CIVIL WAR.
1641-1646
Increasing demands of the Commons.--The king gradually loses his
power.--The king determines to change his policy.--The king sends his
officers to the House.--The king goes to the House himself.--The
king's speech in the House.--Great excitement in the House.--The
speaker's reply.--Results of the king's rashness.--Committee of the
Commons.--The king goes to London.--Cries of the people.--Preparations
to escort the committee to Westminster.--Report of the
committee.--Alarm of the king.--The king yields.--Increasing
excitement.--Civil war.--Its nature.--Cruelties and miseries of civil
war.--Taking sides between the king and Parliament.--Preparations for
war.--Fruitless negotiations.--Messages between the king and
Parliament.--Ravages of the war.--Death of Hampden.--Prince
Rupert.--His knowledge and ingenuity.--Progress of the
war.--Difficulty of making peace.--The women clamor for peace.--Queen
Henrietta's arrival in England.--The vice-admiral cannonades the
queen.--The queen's danger.--She seeks shelter in a trench.--The queen
joins her husband.--Her influence.--The royal cause declines.--The
Prince of Wales.--Hopeless condition of the king.--Invasion by the
Scots.--The king surrenders to the Scots.--End of the civil war.
The way in which the king came at last to a final rupture with
Parliament was this. The victory which the Commons gained in the case
of Strafford had greatly increased their confidence and their power,
and the king found, for some months afterward, that instead of being
satisfied with the concessions he had made, they were continually
demanding more. The more he yielded, the more they encroached. They
grew, in a word, bolder and bolder, in proportion to their success.
They considered themselves doing the state a great and good service by
disarming tyranny of its power. The king, on the other hand,
considered them as undermining all the foundations of good government,
and as depriving him of personal rights, the most sacred and solemn
that could vest in any human being.
It will be recollected that on former occasions, when the king had got
into contention with a Parliament, he had dissolved it, and either
attempted to govern without one, or else had called for a new
election, hoping that the new members would be more compliant. But he
could not dissolve the Parliament now. They had provided against this
danger. At the time of the trial of Strafford, they brought in a bill
into the Commons providing that thenceforth the Houses could not be
prorogued or dissolved without their own consent. The Commons, of
course, passed the bill very readily. The Peers were more reluctant,
but they did not dare to reject it. The king was extremely unwilling
to sign the bill; but, amid the terrible excitements and dangers of
that trial, he was overborne by the influences of danger and
intimidation which surrounded him. He signed the bill. Of course the
Commons were, thereafter, their own masters. However dangerous or
destructive the king might consider their course of conduct to be, he
could now no longer arrest it, as heretofore, by a dissolution.
He went on, therefore, till the close of 1641, yielding slowly and
reluctantly, and with many struggles, but still all the time yielding,
to the resistless current which bore him along. At last he resolved to
yield no longer. After retreating so long, he determined suddenly and
desperately to turn back and attack his enemies. The whole world
looked on with astonishment at such a sudden change of his policy.
The measure which he resorted to was this. He determined to select a
number of the most efficient and prominent men in Parliament, who had
been leaders in the proceedings against him, and demand their arrest,
imprisonment, and trial, on a charge of high treason. The king was
influenced to do this partly by the advice of the queen, and of the
ladies of the court, and other persons who did not understand how deep
and strong the torrent was which they thus urged him to attempt to
stem. They thought that if he would show a little courage and energy
in facing these men, they would yield in their turn, and that their
boldness and success was owing, in a great measure, to the king's want
of spirit in resisting them. "Strike boldly at them," said they;
"seize the leaders; have them tried, and condemned, and executed.
Threaten the rest with the same fate; and follow up these measures
with energetic and decisive action, and you will soon make a change in
the aspect of affairs."
The king adopted this policy, and he did make a change in the aspect
of affairs, but not such a change as his advisers had anticipated. The
Commons were thrown suddenly into a state of astonishment one day by
the appearance of a king's officer in the House, who rose and read
articles of a charge of treason against five of the most influential
and popular members. The officer asked that a committee should be
appointed to hear the evidence against them which the king was
preparing. The Commons, on hearing this, immediately voted, that if
any person should attempt even to seize the papers of the persons
accused, it should be lawful for them to resist such an attempt by
every means in their power.
