It remains to consider how far Oliver Cromwell deserved this nemesis which has come upon him. It has been seen that the attitudes which he expressed were conventional to much of contemporary England, for better or for worse. On his return from Ireland to England he was feted as a hero, and throughout his stay there, Whitelocke noted that in his own country his honour had increased with his successes. It was to signify his recall that Marvel! sprang into verse with his great Horation Ode; the Perfect Diurnall took the line that the Irish had been well treated at all points, except the toleration of “their Popish idolatry” which was not to be expected. Mercurius Politicus referred with uncritical adulation to his “famous services in Ireland; which being added to the garland of his English victories, have crowned him in the opinion of all the world, for one of the wisest and most accomplished of leaders, among the present and past generation.”49 A day of public thanksgiving was set aside. The Speaker Lenthall spoke an eloquent Oration, describing “the great Providence of God in those great and strange Works, which God hath wrought by him [Cromwell] as the Instrument”. With peace in Ireland, the way was open for the continued settlement there by the English, that period of Irish history known as the transplantations. It was in this manner that Cromwell came to symbolize a hated policy.
He had not initiated this policy: it had been in full swing since the reign of Elizabeth, and the theory of England’s rights of colonization had existed for centuries before that. Nor for that matter did Cromwell have much to do with the carrying out of it: many of his critics in Ireland might be surprised to learn as they invoked the Curse of Cromwell that he never went back there again after May 1650, and although the transplantations and Adventurers’ settlements were put into effect during the Commonwealth and Protectorate, Cromwell’s personal interventions were always on the side of mercy for individuals. Nevertheless he came to personify a policy which the historian Lecky in the eighteenth century described as “the chief cause of the political and social evils of Ireland”.
Yet there is a grim justice even in the false charge. Cromwell was a soldier of genius; it was as a victorious general that he had incurred the focus of public attention upon himself; the glory that he trailed in the minds of the English was military glory, and it was by military strength that he had been able to bring about those political objectives which seemed to him right. In Ireland, as a conqueror, he had fallen below his own high standards as a soldier, at Drogheda in hot blood, at Wexford in cold. Harshly judged as he has been for these two aberrations, he had always earlier benefited from the power and prestige conferred by victory. Whether he intended to or not, Cromwell lived by the sword. Now his reputation perished by the sword. It was certainly not fair, but at least in some sad sense it was fitting that what should have rightfully been the Curse of England now became the Curse of Cromwell.
14 Scotland: the decision of the cause
Both parties referred the decision of the cause to God, and desired that he would give his judgement therein at the day of battle, as that whereby each side, and all slanders by, might take notice of the mind of God, concerning the righteousness of their cause . . .
LETTER TO CROMWELL AFTER THE DEFEAT OF THE SCOTS BY THE ENGLISH
Oliver Cromwell was now in London for only four weeks before taking the road again for another corner of the British Isles, as a result of what Whitelocke rightly drew attention to in this period- “the contentiousness of men’s natures, and the little quiet to be expected in this world”. The underground Royalist movement in England was still of an extremely fragile nature, although by April 1650 the inaugural meeting of the Western Association (for the restoration of the monarchy) in which such figures as Colonel Francis Wyndham and Sir John Paulet were prominent, had at least been held at Salisbury under the guise of a racemeeting.1 But the movement as a whole lacked leadership, while the traditional figureheads, peers and landowners, devoted their energies to the more personally urgent problems of saving their properties from sequestration. It was the contentious Scots who presented the immediate threat to the peace of the Commonwealth. In fact, it had taken this threat an unconscionable time to materialize, considering that the new King had been proclaimed in Scotland only a few days after his father’s death. The delay was due to the persisting divisions in the structure of the country itself, best summed up by the three possible rallying-cries of the Scottish army: “Presbytery and King”, “Presbytery and no King” and “King and no Presbytery”.
