Charles I / Makers of History

by Jacob Abbott

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.

Increasing excitement.
Civil war.

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.

Its nature.

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.

Cruelties and miseries of civil war.

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.

Taking sides between the king and Parliament.

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.

Preparations for war.