Cromwell

  Whate’er the Popish hands have built

  Our hammers shall undo;

  We’ll break their pipes and burn their copes

  And pull down churches too.

  But the reference to the “Popish hands”29 was a shaft which went home. Cromwell, in such iconoclastic activities as he indulged before the need for an utterly disciplined professional force became paramount, was animated more by feelings of genuine doctrinal revulsion than by the coarser dictates of ordinary military brutality. Of this he showed little evidence in the years following.

  After the Grantham victory of May 1643, the rest of the high summer months were spent by Oliver in a variety of smaller engagements in and around the eastern counties, including the capture of Stamford and the defence of Peterborough from a Royalist attack issuing forth from perennially dangerous Newark. Oliver’s single-minded consistency in desiring to prosecute the war with all the supplies he could obtain and all the troops available was not however matched by all his so-called allies. By 13 June he was complaining to the Association at Cambridge about the delay of Sir John Palgrave, Deputy-Lieutenant of Norfolk, in joining him in the field for what seemed to Cromwell a series of inadequate excuses: “Let him not keep a volunteer at Wisbeach -I beseech you, do not… This is not a time to pick and choose for pleasure. Service must be done. command, you, and be obeyed!”30

  As unsatisfactory as the behaviour of the vacillating of Sir John, and rather more treacherous was that of John Hotham, a wild young man who had laid waste the countryside and when reproached by Colonel Hutchinson replied proudly that since he was fighting for liberty he expected to enjoy it “in all things”. He was said to have acted contemptuously towards Cromwell and Lord Grey of Groby and in the course of a little local dispute over some oats turned his cannon on them. In the end complaints were laid before the Committee of Safety and Hotham was arrested and imprisoned in Nottingham Castle. But even here his impudence was not ended, for he contrived to escape and wrote to the Speaker of the House of Commons complaining of the low social status and sectarian religion of Cromwell’s new force: Cromwell had employed an “Anabaptist”* ( * Hotham is here using the term “Anabaptist” pejoratively to denote among other things a person of low birth, in the way it was always used in this period: the Baptists themselves never employed it. Dr Christopher Hill has described the term “the Anabaptists” as the seventeenth-century equivalent of the modern term “Reds”.31) against him, while another of his creatures, Colonel White, had been only lately “but a yeoman”.

  On 24 July Cromwell led the successful siege of Burghley House near Stamford in Northamptonshire, the sumptuous pile built in the Elizabethan age by the Queen’s great servant; it was now defended by the widowed Countess of Exeter on behalf of her little son. The Royalists refused at first to parley until three squadrons of musketeers following the attempts of the Parliamentary ordnance to blast down the house, persuaded them to change their minds. By the rules of war this original defiance gave their attackers the right to kill. But Cromwell, despite their first peremptory refusal, forbade his own troops to slaughter another man among the defenders on pain of their own death; as a result the house was taken virtually with no loss of life and two hundred cavalier prisoners were sent off to Cambridge. Furthermore, Cromwell was even supposed to have presented the Countess with a portrait of himself by Robert Walker (still at Burghley House, see Plate facing p. 29) as a souvenir of this rather grim occasion.

  Cromwell’s next military encounter – the relief of Gainsborough, where the Parliamentarians in turn were hard pressed by a Royalist siege – gave him an opportunity to show both the decision of Grantham and the prudence of Burghley House. By 28 July Cromwell had joined up with the forces of Lord Willoughby at a general rendezvous, which gave them a total of nineteen or twenty troops of horse, and three or four troops of dragoons. The main difficulty of the assault on the enemy was that in the course of their siege of the town, they had entrenched themselves at one end on an extremely steep hill. It was also highly treacherous ground, being a rabbit warren. And they were present in considerable numbers “a fair body” Cromwell called it later – and had in addition a reserve of six or seven troops. Despite the extremely favourable stance of the enemy, it was decided to attack them from below. Cromwell led the right wing. His men first struggled up the hill in columns, and then somehow formed themselves into battle lines at the end of it. When Cromwell’s men were within musket-shot, the enemy proceeded to charge them – downhill. Cromwell’s men did not cease their advance, so that both sides were now charging each other. The result was virtually a hand-to-hand battle, or “horse to horse” as Cromwell described it, a tense contest for a considerable time to see which side would end by breaking the other.32 In fact it was the Parliamentarians who managed just that additional pressure, and the enemy began shrinking back just a little. The tiny advantage was enough. The Parliamentarians now resolutely pressed it home and broke up the whole body.

