No. 158 Lord Keeper Williams
Painter unknown.
BORN 1582, DIED 1650.
Painted on wood. Black eyes, moustaches, and beard. Low-crowned broad-brimmed hat. Left hand rests on the case of the Great Seal. In the corner a shield, with many quarterings, surmounted by a mitre. Inscription: ‘Lord Keeper Williams, Archbishop of York, 1625.’
John, son of Edmund Williams, by Anne Wynne, (both names that testify to true Cambrian descent,) born at Aberconway, county Carnarvon, educated at a Grammar School, where it was said of him, ‘that he was a proficient in Greek, and Latin, but had little Sassenach.’ He then went to Cambridge, where all the Welshmen were proud of their countryman’s talents, although his accent and pronunciation caused an occasional laugh at his expense. He accepted a small living in Norfolk, and a better one in Northamptonshire, but still continued to reside for some time at the University. Lord Chancellor Ellesmere was so taken by his preaching and his good character that he appointed Williams his private chaplain, took him into his confidence, and made him his inseparable companion. Even in the Courts of Chancery and the Star Chamber the young man sat beside his patron, and as an earnest listener did the future Lord Keeper begin his legal education. He had the chief command of the Chancellor’s ecclesiastical patronage, which he dispensed with judgment, never losing sight for a moment of his own interests. He became a large pluralist, had two good livings, and stalls in four cathedrals, while a sermon he preached at Court, on the divine right of kings, insured him the favour of James I. Prince Henry also admired his preaching, and said he was ‘an honour to the Principality.’
Lord Ellesmere was now growing old, and made use of his chaplain in all his business transactions with the King, a fortunate circumstance for Williams, as James took a great liking for him. When the Chancellor was dying, he offered his chaplain a reward for his services. ‘I wish for nothing at your hands,’ was the reply, ‘you have filled my cup so full. Give me directions how to live in the world, if I survive you.’ ‘You are an expert workman,’ said the dying man; ‘take these tools, they are the best I have,’ at the same time giving him his own four treatises, on the manner of conducting business in the Courts of Chancery, Parliament, the Star Chamber, and Council.
Lord Bacon, on succeeding to the Woolsack, offered to continue Williams as his chaplain, but he chose rather to go to his living, and work there as parish priest, Justice of the Peace, etc. etc., with occasional visits to London to preach at Court, and keep up his interest there. Watching passing events, he soon made up his mind, that it was impossible to rise without the help of the all-powerful Buckingham. Fortunately for our wary Welshman, an opportunity soon offered to ingratiate himself into the Duke’s good books. The handsome courtier was a suitor for the hand of the beautiful heiress, Lady Catherine Manners, but her father, the Earl of Rutland, considered Buckingham ‘an upstart,’ and the lady was a strict Roman Catholic, and moreover much scandalised by her lover’s reputation as a man of gallantry. Williams lived near Belvoir, where he was a frequent and welcome visitor, and Buckingham asked his mediation. So successfully did he conduct matters, that ere long all scruples were overcome on the part of father and daughter, and the latter converted to the Protestant faith, according to the tenets of which Williams married the couple, having first himself drawn up the marriage settlements. He used to say, with reason, that this affair was the keystone in the arch of his fortune.
As a recompence, he demanded and obtained the Deanery of Westminster. When the cry was raised against Lord Bacon, Williams took part with his enemies, at first secretly. When the Great Seal was taken from Bacon, and put into commission for a time, Williams, after some delay, carried off the prize in spite of numerous competitors,—the King and Buckingham being both in favour of this most unpopular choice. The lawyers were irate, that one who had never run in the race should win the garland! His installation was delayed, and he now set to work to educate himself for the post he had already attained, studying day and night, and scarcely allowing time for food or sleep. Indeed we are told that through life he never slept more than three hours at a time. He had not, said his Secretary, ‘one drop of lazy blood in his veins.’ He was raised to the See of Lincoln, and on becoming Lord Keeper, retained all his ecclesiastical preferment. ‘He had a whole diocese in his person,—Bishop, Dean, Prebendary, Parson, and Priest.’
Verily the Lord Keeper had feathered his nest! In his legal capacity he worked strenuously, and chose his advisers well, although at times an error in technical terms caused a titter in Court. There is a good story of a certain lawyer attempting a joke at the Lord Keeper’s expense, by making a sham motion, which was crammed like a grenade with obsolete words, of far-fetched antiquity, thinking to keep the new Judge in the dark, and take him at a disadvantage. But we are told it is dangerous to play with edged tools. The Lord Keeper discovered the plot, and rising, answered his antagonist in a long speech, in which the words categorematical and syn-categorematical were among the shortest and simplest of his polysyllables. The laugh, and the tables, were turned in an instant. So zealous and skilful was he in the prosecution of his new duties, that few complaints were heard; but Buckingham and Laud were both jealous of his growing power, and preferred charges against him, the latter especially, for betraying ‘the secrets of the Council.’ He was moreover in bad odour at this time, for the violent part he took against Abbot, Archbishop of Canterbury, who had accidentally shot Lord Zouche’s gamekeeper, instead of a deer at which he was aiming. There were whispers that Williams would not have disliked the post of Primate, but nothing came of it.
