William Prynne, a barrister, denounced Laud for his inhuman cruelty, and declared that Laud's misuse of power proved Leighton was right. Then it was Prynne's turn. He was fined two thousand pounds for "treason, contumacy and contravention." Archbishop Laud was head of the Church of England, and he who spoke ill of Laud spoke ill of the Church; and he who slandered the Church was guilty of disloyalty to God and his country. King Charles looked on and smiled approval while Prynne had his ears cut off and his nose slit. Charles signed the sentence that Prynne should wear a red letter "I" on his breast and stand in the marketplace on a scaffold two hours a day for a month, and then be imprisoned for life. Thus was Nathaniel Hawthorne supplied a name and an incident. Also thus did Charles and his needlessly pious Archbishop set an awful example to Puritans, for we teach forever by example and not by precept. Rulers who kill their enemies are teaching murder as a fine art, and fixing private individuals in the belief that for them to kill their enemies is according to the "higher law," and also preparing them for the abuse of power when they get the chance.
Doctor Bastwick, a physician in high repute, expressed sympathy for Barrister Prynne as he stood in the sun on the scaffold, consoling him with a word of friendship and a foolish tear. Laud had a clergyman in disguise standing near the condemned Prynne, "to feel the pulse of the people." He felt the pulse of Doctor Bastwick, and reported his action to Laud, the religieux. Then Bastwick was a candidate. He was arrested, fined a thousand pounds, had his ears cut off without the use of cocaine, a month apart, both nostrils were slit, and he was imprisoned for life. Cousin John Hampden took a petition to King Charles, asking that mercy should be granted Doctor Bastwick, as he was an old man, a good physician, and his action was merely a kindly impulse, and not a deliberate insult to either the Archbishop or the King. The petition was ignored and John Hampden cautioned.
Oliver Cromwell was then in London, having come to town with three wagonloads of wool, but his wits were not woolgathering. Dissenters were not safe. There is a report noted by both Carlyle and Charles Dickens that Cromwell, having sold his wool and also his horses, embarked on a ship with John Hampden, bound for Massachusetts Bay Colony, leaving orders for his family to follow. The ship being searched by spies of Laud, Oliver and John were put ashore and ordered to make haste to their country houses and stay there and cultivate the soil. The King and his Archbishop made a slight lapse in not allowing Oliver and John to depart in peace.
When John Hampden refused to pay ship-money, Laud wanted him publicly whipped. Charles, guessing the temper of the times, allowed the case to go to trial.
Cromwell was a member of the Long parliament that ordered the arrest and trial of Laud. Laud was placed in the Tower in Sixteen Hundred Forty-one, but his trial did not take place until Sixteen Hundred Forty-four. Cromwell argued that anybody who could speak well of Laud must be heard. The trial consumed a year. Laud was found guilty of six hundred counts of gross inhumanity and violation of his priestly oath, and was beheaded with a single stroke of the ax that had severed the head of Raleigh.
At this time Charles was in the field, moving from this point to that, feeling to see if his head was in place, and trying to dodge the Parliamentary armies. Also, at this time, fighting in the ranks of Cromwell, was one John Bunyan, who was to outlive Cromwell, write a book, glorify Bedford Jail and fall a victim to Royal vengeance.
Fate dug down and tapped in Cromwell's nature great reservoirs of unguessed strength. As Ingersoll said of Lincoln, "He always rose to the level of events." There is an unanalyzed bit of psychology here: a man is tired, ready to drop out, and lo! circumstances call upon him, and he makes the effort of his life. Beneath all humanity there is a lake of power, as yet untapped.
Cromwell's greatest successes were snatched from the teeth of defeat. He always had a few extra links to let out. He grew great by doing. When others were ready to quit, he had just begun. Like Paul Jones, when called upon to surrender he shouted back, "Why, sir, by the living God, I have not yet commenced to fight!"
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When conversation lags in Great Britain, or any of her Colonies, the question of whether the execution of Charles the First was justifiable is still debated.