commemoration-of-william-laud-archbishop-of-canterbury

The name of Laud does not savour agreeably in the minds of Englishmen; yet it will be generally admitted that he was unjustly and vindicively treated. The career of the man from a humble origin to the primate’s throne, which he attained in 1633, need not be detailed. Led by a love of the old ceremonies of the church—though, as he always alleged, with no affection for Rome—he became the principal minister of Charles I, in those unhappy movements for introducing episcopacy in Scotland and checking puritanism in England, which, in combination with arbitrary political rule, brought on the Great Civil War.

He was called to the council of Charles I, according to his own statement, against his will; yet he devised and executed many unwarrantable revenue schemes: he, doubtless, believed in the divine right of kings, and being opposed, an unhappy infirmity of temper induced him to concur in many cruel and arbitrary schemes, to crush opposition, and render his master independent of parliaments.

These expedients succeeded for a while, but, at length failing, the king was compelled to call his last parliament, Nov. 3th, 1640; and early next year the Archbishop was impeached of treason by the Commons, and sent to the Tower, where he remained exposed to many hardships until his death. In 1643, he was accused of designs of overthrowing parliaments, and bringing about union with Rome. Prynne, the barrister, who was Laud’s personal enemy, collected evidence against him, seized his private papers, and even his prayer-book, and took his Diary by force out of his pocket. Prynne tampered with the evidence to suit the views of his party, but the proofs were so weak that the Peers were disinclined to convict him. He has left a full and, on the whole, faithful account of his trial, in which he defended himself with courage and ability. The Commons then changed the impeachment to an ordinance for Laud’s execution, to which the Lords assented; he had procured a pardon from the king, which was disregarded, and Laud was brought to the block on Tower-hill, mainly, it is alleged, to gratify the extreme Presbyterians of Scotland, and induce them to go heartily on with the war, this party having been inspired with bitter feelings regarding the unhappy primate, whom they considered as the main author of the calamities they had been for several years enduring.

The last words of Laud were a solemn denial of the charge of affection for Rome: his chaplain, Dr. Sterne, attended him to the scaffold, where, after some minutes spent in prayer, his head was cut off at one blow, in the 72nd year of his age. His body was buried in the church of Allhallows, Barking, near the Tower, but in 1663 was removed to his college at Oxford. He had been for several years Chancellor of that University, to which he gave many valuable MSS., and where many other proofs of his munificent patronage of learning yet remain. He employed Inigo Jones to build the picturesque eastern wing of St. John’s; here, in 1636, he entertained at dinner, the King and Queen and Prince Rupert. He restored the painted windows in the chapel at Lambeth, it was alleged, ‘by their like in the mass-book,’ but this he utterly denied.

Whitelock says:

‘Laud was too full of fire, though a just and good man; and his want of experience in state matters and too much zeal for church ceremonies, if he proceeded in the way he was then in, would set the nation on fire.’ Even at the University he had the character of being ‘at least very popishly inclined.’ ‘His bigotry and cruelty in the execution of his high office ought assuredly not to have gone unpunished; but the sentence against him was, perhaps, the most unjustifiable act of the zealots of the Long Parliament; and it appears strongly one of the disadvantages of government by a large assembly of men: for the odium of the death of Laud, being divided among so many, has neither brought with it individual infamy, nor was likely to produce individual remorse.’—Westminster Review, vol. xvii.