Raftsman's journal. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, 1856-02-06
LAST DAYS OFJuDGE JEFFKEYs.

LASI LA , Ot JI DSSE JIsf FttE ,.
In the new volumes of Macauley's History
of England is the following account of the last
days of the notorious Judge Jeffreys =
ssAmong the many offenders whose names
were mentioned in the course of these inqui-
ries, was one who stood alone and unapproach-
cd in guilt and infamy, and whom wings and
tories were equally willing to leave to the ex-
treme rigor OF the law. On that terrible day,
which was succeeded by the Irish Night, the
roar of great city disappointed of its re-
venge, had followed JefIreys to the drawbridge
of the Tower. His Imprisonment was not
strictly legal; but he at first accepted with
thanks and blessings the protection which
those dark walls, made famous by so many
cries and sorrows, afforded him against the fu-
ry of the multitude. Soon, however, he be-
came sensible that his life was still in irnn-
ncnt peril.
For time he flattered himself with the hope
that writ of habeas corpus would libcrate him
from his confinement, and that he should be
able to steal away to some foreign country, and
to hide himself with part cf his ill-gotten
wealth from the detestation of mankind but
till the government was settled, there was no
court competent to grant writ of haJeqs cor
pas, and as soon as the government had been
settled, the habeas corpus act was suspended.
Whether the legal guilt of murder could be
brought home to Jefreys, may be doubted.
But he was morally guilty Of so many murders
that, if there had been no other way of reach
ing his life, Retrospective Act of Attainder
would have been clamorously demanded by the
whole nation. a disposition to triumph over
the fallen has never been one of the bcsetting
sins Of Englishmen but the hatred of which
JcfIreys was the object was without parallel
in our history, and partoo5 but too largely Of
the sayageness of his own nature.
The people, where he was concerned, were
as cruel as himself, and exulted in his misery
as he had been accustomed to exult in the mis-
cry OF conyicts listening to the sentence of
death, and of families clad in mourning. The
rabble congregated before his deserted man
sion in Duke street, and read on the door, with
shouts oY laughter, the bills which announced
the sale of his property. Even delicate wo-
men, who had tears for highwaymen and house
breakers, breathed nothing but vengeance a.
gainst him. The lampoons on him which were
hawlled about the town were distinguished by
an atrocity rare even in those days. Hanging
world be too mild death for him; grave
under the gibbet too respectable 4 resting
place; he ought to be whipped to death at the
carts tail; lie ought to be tortured to death
like an Indian; he ought to be dcvoured alive.
The street poets portioned out all his joints
with eannibal ferocity, and computed how ma
ny pounds of steaks might be cut from his
well fattened carcass. Nay, the rage of his
enemies was such, that, in language seldom
heard in England, they proclaimed their wish
that he might go to the place of waiiing and
gnashing of teeth, TO the worm that never dies,
to the fire that is never quenched. They ex-
bortsd him to hang himself in his garters, and
to cut his throat with his razor. They put up
horrible prayers that he might not be able to
repent, that he might die the same hard heart
ed, wicked JEFFREYs that he had lived. His
spirit, as mean in adversely as insolent and in
human in prosperity, sunk down under the
load of public adherence. His constitution,
originally bad, and much impaired by intem-
perance, was completely broken by distress
and anxiety.
He was tormented by a cruel internal dis
ease, which the most skillful surgeons of that
age were seldom able to relieve. One solace
was left to him-brandy. Even when he had
causes to try and councils to attend, he had
seldom gone to bed sober. Now, when he had
nothing to occupy his mind, save terrible rec
objections and terrible forebodiugs, he aban-
doned himself without reserve to his favorite
vice. Many believed him to be bent on short
enng his life by excess. He thought it bet
ter, they said, to go off in drunken cit than
to be hacked by KETcH, or torn limb from limb
by the populace.
| Once he was roused from state of abject
despondcnce by an agreeable sensation, speed
ily followed b. mortfying disappointment.
a parcel had been left for him at the Tower.
1t appeared to be 4 barrel of Colchester oys-
ters, his favorite dainties. He was greatly
moved; for there are moments when those
who least deserve affection are pleased to think
that they inspire it. ''Thank Cod he ex-
| claimed, 81 have still some friends left!'' He
| opened the parcel, and from among heap OF
! shells out tunbled a stout halter.
1t does not appear that one of the flatterers
or buffoons whom he had enriched out of the
| plunder Of his victims, came to comfort him
| In the day of trouble. But he was not left ii
utter solitude. John Tutchin, whom he had
sentenced to be fiogged every fortnight fol
seven years, made his way into the Tower, ane
presented himself before the fallen oppressor
Poor Jeffreys, humbled to the dust, behaved
with abject ciyility, and called for wine. ''l
am glad, sir,'' he said, ssto see you.'' Sand
] cna rlnd >, answerad the r.,senttul Nhir sst.