Essex. Each side drew up, with the infantry in the centre, the cavalry
on the flanks. On the King’s side there was much jealousy among the
different generals, and some insubordination, but far more activity and
eagerness for fight than the Parliamentary troops displayed. The battle
was fought on the afternoon of October 23d, and the Parliamentary army
was demoralized at the outset by the treacherous desertion of a regiment
commanded by a man most inappropriately named Sir Faithful Fortescue. He
moved out of the ranks and joined Rupert’s horse. Rupert charged with
headlong impetuosity, and by his fury and decision so overawed the
Parliamentary horse opposed to him that they did not wait the shock, but
galloped wildly off, actually dispersing the nearest infantry regiments
of their own side. Rupert then showed the characteristic shortcoming
which always impaired the effect of his daring prowess. He never could
keep his men in hand after they had scattered the foe; he never kept a
sufficient reserve with which to meet a counter-stroke. None but a great
master of war could withstand his first shock; but after the first shock
he was no longer dangerous. At Edgehill his horse followed the routed
left wing of the Parliamentarians until they became as completely
scattered as their beaten foes. He struck the Parliamentary
baggage-train, which was defended by Hampden with a couple of infantry
regiments, and his scattered troopers were beaten back when he attempted
to take it.
Meanwhile, the Royalist horse of the left wing had fallen with the same
headlong fury on the Parliamentary right, but had only struck a small
portion of the Parliamentary cavalry. These they drove in rout before
them, themselves following in hot pursuit. The result was, that the bulk
of the Parliamentary foot, and a portion of the right wing of the
Parliamentary horse, including Oliver Cromwell’s troop, were left face
to face with the Royalist foot, which was inferior in numbers; and
falling on it, after a desperate struggle they got the upper hand and
forced it back. Rupert at last began to gather his horse together to
face the victorious Roundhead foot; and as night fell, the two armies
were still fronting each other. The King advanced on London in November,
but was unable to force his way into the city, and fell back.
The war had not opened well for the Parliamentary side, and their
especial weakness was evidently in cavalry—the arm by which decisive
battles in the open field were won. Cromwell, with unerring eye, saw the
weakness and started to remedy it. It is about this time that his famous
conversation with Hampden took place. Said Cromwell: “Your troops are
most of them old decayed serving-men and tapsters, and such kind of
fellows; and their troops are gentlemen’s sons, younger sons, and
persons of quality; do you think that the spirits of such base, mean
fellows will ever be able to encounter gentlemen that have honor and
courage and resolution in them?... You must get men of a spirit; and
take it not ill what I say—I know you will not—of a spirit that is
likely to go on as far as gentlemen will go, or else you will be beaten
still.... I raised such men as had the fear of God before them, as made
some conscience of what they did, and from that day forward they were
never beaten.”
The famous Presbyterian clergyman, Baxter, who was by no means friendly
to Cromwell, described his special care to get religious men into his
troop; men of greater intelligence than common soldiers, who enlisted,
not for the money, but from an earnest sense of public duty. Naturally,
said Baxter, these troopers “having more than ordinary wit and
resolution had more than ordinary success.”
[Illustration:
Fac-simile of Letter from Oliver Cromwell to Mr. Storie, written
January 1, 1635; said to be the earliest extant letter in Cromwell’s
handwriting.
From the original in The British Museum.
