The History of England, from the Accession of James the Second - Volume 1 by Thomas Babington Macaulay (diy ebook reader .txt) π
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exile, and some years in
climates unfavourable to the health and vigour of the European
race. The army of the Long Parliament was raised for home
service. The pay of the private soldier was much above the wages
earned by the great body of the people; and, if he distinguished
himself by intelligence and courage, he might hope to attain high
commands. The ranks were accordingly composed of persons superior
in station and education to the multitude. These persons, sober,
moral, diligent, and accustomed to reflect, had been induced to
take up arms, not by the pressure of want, not by the love of
novelty and license, not by the arts of recruiting officers, but
by religious and political zeal, mingled with the desire of
distinction and promotion. The boast of the soldiers, as we find
it recorded in their solemn resolutions, was that they had not
been forced into the service, nor had enlisted chiefly for the
sake of lucre. That they were no janissaries, but freeborn
Englishmen, who had, of their own accord, put their lives in
jeopardy for the liberties and religion of England, and whose
right and duty it was to watch over the welfare of the nation
which they had saved.
A force thus composed might, without injury to its efficiency, be
indulged in some liberties which, if allowed to any other troops,
would have proved subversive of all discipline. In general,
soldiers who should form themselves into political clubs, elect
delegates, and pass resolutions on high questions of state, would
soon break loose from all control, would cease to form an army,
and would become the worst and most dangerous of mobs. Nor would
it be safe, in our time, to tolerate in any regiment religious
meetings, at which a corporal versed in Scripture should lead the
devotions of his less gifted colonel, and admonish a backsliding
major. But such was the intelligence, the gravity, and the
selfcommand of the warriors whom Cromwell had trained, that in
their camp a political organisation and a religious organisation
could exist without destroying military organisation. The same
men, who, off duty, were noted as demagogues and field preachers,
were distinguished by steadiness, by the spirit of order, and by
prompt obedience on watch, on drill, and on the field of battle.
In war this strange force was irresistible. The stubborn courage
characteristic of the English people was, by the system of
Cromwell, at once regulated and stimulated. Other leaders have
maintained orders as strict. Other leaders have inspired their
followers with zeal as ardent. But in his camp alone the most
rigid discipline was found in company with the fiercest
enthusiasm. His troops moved to victory with the precision of
machines, while burning with the wildest fanaticism of Crusaders.
From the time when the army was remodelled to the time when it
was disbanded, it never found, either in the British islands or
on the Continent, an enemy who could stand its onset. In England,
Scotland, Ireland, Flanders, the Puritan warriors, often
surrounded by difficulties, sometimes contending against
threefold odds, not only never failed to conquer, but never
failed to destroy and break in pieces whatever force was opposed
to them. They at length came to regard the day of battle as a day
of certain triumph, and marched against the most renowned
battalions of Europe with disdainful confidence. Turenne was
startled by the shout of stern exultation with which his English
allies advanced to the combat, and expressed the delight of a
true soldier, when he learned that it was ever the fashion of
Cromwell's pikemen to rejoice greatly when they beheld the enemy;
and the banished Cavaliers felt an emotion of national pride,
when they saw a brigade of their countrymen, outnumbered by foes
and abandoned by friends, drive before it in headlong rout the
finest infantry of Spain, and force a passage into a counterscarp
which had just been pronounced impregnable by the ablest of the
Marshals of France.
But that which chiefly distinguished the army of Cromwell from
other armies was the austere morality and the fear of God which
pervaded all ranks. It is acknowledged by the most zealous
Royalists that, in that singular camp, no oath was heard, no
drunkenness or gambling was seen, and that, during the long
dominion of the soldiery, the property of the peaceable citizen
and the honour of woman were held sacred. If outrages were
committed, they were outrages of a very different kind from those
of which a victorious army is generally guilty. No servant girl
complained of the rough gallantry of the redcoats. Not an ounce
of plate was taken from the shops of the goldsmiths. But a
Pelagian sermon, or a window on which the Virgin and Child were
painted, produced in the Puritan ranks an excitement which it
required the utmost exertions of the officers to quell. One of
Cromwell's chief difficulties was to restrain his musketeers and
dragoons from invading by main force the pulpits of ministers
whose discourses, to use the language of that time, were not
savoury; and too many of our cathedrals still bear the marks of
the hatred with which those stern spirits regarded every vestige
of Popery.