But the subjugation of Ireland by Cromwell had put an end to the hopes of Charles n from that quarter. A purely Royalist expedition to Scotland “King and no Presbytery” – under Montrose, foundered. Gradually the young King realized that it was only from Presbytery that he could expect any practical assistance towards restoration; so he came reluctantly to tolerate not only the sacrifice of Montrose, executed by the Covenanters in May, but also by degrees the Covenant itself. He sailed for Scotland on lojune, and swore an oath to uphold the Covenant aboard ship just before he landed. It was in no sense a conversion, and at least one ardent Presbyterian reflecting wryly afterwards on Scotland’s misfortunes, did not acquit his own party from blame in forcing through such an unwelcome deal. Charles, he wrote, “sinfully complied with what we most sinfully pressed upon him”. The dire consequences of hypocrisy were however not yet apparent. There was universal joy at the King’s arrival: the market-women at the Tron at Garmouth on the Spey went so far as to sacrifice their baskets and stools to the celebratory bonfires. The happy Scots noticed that like his great-grandmother Mary Stuart before him, on her return to Scotland from France, Charles had escaped capture at the hands of the English by a fortunate Scotch mist: it was, they cried, “a like providence”. It was left to a correspondent of Secretary Nicholas, describing it, to add the rueful comment: “I pray God he [Charles] prove more fortunate, and some of those that profess for him more loyal.”2
It was true that Argyll immediately took the opportunity to strip the gay young monarch of his own attendants, and substitute some dourer Presbyterians, whose very names were said to remind Charles of the betrayal and death of his own father. Argyll’s power was at this point immense. He even hoped to crystallize it by wedding his own daughter Lady Anne Campbell to the bachelor King. Charles was interested enough in the proposal to test out the reactions of his mother in Paris at the beginning of the next year: after all, he pointed out, no foreign match was at present possible, Argyll was certainly very influential, and a united Scotland, such as this marriage might produce, would prove an encouragement to England. For once Henrietta Maria’s maternal instinct showed her full of both caution and common sense. It was true that there was “nothing new or extraordinary” in that a person as well-born as Argyll’s daughter should be married to the Crown, she said; but since the settlement of Scotland must ever be seen in the context of the recovery of England, was it not a mistake to exclude England altogether from the question of the King’s marriage? These prudent counsels prevailed and the idea was dropped – and since the young lady concerned showed a somewhat priggish streak in her correspondence (although her handsome appearance impressed a visitor to Scotland, Anne Lady Halkett, as equivalent to anything at the Court of England) perhaps she would not have proved a very suitable bride for Charles II.3
Presbytery was certainly rampant, since the Act of Classes, passed the previous year, had forbidden the employment either in public office or in the Army itself, of anyone other than the most rigorous supporter of the Covenant. Not unnaturally much weeding-out was needed to comply with such a provision, and many good fighting men were to be lost by it. Yet for the time being the Covenanters had their sovereign with them, and under their control. Temporarily it was “Presbytery and King” in Scotland. The one threatened the religious and the other the political settlement of the Commonwealth; it was only a question of time before their Scottish supporters did so by force.
The prospect of a military clash being thus clearly before the Commonwealth, it was les
s clear who should lead an English expedition when it came to be made. The popular but increasingly withdrawn Fairfax was still in theory Commander-in-Chief of the English Army; but the evidence that Cromwell only accepted the Scottish command when he was personally convinced that Fairfax would not take it is backed up by the testimony of Colonel Hutchinson. Cromwell, he said, laboured almost all night (in Hutchinson’s presence) to win over his former chief. The dialogue between them showed the immense differences of character between the two men. Fairfax gave the planned offensive nature of the expedition as an obstacle to its justice. Said Cromwell: “that there will be war between us, I fear is unavoidable. Your Excellency will soon determine whether it be better to have this war in the bowels of another country or of our own, and that it will be in one of them I think without scruple.” Fairfax’s reply was that “human probabilities are not sufficient ground to make war upon a neighbouring nation”.4 And for all Cromwell’s appeals to him to consider at least his faithful soldiers, he upheld his own right to do what his conscience bade him.
So it was Cromwell who was given the command of an army which was envisaged as comprising twenty-five thousand men (although the numbers did not live up to this first expectation). This fresh glorification of his position was heralded by a glowing tribute in the first issue of a new Government mouthpiece Mercurius Politicus. Edited by the volatile Marchament Nedham (formerly a propagandist for the other side) it opened with the sprightly question directed to its own credentials:” Why should not the Commonwealth have a Fool, as well as the King had?” Cromwell’s worth was a more serious matter: “For my part,” wrote the editor, “if we take a view of his actions from first to last, I may (without flattery) proclaim him to be the only Novus Princeps that I ever met with in all the confines of history.” In fact there was some discussion as to the proper title for Cromwell’s new position: in the end although it was formerly ordered that he should call himself “General of the Forces of the Commonwealth of England”, he was allowed to choose his own mode of appellation. In this manner Lord-General became the common mode of address. Another newly instituted Government newsletter, the Nouvelles Ordinaires, printed in England but written in French for dissemination abroad, hailed Cromwell enthusiastically in its first number of 21-8 July as “Generalissime” of all the English forces.*5 ( * The sequence of this newspaper, which lasted in this form until May 1658, provides an interesting sidelight on how the English Government wished itself to be regarded abroad during this period. It appears that it made sufficient impression on the Continent for Cardinal Mazarin to have read it on occasion.6)
