Woolrych Austin. Britain in Revolution, 1625-1660

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in ﬂight, believing the battle lost. But other Scottish foot regiments held their

ground grimly against charge after charge by both cavalry and infantry. Even-

tually they were relieved by Cromwell’s and Leslie’s cavalry, which had had

the discipline to keep their formations intact in victory and to resist the temp-

tation to ride off the ﬁeld in hot pursuit. Fairfax himself had made his way

round behind the royalist lines to alert them to the disaster on his front,

whereupon they too rode round to the rear of the royalists and charged

Goring’s horsemen from the opposite direction from that in which they had

ﬁrst been engaged. They were completely victorious, and the outnumbered

royalist infantry were now at mercy. Most surrendered, but Newcastle’s own

regiment of Whitecoats fought on for a full hour refusing quarter, and dying

in their ranks until fewer than thirty remained alive. Theirs was one of the

most heroic actions of the whole war.

Most of the victors spent a hungry, thirsty night in the ﬁeld among the

groaning wounded, for their waggons had been comprehensively plundered.

Those who buried the royalist dead numbered them at 4,150, but if one adds

those who died of wounds the total was even higher, and the allies took 1,500

prisoners. They were reported, scarcely credibly, to have lost only 300 killed

on their side.

Marston Moor was by far the bloodiest battle of the Civil

Wars, and in terms of numbers engaged probably the biggest ever fought on

English soil (depending on what credence one gives to chroniclers’ estimates

of the forces engaged at Towton in 1461). Rupert rode out of York the next

morning with only about 6,000 men, after urging Newcastle, whom he left

garrisoning the city, to recruit his army and continue the struggle in the north.

Newcastle, however, declined, on the sorry plea that he could ‘not endure the

laughter of the court’. Leaving Sir Thomas Glemham as governor, he and

Eythin sailed for the continent a few days later. Two weeks after the battle

York surrendered on generous terms, which to the credit of Glemham and the

new governor Lord Fairfax guaranteed that no churches or other buildings

would be defaced. The precious glass of the minster was among the treasures

thus saved.

It has often been said that through the defeat at Marston Moor the whole

of the north of England was lost to the king. Whether the loss need have been

irrevocable may be questionable, but Newcastle’s abandonment of his cause

sealed it. The north would probably have been lost no less if Rupert had not

gone to the relief of York. One can say more conﬁdently that if the allies had

made better use of their victory they could have won the war by the end of the

year. Even without counting the Scottish army, those of Essex and Manches-

ter between them easily outnumbered those of the king and Prince Maurice

288 War in Three Kingdoms 1640–1646

I have slightly modiﬁed the account that I gave of the numbers engaged in the battle in

Battles of the English Civil War, ch. 3, in the light of Peter Newman’s careful study, The Battle

of Marston Moor 1644 (1985).

ch9.y8 27/9/02 10:59 AM Page 288

combined, and the more local royalist forces did not approach the combined

total disposed of by the Fairfaxes, Edward Massey (commander of a brigade

based on Gloucester), Brereton, Meldrum, and Denbigh, not to mention the

4,000 or so that were left of Waller’s troops. The failure to grasp the oppor-

tunity lay partly with the Committee of Both Kingdoms, which itself repre-

sented divided interests, but neither the Scots nor Manchester were exactly

eager for total victory, and Leven in particular had an old professional’s pref-

erence for keeping his army in being, rather than risking the casualties that

aggressive tactics were bound to entail. But the really calamitous decision was

that of Essex to pursue his attempted conquest of the west.

At ﬁrst all went quite well with him. He was ﬂattered by the welcome he

received from the gentry of Devon and Dorset after he relieved Lyme, and

having concerted tactics with Warwick, who carried his ammunition by sea,

he reduced a whole series of towns. He threatened Exeter, where the queen

had given birth on 16 June to Henrietta Anne, better known later as Charles

II’s beloved sister Minette. Her conﬁnement left her in bad health and she

asked Essex for a safe-conduct to Bath, so that she could get good medical

care. He refused, and brutally offered instead to conduct her personally to

London, knowing that parliament had voted her impeachment. She then

made her way to Falmouth and took ship for France, leaving her baby behind.