To keep down the English people was no light task even for that
army. No sooner was the first pressure of military tyranny felt,
than the nation, unbroken to such servitude, began to struggle
fiercely. Insurrections broke out even in those counties which,
during the recent war, had been the most submissive to the
Parliament. Indeed, the Parliament itself abhorred its old
defenders more than its old enemies, and was desirous to come to
terms of accommodation with Charles at the expense of the troops.
In Scotland at the same time, a coalition was formed between the
Royalists and a large body of Presbyterians who regarded the
doctrines of the Independents with detestation. At length the
storm burst. There were risings in Norfolk, Suffolk, Essex, Kent,
Wales. The fleet in the Thames suddenly hoisted the royal
colours, stood out to sea, and menaced the southern coast. A
great Scottish force crossed the frontier and advanced into
Lancashire. It might well be suspected that these movements were
contemplated with secret complacency by a majority both of the
Lords and of the Commons.
But the yoke of the army was not to be so shaken off. While
Fairfax suppressed the risings in the neighbourhood of the
capital, Oliver routed the Welsh insurgents, and, leaving their
castles in ruins, marched against the Scots. His troops were few,
when compared with the invaders; but he was little in the habit
of counting his enemies. The Scottish army was utterly destroyed.
A change in the Scottish government followed. An administration,
hostile to the King, was formed at Edinburgh; and Cromwell, more
than ever the darling of his soldiers, returned in triumph to
London.
And now a design, to which, at the commencement of the civil war,
no man would have dared to allude, and which was not less
inconsistent with the Solemn League and Covenant than with the
old law of England, began to take a distinct form. The austere
warriors who ruled the nation had, during some months, meditated
a fearful vengeance on the captive King. When and how the scheme
originated; whether it spread from the general to the ranks, or
from the ranks to the general; whether it is to be ascribed to
policy using fanaticism as a tool, or to fanaticism bearing down
policy with headlong impulse, are questions which, even at this
day, cannot be answered with perfect confidence. It seems,
however, on the whole, probable that he who seemed to lead was
really forced to follow, and that, on this occasion, as on
another great occasion a few years later, he sacrificed his own
judgment and his own inclinations to the wishes of the army. For
the power which he had called into existence was a power which
even he could not always control; and, that he might ordinarily
command, it was necessary that he should sometimes obey. He
publicly protested that he was no mover in the matter, that the
first steps had been taken without his privity, that he could not
advise the Parliament to strike the blow, but that he submitted
his own feelings to the force of circumstances which seemed to
him to indicate the purposes of Providence. It has been the
fashion to consider these professions as instances of the
hypocrisy which is vulgarly imputed to him. But even those who
pronounce him a hypocrite will scarcely venture to call him a
fool. They are therefore bound to show that he had some purpose
to serve by secretly stimulating the army to take that course
which he did not venture openly to recommend. It would be absurd
to suppose that he who was never by his respectable enemies
represented as wantonly cruel or implacably vindictive, would
have taken the most important step of his life under the
influence of mere malevolence. He was far too wise a man not to
know, when he consented to shed that august blood, that he was
doing a deed which was inexpiable, and which would move the grief
and horror, not only of the Royalists, but of nine tenths of
those who had stood by the Parliament. Whatever visions may have
deluded others, he was assuredly dreaming neither of a republic
on the antique pattern, nor of the millennial reign of the
Saints. If he already aspired to be himself the founder of a new
dynasty, it was plain that Charles the First was a less
formidable competitor than Charles the Second would be. At the
moment of the death of Charles the First the loyalty of every
Cavalier would be transferred, unimpaired, to Charles the Second.
Charles the First was a captive: Charles the Second would be at
liberty. Charles the First was an object of suspicion and dislike
to a large proportion of those who yet shuddered at the thought
of slaying him: Charles the Second would excite all the interest
which belongs to distressed youth and innocence. It is impossible
to believe that considerations so obvious, and so important,
escaped the most profound politician of that age. The truth is
that Cromwell had, at one time, meant to mediate between the
throne and the Parliament, and to reorganise the distracted State
by the power of the sword, under the sanction of the royal name.
In this design he persisted till he was compelled to abandon it
by the refractory temper of the soldiers, and by the incurable
duplicity of the King. A party in the camp began to clamour for
the head of the traitor, who was for treating with Agag.
