ture the thoughts
that must have passed through Charles's mind as he read the bitter
triumphant pages that told how the man he had twice pilloried and then
flung into prison for life had come out again, as he puts it brutally,
to "unkennel that fox," his foe.

Not even the Archbishop's study with its array of Missals and Breviaries
and Books of Hours, not even the gallery with its "superstitious
pictures," the three Italian masterpieces that he hurried as evidence to
the bar of the House of Lords, so revealed to this terrible detective
"the rotten, idolatrous heart" of the Primate as the sight of the
chapel. It was soon reduced to simplicity. We have seen how sharply even
in prison Laud felt the havoc made by the soldiery. But worse
profanation was to follow. In 1648 the house passed by sale to the
regicide Colonel Scott; the Great Hall was at once demolished, and the
chapel turned into the dining-room of the household. The tomb of Parker
was levelled with the ground; and if we are to believe the story of the
royalists, the new owner felt so keenly the discomfort of dining over a
dead man's bones that the remains of the great Protestant primate were
disinterred and buried anew in an adjoining field.

The story of the library is a more certain one. From the days of
Bancroft to those of Laud it had remained secure in the rooms over the
great cloister where Parker's collection had probably stood before it
passed to Cambridge. There in Parker's day Foxe had busied himself in
work for the later editions of his 'Acts and Monuments;' even in the
present library one book at least bears his autograph and the marginal
marks of his use. There the great scholars of the seventeenth century,
with Selden among them, had carried on their labours. The time was now
come when Selden was to save the library from destruction. At the sale
of Lambeth the Parliament ordered the books and manuscripts to be sold
with the house. Selden dexterously interposed. The will of its founder,
Bancroft, he pleaded, directed that in case room should not be found for
it at Lambeth his gift should go to Cambridge; and the Parliament,
convinced by its greatest scholar, suffered the books to be sent to the
University.

When the Restoration brought the Stuart home again, it flung Scott into
the Tower and set Juxon in the ruined, desecrated walls. Of the deeper
thoughts that such a scene might have suggested few probably found
their way into the simple, limite