She and Charles never saw each other again.

The king and his council of war had meanwhile decided on 7 July that he

would go to her rescue with his own army and Hopton’s, with which he

joined up in Bristol about a week later. When, after reaching Exeter, he added

Maurice’s forces to his swelling ranks he had a formidable numerical advan-

tage over Essex, who was unaware how seriously threatened he was until

almost too late. Essex appealed for reinforcement, but all that could be sent

to him were 2,000 horse from Waller’s ruined army, and they were intercept-

ed and routed at Bridgwater. For all his initial welcome in Devon, very few

recruits came in to him. He relieved Plymouth, but that released the besieging

forces under Sir Richard Grenville to join those of the king. After leaving gar-

risons in the more important towns that he had taken he had about 10,000

men to pitch against at least 16,000 of the combined royal forces, which were

now pursuing him purposefully. He made the almost inexplicable decision to

press on westward into Cornwall, whose population was hostile almost to a

man. He prepared to defend himself in Lostwithiel, sending a strong infantry

detachment to secure the little port of Fowey, ﬁve miles to the south. He was

short of provisions and counting on Warwick’s ships to supply him, but they

were constantly hampered by contrary winds. As August wore on he was more

and more effectively cut off and surrounded, until on the 31st he sent out his

cavalry by night. Most of them got through to the safety of Plymouth, but he

strove in vain to extricate his exhausted and demoralized infantry by way of

The Conﬂict Widens 289

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Fowey. Charles himself was directing operations against him, and most effect-

ively. Before the night was out Essex made off in a ﬁshing-boat for Plymouth,

leaving Skippon, his major-general of foot, to treat for the surrender of his

men, almost 6,000 of them. They were allowed to march away with their

colours, but all their arms and powder and no fewer than forty-two guns fell

to the victorious royalists. It was Charles’s most resounding victory, and from

the start of the campaign to the ﬁnish it was essentially his own. Essex tried to

lay the blame for his disaster on his enemies in parliament and on its conse-

quent failure to support him, but he really had only his own obstinacy,

vanity, and misjudgement to thank for it.

As has been said, however, he was by no means solely to blame for the

missed opportunities of 1644. The three generals who had found themselves

victorious at Marston Moor, after ﬂeeing the ﬁeld, shared a wholly mistaken

opinion that Rupert’s defeat would sufﬁce to bring the king to terms, for they

jointly urged parliament to pursue ‘a settled peace’ and rested on their laurels.

Lord Fairfax arguably had enough to do in garrisoning York and reducing

such royalist strongholds as remained in Yorkshire, but Leven’s army relaxed

for ﬁve weeks before resuming the siege of Newcastle. Manchester, after a

brief stay in Doncaster, returned to Lincoln, where he was impervious alike

to the Committee of Both Kingdoms’ orders to go to the rescue of Essex and

to his own ofﬁcers’ pleas to move against Newark. Under their pressure he did

allow them to reduce two or three minor garrisons, but he seemed reluctant

to engage in any further action whatsoever. Lieutenant-Colonel John Lil-

burne, the future Leveller leader who commanded his dragoons, asked his

leave to move against Tickhill Castle, which was waiting only for a pretext to

surrender. ‘Get thee gone!’, he replied angrily, ‘thou art a mad fellow’; and

when Lilburne took Tickhill without a shot ﬁred, Manchester dressed him

down furiously in front of the prisoners he had taken. He did in the end

respond to peremptory orders from the Committee of Both Kingdoms to go to

the aid of Waller, who was retreating through Dorset and Wiltshire before the

king’s much stronger forces, but he moved so dilatorily that his infantry were

still in Reading on 17 October.

Manchester was no coward, and he held no trafﬁc with the royalists until

the later 1650s, but he hoped and believed that ‘this war would not be ended

by the sword’.

