What was his purpose?  Is it possible to believe that he had no definite purpose, that he took the most important step of his whole reign without having for one moment considered what might be its effects?  Is it possible to believe that he went merely for the purpose of making himself a laughing-stock, that he intended, if he had found the accused members, and if they had refused, as it was their right and duty to refuse, the submission which he illegally demanded, to leave the House without bringing them away?  If we reject both these suppositions, we must believe, and we certainly do believe, that he went fully determined to carry his unlawful design into effect by violence, and, if necessary, to shed the blood of the chiefs of the Opposition on the very floor of the Parliament House.

Lady Carlisle conveyed intelligence of the design to Pym.  The five members had time to withdraw before the arrival of Charles.  They left the House as he was entering New Palace Yard.  He was accompanied by about two hundred halberdiers of his guard, and by many gentlemen of the Court armed with swords.  He walked up Westminster Hall.  At the southern end of the Hall his attendants divided to the right and left and formed a lane to the door of the House of Commons.  He knocked, entered, darted a look towards the place which Pym usually occupied, and, seeing it empty, walked up to the table.  The Speaker fell on his knee.  The members rose and uncovered their heads in profound silence, and the King took his seat in the chair.  He looked round the House.  But the five members were nowhere to be seen.  He interrogated the Speaker.  The Speaker answered, that he was merely the organ of the House, and had neither eyes to see, nor tongue to speak, but according to their direction.  The King muttered a few feeble sentences about his respect for the laws of the realm, and the privileges of Parliament, and retired.  As he passed along the benches, several resolute voices called out audibly “Privilege!” He returned to Whitehall with his company of bravoes, who, while he was in the House, had been impatiently waiting in the lobby for the word, cocking their pistols, and crying, “Fall on.”  That night he put forth a proclamation, directing that the ports should be stopped, and that no person should, at his peril, venture to harbour the accused members.

Hampden and his friends had taken refuge in Coleman Street.  The city of London was indeed the fastness of public liberty, and was, in those times, a place of at least as much importance as Paris during the French Revolution.  The city, properly so called, now consists in a great measure of immense warehouses and counting-houses, which are frequented by traders and their clerks during the day, and left in almost total solitude during the night.  It was then closely inhabited by three hundred thousand persons, to whom it was not merely a place of business, but a place of constant residence.  The great capital