and the most numerous and powerful tribe in the kingdom.”] and both had their reward. But in the first instance, and till the consequences of such wickedness and folly began to appear, they met each other with mutual joy and congratulations. Jeffreys returning from the west, by royal command stopped at Windsor Castle. He arrived there on the 28th of September; and after a most gracious reception, the great seal was immediately delivered to him with the title of lord chancellor.

We learn from Evelyn that it had been three weeks in the king’s personal custody. “About six o’clock came Sir Dudley North and his brother Roger North, and brought the great seal from my lord keeper, who died the day before. The king went immediately to council, every body guessing who was most likely to succeed this great officer; most believed it would be no other than Lord Chief Justice Jeffreys, who had so rigorously prosecuted the late rebels, and was now gone the western circuit to punish the rest that were secured in the several counties, and was now near upon his return.”

The London Gazette of October 1, 1685, contains the following notice:

“Windsor, Sept. 28.

“His majesty taking into his royal consideration the many eminent and faithful services which the Right Honorable George Lord Jeffreys, of Wem, lord chief justice of England, has rendered the crown, as well in the reign of the late king, of ever blessed memory, as since his majesty’s accession to the throne, was pleased this day to commit to him the custody of the great seal of England, with the title of lord chancellor.”

The new lord chancellor, having brought the great seal with him from Windsor to London, had near a month to prepare for the business of the term.

He had had only a very slender acquaintance with Chancery proceedings, and he was by no means thoroughly grounded in common-law learning; but he now fell to the study of equity pleading and practice, and though exceedingly inferior to his two immediate predecessors in legal acquirements, his natural shrewdness was such that, when entirely sober, he contrived to gloss over his ignorance of technicalities, and to arrive at a right decision. He was seldom led into temptation by the occurrence of cases in which the interests of political parties, or religious sects, were concerned; and, as an equity judge, the multitude rather regarded him with favor.

The public and the profession were much shocked to see such a man at the head of the law; but as soon as he was installed in his office, there were plenty ready enough to gather round him, and, suppressing their real feelings, to load him with flattery and to solicit him for favors.

Evelyn, who upon his appointment as chief justice, describes him as “most ignorant, but most daring,” now assiduously cultivated his notice; and, having succeeded in getting an invitation to dine with him, thus speaks of him:

“31st Oct., 1685.

“I dined at our great Lord Chancellor Jeffreys’s, who used me with much respect. This was the late chief justice, who had newly been the western circuit to try the Monmouth conspirators, and had formerly done such severe justice amongst the obnoxious in Westminster Hall, for which his majesty dignified him by creating him first a baron, and now lord chancellor; is of an assured and undaunted spirit, and has served the court interest on all hardiest occasions; is of nature civil, and a slave of the court.”

The very first measure which James proposed to his new chancellor was, literally, the hanging of an alderman. He was still afraid of the mutinous spirit of the city, which, without some fresh terrors, might again break out, although the charters were destroyed; and no sufficient atonement had yet been made for the hostility constantly manifested by the metropolis to the policy of his family for half a century. His majesty proposed that Alderman Clayton, a very troublesome agitator, should be selected as the victim. The chancellor agreed that “it was very fit an example should be made, as his majesty had graciously proposed; but if it were the same thing to his majesty, he would venture to suggest a different choice. Alderman Clayton was a bad subject, but Alderman Cornish was still more troublesome, and more dangerous.” The king readily acquiesced, and Alderman Cornish was immediately brought to trial before a packed jury, and executed on a gibbet erected in Cheapside, on pretence that some years before he had been concerned in the Ryehouse plot. The apologists of Jeffreys say (and as it is the only alleged instance of his gratitude I have met with, I have great pleasure in recording it) that he was induced to save Sir Robert Clayton from recollecting that this alderman had been his pot companion, and had greatly assisted him in obtaining the office of common serjeant.