The Civil War.
In the early part of 1642, matters between the king and Parliament had become so strained, that both sides began to make preparations for war. On January 4th, Charles had in person obtruded into the House of Commons, and made an abortive attempt to arrest six members, who were especially obnoxious to him. This overt act of the kings roused the cry of “privilege,” and in Parliamentary circles excited general alarm and resentment. Upon a demand made by Parliament for the command of the army, the king broke off all amicable intercourse, and leaving the capital, raised his standard at Nottingham, having under him an army of ten thousand men.
The Parliament raised a larger, but a less disciplined and less ably officered, army. On October 23rd, at Edgehill, in Warwickshire, for the first time since the overthrow, by Henry of Lancaster, of Richard the Third at Bosworth, in 1485, a battle was fought between Englishmen. The advantage was with the King; and so, generally, was the campaign of the following year, 1643. He defeated a Parliamentary army at Newbury in Berkshire, and his dashing nephew, Prince Rupert, took Bristol by assault; but he failed to take Gloucester, and lost a second battle at Newbury. Meantime, Cromwell was beginning to take a foremost place as a military disciplinarian and strategist—holding the rank of general of cavalry; his will and purpose came to dominate the entire Parliamentary army.
Charles came to Scotland to try to win over the Covenanters to help him against his Parliament. He would almost go the length of renouncing episcopacy, and he ratified the deeds of the Glasgow Assembly. But the Scots were on good terms with the English Parliament, and were even sanguine of extending the presbyterian covenant into England, where an anti-prelatical spirit was, under the now assertive puritanism, rapidly rising.
On the 1st of July, 1643, an assembly of divines from both countries, convoked by Parliament, met in Westminster Abbey. It was composed of men of learning, of zealous piety and strong purpose; but they were also men of their own time, sharing in its prejudices, its intolerance, and its admixture of dogmatic theology with the politics and the partizanship of the day. The grand truths, that God alone is Lord of the conscience, and that it is as vain to try to fix and arrest opinions as it is to fix the direction of the winds, or to arrest the tides, had not then come to be rooted in the minds of men. For four years the Assembly sat, arguing and discussing all the points in orthodox theology, and the various forms of church government. The fruits of the “great consult,” are in the form of documents which are still the recognised standards of presbyterian faith and worship throughout the world. In August, 1647, the Scottish commissioners reported the results to the Edinburgh General Assembly, and these results were received as the basis of uniformity in faith, to be established throughout the three kingdoms.
In England, the principle of Presbyterian church government was endorsed by Parliament, and a General Assembly and provincial synods were nominally appointed. But, on the one hand, the Anglican Church had many influential supporters; it had now been established for over a century, and had struck its roots deeply in the land; its supporters were by their opponents called Erastians, from a German doctor Erastus, who had advocated the subjection of the church to the state. On the other hand were the Independents, who stood out against enforced uniformity, and against any established creed or ritual. To allow of unrestrained latitudinarianism in religious opinions, seemed to the rigid presbyterians disloyalty to the faith,—servility to antichrist. Loudly and rancorously did this controversy rage; the more that the principle of uniformity was pressed, the more did independency branch out into protests against this principle, in new sects—each one more self-assertive than its neighbours. The political destinies of England were now under the arbitrament of the sword, and religious dominancy would be with supremacy in arms.
In Scotland in 1644-5, blazed like a terrific meteor, the course of James Graham, Marquis of Montrose. He had been a Covenanter—vehement, as his nature ever was—but through jealousy of Argyle and other nobles, he took the King’s side. He raised an army of Irishmen and Highlanders, and at Perth, Aberdeen, and Inverlochy in Argyleshire, he defeated troops superior in numbers and discipline, by the fierceness of his onsets, and rapid strokes of strategy. Pursued by superior forces, he doubled like a hare, meeting and defeating his enemies in detachments, in Nairnshire, at Aldearn in Aberdeenshire, and at Kilsyth near Glasgow, thus achieving six successive victories. At Philiphaugh, near Stirling, he was surprised and defeated by General Leslie. He fled from Scotland, but returning in 1650, he was made prisoner, taken to Edinburgh and hanged. He was able and energetic,—with the genius of a Napoleon for war,—idolised by his men, but cruel and vindictive to his enemies.
Before Philiphaugh, Charles had been defeated at Naseby, and his cause on the field was irretrievably lost. After holding Oxford for a time, he placed himself under the protection of the Scottish Army, which—in the pay of the English Parliament—was at Newark. He was received with respect—and attempts were again made to induce him to subscribe to the Covenant. What the Scots chiefly cared for was the security of their national church; but Charles was wedded to episcopacy, as that form of church government which best accorded with his notions of royal authority; so he diverged from the presbyterians on a point which they considered of vital importance. The English parliament demanded the surrender of Charles, promising his safety and respectful treatment,—expressing indignation at any suspicion of evil designs against him.
And we now come to an event which Scottish historians must ever approach with hesitation and misgivings. The Scots gave up the King, it is said by his own desire; and this just as, after long delays, they were being paid £400,000, the arrears then due of their maintenance money. This has generally been looked upon as an actual sale of the King to his enemies; certainly it was a suspicious circumstance, the simultaneous occurrence of the two transactions. But the one was not made an express condition for the other; the money was due under agreement; and the Scots were tired of the King’s presence amongst them; he was rather an unmanageable guest—obstinate, unreliable, and bringing them into conflict with the English parliament, and its formidable and now masterful army.
The King was placed in Holdenby Castle, and parliament, in carrying out their promises to the Scots, opened negotiations for restoring his authority, under certain restrictions; and having sent the Scottish army home, they tried to disband the English army. But that army was now master of the situation—it had Cromwell at its head, and retorted upon the parliament with a demand for the dismissal of the presbyterian leaders—and claimed for itself the right of remodelling the government. Powerless for resistance, the House of Commons had to yield, and the government of England became a military despotism. A Captain Joyce, with a troop of horse, acting under secret orders from Cromwell, seized the King’s person, and took him to Hampton Court. From there, on 11th November, 1647, he made his escape; he reached the Isle of Wight, in hopes of being able to cross the Channel; but was obliged to take refuge in Carisbrook Castle; he was not kept a close prisoner, but was allowed to ride and walk about the island.
At the neighbouring town of Newport, the Royalists negotiated a treaty with the Scots, engaging for the King to confirm presbyterianism in Scotland; the Scots to send an army into England to co-operate with the Royalists. In the summer of 1648, a Scottish army under Hamilton entered England, but were defeated by Cromwell at Preston. A strong party in Scotland had repudiated the Newport treaty; the meeting of the Estates had removed from office all who had accepted its engagements. At this time the King and the English Parliament, both confronted by the army, were approaching each other, and Parliament was about to vote that the King’s concessions were satisfactory. But Cromwell sent Colonel Pride with his troopers to surround the House of Commons, and prevent the entrance of the Presbyterian members. Some two hundred were thus excluded, and the independent members voted thanks to Cromwell, and gave his after-proceedings the colour of legality. Within eight weeks thereafter, the headsman’s axe put an end to Charles’s troubles.