WILLIAM LAUD
Aerts Bisschop van Cantelbury, binnen London
Onthalft den 10 January, Anno 1645
Arnt Pieters Excudit
Carlyle, in a delightful passage in his posthumously published “Historical Studies,” writes: “Future ages, if they do not, as is likelier, totally forget ‘W. Cant,’ will range him under the category of Incredibilities. Not again in the dead strata which lie under men’s feet, will such a fossil be dug up. This wonderful wonder of wonders, were it not even this, a zealous Chief Priest, at once persecutor and martyr, who has no discernible religion of his own?” “No one,” said Laud, when told of the day on which he was to die, “no one can be more ready to send me out of life than I am to go.” Indeed, no one could have left life in a calmer or more tranquil manner than did the Archbishop. It must be a great support to have a sublime opinion of oneself, and if ever man had a sublime opinion of himself it was Laud. The comparison he made in his diary, and which I have already quoted, between his Saviour and himself—between Prynne-Judas and Laud-Christ—proves the ineffable self-conceit of the prelate.
The fact that he himself was notoriously indifferent, if not callous, to the sufferings of others, has destroyed all the sympathy that might have been felt for this strange character in his fall and tribulations. For a mere difference of opinion Laud would order ears to be lopped off, noses slit, and brows and cheeks to be branded with red-hot iron. His best and most enduring monument is the addition he made to St John’s College at Oxford, of which he was at one time the president, and in whose chapel his remains were re-interred, after resting for a time in the Church of All Hallows, Barking, and in the library of which his spectre is said to be seen occasionally gliding on moonlight nights, between the old bookshelves.
After the month of August 1642, when Charles had unfurled his standard at Nottingham, the Tower, although nominally still in the King’s possession, was in reality held by the Parliament; and its prisoners were those who were opposed to the representatives of the people. Among these was Sir Ralph Hopton, who had protested against a violent address made by the Parliament against Charles, Sir Ralph having declared that his fellow-members “seemed to ground an opinion of the King’s apostacy upon less evidence than would serve to hang a fellow for stealing a horse.” This remark brought him to the Tower, where he was soon joined by another member of Parliament, Trelawney (or Trelauney), who had informed the House of Commons that they could not legally appoint a guard of troops for themselves without the King’s assent, under pain of high treason (Clarendon).
Sir Ralph, afterwards Lord Hopton of Stratton, distinguished himself later in the war in the West of England, where he had much success, and with the help of Sir Beville Grenville, gained a signal victory over the Parliamentarians at Stamford Hill, near Stratton, in Cornwall. Fairfax, however, ultimately proved too strong for him, and finally Hopton left England, dying at Bruges in 1652.
Besides these, Sir Thomas Bedingfield and Sir James Gardner were committed to the Tower by the House of Lords, “for refusing to be of the counsel of the Attorney-General,” whilst the Earl of Bristol and Judge Mallet followed them to the fortress, “merely for having seen the Kentish petition.” This petition was drawn up by the principal inhabitants of that county, praying, “that the militia might not otherwise be exercised in that county than the known law permitted, and that the Book of Common Prayer, established by law, might be observed.” Lord Bristol soon obtained his liberty, but Mallet was kept a prisoner for two years on the charge of being “a fomentor and protector of malignant factions against the Parliament” (Clarendon).
In the same year, Sir Richard Gurney, Lord Mayor of London, was sent to the Tower on the charge of having caused the King’s proclamation against the militia, and for suppressing petitions to Parliament, to be published in the city. Sir Richard was dismissed from his mayoralty, and imprisoned during the pleasure of the House. Another Lord Mayor, loyal to the cause of the King, Sir Abraham Reynoldson, was, six years later, also a prisoner in the Tower; but his incarceration lasted only two months, whilst Gurney, it seems, remained for several years in the fortress. The Parliament meted out heavy punishment for “opinions,” Lord Montagu of Boughton, the Earl of Berkshire, and some Norfolk squires, being likewise sent to the Tower on a charge of favouring the King’s side, and of being hostile to the Parliament. In 1643 Justice Berkeley was imprisoned by order of the Lords on a charge of high treason, and also a Mr Montagu, a “messenger” from the French Court to the King.
At this time whole batches of Cavaliers began to be frequently brought to the Tower. Of these, Sir William Moreton, who was captured at the fall of Sudeley Castle, of which he was the governor, remained a prisoner until the Restoration, when he was made a judge. Another was Daniel O’Neale, who had greatly distinguished himself on the royal side in the Scottish war, and later in England. He was committed to the Tower on the invariable charge of high treason, but, like Lord Nithsdale, about half-a-century later, he managed to break his prison in female attire, and succeeded in reaching Holland, whence he returned to serve under Rupert as a lieutenant-colonel in the Prince’s cavalry. According to Clarendon, O’Neale became a celebrated adept in court intrigue in the time of Charles II.