If the French did not wish to be impressed by such an obvious instrument of propaganda, then there were still the reports of de Croulle to Mazarin, in which the French envoy referred to the great public feeling of confidence about the whole expedition, and the elaborate preparations being made for it at every hand. The converse to carrying the war into the enemy’s country – thus sparing northern England from another harrowing Scottish invasion – was the perennial problem of supplies. The Navy was expected to play an important part backing up along the coastline (the Scottish navy was by now virtually non-existent, so that little opposition was to be expected). Even so, any commander who neglected to bring with him adequate provisions for his troops would either have to live off the country, which might prove a considerable problem in Scotland, or starve. The report of the Scoutmaster-General William Rowe on stores for Scotland included “very well baked bread”, a substance which did not break and had unusual lasting qualities, “bisquit-ovens” for making the rather similar type of biscuit on which the Army was wont to live together with cheese when in the field, horse-shoes and nails, and beds since to seize them by “press” in Newcastle would it was felt cause too much commotion. Beans and oats were to be shipped, and apples and pears, a welcome respite from the biscuit, to come by sea from Kent.7
Although the lack of tents generally for the use of the English soldiers was to prove one of the striking hardships of the subsequent campaign since most of the men found themselves facing the traditional rigours of a Scottish summer sleeping out of doors, at least provision was made for a tent “for his Excellency’s person use” at a single cost of Ł46, and a hundred other tents were acquired at the humbler cost of Ł1 each. Nor was the spiritual side to the endeavour, prominent as with Ireland although differently orientated, neglected. Thomas Harrison, for example, who in Cromwell’s absence was to have chief military command in England, showed himself zealous in suggesting arrangements by which Cromwell would be able to carry on the godly life even while on the march. “Waiting upon Jehovah” in prayer should surely be the most important task of Cromwell’s day, to which end Oliver should perhaps keep “three or four precious souls” always at his elbow, with whom he might “now and then turn into a corner” to pray. One such precious soul who did accompany Cromwell was John Owen, who in a sermon to the troops, gave a further gloss to the religious nature of the venture by arguing not only that peace could be achieved by war, but also that martial trophies were in themselves capable of bearing spiritual significance: “To see a house, a palace, hung round about with ensigns, spoils and banners, taken from the enemies that have come against it, is a glorious thing – thus is the house of God decked.”8
Cromwell left London once more on 28 June. The eyes of England were upon him. At Oxford the antiquarian Elias Ashmole took care to note the exact time of his departure – five hours and six minutes – in order to chart astrologically the possibilities of the expedition.* ( * But there is no suggestion that Cromwell himself called for the information, any more than that contained in the subsequent horoscope cast by Ashmole for the exact moment of his entry into Scotland on 22 July. As an ardent astrologer, Ashmole naturally bent his attention to personalities and events of national importance. Six weeks later he was to be found enquiring via the configuration of the heavens, whether “the news of the routing of the Scots be true or not”.9) Amongst those who rode with Cromwell for the first stage of his journey was John Lilburne the Leveller, temporarily reconciled to the Lord-General. In the course of an affectionate leave-taking, he continued the good work of Harrison by urging Cromwell to care for the souls as well as bodies in Scotland. Cromwell went by Ware and Cambridge, where he tried to reassure the Vice-Chancellor and Doctors of the university that it was not intended to press them to subscribe to the official religion of the country once the Scottish business was over; but the manoeuvre was cynically described by one present as merely an example of Cromwell’s usual desire “by courteous overtures to cajole and charm all parties when he goes upon a doubtful service”. Turning towards Northampton, it was here that the great crowds inspired in him the bluff aside to Lambert and Ingoldsby: “these very persons would shout as much if you and I were going to be hanged.” It was a prophecy of which Lambert was to remind Ingoldsby ten years later when he did actually enter the town again, this time derided as Ingoldsby’s captive.10 So it was on to Durham, where Cromwell met Colonels Pride and Hacker, and finally Newcastle by 10 July, a pause for breath (and for a fast) and to inspect the sixteen regiments, horse and foot in equal halves, totalling about sixteen thousand men, which it was intended to match against the Scots.
Although the usual loyal protests were heard at this army reunion – for these were hardened and disciplined troops Cromwell was to take with him to Scotland – in which the men vowed to live and die with their General, it was not without some more troublesome incidents. One of these centred on George Monk, whose military performance in Ulster had impressed Cromwell sufficiently to offer him the Colonelcy of the regiment just vacated by John Bright. A Yorkshire Puritan of long-standing, Bright had resigned not out of disapproval of the regime but for the downto-earth reason that he had a chance of buying a sequestered Royalist estate which he coveted.11 The soldiers concerned however were not so disposed to be tolerant of Monk’s change of allegiance as Cromwell himself. They could well remember having defeated him, then fighti
ng for the Royalists, at Nantwich in 1644, and had ended by taking him prisoner. Since the changeover was too much for the men to stomach, it was finally Lambert who received this particular command, in addition to a horse regiment, to contented acclamations of “A Lambert! A Lambert!” A new regiment of men from Newcastle and Berwick was formed for Monk, eventually taking its name from the neighbouring town of Coldstream – so that out of the pride of one regiment came the genesis of another, thereafter glorious in English military history.
It was time to “summon” Scotland. Although in theory a whole country was being addressed rather than a mere fortress, the same convention was observed. The Lord-General clearly hoped even at the last moment to avoid a military confrontation. After Dunbar (when it had finally irremediably taken place) Cromwell acknowledged this former attitude freely: “Since we came in Scotland, it hath been our desire and longing to have avoided blood in this business.”12 The reason was clear, and provided an important clue to his own relations with the Scots: “God hath a people here fearing his name, though deceived.” It was of course an attitude in marked contrast to that which had animated him in Ireland, and there is an equally striking contrast to be seen in the language of his preliminary Declarations to the Scots and his first proclamations in Ireland. There is an almost despairing desire to argue the issues, whether theological or otherwise, rather than fight them, as though Cromwell was pathologically reluctant to accept that two groups of the Elect were really intended to fight each other and that for the second time.