]
By another writer of the time, Cromwell’s horse are described as
“freeholders and freeholders’ sons, who upon matter of conscience
engaged in this quarrel; and thus being well-armed within by the
satisfaction of their own consciences, and without by good iron arms,
they would as one man stand firmly and charge desperately.” Cromwell at
once distinguished himself among his contemporaries, alike by the
absolute obedience he rendered to his superiors, and by the incessant,
unwearying activity with which he drilled his men in the use of their
weapons and horses. He was speedily promoted to a colonelcy. In a
news-letter of the time his regiment was described as composed of “brave
men; well disciplined. No man swears but he pays his twelvepence; if he
be drunk he is set in the stocks or worse; if one calls the other
Roundhead, he is cashiered; insomuch that the counties where they come
leap for joy of them, and come in and join with them. How happy were it
if all the forces were thus disciplined!“ Cromwell suppressed all
plundering with an iron hand. An eminently practical man, not in the
least a theoretical democrat, but imbued with that essence of democracy
which prompts a man to recognize his fellows for what they really are,
without regard to creed or caste, it speedily became known that under
him anyone would have a fair show according to his merits. He realized
to the full that the quality of troops was of vastly more consequence
than their numbers; that only the best men can be made the best
soldiers; and these best men themselves will make but poor soldiers
unless they have good training. His troops proved what iron discipline,
joined to stern religious enthusiasm, could accomplish; just as later
their immense superiority to the forces of the Scotch Covenanters showed
that religious and patriotic enthusiasm, by itself, is but a poor
substitute for training and discipline. In one of his letters he writes:
“I beseech you, be careful what captains of horse you choose; what men
be mounted. A few honest men are better than numbers. Some time they
must have for exercise. If you choose godly, honest men to be captains
of horse, honest men will follow them, and they will be careful to mount
such. I had rather have a plain russet-coated captain that knows what he
fights for, and loves what he knows, than that which you call a
gentleman, and is nothing else. I honor a _gentleman_ that is so
indeed.... It may be it provoked some spirit to see such plain men made
captains of horse.... Better plain men than none; but best to have men
patient of work, faithful and conscientious in employment.“
Ordinarily, Cromwell was able to get for his leaders men who were
gentlemen in the technical sense of the term, but again and again there
forged to the front under him men like Pride, whose natural talents had
to supply the place of birth and breeding. He writes again: “My troops
increase; I have a lovely company; you would respect them did you know
them.... They are honest, sober Christians; they expect to be used as
men.” Again he writes, when his Presbyterian colleagues were showing a
tendency to oppress and drive out of the army men whose religious
beliefs did not square with theirs: “Surely, you are not well-advised
thus to turn off one so faithful to the cause, and so able to serve you
as this man (a certain colonel). Give me leave to tell you I cannot be
of your judgment. If a man notorious for wickedness, for oaths, for
drinking, hath as great a share in your affection as one who fears an
oath, who fears to sin.... Ay, but the man is an ‘Anabaptist’! Are you
sure of that? Admit he be, shall that render him incapable to serve the
public? Sir, the state, in choosing men to serve it, takes no notice of
their opinions: if they be willing faithfully to serve it, that
satisfies.... Take heed of being sharp or too easily sharpened by
others, against those to whom you can object little, but that they
square not with you in every opinion concerning matters of religion.”
In these sentences lies the justification of genuine democracy, of
genuine religious liberty, and toleration by the state of religious
differences. They were uttered by a man far in advance of the temper of
his age. He was not sufficiently advanced to extend his toleration to
Roman Catholics, and even extending it as far as he did he was
completely out of touch with the majority of his fellow-countrymen; for
the great bulk—both Episcopalians and Presbyterians—were bitterly
hostile to the toleration of even inconsiderable differences of doctrine
and ritual. The ideal after which Cromwell strove, though lower than
that to which we of a more fortunate age have attained, was yet too high
to be reached in his day. Nevertheless, it was a good thing to have the
standard set up; and once the mark which he had established was reached,
it was certain that the spirit of toleration would go much farther. As
soon as Baptists and Congregationalists, no less than Episcopalians and
Presbyterians, were tolerated by the state for the reasons he gave, it
was sure to become impossible to refuse toleration to Catholics and
Unitarians.
We must honor Cromwell for his aspirations toward the ideal, but we must
acknowledge how far short of reaching it he fell. At this very time he
was handling without gloves the Episcopalian clergy. In order to secure
the assistance of the Scotch, Parliament had determined to take the
Covenant, which made the state religion of England the same form of
lofty, but intolerant, Presbyterianism that obtained in Scotland. Under
the decision of the Government the ritual of the Church of England was
forcibly suppressed, and there was no little harrying of Episcopal
clergy and vandal destruction of ancient art symbolism by the Puritan
zealots. “Leave off your fooling and come down, sir!” said Cromwell,
walking into Ely Cathedral, where the clergyman had persisted in the
choir service; and there was no choice but to obey.