The next day another officer appeared at the bar of the House of
Commons, and spoke as follows. "I am commanded by the king's majesty,
my master, upon my allegiance, that I should come to the House of
Commons, and require of Mr. Speaker five gentlemen, members of the
House of Commons; and those gentlemen being delivered, I am commanded
to arrest them in his majesty's name, on a charge of high treason."
The Commons, on hearing this demand, voted that they would take it
into consideration.
The king's friends and advisers urged him to follow the matter up
vigorously. Every thing depended, they said, on firmness and decision.
The next day, accordingly, the king determined to go himself to the
House, and make the demand in person. A lady of the court, who was
made acquainted with this plan, sent notice of it to the House. In
going, the king took his guard with him, and several personal
attendants. The number of soldiers was said to be five hundred. He
left this great retinue at the door, and he himself entered the House.
The Commons, when they heard that he was coming, had ordered the five
members who were accused to withdraw. They went out just before the
king came in. The king advanced to the speaker's chair, took his seat,
and made the following address.
"Gentlemen,--I am sorry for this occasion of coming unto you.
Yesterday I sent a Sergeant at Arms upon a very important
occasion to apprehend some that by my Command were accused of
High Treason; whereunto I did expect Obedience and not a message.
And I must declare unto you here, that albeit no king that ever
was in England shall be more careful of your Privileges, to
maintain them to the uttermost of his Power, than I shall be; yet
you must know that in cases of Treason no Person hath a
Privilege; and therefore I am come to know if any of those
Persons that were accused are here. For I must tell you,
Gentlemen, that so long as these Persons that I have accused (for
no slight Crime, but for Treason) are here, I can not expect that
this House will be in the right way that I do heartily wish it.
Therefore I am come to tell you that I must have them wherever I
find them."
After looking around, and finding that the members in question were
not in the hall, he continued:
"Well! since I see the Birds are flown, I do expect from you that
you shall send them unto me as soon as they return hither. But I
assure you, on the Word of a King, I never did intend any Force,
but shall proceed against them in a legal and fair way, for I
never meant any other.
"I will trouble you no more, but tell you I do expect, as soon as
they come to the House, you will send them to me, otherwise I
must take my own course to find them."
The king's coming thus into the House of Commons, and demanding in
person that they should act according to his instructions, was a very
extraordinary circumstance--perhaps unparalleled in English history.
It produced the greatest excitement. When he had finished his address,
he turned to the speaker and asked him where those men were. He had
his guard ready at the door to seize them. It is difficult for us, in
this country, to understand fully to how severe a test this sudden
question put the presence of mind and courage of the speaker; for we
can not realize the profound and awful deference which was felt in
those days for the command of a king. The speaker gained great
applause for the manner in which he stood the trial. He fell upon his
knees before the great potentate who had addressed him, and said, "I
have, sir, neither eyes to see, nor tongue to speak, in this place,
but as the House is pleased to direct me, whose servant I am. And I
humbly ask pardon that I can not give any other answer to what your
majesty is pleased to demand of me."
The House was immediately in a state of great excitement and
confusion. They called out "_Privilege! privilege!_" meaning that
their privileges were violated. They immediately adjourned. News of
the affair spread every where with the greatest rapidity, and produced
universal and intense excitement. The king's friends were astonished
at such an act of rashness and folly, which, it is said, only _one_ of
the king's advisers knew anything about, and he immediately fled. The
five members accused went that night into the city of London, and
called on the government and people of London to protect them. The
people armed themselves. In a word, the king found at night that he
had raised a very threatening and terrible storm.
The Commons met the next morning, but did not attempt to transact
business. They simply voted that it was useless for them to proceed
with their deliberations, while exposed to such violations of their
rights. They appointed a committee of twenty-four to inquire into and
report the circumstances of the king's intrusion into their councils,
and to consider how this breach of their privileges could be repaired.
They ordered this committee to sit in the city of London, where they
might hope to be safe from such interruptions, and then the House
adjourned for a week, to await the result of the committee's
deliberations.
The committee went to London. In the mean time, news went all over the
kingdom that the House of Commons had been compelled to suspend its
sittings on account of an illegal and unwarrantable interference with
their proceedings on the part of the king. The king was alarmed; but
those who had advised him to adopt this measure told him that he must
not falter now. He must persevere and carry his point, or all would be
lost.
