Civil wars are not all of the same type. Sometimes the division is geographical, as in the great war between the northern and southern states of the American Union; sometimes the people throughout the country are separated into opposing ranks. Of course in neither case is the line likely to be drawn quite sharply: there were partisans of the north in the Confederate States: the preponderant feeling in some districts at least of a country divided against itself is sure to be strongly on one side or the other. The great English civil war of the seventeenth century is an instance of the latter type, though not in its most clearly marked form. There were large regions which were very decidedly royalist, others almost as distinctly parliamentarian; but certainly there was something of royalist feeling everywhere, and probably anti-royalist feeling also. These facts determine to so large an extent the nature and course of the war that it cannot be understood without keeping them in mind. They give a political reason for conduct on both sides, which from the purely military point of view must be regarded as mistaken. No competent general in an ordinary war will fritter away his forces in holding a number of small posts: he will only occupy those which are of importance to his operations in the field, well knowing that victory will give him possession of the rest. In the English civil war both parties acted on the principle that it was worth while to hold posts in districts where the enemy predominated, as means of keeping alive the spirit of their own partisans in those regions: and both sides deemed it well worth while to capture such posts, at the cost of greatly weakening their armies in the field. Nor can it be doubted that in the main they were right under the circumstances, though possibly there were instances in which acting in this manner was mistaken. In civil war it is emphatically true that until every spark is extinguished there is always a risk of the fire breaking out afresh.

The merits of the quarrel between Charles I. and his Parliament need not be discussed. Given that the question had once been raised whether the king was to be in the last resort master, or be bound to defer to the distinct wish of his people, a solution was only to be obtained by the king, or the representatives of the nation, definitely giving way. The ancient traditions of self-government made it certain that the Parliament would not yield except to armed force: the character and convictions of Charles I. made it equally certain not only that he would not yield, but that the conflict would be precipitated, rather than postponed, by his action.

England had not followed the example of the continental nations, which during the sixteenth century formed standing armies. Just before the civil war, there were no troops at all in England: in fact it was the necessity for putting down the Irish rebellion that brought about the final breach, as the Parliament would not trust the king with uncontrolled authority over the forces to be levied, and Charles would not bate an inch of his ancient prerogative. Hence it was of importance in the beginning of the war that the best raw material for an army was mainly on the king's side. Most of the gentry were royalist; and they, with their gamekeepers, grooms, etc., were naturally better skilled in the use of firearms, and (what was even more important) were more accustomed to riding than the rest of the population. The strong supporters of the Parliament were mostly found in the towns, merchants and shopkeepers, men ignorant of warlike pursuits, and little suited or inclined to incur in their own persons the hardships of war. England as a nation had engaged in no land warfare within living memory, except Buckingham's ill-conducted expedition to the Isle of RhÉ. Many Englishmen however had seen service on the continent, in the earlier stages of the Thirty Years' War or in the last years of the Dutch War of Independence; and those who served under Maurice or Frederick Henry of Nassau, still more under the great Gustavus,[50] learned in a good school. Thus there was a fair supply of officers possessing some experience, though few of them exhibited any great military skill, again mostly on the king's side; and the royalist soldiers, having already some useful knowledge, were fairly soon converted into adequate troops. The parliamentary recruits were largely drawn in the first instance from the lowest classes of the towns; and though, thanks to natural courage and stubbornness, the infantry proved always a match for the royalists, their cavalry, an arm which was in that age of primary importance, and obviously required much more time for training, proved themselves defective. A remedy was presently found: we are told that Oliver Cromwell, then only a captain, after seeing in the first battle the panic rout of most of the parliamentary horse, observed to his cousin Hampden, that they must have men of another stamp to match with these men of honour. He set to work to bring into the ranks the stern Puritan yeomen of the eastern counties, and to inspire them with a spirit of strict discipline. This took time, and for many months after the war began the king had on the whole the advantage; but no enemy ever got the better of Cromwell's Ironsides, and from the date at which cavalry animated by his ideas came into the field in any numbers, the preponderance went over decisively to the Parliament.

Though, as has been said, there was hardly a spot in England where both parties had not adherents, yet roughly speaking a line drawn from Hull to Weymouth would divide England into a larger royalist half, and a smaller parliamentarian half, as things were just after the war had begun. The Parliament had its headquarters in London: the eastern counties, using that term very widely, were strongly on its side: and though the royalists were fairly numerous in Kent, Surrey and Hants, yet they were there so far overmatched by their opponents that the authority of Parliament was recognised. The king, whose headquarters after the first movements of the war were fixed in Oxford, was preponderant in the north (except Lancashire), in Wales (except Pembrokeshire) and the border counties, and in Cornwall, while the other south-western counties were more equally divided.

