their accomplices or witnesses.  Was it for the head of law itself, as Coke was, to extol the mercy of the sovereign for not violating the laws, for not punishing the subject by an illegal act?  The truth is, lawyers are rarely philosophers; the history of the heart, read only in statutes and law cases, presents the worst side of human nature:  they are apt to consider men as wild beasts; and they have never spoken with any great abhorrence of what they so erroneously considered a means of obtaining confession.  Long after these times, Sir George Mackenzie, a great lawyer in the reign of James the Second, used torture in Scotland.  We have seen how the manly spirit of Felton, and the scruples of the Commons, wrenched the hidden law from judges who had hitherto been too silent; and produced that unexpected avowal, which condemned all their former practices.  But it was reserved for better times, when philosophy combining with law, enabled the genius of Blackstone to quote with admiration the exquisite ridicule of torture by Beccaria.

On a rumour that Felton was condemned to suffer torture, an effusion of poetry, the ardent breathings of a pure and youthful spirit, was addressed to the supposed political martyr, by Zouch Townley,[257] of the ancient family of the Townleys in Lancashire, to whose last descendant the nation owes the first public collection of ancient art.[258]

The poem I transcribe from a MS. copy of the time; it appears only to have circulated in that secret form, for the writer being summoned to the Star-chamber, and not willing to have any such poem addressed to himself, escaped to the Hague.

    TO HIS CONFINED FRIEND, MR. JO.  FELTON.

    Enjoy thy bondage, make thy prison know
    Thou hast a liberty, thou canst not owe
    To those base punishments; keep’t entire, since
    Nothing but guilt shackles the conscience. 
    I dare not tempt thy valiant blood to whey,
    Enfeebling it to pity; nor dare pray
    Thy act may mercy finde, least thy great story
    Lose somewhat of its miracle and glory. 
    I wish thy merit, laboured cruelty;
    Stout vengeance best befits thy memory. 
    For I would have posterity to hear,
    He that can bravely do, can bravely bear. 
    Tortures may seem great in a coward’s eye;
    It’s no great thing to suffer, less to die. 
    Should all the clouds fall out, and in that strife,
    Lightning and thunder send to take my life,
    I would applaud the wisdom of my fate,
    Which knew to value me at such a rate,
    As at my fall to trouble all the sky,
    Emptying upon me Jove’s full armoury. 
    Serve in your sharpest mischiefs; use your rack,
    Enlarge each joint, and make each sinew crack;
    Thy soul before was straitened; thank thy doom,
    To show her virtue she hath larger room. 
    Yet sure if every artery were broke,
    Thou wouldst find strength