blood, and passed over what his passion had suggested to him.

The parting with so many excellent books would have been as uneasy to our judge as anything of that nature could be, if a pious regard to his friend's memory had not prevailed over him; for he valued books and manuscripts above all things in the world. He himself had made a great and rare collection of manuscripts belonging to the law of England; he was forty years in gathering it; he himself said, it cost him about fifteen hundred pounds, and calls it in his will, a treasure worth having and keeping, and not fit for every man's view. These all he left to Lincoln's Inn; and for the information of those who are curious to search into such things, there shall be a catalogue of them added at the end of this book.

By all these instances it does appear how much he was raised above the world, or the love of it. But having thus mastered things without him, his next study was to overcome his own inclinations. He was, as he said himself, naturally passionate; I add, as he said himself, for that appeared by no other evidence, save that sometimes his colour would rise a little; but he so governed himself, that those who lived long about him have told me, they never saw him disordered with anger, though he met with some trials that the nature of man is as little able to bear, as any whatsoever. There was one who did him a great injury, which it is not necessary to mention, who coming afterwards to him for his advice in the settlement of his estate, he gave it very frankly to him, but would accept of no fee for it, and thereby showed both that he could forgive as a Christian, and that he had the soul of a gentleman in him, not to take money of one that had wronged him so heinously. And when he was asked by one, How he could use a man so kindly that had wronged him so much? his answer was, He thanked God he had learned to forgive injuries. And besides the great temper he expressed in all his public employments, in his family he was a very gentle master; he was tender of all his servants, he never turned any away, except they were so faulty, that there was no hope of reclaiming them. When any of them had been long out of the way, or had neglected any part of their duty, he would not see them at their first coming home, and sometimes not till the next day; lest, when his displeasure was quick upon him, he might have chid them indecently, and when he did reprove

them, he did it with that sweetness and gravity, that it appeared he was more concerned for their having done a fault, than for the offence given by it to himself. But if they became immoral or unruly, then he turned them away: for he said, He, that by his place ought to punish disorders in other people, must by no means suffer them in his own house. He advanced his servants according to the time they had been about him, and would never give occasion to envy amongst them, by raising the younger clerks above those who had been longer with him. He treated them all with great affection, rather as a friend than a master, giving them often good advice and instruction. He made those

who had good places under him give some of their profits to the other servants who had nothing but their wages. When he made his will, he left legacies to every one of them; but he expressed a more particular kindness for one of them, Robert Gibbon, of the Middle Temple, Esq., in whom he had that confidence, that he left him one of his executors. I the rather mention him because of his noble gratitude to his worthy benefactor and master, for he has been so careful to preserve his memory that, as he set those on me at whose desire I undertook to write his life, so he has procured for me a great part of those memorials and informations, out of which I have composed it.

The judge was of a most tender and compassionate nature; this did eminently appear in his trying and giving sentence upon criminals, in which he was strictly careful, that not a circumstance should be neglected, which might any way clear the fact. He behaved himself with that regard to the prisoners, which became both the gravity of a judge, and the pity that was due to men, whose lives lay at stake, so that nothing of jeering or unreasonable severity ever fell from him. He also examined the witnesses in the softest manner, taking care that they should be put under no confusion, which might disorder their memory; and he summed all the evidence so equally, when he charged the jury, that the criminals themselves never complained of him. When it came to him to give sentence, he did it with that composedness and decency, and his speeches to the prisoners, directing them to prepare for death, were so weighty, so free of all affectation, and so serious and devout, that many loved to go to the trials, when he sat judge, to be edified by his speeches and behaviour in them; and used to say, they heard very few such sermons.

But though the pronouncing the sentence of death was the

piece of his employment that went most against the grain with him; yet in that he could never be mollified to any tenderness which hindered justice. When he was once pressed to recommend some, whom he had condemned, to his Majesty's mercy and pardon; he answered, he could not think they deserved a pardon, whom he himself had adjudged to die; so that all he would do in that kind was to give the king a true account of the circumstances of the fact; after which his Majesty was to consider whether he would interpose his mercy, or let justice take place.

His mercifulness extended even to his beasts, for when the horses that he had kept long grew old, he would not suffer them to be sold, or much wrought; but ordered his men to turn them loose on his grounds, and put them only to easy work, such as going to market, and the like: he used old dogs also with the same care; his shepherd having one that was become blind with age, he intended to have killed or lost him; but the judge coming to hear of it, made one of his servants bring him home, and fed him till he died. And he was scarce ever seen more angry than with one of his servants, for neglecting a bird that he kept, so that it died for want of food.

(From The Life of Sir Matthew Hale.)

4

WILLIAM PENN

[William Penn was born in London 14th October 1644. His father was in the Royal Navy, rising to the rank of Admiral under the Commonwealth and receiving Knighthood from Charles II. He was wealthy and influential. William went to Christ Church, Oxford, at the early age of fourteen. Here he is said to have first met with Quakers. After he left college he travelled in France and Ireland. His first imprisonment for conscience' sake took place at Cork in the year 1667. He was again imprisoned in the Tower during the following year, and incurred the displeasure of his father on account of his religious views. Father and son became reconciled, however, before the former's death. In 1681, in recognition of Sir William's distinguished services and of moneys due to him on the part of the Crown, the tract of land in America, since known as Pennsylvania, was granted to William Penn the younger. Thither, in 1682, he went, accompanied by friends. His first official act was to grant to all liberty of conscience in things spiritual and freedom in things temporal.

Court jealousy got him into trouble. He was accused of certain malpractices and deprived of the government of Pennsylvania by William III. But this was restored to him in 1699. His last years were full of trouble. He was burdened with debt and harassed by his enemies. He suffered from melancholia, and died in 1718.

He was twice married, firstly to Gulielma Springett, secondly to Hannah Callowhill of Bristol.]

His most

It is an

WILLIAM PENN is better known as the founder of Pennsylvania and the chief of the Quakers of his day than as a writer. important work is No Cross, No Crown; A discourse showing the nature and discipline of the Holy Cross of Christ. earnest, sometimes eloquent, exposition of the duty of self-denial as the chief requisite for salvation, denouncing all lip service and ceremonialism.

The style is grave and uniform. It is perhaps somewhat ponderously earnest, and lacks the refreshing humour and imagery of some of his contemporary theologians. It is always clear, though the effect is sometimes spoilt by too much amplification. A fair amount of learning and culture is shown without pedantry.