  It was Cromwell who did much to demolish the enemy’s reserve, falling on Colonel Sir Charles Cavendish’s rear with three troops of horse while Willoughby’s Lincolnshire troops attacked frontally. The reserve were forced into a quagmire, still known today as Cavendish Bog, and Cromwell’s Captain-Lieutenant, Berry, wounded Cavendish mortally with a thrust under the ribs.33 With the enemy in flight Cromwell’s men enjoyed themselves in pursuit. It was not however for long. Cromwell was no Rupert, and had appreciated the chief weakness of the successful cavalry charge, the problem of rallying the men afterwards. Somehow his troops were not totally dissipated. Cromwell’s knowledge of this difficult art was particularly timely. For just as the Parliamentarians were setting about the business for which they were ordained, the provision of fresh supplies and ammunition for the town of Gainsborough, they found that the army of the Royalist Earl of Newcastle, whose approach had been so long dreaded, had drawn up outside the town on the other side. It was now besieging Gainsborough once more in earnest.

  There was no question now of Cromwell’s horse and Willoughby’s foot holding the town against this far more massive force. Furthermore the men were exhausted by the recent fray, to say nothing of the fact, characteristically noted by Cromwell, that their horses were tired too. Willoughby and his foot retreated in fear into the town, but Cromwell appreciated how disastrous it would be to lock up his, horse there too, either to be immobilized or captured. He decided to retreat, despite the fact that his weary horse were now being plagued by the enemy, and at their first charge, sank back, not being able to brave it in their distressed condition. But as Cromwell himself described it, somehow the impossible was achieved: “With some difficulty we got our hone into a body, and with them faced the enemy and retreated in such order that though the enemy followed hard, yet they were not able to disorder us, but we got them off safe to Lincoln…” The flat battle report concealed a masterly piece of military tactics and a flexibility particularly impressive in view of the inflexible drill of the day. A professional soldier discussing Cromwell’s campaigns has observed that there is no problem more difficult for a cavalry leader than that of attacking an enemy already drawn up for an encounter, unless it be that of withdrawing tired in the face of a fresh and superior foe. At Gainsborough Cromwell succeeded in doing both.34

  Back in Huntingdon after Gainsborough, Cromwell received the news that on 28 July Parliament had made him Governor of the Isle of Ely. He was also named as one of the four Colonels to Manchester, now commander in the eastern counties. But if he looked about him, Cromwell might see how underlying dangerous was the general military situation of the Parliamentary cause, which he was now serving so assiduously and so effectively. The skirmish of Chalgrove Field near Oxford on 18 June had ended badly for Parliament with the victory of Rupert’s speedy cavalry, the death of John Hampden thereafter of wounds received in the field, and the abandonment by Essex of any future plans to besiege Oxford where the King had his headquarters. During the engagement Prince Rupert had sho
wn conspicuous personal courage. Meanwhile, as has been seen, the Earl of Newcastle had moved down from the North to menace the eastern counties: speedily swallowing up Gainsborough, he had annulled that small triumph and now moved on to Lincoln. It was no wonder that Cromwell’s letters became almost frantic in his appeals for troops, money, reinforcements, anything rather than let the noble venture begun by Parliament peter out in a Royalist victory for sheer lack of Parliamentary efficiency. As his mother, the ageing but ever vigilant matriarch Mrs Cromwell, wrote indignantly to a cousin in July on Oliver’s behalf: “I wish there might be care to spare some monies for my son who hath I fear been too long and much neglected.” And this same relative was asked to deliver over Ł50 of her own money which happened to be in his hands.35