In 1643 Cromwell forged to the front as almost the only steadily
successful Parliamentary commander. To marvellous energy, fervid zeal,
great resourcefulness, fertility of invention, and individual
initiative, he added the unerring insight of the born cavalry leader. He
soon saw that the true weapon of the cavalryman was the horse; and,
discarding the carbines with which his troop had first been armed, he
taught them to rely upon the shock of a charging, close-knit mass of men
and horses trained to move rapidly as a unit.
He was ceaseless in his efforts to get his men paid, fed, and equipped.
Like his great friend, Sir Thomas Fairfax, though he stopped all
plundering, he levied heavy fines on the estates of the Royalists, and
by these means, and by assessments from the Association, and by
voluntary loans and contributions, he was able to keep his men well
equipped.
There was no comprehensive strategy in the fighting this year; but the
balance of the isolated expeditions undertaken inclined in favor of the
King. Cromwell appears clearly, for the first time, as a successful
military leader in May, near Grantham. He had under him twelve troops.
The Cavaliers much outnumbered him. Nevertheless, when, after some
preliminary firing from the dragoons on both sides, Cromwell charged at
a round trot, the Cavaliers, instead of meeting the charge, received it
and were broken and routed. The fight was of great value as being the
first in which the Parliamentary horse beat a superior number of
Royalist horse. Cromwell was as yet learning his trade. On this occasion
he hesitated a long time about charging, and only charged at all when it
became evident that his opponents would not; and he owed his victory to
the incompetence of the Royalist commander. It was an invaluable lesson
to him.
A great deal of scrambling, confused, and rather pointless warfare
followed. Rupert and Hampden encountered each other, and Hampden was
defeated and killed. Hampden’s great colleague, Pym, died later in the
year, just after having brought about the league with Scotland—one of
the first-fruits of which was the trial and execution of Laud.
Presbyterianism was now dominant, and set itself to enforce everywhere
the rigid rule of clerical orthodoxy. Against this the Independents
began to raise their voices; but the real force which was to gain them
their victory over both Royalist and Presbyterian was as yet hidden.
Cromwell’s Ironsides—as they were afterward termed when Rupert
christened Cromwell himself by that name—the regiments which he raised
and drilled after his own manner from the Eastern Association, these
represented the real power of the Independents, and these were not yet
recognized as the heart and right arm of the army.
[Illustration:
John Hampden.
From the portrait by Robert Walker at Port Eliot.
By permission of the Earl of St. Germans.
]
Cromwell held Nottingham, where the Royalists attacked him and he beat
them off. He took Burleigh House, which was held by a strong Royalist
garrison; then, in July, 1643, he advanced to rescue the Parliamentary
general, Lord Willoughby, who was besieged at Gainsborough by a division
of Newcastle’s army. About a mile and a half out of town he met the
cavalry of Lord Cavendish, which was drawn up at the top of a hill. To
attack him it was necessary to advance up steep slopes, honeycombed by
rabbit burrows; but Cromwell’s squadrons were already remarkable alike
for flexibility and steadiness, and their leader knew both how to
prepare his forces and how to take daring advantage of every opportunity
that offered. As his leading troops struggled to the top of the hill
Cavendish’s horsemen advanced, but the Cromwellian troopers, closing up,
charged them at once. There was a stiff contest, but as the rest of the
Parliamentary troops came to the front, the Royalists were overthrown
and driven off in wild rout. Cavendish himself brought up his reserve
and routed a portion of the Parliamentary forces; but Cromwell had
neither lost his head nor let his force get out of hand. He, too, had a
reserve, and with this he charged Cavendish and overthrew him, Cavendish
himself being slain.
This feat was succeeded by another quite as notable. After relieving the
town and giving Lord Willoughby powder and provisions, Cromwell advanced
toward some Royalist soldiers who still remained in view, about a mile
distant. To his astonishment, these proved to be the vanguard of
Newcastle’s whole army, and there was nothing for it but to retreat.