Charles I. finally set up his standard at Nottingham late in August 1642, whence he moved westwards to Chester, and when he had gathered sufficient forces marched on London. The earl of Essex, commanding the parliamentary army, had gone to Worcester to meet the king, and the first skirmish of the war took place at Powick bridge, just south of that city, on the very ground where nine years later was fought the last battle, the "crowning mercy" as Cromwell called it, which extinguished Charles II.'s last hopes of being restored by the aid of the Scots. It is a proof of the real inexperience of both sides that Charles and Essex moved towards London a few miles apart without either apparently being fully aware what the other was doing. On October 23 the king, who had the start, but had now come into hostile country, and therefore could not advance safely without beating off Essex, turned and fought at Edgehill on the southern edge of Warwickshire. The battle still further illustrated the rawness of both armies. The royalists gave away an advantage by coming down a fairly steep slope to meet their assailants: prince Rupert with the main body of their cavalry, after defeating the parliamentary horse opposed to him, pursued them headlong far away from the field, and then took to plundering Essex's baggage. The smaller body on the other wing were even more reckless, for they drove off only part of the cavalry opposed to them, leaving two small regiments untouched, in one of which was Cromwell's troop. How far this was due to want of discipline among the men, how far to lack of judgment in their commanders, it is difficult to tell; but the result was most disastrous to the king's cause. The infantry on both sides fought bravely, but two or three of Essex's regiments had been broken by the flying horsemen, and the king would have won a considerable victory but for the vigorous and effective way in which the few hundred cavalry that had escaped attack co-operated with the infantry. The clumsy, ill-made, slow-firing muskets of the seventeenth century were not very formidable to cavalry, and a charge pressed home in earnest had a very good chance against a mixed body of musketeers and pikemen, unless the latter were fresh and in good order. When prince Rupert at length returned to the field, Essex's infantry had got on the whole the best of it, though the royalists were hardly defeated: it was too late to begin again, and the battle remained drawn. The king's one chance of finishing the war at a blow was lost.

Charles advanced as far as Brentford, but the troops drawn out for the defence of London were too strong to be attacked, and he withdrew to Oxford, and entered on useless negotiations for peace. When active hostilities were resumed in the spring of 1643, all went favourably for the king. John Hampden, one of the most important leaders in the House of Commons, was killed in a skirmish: a series of successes in the field gave the whole south-west, with the important exception of Plymouth, into royalist hands: a victory at Atherton Moor drove Fairfax into Hull, and made the king master of all the rest of Yorkshire. Had Charles boldly marched on London, it is possible that the citizens in their dismay would have submitted. But Charles was hardly the man to take an audacious resolve; and it would have been audacious, even if no stronger word be applicable, to advance on London with his own immediate forces. His right wing, so to speak, was tied to the west by Plymouth, the garrison of which, if left unbesieged, would soon have revived the partisans of Parliament in the west. His left wing was still more closely fettered by the necessity of observing Hull. Moreover behind the king lay Gloucester, well garrisoned, and interrupting at a vital point, the lowest bridge on the Severn, free communication between the royalists of the south and west. Ordinary military judgment pointed out the capture of Gloucester as the most useful enterprise he could attempt, while waiting for the co-operation of Hopton from the west, of Newcastle from the north. The Parliament realised the supreme importance of Gloucester, and Essex, with an army consisting largely of the London train-bands, marched to relieve the place. Charles was obliged to raise the siege, and on his return to Oxford fought with Essex the bloody and indecisive battle of Newbury. The tide of royalist success had been stemmed, but no more. The outlook for the parliamentary cause seemed so gloomy that Pym, their greatest statesman, negotiated with his dying breath, at the price of important concessions to the Presbyterian spirit, for the assistance of the Scots for the next campaign. Things however were in reality less black than they seemed: in the eastern counties not only had their cause completely triumphed, but an army was being organised which was to turn the scale in the next year. This army was commanded by the earl of Manchester, under whom was Cromwell at the head of the cavalry, which was the specially important arm. In it the ideas which Cromwell had been the first to act on were definitely carried out. To quote the description of it sent to London by an admiring correspondent of a newspaper—"Neither is his army so formidable in number as exact in discipline; and that they might be all of one mind in religion as of resolution in the field, with a severe eye he hath looked into the manners of all those who are his officers, and cashiered those whom he found to be in any way irregular in their lives or disaffected to the cause. This brave army is our violets and primroses, the first-fruits of the spring, which the Parliament sends forth this year, for the growth of our religion, and the re-implanting of this kingdom in the garden of peace and truth."