His gentle, humane nature was probably shocked by the

slaughter and suffering he had seen, and like most parliamentarian aristocrats

he thought that a lasting peace needed to be achieved by negotiation, on terms

that both sides could honourably accept. That would have been a tenable

point of view if the king had shared it, but he did not. Essex’s surrender had

290 War in Three Kingdoms 1640–1646

C. Holmes, The Eastern Association in the English Civil War (Cambridge, 1974),

pp. 197–8.

ch9.y8 27/9/02 10:59 AM Page 290

revived Charles’s hopes of winning the war outright, though he was not (as

some feared at Westminster) contemplating an advance on London that year.

He spent most of September trying vainly to take Plymouth, then moved

eastward in mid-October with the object of relieving his beleaguered gar-

risons in Basing House, Donnington Castle, and Banbury. This is what

spurred even Manchester into obeying orders, for the royal army was within

ﬁfty miles of London. The Eastern Association army effected a junction with

Waller’s remaining forces, Essex’s now rearmed infantry and a brigade of

London trained bands. Together they numbered about 18,000, very nearly

twice as many as the king had after sending a detachment to raise the siege of

Banbury. The royal army prepared to engage them from a strong position just

north of Newbury, but well chosen though it was the parliamentarians had

the opportunity to inﬂict a crippling blow on it, and in the battle fought on

27 October they bungled it. Divided command was part of the problem, for

Essex was laid up sick in Reading. An over-ambitious plan of battle, involv-

ing a thirteen-mile march by night and a simultaneous attack on the royalists’

front and rear, came unstuck largely because Manchester’s arm of the pincer

moved very late.

The outcome of the ﬁght was still uncertain when darkness

broke it off, but the king’s council of war wisely decided not to renew it in the

morning, and his army made good its retreat to Oxford. As it did so the par-

liamentarians held their own acrimonious council of war. Manchester pre-

dictably opposed any further action, and was persuaded only with difﬁculty

to let Waller, Haselrig, and Cromwell take their cavalry off in pursuit—too

late to do anything effective.

After some ineffective manoeuvres the parliamentarians tried to storm

Donnington Castle, where the king’s train of artillery had found a safe refuge,

but they were repulsed with quite heavy casualties. They laid siege to it, but

the appearance of the king and his army on 9 November forced them to draw

off. The royalists took up battle positions just outside Newbury, challenging

them to ﬁght, but the third battle of Newbury did not take place, because the

parliamentarian council of war declined it. Manchester urged the case against

it. ‘The king cares not how oft he ﬁghts,’ he said, ‘but it concerns us to be

wary, for in ﬁghting we venture all to nothing. If we beat the king ninety-nine

times he would be king still, and his posterity, and we subjects still; but if he

beat us but once we should be hanged, and our posterity be undone.’ ‘My

lord,’ Cromwell replied, ‘if this be so, why did we take up arms at ﬁrst? This

is against ﬁghting ever hereafter. If so, let us make peace, be it never so base.’

The Conﬂict Widens 291

An attempt to shift the blame for the failure of co-ordination from Manchester to Cromwell

is made by Dr T. J. Halsall in Cromwelliana (1996), pp. 37–8. I ﬁnd it unconvincing.

My version of Manchester’s words is a conﬂation of Haselrig’s and Cromwell’s recollec-

tions of his words, which agree closely in substance. Both are printed in Abbott, Writings and

Speeches of Oliver Cromwell, I, 299, 310.

ch9.y8 27/9/02 10:59 AM Page 291

But Manchester as senior ofﬁcer had his way, and the royal army marched off

the ﬁeld in triumph. The relief force that Charles sent to Basing House found

the siege already raised.

When his army went into winter quarters around Oxford it was 15,000

strong and in better fettle for the next year’s campaigns than could ever have

been expected in the early summer. The progress of the war so far is an object-

lesson against the supposition, once common among non-military historians,

that its outcome was inevitable because parliament commanded superior

resources (above all through London’s support) and exploited them more

effectively, or because it had one social class or another mainly on its side.