Cromwell’s troops were tired, and only his excellent generalship and
indomitable courage prevented a disastrous rout. Both the Parliamentary
horse and foot were at first shaken by the advance of the fresh Royalist
soldiery, but Cromwell speedily got them in hand and retired by
divisions, making head against the enemy alternately with one body of
horse and then with another, while the rest of the troops drew back
behind the shield thus afforded them. The alternating squadrons of the
rear-guard always made head against the enemy and checked him, but
always slipped away before he could charge, and thus the tired army was
brought off in safety.
In September Cromwell joined Sir Thomas Fairfax; and in October they met
and overthrew a Royalist force at Winceby, the Puritan troopers singing
a psalm as they advanced to the combat. The numbers seem to have been
about equal, perhaps 3,000 a side. The battle began with a skirmish
between the dragoons of the two forces. It was decided by the tremendous
charge of Cromwell’s steel-clad troopers. The charge was made at the
trot, Cromwell leading his men. The Royal dragoons fired upon them as
they came on, Cromwell’s horse was killed, and a Cavalier knocked him
down as he rose, but was himself killed by a Puritan trooper. Cromwell
sprang to his feet, flung himself on a fresh horse, and again joined in
the fight. His troops were heavy cavalry, cuirassiers, and the opposing
Royalists, with only buff coats, were overthrown by the shock of his
advance. Fairfax charged in flank, and the rout was complete. The
Royalist leaders chronicled with astonishment the fact that the
Parliamentary horse showed great superiority—that they were “very good
and extraordinarily armed.” Apparently the victory was owing to the
excellent drilling of Cromwell’s troops, which enabled them to charge
knee to knee; and when thus charging, the weight of the horses and of
the ironclad men made them irresistible.
In 1644 the war at first dragged on as a series of isolated expeditions
and fights in which neither side was able to score any decided
advantage. Rupert performed two or three brilliant feats; the Scotch
crossed the border to aid the Parliamentarians; and Charles tried to
come to some understanding with the Irish, by which they would, if
possible, furnish him troops, and if not, would at least free the
English troops in Ireland. Some of the latter he did bring over. After
one or two successes a body of them were captured and many subscribed to
the Covenant. The most noted man who thus changed sides was the
after-time General, George Monk.
Cromwell was looming up steadily; not only for the discipline of his
men, but for the vigilant way in which he kept touch with the enemy and
gained information about them, making the best possible use of pickets,
outposts, and scouting parties; all, by the way, being, as was usual in
those times, under the headship of an officer known as the
Scout-master—a far better term than the cumbrous modern “Chief of the
Bureau of Intelligence.” Of course Cromwell’s growing military
reputation added greatly to his weight in Parliament, of which, like
most of the leading generals, he was still a member. His first feat
during this year showed how little the duties of the soldier and the
statesman were as yet differentiated.
Early in January he appeared in the House of Commons, charged Lord
Willoughby with misconduct, and brought about his removal and the naming
of Manchester to the sole command in the seven associated counties.
Manchester was little more than a figure-head. He made Cromwell his
lieutenant-general and yielded in all things to him, until he was
alienated by falling under the control of the Scotch Covenanters, who
already hated Cromwell as a representative of the “sectaries” whom they
persecuted. The House of Commons appointed a Committee of Both Kingdoms
to assume the supreme executive authority for the conduct of the war.
Cromwell was made a member of this Committee, and was also the ruling
member of the Committee of the Eastern Association, which furnished the
zealously Puritan force that was already the mainspring of the
Parliamentary army.
In June the Scotch, under the Earl of Leven, and the English, under Lord
Fairfax and Lord Manchester, were besieging York, which was defended by
Lord Newcastle. Toward the very last of the month Rupert marched rapidly
to its relief. The three Parliamentary generals fell back instead of
falling on him as he advanced. Newcastle wished to leave them alone, but
Rupert insisted upon following and attacking the Parliamentary armies.
