The round bastion at the north end, represented in the drawing, is that portion of the building to which an interesting historical incident is attached; one of those events, which are the melancholy, and certain fruits of anarchy and civil war.
Dr. Michael Hudson, who is styled by Wood, “an understanding and sober person, and of great fidelity,” was, from his sincerity, called by King Charles the First, his “plain-dealing Chaplain.” When the troubles of that period commenced, Hudson, like some others of his profession, left his benefice, under an impression that his monarch demanded his personal aid; and King Charles having, as we are told, “an especial respect for his signal loyalty and courage,” intrusted him with some important secrets, as regarded his own proceedings. Hudson proved himself a courageous soldier, but, being apprehended by the Parliamentary forces, he suffered a tedious confinement. Escaping from his prison in London, he joined a body of royalists, who had fled to Woodcroft House. When attacked there by the Parliamentary forces, Hudson, with some of his bravest soldiers, went up to the battlements, where they defended themselves for some time. At length they yielded, upon the promise of quarter; but when the rebels were admitted, they broke their engagement. Hudson was forced over the battlements, and clung to one of the stone spouts represented in the drawing. His hands being either actually cut off, or severely hacked and bruised by the sabres of the soldiers, he quitted his hold and fell into the moat underneath, desiring only to reach the land and die there; but this miserable boon was denied him, as, in attempting to reach the bank, he was knocked on the head with the but-end of a musket, and drowned[2].
May we never, by God’s blessing, witness a recurrence of the scenes which were presented at this eventful period of our history! Our great dramatic poet, who showed his patriotism, by always giving to his countrymen the wisest counsel, and encouraging correct sentiments respecting justice and good government, thus beautifully describes a kingdom, restored to the blessings of internal tranquillity.
No more shall trenching war channel her fields, Nor bruise her flow’rets with the armed hoofs Of hostile paces: those opposed eyes, Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven, _All of one nature, of one substance bred_, Did lately meet in the intestine shock And furious close of civil butchery, Shall now, in mutual, well-beseeming ranks, March all one way; and be no more oppos’d _Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies_; The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife, No more shall cut his master.—_Henry IV._, Part I. H. M.