Parliament’s superiority in resources is unquestionable, but wars are com-

monly won in the ﬁeld, and the English Civil War was no exception. So long

as the royal forces were (on balance) better led; so long as their ofﬁcers could

ﬁre their men to ﬁght as Hopton’s Cornishmen or Newcastle’s Whitecoats or

most of the royalist cavalry troopers fought; above all so long as a greater will

to win prevailed in the king’s council of war than among the politicians who

attempted to direct the allies’ armies and among most of their senior com-

manders, the royalists could overcome their material disadvantages and

spring up again after setbacks—even after such a defeat as Marston Moor. It

is remarkable that they were in as strong a position as they were after two

years of warfare, and it was not a foregone conclusion that their run of for-

tune was bound to come to an end. It depended on whether the parliament

was prepared to shake up its ramshackle armies, concentrate its war effort,

dedicate itself to total victory, and commit its forces in the ﬁeld to comman-

ders single-minded in pursuit of it. All these things would eventually be

achieved, but not without a struggle.

That the royalists had succeeded against the odds so far was largely

because of Charles’s indomitable will, strengthened as it was by a steady faith

that God would not let the cause of his anointed go under. His council of

war was often divided in its advice, but the decision always rested ultimately

with him, and he missed few opportunities and made few mistakes. He now

decided to make Rupert his Captain-General, having the pretext that old

Forth (now Earl of Brentford), who was far past his best, had been wounded

at Newbury. It was a sign that he was looking forward to an aggressive

strategy in 1645, but the appointment was to cause problems. Rupert out-

shone his rivals in military talent, but he was on bad terms with other power-

ful men on the council of war, especially Digby and Culpepper, and he was

not liked by the royalist nobility. They were partly placated when George

Goring, the Earl of Norwich’s son, succeeded Rupert as general of the

horse. Goring was a brave soldier and (when sober) a skilled leader of

cavalry, but he was personally ambitious and not too good at obeying orders.

He immediately began to intrigue for an independent command, and he

292 War in Three Kingdoms 1640–1646

ch9.y8 27/9/02 10:59 AM Page 292

soon wangled one. It was to contribute to the outcome of the decisive

battle of the war in 1645.

Two days after Marston Moor, one of those meetings took place that make

historians dream of a time machine and a chance to eavesdrop. It was at

Richmond in Yorkshire, where Rupert, still in the ﬁrst bitterness of defeat,

was joined by Montrose, a marquis now but still lacking the means to execute

the king’s commission to raise royalist Scotland. There was no news of the

2,000 Ulstermen whom Antrim had undertaken to contribute to the enter-

prise. Montrose asked Rupert for 1,000 horse, but understandably none

could be spared, so he set off for Scotland again with just two trusted com-

panions, they dressed as troopers in Leven’s army and he as their groom. He

did not know that 1,600 exiled Macdonalds and Macleans, raised by Antrim

in Ulster, had just landed at Ardnamurchan, the most westerly point of

Argyllshire. They were commanded by Antrim’s kinsman Alasdair MacCol-

la, whom the Lowlanders were to call Colkitto, though Coll Keitach (‘Coll

who can ﬁght with either hand’) was actually his father’s nickname. For six

days MacColla had to live in hiding, for he soon had a Covenanting force on

his tail and very few clansmen came in to him. But he managed to get a mes-

sage to Montrose, and the two men met in the nick of time at Blair Atholl.

Montrose, whose authority as the king’s lieutenant in Scotland MacColla

gladly accepted, raised the royal standard, and before the government in

Edinburgh knew he was in the country he had the beginnings of an army. But

it numbered at most 2,700, nearly all infantry, when Lord Elcho brought it to

battle on 1 September at Tippermuir near Perth. Elcho had nearly 7,000 foot

and 700 horse, properly armed, whereas Montrose’s third line of infantry had

only stones to ﬁght with and MacColla’s musketeers had only one round

apiece. Yet a wild Highland charge routed Elcho’s none too warlike levies, of

whom hundreds were slain in the ensuing pursuit. Perth surrendered to Mon-

trose without a shot ﬁred. He allowed no violence or pillage, but he took a fair

booty in cannon and hand weapons and cloth, to arm his ragged soldiers and

warm them through the coming winter.

