outlaw who yielded himself within
the year was entitled to plead Not Guilty, and to put himself on his
country. To this it was answered that Armstrong had not yielded himself,
that he had been dragged to the bar a prisoner, and that he had no
right to claim a privilege which was evidently meant to be given only
to persons who voluntarily rendered themselves up to public justice.
Jeffreys and the other judges unanimously overruled Armstrong's
objection, and granted the award of execution. Then followed one of
the most terrible of the many terrible scenes which, in those times,
disgraced our Courts. The daughter of the unhappy man was at his side.
"My Lord," she cried out, "you will not murder my father. This is
murdering a man." "How now?" roared the Chief Justice. "Who is this
woman? Take her, Marshal. Take her away." She was forced out, crying
as she went, "God Almighty's judgments light on you!" "God Almighty's
judgment," said Jeffreys, "will light on traitors. Thank God, I am
clamour proof." When she was gone, her father again insisted on what
he conceived to be his right. "I ask" he said, "only the benefit of the
law." "And, by the grace of God, you shall have it," said the judge.
"Mr. Sheriff, see that execution be done on Friday next. There is the
benefit of the law for you." On the following Friday, Armstrong was
hanged, drawn and quartered; and his head was placed over Westminster
Hall, [559]

The insolence and cruelty of Jeffreys excite, even at the distance of so
many years, an indignation which makes it difficult to be just to him.
Yet a perfectly dispassionate inquirer may perhaps think it by no means
clear that the award of execution was illegal. There was no precedent;
and the words of the Act of Edward the Sixth may, without any straining,
be construed as the Court construed them. Indeed, had the penalty
been only fine or imprisonment, nobody would have seen any thing
reprehensible in the proceeding. But to send a man to the gallows as a
traitor, without confronting him with his accusers, without hearing his
defence, solely because a timidity which is perfectly compatible with
innocence has impelled him to hide himself, is surely a violation, if
not of any written law, yet of those great principles to which all laws
ought to conform. The case was brought before the House of Commons. The
orphan daughter of Armstrong came to the bar to demand vengeance; and
a warm debate followed. Sawyer was fiercely attac