He might have regained much of his authority if he had now played his cards wisely. But unwisdom was always his characteristic. Taking heart at the divisions among the Commons, he resolved to attempt a coup d'état. On January 4, 1642, he suddenly came down to the House, with a great armed retinue of three or four hundred men, intending to arrest the five chiefs of the Puritan party—Pym, Hampden, Holles, Hazelrig, and Strode. They had received warning of his approach, and fled to the City, where the London militia armed in thousands to protect them. The king looked round the House, and noted that the five members were not present. "I see the birds are flown," he exclaimed, and, after an awkward speech of apology, left the House.

Charles leaves London.

The plan had completely failed. The Puritans were warned that the king was ready to resume his old illegal habits, and had not learnt his new position as a constitutional ruler. Charles himself was so mortified at the frustration of his scheme, that he hastily decamped, abandoning his capital to the Parliament and its enthusiastic supporters, the merchants and burgesses of the City.

Preparations for war.—The Royalist party.

The die was now cast. The next six months were occupied by both sides in preparations for war, which was evidently at hand. Every man had now to choose his side and make up his mind. The king went round the Midlands, holding conferences with all whom he thought might be induced to support him. He found more encouragement than he had expected. A large majority of the peerage were on his side. They objected to being ruled by a House of Commons which had grown violent and fanatical. Almost the whole body of Churchmen all over the kingdom were also ready to join him. When forced to choose between a king who had been guilty of oppression and unwisdom, but who was undoubtedly a good Churchman like themselves, and a Parliament ruled by schismatics who wished to wreck the old Church, they reluctantly but firmly threw in their lot with Charles. There were whole shires where the Puritans were few and the Church was strong, and in these the king found promise of steady support. There were thousands who were moved by the old instinct of loyalty, and thousands more who hoped—unwisely perhaps, but whole-heartedly—that their master had learnt moderation, and would, if triumphant, never return to his old courses. Meanwhile Charles took a step which showed that he was preparing for the worst. He sent his wife over-sea, with all the money he could collect, and his crown jewels, bidding her spend the whole in buying munitions of war in France and Holland.

The Commons claim control of the militia.

The Parliamentarians also were making their preparations. They were determined to get possession of the armed force of the nation—the militia, or "train-bands" of the shires and boroughs. With this object they sent the king proposals, which they could hardly expect him to accept, that for the future the right to call out and officer the militia should be vested in the two Houses, and not in the Crown. The negative answer was promptly sent them back from Newmarket. They then proceeded to pass an ordinance, arrogating to themselves the right to nominate the lord-lieutenants, the official commanders of the militia, and ordering military authorities to look for their orders to the Houses, and not to the king. This ordinance never received the royal sanction, and was, of course, illegal in form; nevertheless, it was acted upon.

Charles at Hull.

The crisis began when, in April, the king called on Sir John Hotham, governor of Hull, to admit him within the walls of that town, and make over to him a store of arms and munitions which lay there. Hotham shut the gates, and answered that he took orders from the Parliament alone.

The next two months were spent by both parties in gathering armies. In June the king sent "commissions of array" to trustworthy persons in every county, bidding them muster men in his name. The Parliament replied, not only by putting the militia under arms, but by raising new levies for permanent service in the field, under officers whom they could trust. They gave the supreme command to the Earl of Essex, the man who thirty years before had been so cruelly wronged by James I. and his favourite Somerset.