He accordingly did persevere. He brought troops and arms to his palace
at Whitehall, to be ready to defend it in case of attack. He sent in
to London, and ordered the lord mayor to assemble the city authorities
at the Guildhall, which is the great city hall of London; and then,
with a retinue of noblemen, he went in to meet them. The people
shouted, "_Privileges of Parliament! privileges of Parliament!_" as he
passed along. Some called out, "_To your tents, O Israel!_" which was
the ancient Hebrew cry of rebellion. The king, however, persevered.
When he reached the Guildhall, he addressed the city authorities thus:
"Gentlemen,--I am come to demand such Persons as I have already
accused of High Treason, and do believe are shrouded in the City. I
hope no good Man will keep them from Me. Their Offenses are Treason
and Misdemeanors of a high Nature. I desire your Assistance, that they
may be brought to a legal Trial." Three days after this the king
issued a proclamation, addressed to all magistrates and officers of
justice every where, to arrest the accused members and carry them to
the Tower.
In the mean time, the committee of twenty-four continued their session
in London, examining witnesses and preparing their report. When the
time arrived for the House of Commons to meet again, which was on the
11th of January, the city made preparations to have the committee
escorted in an imposing manner from the Guildhall to Westminster. A
vast amount of the intercommunication and traffic between different
portions of the city then, as now, took place upon the river, though
in those days it was managed by watermen, who rowed small wherries to
and fro. Innumerable steamboats take the place of the wherries at the
present day, and stokers and engineers have superseded the watermen.
The watermen were then, however, a large and formidable body, banded
together, like the other trades of London, in one great organization.
This great company turned out on this occasion, and attended the
committee in barges on the river, while the military companies of the
city marched along the streets upon the land. The committee themselves
went in barges on the water, and all London flocked to see the
spectacle. The king, hearing of these arrangements, was alarmed for
his personal safety, and left his palace at Whitehall to go to Hampton
Court, which was a little way out of town.
The committee, after entering the House, reported that the transaction
which they had been considering constituted a high breach of the
privileges of the House, and was a seditious act, tending to a
subversion of the peace of the kingdom; and that the privileges of
Parliament, so violated and broken, could not be sufficiently
vindicated, unless his majesty would be pleased to inform them who
advised him to do such a deed.
The king was more and more seriously alarmed. He found that the storm
of public odium and indignation was too great for him to withstand. He
began to fear for his own safety more than ever. He removed from
Hampton Court to Windsor Castle, a stronger place, and more remote
from London than Hampton Court; and he now determined to give up the
contest. He sent a message, therefore, to the House, saying that, on
further reflection, since so many persons had doubts whether his
proceedings against the five members were consistent with the
privileges of Parliament, he would waive them, and the whole subject
might rest until the minds of men were more composed, and then, if he
proceeded against the accused members at all, he would do so in a
manner to which no exception could be taken. He said, also, he would
henceforth be as careful of their privileges as he should be of his
own life or crown.
Thus he acknowledged himself vanquished in the struggle, but the
acknowledgment came too late to save him. The excitement increased,
and spread in every direction. The party of the king and that of the
Parliament disputed for a few months about these occurrences, and
others growing out of them, and then each began to maneuver and
struggle to get possession of the military power of the kingdom. The
king, finding himself not safe in the vicinity of London, retreated to
York, and began to assemble and organize his followers. Parliament
sent him a declaration that if he did not disband the forces which he
was assembling, they should be compelled to provide measures for
securing the peace of the kingdom. The king replied by proclamations
calling upon his subjects to join his standard. In a word, before
midsummer, the country was plunged in the horrors of civil war.
A civil war, that is, a war between two parties in the same country,
is generally far more savage and sanguinary than any other. The hatred
and the animosities which it creates, ramify throughout the country,
and produce universal conflict and misery. If there were a war between
France and England, there might be one, or perhaps two invading armies
of Frenchmen attempting to penetrate into the interior. All England
would be united against them. Husbands and wives, parents and
children, neighbors and friends, would be drawn together more closely
than ever; while the awful scenes of war and bloodshed, the
excitement, the passion, the terror, would be confined to a few
detached spots, or to a few lines of march which the invading armies
had occupied.
