[128] 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.’”
[129] 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.
[130] Ante, p. 237, et seq.
[131] Bristol at this time was next to London in population, wealth, and commerce.—Ed.
[132] Macaulay states the number of the transported at eight hundred and forty-one, and of the hanged at three hundred and twenty.—Ed.