The seven bishops being committed to the Tower, and prosecuted for a conspiracy to defame the king and to overturn his authority, because they had presented a petition to him praying that they might not be forced to violate their consciences and to break the law, Wright, the lowest wretch that had ever appeared on the bench in England, was to preside at the most important state trial recorded in our annals. The reliance placed upon his abject subserviency no doubt operated strongly in betraying the government into this insane project of treating as common malefactors the venerable fathers of the Protestant church, now regarded by the whole nation with affectionate reverence. The consideration was entirely overlooked by the courtiers, that, from the notorious baseness of his character, his excessive zeal might be revolting to the jury, and might produce an acquittal. It is supposed that a discreet friend of the government had given him a caution to bridle his impetuosity against the accused, as the surest way of succeeding against them; for, during the whole proceeding, he was less arrogant than could have been expected, and it is much more probable that his forbearance arose from obedience to those whom he wished to please, than from any reverence for the sacred character of the defendants or any lurking respect for the interests of justice.
They were twice placed at the bar before him—first when they were brought up by the lieutenant of the Tower to be arraigned, and afterwards when a jury was empannelled for their trial. On the former occasion the questions were whether they were lawfully in custody, and were then bound to plead. The chief justice checked the opposing counsel with an air of impartiality, saying, “Look you, gentlemen, do not fall upon one another, but keep to the matter in hand.” And, before deciding for the crown, he said, “I confess it is a case of great weight, and the persons concerned are of great honor and value. I would be as willing as any body to testify my respects and regards to my lords the bishops, if I could see any thing in their objections worth considering. For here is the question, whether the fact charged in the warrant of commitment be such a misdemeanor as is a breach of the peace. I cannot but think it is such a misdemeanor as would have required sureties of the peace, and if sureties were not given, a commitment might follow.” He was guilty of gross injustice in refusing leave to put in a plea in abatement; but he thus mildly gave judgment: “We have inquired whether we may reject a plea, and, truly, I am satisfied that we may if the plea is frivolous; and this plea containing no more than has been overruled already, my lords the bishops must now plead guilty or not guilty.”
When the trial actually came on, he betrayed a partiality for which, in our times, a judge would be impeached; but, compared with himself, so decorous was he, that he was supposed to be overawed by the august audience in whose presence he sat. It was observed that he often cast a side glance towards the thick rows of earls and barons by whom he was watched, and who, in the next Parliament, might be his judges. One bystander remarked that “he looked as if all the peers present had halters in their pockets.”
The counsel for the crown having, in the first instance, failed to prove a publication of the supposed libel in the county of Middlesex, and only called upon the court to suppose or presume it, the chief justice said: “I cannot suppose it; I cannot presume any thing. I will ask my brothers their opinion, but I must deal truly with you; I think there is not evidence against my lords the bishops. It would be a strange thing if we should go and presume that these lords did it when there is no sort of evidence to prove that they did it. We must proceed according to forms and methods of law. People may think what they will of me, but I always declare my mind according to my conscience.” He was actually directing the jury to acquit, and the verdict of not guilty would have been instantly pronounced, when Finch, one of the counsel for the bishops, most indiscreetly said they had evidence on their side to produce. The young gentleman was pulled down by his leaders, who desired the chief justice to proceed. And now his lordship showed the cloven foot, for he exclaimed, “No, no, I will hear Mr. Finch. Go on; my lords the bishops shall not say of me that I would not hear their counsel. I have been already told of being counsel against them, and they shall never say I would not hear counsel for them. Such a learned man as Mr. Finch must have something material to offer. He shall not be refused to be heard by me, I assure you. Why don’t you go on, Mr. Finch?”
At this critical moment it was announced that the Earl of Sunderland, the president of the council,—who was present in the royal closet when the bishops presented their petition to the king at Whitehall,—was at hand, and would prove a publication in Middlesex. The chief justice then said, with affected calmness, but with real exultation, “Well, you see what comes of the interruption. I cannot help it; it is your own fault.” There being a pause while they waited for the arrival of the Earl of Sunderland, the chief justice, addressing Sir Bartholomew Shower, one of the counsel for the crown, whom he had stopped at an early stage of the trial, and against whom he had some private spite, observed with great insolence, “Sir Bartholomew, now we have time to hear your speech, if you will. Let us have it.”