In a civil war, however, it is very different. Every distinct portion
of the country, every village and hamlet, and sometimes almost every
family, is divided against itself. The hostility and hatred, too,
between the combatants, is always far more intense and bitter than
that which is felt against a foreign foe. We might at first be
surprised at this. We might imagine that where men are contending with
their neighbors and fellow-townsmen, the recollection of past
friendships and good-will, and various lingering ties of regard, would
moderate the fierceness of their anger, and make them more considerate
and forbearing. But this is not found to be the case. Each party
considers the other as not only enemies, but traitors, and accordingly
they hate and abhor each other with a double intensity. If an
Englishman has a _Frenchman_ to combat, he meets him with a murderous
impetuosity, it is true, but without any special bitterness of
animosity. He _expects_ the Frenchman to be his enemy. He even thinks
he has a sort of natural right to be so. He will kill him if he can;
but then, if he takes him prisoner, there is nothing in his feelings
toward him to prevent his treating him with generosity, and even with
kindness. He hates him, but there is a sort of good-nature in his
hatred, after all. On the other hand, when he fights against his
countrymen in a civil war, he abhors and hates with unmingled
bitterness the traitorous ingratitude which he thinks his neighbors
and friends evince in turning enemies to their country. He can see no
honesty, no truth, no courage in any thing they do. They are
infinitely worse, in his estimation, than the most ferocious of
foreign foes. Civil war is, consequently, always the means of far
wider and more terrible mischief than any other human calamity.
In the contention between Charles and the Parliament, the various
elements of the social state adhered to one side or the other,
according to their natural predilections. The Episcopalians generally
joined the king, the Presbyterians the Parliament. The gentry and the
nobility favored the king; the mechanics, artisans, merchants, and
common people the Parliament. The rural districts of country, which
were under the control of the great landlords, the king; the cities
and towns, the Parliament. The gay, and fashionable, and worldly, the
king; the serious-minded and austere, the Parliament. Thus every thing
was divided. The quarrel ramified to every hamlet and to every
fireside, and the peace and happiness of the realm were effectually
destroyed.
Both sides began to raise armies and to prepare for war. Before
commencing hostilities, however, the king was persuaded by his
counselors to send a messenger to London and propose some terms of
accommodation. He accordingly sent the Earl of Southampton to the
House of Peers, and two other persons to the House of Commons. He had
no expectation, probably, of making peace, but he wanted to gain time
to get his army together, and also to strengthen his cause among the
people by showing a disposition to do all in his power to avoid open
war. The messengers of the king went to London, and made their
appearance in the two houses of Parliament.
The House of Lords ordered the Earl of Southampton to withdraw, and to
send his communication in writing, and in the mean time to retire out
of London, and wait for their answer. The House of Commons, in the
same spirit of hostility and defiance, ordered the messengers which
had been sent to them to come to the bar, like humble petitioners or
criminals, and make their communication there.
The propositions of the king to the houses of Parliament were, that
they should appoint a certain number of commissioners, and he also the
same number, to meet and confer together in hope of agreeing upon some
conditions of peace. The houses passed a vote in reply, declaring that
they had been doing all in their power to preserve the peace of the
kingdom, while the king had been interrupting and disturbing it by his
military gatherings, and by proclamations, in which they were called
traitors; and that they could enter into no treaty with him until he
disbanded the armies which he had collected, and recalled his
proclamations.
To this the king replied that he had never intended to call them
traitors; and that when they would recall their declarations and votes
stigmatizing those who adhered to him as traitors, he would recall his
proclamations. Thus messages passed back and forth two or three times,
each party criminating the other, and neither willing to make the
concessions which the other required. At last all hope of an
accommodation was abandoned, and both sides prepared for war.
The nobility and gentry flocked to the king's standard. They brought
their plate, their jewels, and their money, to provide funds. Some of
them brought their servants. There were two companies in the king's
guard, one of which consisted of gentlemen, and the other of their
servants. These two companies were always kept together. There was the
greatest zeal and enthusiasm among the upper classes to serve the
king, and equal zeal and enthusiasm among the common people to serve
the Parliament. The war continued for four years. During all this time
the armies marched and countermarched all over the kingdom, carrying
ruin and destruction wherever they went, and plunging the whole
country in misery.
