"I am a true Welshman, and they are observed never to run away till their general do first forsake them. No fear of my flinching whilst your Majesty doth countenance our cause."

But after the fatal attempt of the King to seize the five members in the House of Commons, all hope of a peaceable settlement was at an end. The cry against the Bishops was revived, and it was greatly exasperated by Williams having, as Dean of Westminster, gallantly defended the Abbey against a mob who wished to seize the regalia deposited there, and having put them to flight by an armed force. The Bishops were threatened with personal violence, and were prevented from entering the House of Lords.

Hereupon Williams drew up a protest, addressed to the King, which was signed by himself and eleven other Prelates. After dwelling upon their privileges as a constituent part of the Assembly and one of the estates of the realm, "they humbly protest, before his Majesty and the noble House of Peers, that, saving unto themselves all their rights and interests of sitting and voting in the House at other times, they dare not sit or vote in the House of Peers until his Majesty shall further secure them from all affronts, indignities, and dangers. And whereas their fears are not built upon fantasies and conceits, but upon such grounds and objects as well may terrify men of good resolution and much constancy, they do, in all duty and humility, protest against all laws, orders, votes, resolutions, or determinations, as of themselves null and of none effect, which, in their forced and violent absence, have already passed, or which, during their forced and violent absence, shall hereafter pass, in that most honourable House."

This gave furious offence to the Commons, who immediately complained of it to the Upper House,-and all the twelve Prelates who signed it being arrested, ten of them, with the Archbishop of York at their head, were committed to the Tower; the other two, on account of their age and infirmities, being allowed to remain in the custody of the Serjeant at Arms.*

It was an affecting circumstance that the two Archbishops, who had so long been foes, were now both in the Tower; and it is recorded, to their honour, that, in a Christian spirit, forgetting all past injuries and animosities, they were cordially. reconciled. They did not personally converse together, that they might avoid the suspicion of plots, but they often sent each other messages of love and consolation.

The Commons proceeded with articles of impeachment for high treason against the twelve Bishops, and, afterwards, by bill of attainder; but to construe into high treason a protest against the validity of the acts of the assembly of which they were members, while they were by violence prevented from being present, was too flagrantly unjust even for those times, and the proceeding was allowed to drop,†

* 2 Parl, Hist. 893.

† 4 St, Tr. 63,

a

The Bill for excluding the Bishops from sitting in parliament now passed the two Houses without farther opposition*, and the question arose, whether it would receive the royal assent? Many, who thought they well knew Charles, believed that he would sooner have resigned his crown and his life than sanction such " heavy blow and great discouragement to the Church." What was their horror when, with his free assent, the Act became the law of the land! His reluctance is said to have been overcome by the last request of his beloved Henrietta, as he was attending her embarkation for the Continent at Dover. She had little respect for Protestant Prelates; she had been persuaded that this concession would so far gratify the Commons, that they would forego their other demands; and she was always more influenced by the love of present ease than by a strict adherence to principle, or the apprehension of distant consequences.

Soon after this Williams, and his brethren who had been committed along with him, were liberated; and it had [MAY 5, 1642.] been well for the reputation of the Parliamentary party if Laud, who could no longer be formidable, had been included in the order for their discharge. These holy men, when at large, found themselves still so much under popular odium in the metropolis, that it was necessary for them all to make their escape into the country as soon as possible. While they lay in prison ballads were composed upon them, and they were made the subject of caricatures, for which the English were beginning to show a genius. One print, that had a great sale, represented the Archbishop of York in his lawn sleeves and episcopal robes; a square cap on his head; and (to celebrate his defence of the Abbey, and his assault on the populace,) with bandoleers about his neck, a musket on his shoulder, and a rest in his hand. By these means he became as unpopular as Laud had ever been, and instead of resuming possession of the Deanery, he found it necessary to follow the King to York, where the royal standard was unfurled, and preparations were proceeding for the commencement of hostilities. He took possession of Cawood Castle, which belonged to his see, but he was soon obliged to fly from it in the [APRIL, 1642.] dead of the night. Sir John Hotham and his son, who began the civil war, having been proclaimed traitors for refusing to admit the King into Hull, made a sally out of that town with the design of taking Cawood Castle, where the Archbishop was collecting men and provisions for the King's use. News was brought, that young Hotham would arrive there by five o'clock next morning with a large force, and that he had drawn his sword in a hectoring manner," uttering a vow that he would cut off the head of the Archbishop for having spoken very sharply against his disloyalty. The castle was in a ruinous state, and incapable of making any defence. The Archbishop, therefore, was obliged

* 2 Parl. Hist. 916,

to effect his escape a little after midnight, with a small band of horsemen and what few valuables he could carry with him at so short a warning. He meant to seek refuge in his own country, and he set off" without a sumpter-horse or any provision for his journey, without a change of apparel, and almost without money, for all that he had been able to raise among his tenants in Yorkshire he had sent to the royal treasury."*

The following day he met the King beating up for volunteers, and handed over to him the stoutest of his men. Having received a royal pass to carry him into Wales,-on bended knee, with tears streaming from his eyes, and hearty prayers for a successful issue to the coming contest, he kissed his Majesty's hand and bade him adieu,-believing that it was for the last time. He journeyed on with a very slender retinue, and, notwithstanding the disturbed state of the country, after many alarms, safely reached Aberconway, near fifty years from the time when he had left the place as a stripling.