Early in 1644 a Scottish army crossed the Tweed, and gradually pushed Newcastle back, till in April, when Fairfax was able to unite with them, they were strong enough to shut him up in York. Two or three weeks earlier Waller had won a victory at Cheriton in Hampshire, which finally assured the south-east to the Parliament, and which, though on a small scale, is an interesting prelude to Marston Moor, as exhibiting superiority of discipline passed over to the parliamentary side. Two or three weeks later Manchester's army came up to help in the siege of York. Newcastle was clearly doomed, unless assistance reached him. Months before, prince Rupert had been despatched by Charles with a small body of men to raise an army in the Severn region, and he was now, in accordance with his own earnest wish, ordered to relieve York. Making his way up through Lancashire, he ultimately crossed the Pennine hills from Skipton into the valley of the Wharfe. The governing committee of the Parliament had been anxious that the armies of Manchester and Fairfax should be sent into Lancashire to encounter Rupert, who had spent more than a month in taking various small places. Rupert was acting on the plan largely followed throughout the war; but on this occasion at least it was very mistaken policy. The capture of Newcastle's army in York would have been ill compensated by advantages tenfold greater than Rupert obtained in Lancashire; and York was very nearly lost. The generals were wiser than their government: they refused to raise the siege while a chance remained of capturing the city. If Rupert appeared they would fight him; and then, as they wrote to the committee, "if it please God to give us the victory, all Lancashire and Yorkshire will fall to us." At the same time they were well aware that in that case they would have to raise the siege, and they therefore pressed it vigorously, all the more so after intercepting a letter from Newcastle begging Rupert to make haste, as he could only hold out a few days longer. But for the folly of Crawford,[51] third in command under Manchester, who exploded a mine without waiting for the co-operation of the Scots or of Fairfax, so that his own assault being unsupported was repulsed, York would in fact have been taken; but Crawford's failure gave the besieged just respite enough. On June 30 the generals heard that Rupert was at Knaresborough, only twelve miles off; the next morning therefore they raised the siege and marched towards him. Rupert however made a circuit northwards, crossing the Ure at Boroughbridge, and came down the left bank of the Ouse to join Newcastle, protected by the river from any possibility of the parliamentary forces intercepting him or taking him in flank. The fiery prince, who had in his pocket a letter from the king which he averred to be positive orders[52] to fight the rebels, and who was Newcastle's superior officer, insisted on marching at once after the enemy. It cannot for a moment be maintained that he was wrong; though he was slightly inferior in numbers, his enemies might very reasonably be assumed to be hampered, as in fact they were, by difficulties arising from divided command, and from divergence of views as to the most important object to be attained.

The parliamentary army had moved westward from York, on the morning of July 1, and marched about half-way to Knaresborough. When the generals found that Rupert had given them the slip, and that a battle was out of the question unless he came out of York to seek them, serious difference of opinion seems to have arisen. The Scots, we are told, the earl of Leven and his lieutenant-general David Leslie, were for the prudent course of retreating. Considerable reinforcements were expected, and the junction with them would be best secured by retiring on Tadcaster. The English generals, or some of them, were for holding their ground; if this be true, it is safe to assume that Cromwell was for fighting, and probably also the Fairfaxes, father and son, as they were always of one mind, and usually for bold counsels. Whatever may have been the opinions, there was no supreme authority, and it was therefore inevitable that the prudent plan should be adopted. On July 2 the infantry started for Tadcaster; the cavalry, or a great part of the cavalry (for all the three lieutenant-generals were with them), remained on the moor to cover the retreat. About two o'clock Rupert's army was seen approaching from York; a message was sent hastily after the infantry, who retraced their steps, and assumed a position in which to await the oncoming royalists. Rupert was in no situation to attack at once; in fact he himself was not on the field till later, having been detained in York in order to appease Newcastle's troops, who were mutinous for lack of pay. During the whole afternoon the two armies "looked one another in the face." Why Leven was unwilling to attack then, and did so at evening, when Newcastle's men had reached the field, is not easy to understand: possibly the conflict of opinion, whether or not to fight if they had the option, was still undecided. At any rate it was not till about seven o'clock that the action was begun, by the advance of their whole line.

The battle of Marston Moor is in some respects one of the simplest ever fought. Very little depended on the ground, either in its natural formation, or in artificial features such as enclosures. The armies came straight into collision along their whole front. The numbers differed but little, the stubborn courage of both sides was unmistakably great, yet on both sides large bodies were utterly broken up by defeat. Yet from another point of view Marston Moor is possessed of very special interest: the battle was won by the perfect discipline of Cromwell's horse, and by the coolness which prevented him from being carried away by the excitement of immediate victory, and losing sight of the general issue.

The parliamentary army was posted on a ridge of ground lying south of the wide expanse of moorland, now all enclosed and cultivated, which stretched nearly to York. At the northern foot of this ridge, which was covered at the time of the battle with rye full grown though not ripe, runs a lane joining two hamlets, Long Marston and Tockwith, about a mile and a half apart. North of this line the moor rose, quite open and bare, though there was a wood a mile or so to the northwards. The moor was divided from the lane by a ditch, which has since disappeared, and therefore cannot be placed with accuracy. A little way from this ditch Rupert drew up his line, so near to it in fact that a battle must ensue, as neither side could possibly withdraw in safety. At the same time the ditch was a sufficient obstacle to make both sides somewhat reluctant to begin. Neither side seems to have thought it worth while to attempt to utilise the enclosures of Long Marston or Tockwith: indeed they could not have been occupied without departing from the established tactics of the day, which drew up the infantry in the centre, placing cavalry on each wing. Obviously the enclosures would have been fatal to the full use of the cavalry.