[Illustration: THE KING'S ADHERENTS ENTERING YORK.]
At one of the battles which was fought, the celebrated John Hampden,
the man who would not pay his ship money, was slain. He had been a
very energetic and efficient officer on the Parliamentary side, and
was much dreaded by the forces of the king. At one of the battles
between Prince Rupert, Charles's nephew, and the army of the
Parliament, the prince brought to the king's camp a large number of
prisoners which he had taken. One of the prisoners said he was
confident that Hampden was hurt, for he saw him riding off the field
before the battle was over, with his head hanging down, and his hands
clasping the neck of his horse. They heard the next day that he had
been wounded in the shoulder. Inflammation and fever ensued, and he
died a few days afterward in great agony.
This Prince Rupert was a very famous character in all these wars. He
was young and ardent, and full of courage and enthusiasm. He was
always foremost, and ready to embark in the most daring undertakings.
He was the son of the king's sister Elizabeth, who married the Elector
Palatine, as narrated in a preceding chapter. He was famous not only
for his military skill and attainments, but for his knowledge of
science, and for his ingenuity in many philosophical arts. There is a
mode of engraving called mezzotinto, which is somewhat easier of
execution than the common mode, and produces a peculiar effect. Prince
Rupert is said to have been the inventor of it, though, as is the case
with almost all other inventions, there is a dispute about it. He
discovered a mode of dropping melted glass into water so as to form
little pear-shaped globules, with a long slender tail. These globules
have this remarkable property, that if the tip of the tail is broken
off ever so gently, the whole flies into atoms with an explosion.
These drops of glass are often exhibited at the present day, and are
called Prince Rupert's drops. The prince also discovered a very
tenacious composition of metals for casting cannon. As artillery is
necessarily very heavy, and very difficult to be transported on
marches and upon the field of battle, it becomes very important to
discover such metallic compounds as have the greatest strength and
tenacity in resisting the force of an explosion. Prince Rupert
invented such a compound, which is called by his name.
There were not only a great many battles and fierce encounters between
the two great parties in this civil war, but there were also, at
times, temporary cessations of the hostilities, and negotiations for
peace. But it is very hard to make peace between two powers engaged in
civil war. Each considers the other as acting the part of rebels and
traitors, and there is a difficulty, almost insuperable, in the way of
even opening negotiations between them. Still the people became tired
of the war. At one time, when the king had made some propositions
which the Parliament would not accept, an immense assemblage of women
collected together, with white ribbons in their hats, to go to the
House of Commons with a petition for peace. When they reached the
door of the hall their number was five thousand. They called out,
"Peace! peace! Give us those traitors that are against peace, that we
may tear them to pieces." The guards who were stationed at the door
were ordered to fire at this crowd, loading their guns, however, only
with powder. This, it was thought, would frighten them away; but the
women only laughed at the volley, and returned it with stones and
brickbats, and drove the guards away. Other troops were then sent for,
who charged upon the women with their swords, and cut them in their
faces and hands, and thus at length dispersed them.
During the progress of the war, the queen returned from the Continent
and joined the king. She had some difficulty, however, and encountered
some personal danger, in her efforts to return to her husband. The
vice-admiral, who had command of the English ships off the coast,
received orders to intercept her. He watched for her. She contrived,
however, to elude his vigilance, though there were four ships in her
convoy. She landed at a town called Burlington, or Bridlington, in
Yorkshire. This town stands in a very picturesque situation, a little
south of a famous promontory called Flamborough Head, of which there
is a beautiful view from the pier of the town.
The queen succeeded in landing here. On her arrival at the town, she
found herself worn down with the anxiety and fatigue of the voyage,
and she wished to stop a few days to rest. She took up her residence
in a house which was on the quay, and, of course, near the water. The
quay, as it is called, in these towns, is a street on the margin of
the water, with a wall but no houses next the sea. The vice-admiral
arrived at the town the second night after the queen had landed. He
was vexed that his expected prize had escaped him. He brought his
ships up near to the town, and began to fire toward the house in which
the queen was lodging.