The energy of his character continued without abatement. He was looked up to with great pride by his countrymen, as one of the few Cambrians who had risen to high distinction in England, and he animated them with zeal in the royal cause. To draw down the blessing of Heaven upon his endeavours, he set all North Wales on a more earnest practice of religion, and ordered that frequent prayers should be put up in all churches, with fasting,—and he himself was almost daily in the pulpit exhorting his hearers, in their own language, to defend the mitre and the crown. The emulation of the great families among each other had made them indifferent to the public struggle that was now going on, but he contrived to unite them all in one common resolution

to resist any invasion by the parliamentary generals. [A. D. 1643.] For nothing that he ever did was he so much praised by his contemporaries, as for the manner in which he put Conway Castle in a state of defence. He found it a ruin, but he repaired its walls, threw up important works to strengthen it, victualled it, and collected a stout garrison for it, which he saw regularly trained.

The King, hearing of his exertions, sent him a commission signed with his own hand, in which, after much praise bestowed on the Archbishop, and noticing the importance of Conway Castle, he says, "You having begun at your own charge to put the same into repair, we do heartily desire you to go on in that work, assuring you that whatsoever monies you shall lay out upon the fortification of the said castle, shall be repaid unto you before the custody thereof shall be put into any other hand than your own, or such as you shall recommend."+

The Archbishop in consequence appointed two of his nephews to hold the castle for him;-but, as we shall see, this arrangement

* Hacket, part ii. 208, 210.

+ Ibid.

was unavailing, and he met with an ungrateful return for his military services.

While he still enjoyed the royal favour, he repaired to Oxford in [JAN. 1644.] consequence of a summons to attend his Majesty during the sitting of a rival parliament to be attempted there. He had now frequent conferences with Charles, and gave him some prophetic advice about Cromwell, who was as yet of mean rank, but whom he had known at Buckden. Says he, “That Oliver Cromwell, I am full sure, will turn out the most dangerous enemy your Majesty has. I never could make out his religion, but he was a common spokesman for sectaries, and maintained their part with stubbornness. He loves none that are more than his equals. Above all that live, I think he is the most mindful of an injury. He talks openly that it is fit some should act more vigorously against your forces, and bring your person into the power of the parliament. He says, his general, the Earl of Essex, is only half an enemy to your Majesty. Every beast hath some evil properties; but Oliver Cromwell hath the properties of all evil beasts. My humble motion is, either that you would win him to you by promises of fair treatment, or catch him by some stratagem, and cut him short." All this the King received with a smile of incredulity.*

The royal, in opposition to the republican parliament, assembled. Such respect was paid to the last regular statute which the King, Lords, and Commons had all assented to, that Williams, and other Bishops then at Oxford, did not take their places in the mock House of Lords, presided over by Lord Keeper Lane.† However, the King paid them the compliment to consult them,— on which occasion Williams made him a long speech, particularly complaining of the irregularities of the royal army. "Your soldiers," said he, "in their march and quarters are very unruly, and lose the people's affections everywhere by the oppressions they sustain." He recommended specific measures and concessions, "with indemnity to the King's adherents; for we save a ship with the loss of the goods, not of the passengers:" thus concluding,‐ "But if your Majesty disdain to go so low, and will not put the good of the church and kingdom upon their faith, to which misery I fear our sins have brought us, I am ready to run on in the common hazard with your Majesty, and to live and die in your service." Charles professed to receive this counsel in good part, and when Williams took leave, again expressly charged him with the care and government of all North Wales,-especially of Conway Castle. Under a military escort he safely returned

thither.

But he was not long allowed to remain in his command. The

* Hacket, ii. 212.

This seems to have given offence to those who ought to have constituted the right reverend bench. Iacket says testily, "Oxford wanted not Bishops at this time, but they were excluded to sit and vote as Peers in parliament.”—Part ii. 214.

royalist leaders were not satisfied to see a churchman sharing their power, and Prince Rupert, always rash and headstrong, was induced to grant a commission to Sir John Owen, an officer noted for violence and covetousness, to supersede him. The inhabitants

of the surrounding country had deposited all their most valuable effects in Conway Castle, and the Archbishop had made himself personally responsible for them. When required to resign, he indignantly denied the validity of Rupert's commis

sion, and refused admittance to the new Gover- [MAY 9, 1645.] nor. Sir John Owen thereupon surprised the castle by a large military force, and scaling the walls and bursting open the gates, he took possession of it, with all the ammunition, stores, and property which it contained. The Archbishop sent an earnest but respectful complaint to the King at Oxford, but could gain no further satisfaction than that "it should be considered at more leisure." He remonstrated no further, "lest he should say too much," but he felt deeply wounded by this great indignity.

During fifteen months, he remained in a state of inactivity, hearing of the field of Naseby and the utter ruin of the royal party. At the end of that period, [AUGUST, 1646.] he engaged in an affair which has brought some obloquy upon his memory. Colonel Milton, a parliamentary officer, who had got possession of Chester, marched with a considerable force across the Dee, through Flint and Denbighshire, to Conway town, and prevailed with the Archbishop to enter into a treaty to assist him to take the castle, still held by Sir John Owen for the King. The chief condition was, that those who had deposited their wealth in the castle, should have every thing restored to them which had escaped the rapacity of the royalists. The Archbishop then assembled his kindred and dependants, marched at their head, and joined Colonel Milton's regular troops in assaulting the castle. The garrison was so reduced that they could make but a short and ineffectual resistance, and the Archbishop was again master of the fortress.

He reconciled this proceeding to his principles of royalty by his old casuistry, “licet uti alieno peccato." His apologist, admitting that "his carriage did not become him to thrust himself in among the assailants," mitigates his misconduct by the quotation from Sallust, non minus est turpe sua relinquere quam aliena invadere injustum." He was loudly accused of having renounced his allegiance and deliberately gone over to the rebels: but though the royal cause was then desperate, I believe his great object was to be revenged of the insult offered to him by Sir John Owen, which had been so long rankling in his bosom.

When he had seen all the property found in the castle restored to the right owners, he retired to the house of his kins woman, the Lady Mostyn, at Glodded, in the parish of Eglwysrose, in the