The threefold division of the parliamentary army was naturally retained in the order of battle. Manchester's troops were on the left of the line, Cromwell's cavalry reinforced by three Scottish regiments under David Leslie being on the flank, and the infantry commanded by Crawford to their right. In the centre were part of the Scottish infantry under Baillie; to their right Lord Fairfax commanded his own infantry, with the rest of the Scots in reserve behind him. The extreme right was occupied by Sir Thomas Fairfax's horse, again with a reserve of Scottish cavalry in rear. The numbers seem to have been about 19,000 foot and 7600 horse, the royalists having some 3000 less infantry but being equally strong in cavalry. The proportion of cavalry to infantry is enormous if measured by modern standards, though it was exceeded in some other battles of the war. This was of course natural, in view of the superior value of cavalry in action, as compared to the ill-armed infantry of that age. The royalist line was formed in a similar fashion. Rupert's infantry was on the right, Newcastle's on the left; the prince commanded in person the horse on the right wing, Goring those on the left. It seems strange to a modern reader, who habitually associates the idea of marked uniform colours with the soldier's appearance, to find that Newcastle's infantry attracted special notice as the Whitecoats, because the marquis had clothed them alike in undyed cloth, and that the parliamentary soldiers all wore white ribbons or paper in their hats in order to recognise one another. An equally marked contrast with the warfare of to-day is to be found in the fact that both sides, having twenty or thirty guns, merely used them during the afternoon for a little futile cannonading, and ignored them entirely in the real battle.

Rupert had, as we have seen, put it out of his power to decline battle, by drawing up his line so close to the enemy. No doubt he had fully intended to attack as soon as Newcastle came up; but the cautious veteran who commanded Newcastle's foot urged that it was too late in the day, and Rupert, according to one account, called for food, saying he would attack them in the morning. But he had no longer the choice: almost at this moment the enemy's whole line advanced, the left slightly leading. Rupert at once charged Cromwell's horse, and in the first collision got the advantage, Cromwell himself being slightly wounded. Leslie however who followed soon turned the scale back again, and before long Rupert's hitherto unbeaten cavalry was totally routed. In front of Crawford the ditch had been filled up, and the royalists had apparently crowded in to their left for the sake of the protection the ditch afforded. This was a serious mistake, for Crawford advancing at first unchecked could turn and take the royalist infantry in flank, thus greatly facilitating Baillie's passage of the ditch. The royalists defended themselves stubbornly, but they were still getting the worst of it. On the right however things had gone very differently. In front of Fairfax the moor was covered with furze-bushes, which compelled him to advance by a lane which led up on to the moor from the country road behind which had been their original position. This gave an obvious advantage to his immediate opponents, who occupied enclosures on each side of the lane, and inflicted on Fairfax a check, which the overthrow of the cavalry on his right converted into rout. Sir Thomas Fairfax there encountered Goring with signal ill success. He himself with his own troop broke through the enemy, but the remainder were driven back on the infantry, scattering them utterly. The Scottish cavalry was apparently swept away by the rush of fugitives, whom Goring with most of his men pursued far off the field, and then turned to plunder the enemy's baggage. The precedent of Edgehill was followed, with even more disastrous results. For the moment however the battle seemed still to be going well for the royalists. Some of Goring's command had been sufficiently alive to common sense to remain on the field; and their attack on the flank of the Scottish infantry, combined with the Whitecoats in front, gradually broke most of it. Baillie with three regiments stood his ground heroically; but Leven himself came at last to the conclusion that the day was lost, and fled from the field, never halting, according to the perhaps slanderous report of narrators who did not love the Scots, till he reached Leeds. Help came just in time to save Baillie from destruction, and ultimately convert defeat into decisive victory. Cromwell had by this time completed the rout of Rupert's wing, and had halted, with his men well in hand, behind the royalist line, to make out how the battle was going and where he could strike in effectually. Sir Thomas Fairfax, tearing off his white badge, had succeeded in making his way round the rear of the royalists, and encountering Cromwell was able to tell him what was happening under the smoke. He saw at once his opportunity. Bidding Leslie charge into the rear of the Whitecoats, he led his own men round, as Fairfax had come, encountered and totally routed Goring's horsemen, returning in confusion from their reckless raid. The Whitecoats perished almost to a man: and then Cromwell and Leslie had no difficulty in completing the victory, by breaking up the rest of the royalist infantry, with which Crawford and Baillie had been engaged.