At last the witness arrived, and, proving clearly a publication in Middlesex, the case was again launched, and, after hearing counsel on the merits, it was to be left to the determination of the jury.
The chief justice, thinking to carry it all his own way, was terribly baffled, not only by the sympathy of the audience with the bishops, which evidently made an impression on the jury, but by the unexpected honesty of one of his brother judges, Mr. Justice John Powell, who had been a quiet man, unconnected with politics, and, being a profound lawyer, had been appointed to keep the Court of King’s Bench from falling into universal contempt. Sir Robert Sawyer beginning to comment upon a part of the declaration which the bishops objected to, “that from henceforth the execution of all laws against nonconformity to the religion established, or the exercise of any other religion, should be suspended,” Wright, C. J., exclaimed, “I must not suffer this; they intend to dispute the king’s power of suspending laws.” Powell, J.—“My lord, they must necessarily fall upon the point; for, if the king hath no such power, (as clearly he hath not, in my judgment,) the natural consequence will be that this petition is no diminution of the king’s regal power, and so not seditious or libellous.” Wright, C. J.—“Brother, I know you are full of that doctrine; but, however, my lords the bishops shall have no occasion to say that I deny to hear their counsel. Brother, you shall have your will for once; I will hear them; let them talk till they are weary.” Powell, J.—“I desire no greater liberty to be granted them than what, in justice, the court ought to grant; that is, to hear them in defence of their clients.”
As the speeches for the defendants proceeded, and were producing a great effect upon all who heard them, the solicitor general made a very irregular remark, accompanied by a fictitious yawn—“We shall be here till midnight.” The chief justice, instead of reprimanding him, chimed in with the impertinence, saying, “They have no mind to have an end of the cause, for they have kept it up three hours longer than they need to have done.” Serjeant Pemberton.—“My lord, this case does require a great deal of patience.” Wright, C. J.—“It does so, brother, and the court has had a great deal of patience; but we must not sit here only to hear speeches.” In trying to put down another counsel, who was making way with the jury, he observed, “If you say anything more, pray let me advise you one thing—don’t say the same thing over and over again; for, after so much time spent, it is irksome to all company, as well as to me.”
When it came to the reply of Williams, the renegade solicitor general, who in his day had been “a Whig and something more,” he laid down doctrines which called forth the reprobation of Judge Powell, and even shocked the chief justice himself, for he denied that any petition could lawfully be presented to the king except by the lords and commons in Parliament assembled. Powell, J.—“This is strange doctrine. Shall not the subject have liberty to petition the king but in Parliament? If that be law, the subject is in a miserable case.” Wright, C. J.—“Brother, let him go on; we will hear him out, though I approve not of his position.” The unabashed Williams continued, “The lords may address the king in Parliament, and the commons may do it; but therefore that the bishops may do it out of Parliament, does not follow. I’ll tell you what they should have done: if they were commanded to do anything against their consciences, they should have acquiesced till the meeting of the Parliament.”[154] (Here, says the reporter, the people in court hissed.) Attorney General.—“This is very fine indeed: I hope the court and the jury will take notice of this carriage.” Wright, C. J.—“Mr. Solicitor, I am of opinion that the bishops might petition the king; but this is not the right way. If they may petition, yet they ought to have done it after another manner; for if they may, in this reflective way, petition the king, I am sure it will make the government very precarious.” Powell, J.—“Mr. Solicitor, it would have been too late to stay for a Parliament, for the act they conceived to be illegal was to be done forthwith; and if they had petitioned and not shown the reason why they could not obey, it would have have been looked upon as a piece of sullenness, and for that they would have been as much blamed on the other side.”
The chief justice, to put on a semblance of impartiality, attempted to stop Sir Bartholomew Shower, who wished to follow in support of the prosecution, and, being a very absurd man, was likely to do more harm than good. Wright, C. J.—“I hope we shall have done by and by.” Sir B. S.—“If your lordship don’t think fit, I can sit down.” Wright, C. J.—“No! no! Go on, Sir Bartholomew—you’ll say I have spoiled a good speech.” Sir B. S.—“I have no good speech to make, my lord; I have but a very few words to say.” Wright, C. J.—“Well, go on, sir; go on.”