Buckingham returned about this time from Spain, and accused the Lord Keeper of having plotted against him during his absence. Williams humbled himself before the great man, who said, ‘I will not seek your ruin, though I shall cease to study your fortune.’
When King James lay on his deathbed, Williams ministered to him, closed his eyes, and preached his funeral sermon. Charles, on his accession, confirmed him in all his offices, but was soon persuaded by Buckingham to deprive him of the Great Seal. Williams therefore retired to his palace at Buckden, which, being in a dilapidated condition, he restored, and lived there in much state.
But he could not place a guard over the door of his lips, and he who had been accused of employing spies himself, seems to have been surrounded by them. It was reported at Court, how disrespectfully Williams spoke of high personages and their doings, and he was forbidden to appear at the forthcoming Coronation. Many slights and indignities were put upon him, but for all that, he kept his place on the bench of Bishops, and supported the popular cause, more especially the famous Petition of Right. He was now attacked on all sides, and grave charges were made against him, so that he was dismissed from his seat at the Council Board, and then brought to trial. Found guilty of manifold crimes and misdemeanours, he was sentenced to be fined, suspended, and imprisoned. Accordingly he was arrested and sent to the Tower. Before he was released, fresh accusations were brought against him, and the fines upon him were increased; Laud being always foremost in the rank of his adversaries, for he had no reason to love Williams. It was now proposed to the prisoner, voluntarily to resign all his offices, including his bishopric, and to accept an Irish See, but this offer he stoutly refused. Williams was at length released by the Long Parliament, and all proceedings against him cancelled. On his appearance at Court, he was received with open arms, and raised to the Archbishopric of York. Although professing to disapprove of the attainder of Strafford, he advised the King most cruelly, and Clarendon says was instrumental in Strafford’s death. He opposed the Bill for excluding the Bishops from the House of Lords, and took so active a part that he was once more sent to the Tower for a short time. During his second imprisonment, (Laud being then under the same gloomy roof,) the two Archbishops met, and were reconciled. On his release, Williams entered on a new career, that of arms, joining the Royal cause with all his heart, and working strenuously to advance it in Wales. He had a design of fortifying Carwood Castle in his See, but found the place untenable, being almost a ruin; and he was obliged to fly in the dead of night, on the approach of ‘those two traitors, Sir John Hotham and his son,’ with scarcely a change of raiment, without provisions, and not a coin in his purse. The next day, meeting his royal master by the way, this loyal subject gave up the best of the horsemen who rode with him, and proceeded to his native town, which he had left as a mere stripling, about fifty years before. The Archbishop continued to preach religion, morality, and loyalty among the Welsh, and repaired and fortified Conway Castle, for which good service King Charles (whom he joined at Oxford for a time) appointed him Governor of the same. This displeased Prince Rupert, who hated Churchmen, and he caused Williams to be superseded,—a circumstance which rankled deeply in the warlike prelate’s bosom.
He remained for a time inactive, but falling in with a Parliamentary force, the desire of revenge got the better of his loyalty, and he was persuaded by the General to assist him in the attack on Conway, still under the command of his successor. The assault succeeded, and Williams was once more for a short period installed in Conway Castle. Soon after this he retired to the house of his kinswoman, Lady Mostyn, where he remained till his death. He was horrified when he heard the King had left Oxford. ‘What!’ he said, ‘take the advice of a stranger, and trust the Scots! then all is lost.’ On being told of Charles’s execution, he fainted away, and said he would never take comfort more. He survived about a year, but spent most of his time in bed, rising at midnight to pray, ‘as that was the hour at which Christ would come to judge the quick and dead.’ He died on his sixty-eighth birthday, his last words being ‘Lord Jesus, come quickly,’ for he had long wished for death. His temper was fiery, owing, said his Secretary, to his Welsh blood. He was hospitable and charitable, had a great taste for building, and restored Westminster at his own expense, besides many munificent grants to both Universities. He gave much offence to the Puritans by his love of dramatic performances. One Sunday, the very day of an Episcopal ordination, he caused the ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream’ to be represented, (on a stage erected in Buckden Palace,) for the edification of the young priests.
In person he was handsome; his countenance comely, his complexion fair, his gait stately. He was merry, and even facetious, until the time of the King’s death, after which he seldom opened his lips, except to call down vengeance on Cromwell and the Regicides.
He repurchased his family estate, and bequeathed it to his heir. He left several theological writings. Lord Keeper Williams, Archbishop of York, lies buried in a small church near Penrhyn, in Wales.