A battle so stubbornly contested and involving such vicissitudes was necessarily a bloody one. According to one eye-witness over 4000 bodies were buried on the field. The royalist cause was utterly ruined in the north, though prince Rupert rallied a few thousand men. York surrendered in a few days: before the winter nothing was left to the king in the whole of the north and northern midlands except a few isolated posts. Marston Moor is rightly regarded as the turning-point of the civil war. The victory was conspicuously due to Oliver Cromwell personally, and to the troops raised by him and trained on his principles. This naturally gave great additional weight to the Independents, the party partly religious and partly political which he represented—all the more so because of the comparative failure of the Scots, the champions of Presbyterianism, whose valour was in truth somewhat unfairly decried. The most important, for the time being at least, of the ideas of the Independents was the conviction that the war could only be adequately waged by strong measures, by leaders who meant to win thoroughly, and by troops that could and would fight effectively. The victory of Marston Moor was a clinching argument in favour of the New Model army. Marston Moor was however much more than the decisive event in a conflict between two contending parties. It produced consequences more far-reaching than any battle ever fought on British soil, except perhaps Hastings. If ideas rule the world, it is one of the most important in human history. When the royalist gentry went down before Cromwell's Ironsides, absolutism received its death-wound. The great issue, whether the king or the nation should be supreme, was decided in favour of the nation, though generations had yet to elapse before the full results were attained. And since England alone set the example, and stored up the ideas, from which political liberty in other countries has been derived, it is hard to see what hope would have been left for sober freedom anywhere.[53] Had Charles I. definitely triumphed in the civil war, and stamped out by force Puritanism in the widest sense of the word, the circle of absolute monarchies would have been complete. The United States of America, the French Republic, the constitutional Parliaments of Germany, Austria, Italy owe their existence to the victory of Marston Moor.

Great however as the ultimate political consequences were, the immediate military results of Marston Moor were limited to the north. While Rupert was approaching York, the king began a campaign in the south, which, thanks to the obstinacy of Essex, was completely successful. Essex and Waller, each in command of a small army, were left to face the king at Oxford: and if they could have cordially co-operated, they ought to have been at least a match for him. The rivalry between them was however too strong, nor was the governing committee in a position to dismiss either. Essex insisted on marching into the south-west, which he hoped to regain, and on leaving Waller to cope with Charles. Waller's forces were however very difficult to keep together: his money was expended, and his men were nearly all enlisted for very short periods. Charles found no difficulty in leaving Oxford adequately guarded, and following Essex. The latter, in a country on the whole unfriendly, was ultimately driven into Cornwall, where his infantry surrendered or dispersed, though he himself with his cavalry escaped by sea. When the king returned eastward, the difficulties of the Parliament reached their height. Essex and Waller agreed as little as ever, and Manchester, whose army had now been drawn down from the eastern counties, was more impracticable than either. The army which encountered Charles on October 17 in a second battle at Newbury, was directed by a council in which sat two civilians: there was no commander over the whole. Naturally the result of the action was indecisive. Fought on intricate ground, it was an infantry battle; and the soldiers of the Parliament proved themselves somewhat superior in the stubborn determination which was in truth conspicuous on both sides. As the final result the king was able, not without heavy loss, to return to his head-quarters at Oxford, without losing the minor posts which served as its outlying defences.

During the winter the Independent party, who were in earnest about crushing the king's power, and many of whom were inclined to believe that the only means of reaching a permanent settlement lay in deposing him, gained the upper hand in the House of Commons. They saw the necessity of organising an army the soldiers of which should be permanently enlisted and brought under thorough discipline, on the model in fact of Cromwell's regiments. They saw also the necessity of removing from the command men like Manchester, and even Essex, who were almost as much afraid of victory which should destroy the king, as of defeat which should leave him absolute. As a means to this end they proposed the Self-denying Ordinance, which disqualified all members of both houses from holding military commands; but the Lords rejected it. The latter however agreed to the scheme for a New Model army, to consist of 21,000 men regularly paid out of the taxes, and therefore dependent on no mere local resources, to be commanded by the younger Fairfax. Having done so they passed a new Self-denying Ordinance, which merely required that members of both houses should resign the posts they held, but contained no proviso against re-appointment. It is plain that the Lords were actuated by motives partly selfish, partly political: they desired if possible to retain control over the armies. But the result of their action was to make possible the retention of Cromwell's invaluable services; he, on the contrary, out of zeal for the cause, had inspired the first proposal, which would have compelled him to retire. The organisation of the New Model was none too rapidly completed; but when it did take the field it proved irresistible.