He and Newcastle had about 20,000 men. The Parliamentarians probably
numbered some 25,000; but throughout this war it is impossible to give
either the numbers or the losses with accuracy.
On July 2d Rupert overtook the end of the Parliamentary column, which
was saved from disaster only by the fortunate fact that the horse of
Cromwell and Sir Thomas Fairfax formed the rear-guard. The two latter
sent on word of Rupert’s advance, warning the Parliamentary generals
that they could not now avoid a fight; and promptly the Scotch and
English troops were turned to face their Royalist foes on Marston Moor.
A ditch stretched across the moor, and the armies drew up with this
extending for most of its length between them. Each side was marshalled
in the usual order—infantry in the centre, cavalry on the flanks. The
horse of the Parliamentary right wing was commanded by Sir Thomas
Fairfax, who had under him his own English cavalry and three Scottish
regiments. The right wing of the foot was commanded by Lord Fairfax, and
consisted of the Yorkshire troops and two brigades of Scots. The centre,
with its reserve, consisted of Scotch troops; the left, of the infantry
of the Eastern Association. Leven was with the infantry of the centre;
Manchester on his left. The horse of the left wing were under Cromwell,
his Ironsides occupying the front line with three Scotch regiments in
reserve.
In the Royalist army the horse on the left wing were under Goring; the
infantry in the centre were under Newcastle, and Rupert himself led the
horse of the right wing. At last the two great cavalry leaders of the
war—Rupert and Cromwell—were to meet face to face. The war had lasted
nearly two years. The best troops, under the best leaders, had reached
very nearly their limit of perfectibility; they were veterans, soldiers
in every sense.
Hour after hour passed while the armies stood motionless, the leaders on
either side anxiously scanning the enemy, seeking to find a weak point
at which to strike. Evening drew on and no move was made. The Royalist
leaders made up their mind that the battle would not be fought that day.
Suddenly, at seven o’clock, the whole Parliamentary army moved forward,
the Puritan troopers chanting a psalm, according to their wont.
On the right, Fairfax’s troopers, as they advanced, were thrown into
disorder. Goring charged them furiously, drove them back on the reserve
of Scotch cavalry, and overthrew them all. The rout was hopeless, and
the flying horsemen carried away the Yorkshire foot with them. Sir
Thomas kept the ground, with a few of his troopers and a large number of
Lord Balgony’s Scotch Lancers and the Earl of Eglinton’s Scotch
Cuirassiers. The fugitives were followed in hot pursuit by Goring, but
part of his horse were kept in hand by their commander, Sir Charles
Lucas, who, wheeling to the right, charged the flank of the Scotch foot,
who had formed the Parliamentary centre, and who had now crossed the
ditch and were attacking the Royalists in front. The Scotch fought with
stubborn valor, repulsing Lucas again and again, but suffering so
heavily themselves that it became evident that they could not long stand
the combined front and flank attack.
While disaster had thus overtaken the Parliamentary right, on the left
Cromwell had completely the upper hand. His steel-clad troopers crashed
into Rupert’s horsemen at full speed. The fight was equal for some time,
neither stubborn Roundhead nor gallant Cavalier being able to wrest the
mastery from the other. But Rupert, who always depended upon one
smashing blow, and put his main force into his front line, did not, like
Cromwell, understand how best to use a reserve. Cromwell’s reserve—the
Scotch cavalry—came up and charged home, and the Royalist horse were
overthrown with the shock. “God made them as stubble to our swords,”
said Cromwell.
[Illustration:
Cromwell’s Engagement with the Marquis of Newcastle’s Regiment of
“Whitecoats” in the Battle of Marston Moor.
]
Sending his leading troops in pursuit, to prevent the enemy from
rallying, Cromwell instantly gathered the bulk of his horse and fell on
the right wing of the Royalist foot—already hard pressed by the foot of
the Eastern Association. The King’s men fought with dogged courage, most
conspicuous among them being Newcastle’s own Northumbrian Regiment, the
famous Whitecoats, who literally died as they stood in the ranks.