This ﬁrst of his brilliant run of victories struck consternation among the

Covenanters in both Edinburgh and London, and caused troops to be recalled

to Scotland from the forces besieging Newcastle, which did not surrender to

them until 19 October. The drain was to continue as his successes multiplied

during 1645, and the Committee of Estates quite failed to check them by

putting a price of £1,500 on his head. He had not enough troops, however, to

garrison Perth, which Argyll retook on 11 September, and he failed in an

attempt on Dundee. It was a recurrent problem that as soon as his clansmen

got their hands on some booty they made off home with it, so he had con-

stantly to keep recruiting. It was the hope of raising men in Huntly territory

The Conﬂict Widens 293

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that took him next to Aberdeen, but he found Lord Burleigh barring his way

into the city with at least 2,000 foot and 500 horse, and Argyll was on the way

with a larger army. On 13 September Montrose summoned the city magis-

trates to surrender, warning them that if they refused the inhabitants could

expect no quarter. Refuse they did, and a drummer-boy who accompanied his

envoy was treacherously shot dead as the two returned. Furious, Montrose

promised MacColla the sack of the city, and with a mere 1,500 foot and

70 horse they fell on Burleigh’s Covenanters. In a ﬁght lasting several hours

they routed them with heavy slaughter, giving no quarter to men under arms.

The city was then looted for three whole days, during which about 150

unarmed citizens were killed, including old men, women, and children. It was

an atrocity uncharacteristic of Montrose, and one wonders how far it was due

to sudden rage and how far to the problem of holding together such a force

as his, and particularly Macdonald’s Irishmen, when regular pay was so hard

to provide. It spoilt his chances of recruiting in Aberdeenshire, and it gave

fuel to the Covenanting propaganda that depicted him as a cruel marauder,

threatening civilized Scotland with a band of bloodthirsty popish barbarians.

He was on the defensive during October and November, for Colkitto and

many of his men left Montrose temporarily in order to attack the Campbells

and drum up recruits in Macdonald territory. He had only 800 foot and

50 horse when Argyll caught up with him near Fyvie Castle with a force ﬁve

times as large, but he fought his way free. When MacColla rejoined him in

Atholl late in November his army totalled about 3,000, for the fame of his

exploits was making recruitment in the Highlands much easier. But Lieu-

tenant-General William Baillie, a professional who had done distinguished

service under Gustavus Adolphus, had been recalled from Leven’s army to

take command of the Covenanting forces in Scotland. Henceforth Montrose

faced a sterner challenge. He also had to recognize that many of his and Mac-

Colla’s clansmen had enlisted to ﬁght not so much for the king as against the

Campbells, so in December he led them deep into Campbell country, which

they torched and ravaged mercilessly, causing considerable loss of life.

Argyll, who had hastened home to defend Inverary, ﬂed at their approach,

and for the rest of the year they lived high on the fat of their old foes’ land.

Whatever more they might accomplish, they had already depleted the Scot-

tish army in England and lowered the stock of the Covenanters, not least in

English eyes. ‘This is the greatest hurt our poor land got these fourscore year’,

wrote commissioner Robert Baillie from London; ‘it has much diminished

our reputation in England already.’

Thanks to Montrose, it was going to be

harder to force the less popular provisions of the Solemn League and

Covenant down English throats.

294 War in Three Kingdoms 1640–1646

Quoted in D. Stevenson, Revolution and Counter-Revolution in Scotland, 1644–1651

(1977), pp. 24–5.

ch9.y8 27/9/02 10:59 AM Page 294

Back in England one sorry piece of unﬁnished business, closely linked with

the religious settlement, was wound up in the winter of 1644–5. Archbishop

Laud had lain in the Tower for over three years before parliament, at the insist-

ence of the Scots, proceeded with his impeachment in March 1644. His

former victim William Prynne had the managing of the charges against him,

which he did with a bigotry and malevolence that stooped to tampering with

witnesses and ‘editing’ Laud’s diary to make it more damning as evidence.