The need of the Parliament was all the greater because for the campaign of 1645 their Scottish auxiliaries were practically not available. Late in the previous summer Montrose had succeeded in inducing a great part of the Highlands to take up arms for the king, and in a series of short campaigns, continued contrary to the usual practice of that age through the winter, had inflicted so many blows on the king's enemies all over Scotland that Leven's army was much wanted at home. Rupert, who was in the Severn region, urged his uncle to join him with all available troops, and make a push northwards, so as to defeat or drive away Leven's much diminished forces, and restore the royalist cause in the north of England, before the New Model army was ready. But for a brilliant dash made by Cromwell, who at the head of 1500 cavalry swept right round Oxford, defeating one detachment after another, and clearing the neighbourhood of all draught horses, there might have been time to achieve much. The delay thus caused prevented Charles from taking the field for some little time: but the Parliament went far towards neutralising this advantage by instructing Fairfax to go into Somerset and relieve Taunton, the most strongly Puritan town of the west, which was in great straits. Hearing that the king had called to Oxford some of the royalist troops in the west, they recalled Fairfax, too late to prevent the king marching where he pleased. They followed up this waste of time, which was not altogether their fault, by the error of bidding Fairfax besiege Oxford, where the king was not: it ought to have been sufficiently plain that to defeat the king's army in the field was the one paramount object. The king however, instead of either going northwards in earnest, which might have achieved something, or gathering every available man to face Fairfax, which would at any rate have brought matters boldly to a crisis, pushed across to Leicester, which he stormed after a few days' siege. Here he heard that Oxford was badly straitened for provisions, and must surrender unless soon relieved. Nothing can more strongly mark the incompetence of the king and his officers to administer, however they might fight, than his having left his head-quarters on a vague campaign, without having satisfied himself that the city was adequately provisioned to stand the siege which he knew was impending. There was nothing for it but to turn back towards Oxford. At Daventry the king learned that Fairfax had abandoned the siege; and he accordingly halted, not venturing to go northwards again until he knew that Oxford was properly supplied.

On the news of the storm of Leicester, the Parliament bade Fairfax take the field against the king, and at the same time acceded to the unanimous request of Fairfax's officers that Cromwell might be appointed to the vacant post of lieutenant-general. Such was the presumptuous contempt of the royalists for the New Model, that they allowed Fairfax to approach within a dozen miles of Daventry before they heard that he was moving towards them at all. They then withdrew a little further north to Market Harborough, but on Fairfax pressing on they saw that a battle was inevitable, and returned southwards to meet him.

The battle of Naseby merits but little description; it was Marston Moor over again, only with the superiority of numbers greatly on the parliamentary side; and therefore victory was much more easily won. Fairfax drew up his army behind the crest of a line of hills, so that the enemy could not see their numbers till he was committed to an attack. As usual the infantry was in the centre, with Skippon at their head; Cromwell commanded the cavalry on the right wing, Ireton on the left. The royalist infantry was under Sir Jacob Astley, Rupert on the right wing, Langdale on the left, Charles himself headed a small reserve. Fairfax numbered less than 14,000 men, but even so he had nearly double the king's strength. As in all the battles of the war where the ground did not absolutely prevent it, there was a direct attack all along the line, the royalists having the disadvantage of advancing up-hill. The infantry engaged in a fierce struggle, which remained doubtful till the cavalry intervened. Ireton was somewhat hampered by the roughness of the ground, and a great part of his wing was defeated by Rupert's charge and pursued off the field. It seems scarcely credible that Rupert should have been so feather-brained, after repeated experience: but he galloped as far as Naseby village, a mile and more in rear, and would have plundered Fairfax's baggage had not the guard fired on him. Then he awoke to his duty, and returned to the field, but even in that short time the battle was over. Cromwell had had no real trouble in overthrowing the weaker royalist cavalry opposed to him; as they bore down upon the reserve, followed hard by part of Cromwell's force, the king ordered his reserve cavalry to charge the pursuers, and rode forward to place himself at their head. As he did so, one of his suite seized his bridle, and turned his horse round, exclaiming "Will you go upon your death?" It was the best thing Charles could have done, for his own fame and for the cause he represented. He yielded however, and the reserve retreated a little way, and then halted again to await the inevitable. Cromwell, and the unbroken parts of Ireton's wing, were meanwhile charging into the flanks and rear of the royalist infantry. Many surrendered, the rest were cut to pieces: the king's infantry ceased to exist. When Rupert had by a circuit regained the king, there was nothing left but to escape. The king's baggage fell into the hands of the victors, including all his correspondence. The Parliament with excellent judgment instantly published a selection of the letters, under the title of "The King's Cabinet Opened," which did more harm to his cause than the loss of the battle of Naseby. The one unpardonable offence in the eyes of Englishmen has ever been the bringing in of foreigners to interfere in their affairs. And Charles was convicted out of his own mouth of incessant intrigues to get help not only from Irish and Scottish Celts, who though fellow-subjects were detested as semi-savages, but from France, Holland, Lorraine, from any one who could be importuned or bribed (with promises only) to send him aid.