  Army pay in theory ranged from 2s. per day for an ordinary trooper of horse, out of which he had to find all his provisions, clothes, equipment and provender for his horse (as opposed to yd. a day for a foot soldier), up to Ł1. 19s. a day for a Captain of a troop. Higher ranking officers were paid according to a system by which they received a total of all the pays due to them in their respective roles – for instance a Colonel who was also a Captain of horse, could total Ł3. 95. per day. The problem was not the actual amounts which were quite generous, but laying hands on them. Money, money, money, the theme is constant in Cromwell’s letters of the late summer and autumn months. Sometimes it is a tart reminder to the Deputy-Lieutenants of Essex that he has paid for the shoes, stockings, shirts and billet-money of the troops of Essex county out of his own pocket, for which he intends to be repaid: “for I think it is not expected that I should pay your soldiers out of my own purse”. Sometimes it is a more generalized – and more passionate – letter to the Commissioners at Cambridge: “The money I brought with me is so poor a pittance when it comes to be distributed amongst all my troops that, considering their necessity, it will not half clothe them, they were so far behind. If we have not more money speedily they will be exceedingly discouraged. I am sorry you put me to it to write thus often. It makes it seem a needless importunity in me; whereas, in truth, it is a constant neglect of those that should provide for us. Gentlemen, make them able to live and subsist that are willing to spend their blood for you.”36

  On 11 September he made a desperate personal appeal on behalf of “his lovely company” as he called them, to his cousin Oliver St John in London, which began: “Of all men I should not trouble you with money matters, did not the heavy necessities my troops are in, press me beyond measure. I am neglected exceedingly!” It was no wonder, said Cromwell, that he wrote to the House of Commons in bitterness, for after all he was asking help not for himself, but for his soldiers; unfortunately he had too little money of his own to supplement their needs, and what he had, had diminished rapidly in the public cause. “My estate is little. I tell you, the business of Ireland and England hath had of me, in money, between eleven and twelve hundred pounds; therefore my private purse can do little to help the public.” He concluded sadly that although they had had his money, he still had his skin which he desired to venture; moreover his soldiers desired to venture theirs. “Lay weight upon their patience; but break it not.” And in case the force of such a letter was not sufficient, Cromwell added a yet more urgent postscript about the general lack of care exhibited in maintaining Manchester’s vital army: “The force will fail if some help not. Weak counsels and weak actings undo all. Send at once or come or all will be lost, if God help not. Remember who tells you.”37

  Under the circumstances then, how touching, how shaming to their elders, were the reactions of some unnamed “bachelors and maids” who with adolescent enthusiasm, offered the money which went partly at least to equip Cromwell’s nth troop. Cromwell thoroughly approved the project, especially if the men chosen were to be honest and godly, and he also thanked God “for stirring up the youth to cast in their mite”. For the use of the money “my advice is that you would employ your twelve-score Pounds to buy pistols and saddles and will provide Four-score Horses; for 400 will not raise a troop of horse”. On the other hand when Cromwell joined up with Fairfax at Boston and found no money from Parliament waiting there for his men, according to one account he broke down and wept out of sheer despair and frustration.38

  In the autumn however the general Parliamentary situation seemed once again more favourable, although Cromwell’s money troubles were not effectively solved until the beginning of the next year. Then, in common with the whole of Manchester’s army, his pay was established on a more regular basis, his men receiving as much – or as little – as was currently available to the rest of the Parliamentary forces. In the west, the Parliamentary fortress of Gloucester was relieved after a long siege; at Newbury on 18 September Essex survived the hard-fought battle to push through to Reading, and thus prevent the King reaching London. With the arrival of the Scots Commissioners in London in answer to an appeal from John Pym, there was hope of Scottish assistance even if the Commissioners brought a rather dour form of olive-branch in their beaks in the shape of their own National Covenant to be signed. Cromwell himself was directed northwards to meet the Parliamentarian commander, Sir Thomas Fairfax.