Conspiracies were formed. Threats of impeachment were loudly
uttered. A mutiny broke out, which all the vigour and resolution
of Oliver could hardly quell.
climates unfavourable to the health and vigour of the European
race. The army of the Long Parliament was raised for home
service. The pay of the private soldier was much above the wages
earned by the great body of the people; and, if he distinguished
himself by intelligence and courage, he might hope to attain high
commands. The ranks were accordingly composed of persons superior
in station and education to the multitude. These persons, sober,
moral, diligent, and accustomed to reflect, had been induced to
take up arms, not by the pressure of want, not by the love of
novelty and license, not by the arts of recruiting officers, but
by religious and political zeal, mingled with the desire of
distinction and promotion. The boast of the soldiers, as we find
it recorded in their solemn resolutions, was that they had not
been forced into the service, nor had enlisted chiefly for the
sake of lucre. That they were no janissaries, but freeborn
Englishmen, who had, of their own accord, put their lives in
jeopardy for the liberties and religion of England, and whose
right and duty it was to watch over the welfare of the nation
which they had saved.
A force thus composed might, without injury to its efficiency, be
indulged in some liberties which, if allowed to any other troops,
would have proved subversive of all discipline. In general,
soldiers who should form themselves into political clubs, elect
delegates, and pass resolutions on high questions of state, would
soon break loose from all control, would cease to form an army,
and would become the worst and most dangerous of mobs. Nor would
it be safe, in our time, to tolerate in any regiment religious
meetings, at which a corporal versed in Scripture should lead the
devotions of his less gifted colonel, and admonish a backsliding
major. But such was the intelligence, the gravity, and the
selfcommand of the warriors whom Cromwell had trained, that in
their camp a political organisation and a religious organisation
could exist without destroying military organisation. The same
men, who, off duty, were noted as demagogues and field preachers,
were distinguished by steadiness, by the spirit of order, and by
prompt obedience on watch, on drill, and on the field of battle.
In war this strange force was irresistible. The stubborn courage
characteristic of the English people was, by the system of
Cromwell, at once regulated and stimulated. Other leaders have
maintained orders as strict. Other leaders have inspired their
followers with zeal as ardent. But in his camp alone the most
rigid discipline was found in company with the fiercest
enthusiasm. His troops moved to victory with the precision of
machines, while burning with the wildest fanaticism of Crusaders.
From the time when the army was remodelled to the time when it
was disbanded, it never found, either in the British islands or
on the Continent, an enemy who could stand its onset. In England,
Scotland, Ireland, Flanders, the Puritan warriors, often
surrounded by difficulties, sometimes contending against
threefold odds, not only never failed to conquer, but never
failed to destroy and break in pieces whatever force was opposed
to them. They at length came to regard the day of battle as a day
of certain triumph, and marched against the most renowned
battalions of Europe with disdainful confidence. Turenne was
startled by the shout of stern exultation with which his English
allies advanced to the combat, and expressed the delight of a
true soldier, when he learned that it was ever the fashion of
Cromwell's pikemen to rejoice greatly when they beheld the enemy;
and the banished Cavaliers felt an emotion of national pride,
when they saw a brigade of their countrymen, outnumbered by foes
and abandoned by friends, drive before it in headlong rout the
finest infantry of Spain, and force a passage into a counterscarp
which had just been pronounced impregnable by the ablest of the
Marshals of France.
But that which chiefly distinguished the army of Cromwell from
other armies was the austere morality and the fear of God which
pervaded all ranks. It is acknowledged by the most zealous
Royalists that, in that singular camp, no oath was heard, no
drunkenness or gambling was seen, and that, during the long
dominion of the soldiery, the property of the peaceable citizen
and the honour of woman were held sacred. If outrages were
committed, they were outrages of a very different kind from those
of which a victorious army is generally guilty. No servant girl
complained of the rough gallantry of the redcoats. Not an ounce
of plate was taken from the shops of the goldsmiths. But a
Pelagian sermon, or a window on which the Virgin and Child were
painted, produced in the Puritan ranks an excitement which it
required the utmost exertions of the officers to quell. One of
Cromwell's chief difficulties was to restrain his musketeers and
dragoons from invading by main force the pulpits of ministers
whose discourses, to use the language of that time, were not
savoury; and too many of our cathedrals still bear the marks of
the hatred with which those stern spirits regarded every vestige
of Popery.