The king with his usual optimism thought all could yet be put right: even the total overthrow of Montrose two or three months later did not impress him. The war was however virtually decided at Naseby, though all hostilities had not quite terminated a year later. The New Model army made short work with the royalists in Somersetshire; the last force which the king had in the open field was crushed at Stow on the Wold; castle after castle surrendered. The king presently shut himself up in Oxford, whence in the spring of 1646 he stole across England and took refuge in the camp of the Scots, to their extreme discomfiture. After an interval the Scots yielded up the king on the demand of the English Parliament. Many months elapsed, filled with negotiations for the restoration of Charles to his throne on terms, negotiations rendered abortive partly by the antagonism between Independents and Presbyterians, mainly by the king's own incurable inability to look facts in the face, or to abide by any plan or promise. An attempt of the moderate party in Scotland to restore him to his throne, by an invasion combined with risings of the English royalists, failed disastrously. The Independents held Charles to be guilty of this wanton bloodshed, and forcibly ejecting their opponents from the House of Commons took possession of the government. Their first act was to bring Charles to trial and public execution: their next to declare the monarchy and the House of Lords abolished, and to confide the executive authority to a council chosen by the Commons. This new experiment in politics worked with very fair success, seeing that they had all the world against them outside England, and were only supported in England itself by a comparatively small minority, who however had the enormous advantage of knowing their own minds. Cromwell was sent over to reduce Ireland to submission, which he did effectively. He had hardly completed the task when he was recalled to make war on Scotland, which had declared for Charles II.

On July 22, 1650, Cromwell crossed the Tweed, and marched towards Edinburgh. His old coadjutor at Marston Moor, David Leslie, was in command against him, and by skilful manoeuvring in the country round the capital, managed to keep Cromwell at bay for several weeks, without being forced to an engagement. Supplies at length began to fail, and Cromwell reluctantly began a retreat by the coast road as far as Dunbar. If supplies could be brought him thither by sea, which depended on the weather, there being no good harbour, he could still hold his ground: if not he must retire into England. Leslie followed at once, further inland; having the shorter distance to go he succeeded in blocking the roads beyond Dunbar, and encamped on the heights to landward of the town, Cromwell occupying the level ground along the seashore. The Scottish position was unassailable, as Leslie's positions had been in Midlothian: moreover there had been a good deal of sickness in the English army, due chiefly to the wet weather, which had reduced its numbers to little more than half those of the enemy. Unless Leslie made a mistake, Cromwell would have to embark, and confess that he had failed totally. It was reported afterwards that the committee of the Presbyterian Kirk pressed Leslie not to allow Cromwell to escape, and that he in consequence made the disastrous move which led to his defeat. There is however no adequate authority for this, any more than for the well-known anecdote that Cromwell, noting Leslie's false move, exclaimed, "The Lord hath delivered them into our hand:" either would be in keeping, and is therefore all the more likely to have been invented. The one excuse for Leslie's blunder lay in the fact that his army was encamped on bare hills in frightful weather, a state of things which could not be continued indefinitely. Confidence in his superior numbers may easily have led him to believe that he could afford to move down and force Cromwell to fight: possibly a safe way of doing this might have been found, but the movement he actually made exposed him to a fatal blow.

A little stream called the Brocksburn flows along the base of the hills on which Leslie was posted, and then northwards across into the sea, a mile or so east of Dunbar, flowing at the bottom of a little ravine which it has hollowed out for itself. There were but two points where the steep banks of this ravine were broken enough to allow even carts to pass, one close under the hills, which was held by Leslie's outposts, the other a little way out into the plain, where the high-road from Dunbar towards Berwick runs. Cromwell's army lay on the Dunbar side of this stream, which formed something of a defence for his front. If Leslie could occupy the spot where the high-road crosses the Brocksburn, he could compel an action when he pleased, besides more effectually blocking any communication with England. In order however to do this, he drew down his whole army on to the narrow strip of ground between the burn and the base of the steep slope, and then edged his whole line somewhat to the right, so that his right wing, with most part of his cavalry, lay beyond the road. Cromwell coming out of Dunbar to his camp late in the afternoon, saw the movement being completed. He instantly perceived the opportunity it gave him, and pointed it out to Lambert his major-general: "to which he instantly replied that he had thought to have said the same [147]
[149]thing to me." The opportunity was much like that which Marlborough saw at Ramillies, and was used with equally decisive effect. If Leslie's right wing were attacked with superior force, it could be overpowered before the rest of the army, cramped in the narrow strip of ground between the Brocksburn and the hill, could move to its support. And Cromwell could bring overwhelming strength to bear in spite of his inferiority of numbers, because the enemy could not cross the burn elsewhere to make a counter attack. Under cover of darkness the English troops could be massed opposite the slope giving access across the burn to the enemy's position.[54] The assault was to have been made at dawn on September 3, but was a little delayed: the enemy were consequently not surprised. "Before our foot could come up, the enemy made a gallant resistance, and there was a very hot dispute at sword's-point between our horse and theirs. Our first foot after that they had discharged their duty (being overpowered with the enemy) received some repulse, which they soon recovered. For my own regiment under the command of lieutenant-colonel Goffe, and my major, White, did come seasonably in; and, at the push of pike, did repel the stoutest regiment the enemy had there, merely with the courage the Lord was pleased to give. Which proved a great amazement to the residue of their foot; this being the first action between the foot. The horse in the meantime did, with a great deal of courage and spirit, beat back all oppositions; charging through the bodies of the enemy's horse and of their foot: who were, after the first repulse given, made by the Lord of Hosts as stubble to their swords."[55] The quality of the English troops was probably superior, and their officers more experienced; they had the impetus of the first rush to help them, and so far as can be judged superior numbers at the critical point. Naturally the struggle, though sharp, was not long. Just as the sun rose over the sea, "I heard Nol say," relates an officer who was in the battle, "in the words of the Psalmist, Let God arise, and let his enemies be scattered." The defeated portion of the Scots fled eastwards, abandoning everything; the rest of Leslie's army, taken in flank, and with hardly any cavalry left, was able to make no resistance. Cromwell reported nearly 10,000 prisoners, and 3000 of the enemy killed, while his own loss was but small. The Scottish army was virtually annihilated.