[Illustration: THE LANDING OF THE QUEEN]
This was at five o'clock in the morning. The queen and her attendants
were in their beds, asleep. The reports of the cannon from the ships,
the terrific whistling of the balls through the air, and the crash of
the houses which the balls struck, aroused the whole village from
their slumbers, and threw them into consternation. The people soon
came to the house where the queen was lodging, and begged her to
fly. They said that the neighboring houses were blown to pieces, and
that her own would soon be destroyed, and she herself would be killed.
They may, however, have been influenced more by a regard to their own
safety than to hers in these injunctions, as it must have been a great
object with the villagers to effect the immediate removal of a visitor
who was the means of bringing upon them so terrible a danger.
These urgent entreaties of the villagers were soon enforced by two
cannon-balls, which fell, one after another, upon the roof of the
house, and, crashing their way through the roof and the floors, went
down, without seeming to regard the resistance, from the top to the
bottom. The queen hastily put on her clothes, and went forth with her
attendants on foot, the balls from the ships whistling after them all
the way.
One of her servants was killed. The rest of the fugitives, finding
their exposure so great, stopped at a sort of trench which they came
to, at the end of a field, such as is dug commonly, in England, on one
side of the hedge to make the barrier more impassable to the animals
which it is intended to confine. This trench, with the embankment
formed by the earth thrown out of it, on which the hedge is usually
planted, afforded them protection. They sought shelter in it, and
remained there for two hours, like besiegers in the approaches to a
town, the balls passing over their heads harmlessly, though sometimes
covering them with the earth which they threw up as they bounded by.
At length the tide began to ebb, and the vice-admiral was in danger of
being left aground. He weighed his anchors and withdrew, and the queen
and her party were relieved. Such a cannonading of a helpless and
defenseless woman is a barbarity which could hardly take place except
in a civil war.
The queen rejoined her husband, and she rendered him essential service
in many ways. She had personal influence enough to raise both money
and men for his armies, and so contributed very essentially to the
strength of his party. At last she returned to the Continent again,
and went to Paris, where she was still actively employed in promoting
his cause. At one of the battles in which the king was defeated, the
Parliamentary army seized his baggage, and found among his papers his
correspondence with the queen. They very ungenerously ordered it to be
published, as the letters seemed to show a vigorous determination on
the part of the king not to yield in the contest without obtaining
from the Parliament and their adherents full and ample concessions to
his claims.
As time rolled on, the strength of the royal party gradually wasted
away, while that of Parliament seemed to increase, until it became
evident that the latter would, in the end, obtain the victory. The
king retreated from place to place, followed by his foes, and growing
weaker and more discouraged after every conflict. His son, the Prince
of Wales, was then about fifteen years of age. He sent him to the
western part of the island, with directions that, if affairs should
still go against him, the boy should be taken in time out of the
country, and join his mother in Paris. The danger grew more and more
imminent, and they who had charge of the young prince sent him first
to Scilly, and then to Jersey--islands in the Channel--whence he made
his escape to Paris, and joined his mother. Fifteen years afterward he
returned to London with great pomp and parade, and was placed upon the
throne by universal acclamation.
At last the king himself, after being driven from one place of refuge
to another, retreated to Oxford and intrenched himself there. Here he
spent the winter of 1646 in extreme depression and distress. His
friends deserted him; his resources were expended; his hopes were
extinguished. He sent proposals of peace to the Parliament, and
offered, himself, to come to London, if they would grant him a
safe-conduct. In reply, they _forbade_ him to come. They would listen
to no propositions, and would make no terms. The case, they saw, was
in their own hands, and they determined on unconditional submission.
They hemmed the king in on all sides at his retreat in Oxford, and
reduced him to despair.
In the mean time, the Scots, a year or two before this, had raised an
army and crossed the northern frontier, and entered England. They were
against monarchy and Episcopacy, but they were, in some respects, a
separate enemy from those against whom the king had been contending so
long; and he began to think that he had perhaps better fall into their
hands than into those of his English foes, if he must submit to one or
to the other. He hesitated for some time what course to take; but at
last, after receiving representations of the favorable feeling which
prevailed in regard to him in the Scottish army, he concluded to make
his escape from Oxford and surrender himself to them. He accordingly
did so, and the civil war was ended.