The Lord Chancellor Hardwicke, who presided on this occasion, has been justly deemed one of the brightest ornaments of the woolsack. The son of an attorney at Dover, as Philip Yorke, he had risen to the highest offices of the law, by his immense acquirements, and his incomparable powers of illustration and arrangement. By his marriage with a niece of the celebrated Lord Somers, he strengthened his political interest, which, however, it required few adventitious circumstances to secure. Three great men have expressed their admiration of Lord Hardwicke almost in similar terms: Lord Mansfield, Burke, and Wilkes. "When his lordship pronounced his decrees, wisdom herself might be supposed to speak."[361] In manner, he was usually considered to be dignified, impressive, and unruffled; and his intentions were allowed to be as pure and elevated, as his views were patriotic. On this eventful day, since we cannot reject the testimony of an eye-witness of discernment, we must believe that party spirit, which had usually so little influence over his sense of justice, swayed the prepossessions of Lord Hardwicke. At all events, it affected his treatment of the unhappy men to whom he displayed a petulance wholly derogatory to his character as a judge, and discreditable to his feelings as a man. "Instead of keeping up the humane dignity of the law of England, whose character is to point out any favour to the criminal, he crossed them, and almost scolded at any offer they made towards defence." Such is the remark of Horace Walpole.[362] Comely in person, and possessing a fine voice, Lord Hardwicke had every opportunity, on this occasion, of a graceful display of dignity and courtesy; yet his deportment, usually so calm and lofty, was obsequious, "curiously searching for occasion to bow to the minister, and, consequently, applying to the other ministers, in a manner, for their orders;--not even ready at the ceremonial." Notwithstanding, Lord Hardwicke, on his death-bed, could with confidence declare "that he had never wronged any man." The unhappy Jacobites seem, indeed, to have been considered exceptions to all the common rules of clemency. None of the Royal Family were present at the trial, from a proper regard for the feelings of the prisoners, and also, perhaps, from a nice sense of the peculiarity of their own condition.