  It was his first meeting with the man who was later to be his chief. Fairfax was some twelve years younger than Cromwell, scion of an old landed Yorkshire family in which area he had mainly raised his troops. He was an interesting romantic character, black-eyed and with luxuriant dark hair (he too like Strafford was nicknamed Black torn), and rather inclined to ruminative silence in public. He inspired much love and admiration among his contemporaries, including Cromwell, for the unusual combination of the sweetness of his temperament with the steel of his military prowess. In battle, wrote Joshua Sprigge, he was transformed out of his habitual silence into an angel – not the kind of comparison, quite frankly, that one can imagine even the most fervent of Cromwell’s admirers applying to him. Milton wrote that Fairfax like Scipio Africanus, conquered not the enemy alone, but also ambition.39 But this self-disciplined man did bow to at least one outside influence: Fairfax was believed to be much under the influence of his wife and she, born Lady Anne Were, and brought up in the Low Countries, was extremely strict in her religious observances, becoming a Presbyterian about 1647.

  Their first collaboration was auspicious. On 10 October an engagement took place at Winceby, only a few miles away from the coast north-east of Boston. Manchester and Cromwell combined with Fairfax to check the Royalist Governor of Newark, Sir John Henderson, who had intended to relieve Bolingbroke Castle. Despite the superior Royalist numbers and the weary condition of some of the Parliamentary forces, it was too dangerous to allow the spread of Royalist supremacy in this vital area, and in any case Manchester’s troops, if fewer, were better equipped than those of Henderson. The battle was opened by the dragoons, followed by the horse, of which Cromwell himself led the first charge. According to an eye-witness, the shrill singing of the Psalms rose in the air, a metrical chant which was to become a familiar background sound to the battles of the Civil War, sung not only by Roundheads but on occasion also by Cavaliers.40 During the first volley of musketry, Cromwell had his horse killed under him. Scrambling to his feet, he was knocked down once more, whereupon he found another inferior horse in a soldier’s hands and bravely remounted once again. It was left to Fairfax with the second charge to put the enemy finally to flight after only half an hour’s fighting.

  * * *

  Much of Cromwell’s autumn was otherwise spent at Ely with his family. Here Henry Ireton, a bachelor of thirty-two from Nottinghamshire who had been a major in Colonel Thornhaugh’s horse at Gainsborough, now joined Cromwell as Deputy-Governor. Ireton was by nature reserved, religious-minded, stubborn and clever. The Royalists later rudely described his appearance as that of “a tall, black thief with bushy curled hair, a meagre envious face, sunk hollow eyes”.41 But Ireton was above all a man of desperate seriousness, an intellectual who arrived at action only after due employment of thought, and i
n accordance with the conclusions he had reached. In this he was very different from Cromwell, who might think and who might act, but the two processes were not always so closely connected: some spontaneous spark might in the end strike the flame of action. The two men became fast friends, as often happens when there is sufficient identification of aim and difference of character between a couple of allies. The friendship was further sealed by Ireton’s courtship of Cromwell’s eldest daughter, nineteen-year-old Bridget.

  By the end of the year Cromwell was generally speaking back at Westminster; in November he had been placed on a,Committee for Plantations under the Earl of Warwick as chairman, to consider affairs in the rising colonies of the New World. It was a tricky period politically. The price of Scottish aid – a promise of 21,000 men to come down into England – was the signing of their Solemn League and Covenant, which Pym himself had signed at the end of September. Already the difficulties implicit in this document for those of a more tolerant persuasion than strict Presbyterianism, had been shown by the manoeuvres of Sir Henry Vane the younger to alter its English wording. The promised reformation of the Church was now intended to be “according to the word of God”, a much vaguer term than that of the Scots and capable of a different interpretation. It has been suggested that the emergence at Westminster of the Independents as a political group, as distinct from the purely religious Independents, can be dated from this incident.