To keep down the English people was no light task even for that
army. No sooner was the first pressure of military tyranny felt,
than the nation, unbroken to such servitude, began to struggle
fiercely. Insurrections broke out even in those counties which,
during the recent war, had been the most submissive to the
Parliament. Indeed, the Parliament itself abhorred its old
defenders more than its old enemies, and was desirous to come to
terms of accommodation with Charles at the expense of the troops.
In Scotland at the same time, a coalition was formed between the
Royalists and a large body of Presbyterians who regarded the
doctrines of the Independents with detestation. At length the
storm burst. There were risings in Norfolk, Suffolk, Essex, Kent,
Wales. The fleet in the Thames suddenly hoisted the royal
colours, stood out to sea, and menaced the southern coast. A
great Scottish force crossed the frontier and advanced into
Lancashire. It might well be suspected that these movements were
contemplated with secret complacency by a majority both of the
Lords and of the Commons.
But the yoke of the army was not to be so shaken off. While
Fairfax suppressed the risings in the neighbourhood of the
capital, Oliver routed the Welsh insurgents, and, leaving their
castles in ruins, marched against the Scots. His troops were few,
when compared with the invaders; but he was little in the habit
of counting his enemies. The Scottish army was utterly destroyed.
A change in the Scottish government followed. An administration,
hostile to the King, was formed at Edinburgh; and Cromwell, more
than ever the darling of his soldiers, returned in triumph to
London.
And now a design, to which, at the commencement of the civil war,
no man would have dared to allude, and which was not less
inconsistent with the Solemn League and Covenant than with the
old law of England, began to take a distinct form. The austere
warriors who ruled the nation had, during some months, meditated
a fearful vengeance on the captive King. When and how the scheme
originated; whether it spread from the general to the ranks, or
from the ranks to the general; whether it is to be ascribed to
policy using fanaticism as a tool, or to fanaticism bearing down
policy with headlong impulse, are questions which, even at this
day, cannot be answered with perfect confidence. It seems,
however, on the whole, probable that he who seemed to lead was
really forced to follow, and that, on this occasion, as on
another great occasion a few years later, he sacrificed his own
judgment and his own inclinations to the wishes of the army. For
the power which he had called into existence was a power which
even he could not always control; and, that he might ordinarily
command, it was necessary that he should sometimes obey. He
publicly protested that he was no mover in the matter, that the
first steps had been taken without his privity, that he could not
advise the Parliament to strike the blow, but that he submitted
his own feelings to the force of circumstances which seemed to
him to indicate the purposes of Providence. It has been the
fashion to consider these professions as instances of the
hypocrisy which is vulgarly imputed to him. But even those who
pronounce him a hypocrite will scarcely venture to call him a
fool. They are therefore bound to show that he had some purpose
to serve by secretly stimulating the army to take that course
which he did not venture openly to recommend. It would be absurd
to suppose that he who was never by his respectable enemies
represented as wantonly cruel or implacably vindictive, would
have taken the most important step of his life under the
influence of mere malevolence. He was far too wise a man not to
know, when he consented to shed that august blood, that he was
doing a deed which was inexpiable, and which would move the grief
and horror, not only of the Royalists, but of nine tenths of
those who had stood by the Parliament. Whatever visions may have
deluded others, he was assuredly dreaming neither of a republic
on the antique pattern, nor of the millennial reign of the
Saints. If he already aspired to be himself the founder of a new
dynasty, it was plain that Charles the First was a less
formidable competitor than Charles the Second would be. At the
moment of the death of Charles the First the loyalty of every
Cavalier would be transferred, unimpaired, to Charles the Second.
Charles the First was a captive: Charles the Second would be at
liberty. Charles the First was an object of suspicion and dislike
to a large proportion of those who yet shuddered at the thought
of slaying him: Charles the Second would excite all the interest
which belongs to distressed youth and innocence. It is impossible
to believe that considerations so obvious, and so important,
escaped the most profound politician of that age. The truth is
that Cromwell had, at one time, meant to mediate between the
throne and the Parliament, and to reorganise the distracted State
by the power of the sword, under the sanction of the royal name.
In this design he persisted till he was compelled to abandon it
by the refractory temper of the soldiers, and by the incurable
duplicity of the King. A party in the camp began to clamour for
the head of the traitor, who was for treating with Agag.
Conspiracies were formed. Threats of impeachment were loudly
uttered. A mutiny broke out, which all the vigour and resolution
of Oliver could hardly quell.
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