The execution of Archbishop William Laud

On 28 January at St Paul's Cathedral, Sarah Mullally will be confirmed, officially making her the Archbishop of Canterbury. The previous Archbishop, Justin Welby, ended his term on 6 January 2025. Both managed to avoid the auspicious day of 10 January, the date on which Archbishop William Laud was executed in 1645.

Yes. You read that right. An Archbishop of Canterbury was executed by Parliament in 1645. The church wardens of St George’s Church, Beckington in Somerset – the church in which I was baptised 50 years ago – would not have been all that sad to hear the news of Laud’s fate. England was three years into a civil war, partly caused by Laud and his reforms. Families, villages and towns had been torn apart, having been forced to choose between King and Parliament.

Setting the table

The lives of the Church Wardens of Beckington had been blighted before the war when Laud ordered all churches in England to remove the communion table from its "traditional" central position and place it at the east end of the church. This felt like a Catholic move, especially in the more puritan regions of the country, which included North Somerset. After all, “For Christ died, once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring you to God” (1 Peter 3v18). This appears to exclude the Catholic understanding of Mass as a re-sacrifice on an altar by a priest. The church wardens of St George’s in Beckington would not comply.

In modern times, “Catholic vs Protestant” looks like a mere footling preference, like deciding between an Android and an iPhone. In the early 17th century, this division ran far deeper and for good reason. During the reign of Queen Elizabeth there had been numerous Catholic plots to depose or kill the Queen – with the full backing of the Pope – and restore England to the Roman Church. This came to a head in the Gunpowder Plot in 1605 under James I: an act of terrorism. Englishness had, for decades, defined itself against Roman Catholicism.

As the Beckington Church warden, you see King Charles with a Roman Catholic wife on whom he dotes. (Charles I has many deep flaws, but he seems to have been commendably faithful to his wife, unlike his sexually incontinent son.) You’re also wondering why the King’s Archbishop is determined to impose Catholic-looking worship that feels like a return to Rome.

In fact, Charles and Laud’s attempts to impose this on the Scots had not just started a riot but a war. The Scots invaded England, forcing Charles to call a Parliament for money to pay an army. Why on earth were Charles and Laud continuing with this disastrous plan?

There must be some mistake. You decide not to obey this order but the next thing you know, you have been excommunicated. You probably don’t quite believe the spiritual sabre-rattling, confident in your own salvation through Christ (see 1 Peter 3v18). But this has escalated. Quickly.

You can hear what their friends are saying: “Just say sorry, put the table at the east end and rail it off.” But no. You appeal to the Church's Court of Arches, to the Archbishop himself and even the King. The appeals are all rejected and you are put in prison for a year. You are only released after making public confessions in Beckington and other churches that you had grievously offended God and the ecclesiastical laws of the realm.

Laud was not known for his humility or patience. He was a man in a hurry. He worked through the High Commission and Star Chamber, insisting on heavy penalties against his critics and opponents, turning rivals into deadly enemies. For example, he ensured William Prynne was not just heavily fined for writing criticism against him but imprisoned and had his ears cut off. He would, in time, reap what he sowed.

Meanwhile in London

By 1640, everything was coming to a head. The King recalled Parliament to raise money to defend England against the Scots (despite being King of both realms!). By this point, men like John Pym, John Hampden, Denzil Holles, Sir Arthur Haselrig and William Strode had formed a group that ran procedural rings around the king’s men. They attempted to rein in the King’s power, extract concessions and put an end to over a decade of personal rule by the King, aided and abetted by Laud – and another favourite, Strafford who was arrested first and put on trial. The King, reluctantly, signed Strafford’s death warrant.

But Londoners were thrilled to see Laud arrested. In May 1640 a large crowd had attacked Lambeth Palace. The Root and Branch Petition was presented on 11 December 1640, “on behalf of 15,000 Londoners” complaining about being forced into “popish” posture and “altar-wise” arrangement along with other grievances about censorship. This was not just about the constitution, but the heart and soul of England.

When Laud was committed to the Tower in March 1641 he was jeered, pelted, and shouted at as a “traitor” in the streets. To London, to the supporters of Parliament and to Puritans, this was not a pointless debate over the number of angels that could dance on the head of a pin. This was about national security and sovereignty, and the right of a free-born Englishman to practice a Protestant – or even a Puritan – faith.

By the time war broke out in 1642, there was no prospect of Laud being released. When the time came for a trial, his fate was sealed. The case against Laud was made by one of Laud’s deadly rivals, William Prynne. This was personal and was only going one way.

In the end, Laud was not tried but convicted by attainder and sentenced to death in 1644. This was a flawed and compromised legal process but it was taking place at a time when thousands were dying on battlefields and in sieges as part of a war for which Laud was partially responsible. What was one more death? One cannot imagine the people of Beckington were shedding many tears for Laud.

In a way, Laud’s beheading was a proxy for executing the King himself which was still unthinkable on 10 January 1645. But the next four years saw the King demonstrate that he had not been "poorly advised" by Laud and Strafford. The King was the problem. But could Parliament conceive of convicting a king for treason and execute him?

In the meantime, we must ask ourselves the question: Will we stand up and suffer the consequences of faithfulness like the church wardens of St George’s Church, Beckington?