The natural consequence was that Cromwell took possession of Edinburgh unopposed; and though he did not proceed to further conquest, there being political dissension enough among the Scots to render it probable that peaceable measures would suffice, yet to all intents and purposes Dunbar rendered him master of the Lowlands. So matters remained through the winter, Cromwell being personally much hampered by illness, a chill caught on an expedition in February having developed into ague, from which he suffered frequently, and which killed him a few years later. The next summer, the Scottish army, with Charles II. nominally at their head, took advantage of Cromwell's moving into Fife and Perthshire to make a last desperate venture. It is suggested, though it is hardly probable, that Cromwell gave them the opportunity on purpose; whether this were so or not, nothing could have been more advantageous to the cause of the Commonwealth. The Scots marched southwards, crossed the border at Carlisle, and made their way through Lancashire, Cheshire, and Shropshire, meeting with much less support from the English population than the young king's sanguine advisers had expected. By the time they reached Worcester Cromwell was upon them: he had pushed his own cavalry in pursuit as soon as he heard of their march, following himself with the foot by the eastern route, and begging the government to send what troops they could to meet him. The battle of Worcester, fought on the anniversary of Dunbar, was a foregone conclusion: Cromwell had about 30,000 against 20,000 or less, and defeated the enemy with considerable loss. The defeated Scots, far from their own country, nearly all surrendered themselves prisoners. The "crowning mercy," as Cromwell called it, put a final end to the civil war, and led to the complete submission of Scotland, which sent members to all the Parliaments of the Protectorate.

INTERMEDIATE NOTE
STANDING ARMIES

In 1658, on the anniversary of his two last victories, which was also his birthday, the great Protector died. With him practically expired the fabric of government which he had built up; and the nation a year and a half later recalled Charles II. The Protector's power had depended greatly on the army, which had been used after his death no longer to support steady if arbitrary government, but to further the interests of individuals or of factions. Naturally at the Restoration there was a strong feeling among the royalists against a standing army, though it is only fair to the best conducted body which ever bore that title, to point out that the many interferences of the army in public affairs, before the abolition of the monarchy and during the Commonwealth, were due to the strong feeling of all ranks, that as being soldiers they were all the more bound to do their duty as citizens, and not to the opposite tendency of soldiers to obey their chiefs in blind indifference to every political consideration. Everywhere except in England standing armies prevailed, and everywhere except in England the kings were absolute. Charles II. had had ample opportunities for imbibing the ideas of his contemporaries, especially of his cousin Louis XIV. He had all the will to be absolute, but would not take trouble to make himself so. Had it rested with him alone, he would no doubt have been glad to maintain a standing army like his neighbours. The cavaliers of the Restoration, however, partly from recent and painful experience, partly imbued with the traditional English jealousy of military force in any shape, were resolute that there should be none. They affirmed positively the principle for which Charles I. had contended, that the king was the sole and uncontrolled head of the armed forces of the state; but they took very good care, in resettling the royal revenue, that the king should not have the means of maintaining an army. Charles nevertheless made a beginning; he took into his service the regiment of General Monk, a prime agent in the Restoration, which has since been known as the Coldstream Guards. To them he added other regiments, one by one as occasion offered, and his brother James followed his example. On the deposition of the latter, Parliament affirmed in the Declaration of Right the maxim, very dubious as a statement of historical fact, but very rational as a principle of government, that "the maintenance of a standing army in time of peace, without consent of Parliament, is illegal."

Nevertheless the art of war had undergone such a transformation that a standing army was a necessity unless England were to abjure all interest in European affairs, almost a necessity if she would preserve her independence. It was no longer possible to extemporise efficient armies, as in the earlier middle ages: the superior strength given by discipline, which takes time and practice, was fully recognised. The providing of artillery, and of ammunition, to say nothing of supplies of other kinds, was become a complicated and expensive business, which could not be properly carried out except under the permanent care of the state. There was no peace till late in William III.'s reign; and by that time the method of voting men and money for the army annually had been introduced. In spite of this, strong pressure was put on William to disband the army altogether, and it was only with great difficulty that he induced Parliament, which saw things too exclusively from the point of view of constitutional checks on the crown, to assent to the retention of a small force. With the accession of Anne came the outbreak of the great European War of the Spanish Succession, and by the end of it the question was decided in favour of a standing army. Some of our present regiments bear on their colours the proud names of Marlborough's victories.