Even so, as the proceedings dragged on into the autumn, it became doubtful

whether the remnant of the Lords who still attended would convict him of

treason (which of course he had not committed), so the Commons switched

to an ordinance of attainder, as they had with Strafford, though now they did

not have the king’s assent to worry about. They sent it up to the Lords on

22 November, but despite pressure from the London mob the peers held out

against passing it until 4 January. The 71-year-old prelate was beheaded on

Tower Hill, as Strafford had been, and he died as bravely. The Hothams,

father and son, had suffered the same fate there a few days earlier, for trying

to betray Hull. Unlike them, Laud had never broken faith and had long ceased

to pose a threat to the parliament. The malignity with which it pursued

him to death is a stain on its cause.

The Conﬂict Widens 295

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ten

Towards a Resolution

It was clear by the end of the 1644 campaigning season that if the parliament

was to win the war it must concentrate its resources and reorganize its armies.

Yet if the need was obvious, the obstacles to fulﬁlling it were formidable. For

a start there was the problem of military leadership. Essex would take some

shifting; his standing in parliament was not as badly damaged by his recent

defeat as might have been expected, he still had powerful friends and allies,

and he remained popular with all who hoped as he did for a negotiated peace.

Waller had once seemed a plausible alternative commander, for he had

shown an altogether stronger ﬁghting spirit. But Cropredy Bridge and the sec-

ond battle of Newbury had exposed serious limitations in his generalship,

and by his own later admission he had become ‘so perfectly tired with the

drudgery’ of military command that he was ready to lay it down.

As for

Manchester, whose Eastern Association army had once been the white hope

of the war party, he had become so reluctant to engage it in action that

a running quarrel had developed between him and Cromwell, his Lieutenant-

General.

War-weariness in the country at large and divisions at Westminster were

further impediments to the forging of the means of victory. Vane, St John,

Saye, and other surviving stalwarts of Pym’s old middle group were ﬁnding it

hard to hold a solid parliamentarian centre together in support of the war

effort, whilst fending off a defeatist peace party on the one hand and a dis-

ruptively radical tendency on the other. During 1644 parliament increasing-

ly tended to polarize between two parties, which came to be commonly

referred to as the Presbyterians and the Independents. As the nomenclature

implied, religious differences had much to do with this division, but religion

was never the sole reason for it and the labels were partly misleading. The old

middle group and the original war party coalesced in the Independents, who

covered a broad political spectrum and were not homogeneous. The Presby-

terians included the old peace party, though some who were Presbyterian in

religion were strongly committed to the war effort. The political differences

J. Adair, Roundhead General (1969), p. 176, quoting Waller’s Vindication (1793), p. 109.

ch10.y8 27/9/02 11:11 AM Page 296

between the parties at this stage have often been exaggerated, for neither was

contemplating a post-war settlement that would exclude the king; Henry

Marten was almost alone in having voiced such a possibility. Several histor-

ians have followed Gardiner in believing a report that Vane, when he was sent

as an emissary from parliament to Leven, Manchester, and Fairfax during the

siege of York, was briefed by his fellow-Independents to enlist the generals’

support for deposing the king, as an agreed war aim. But the story rests only

on the speculative tattle of foreign diplomats, and is profoundly improbable.

Vane, like Cromwell and Saye and other leading Independents, would still be

seeking for means to reinstate the king on safe and honourable conditions

more than three years later. The parties differed on the terms rather than the

principle of a future settlement, and religion was a major point of difference.

It came to the fore because all through 1644 the Westminster Assembly was

debating the form of government which it would recommend for the Church

of England. The Scottish Commissioners were pressing for the pure Presby-

terian model, with a church session exerting its coercive jurisdiction in every

parish, with parishes grouped in classical presbyteries, provincial synods

elected by and from the presbyteries, a national synod at the summit, and with

lay participation by ruling elders at every tier of the pyramidal structure. Since

episcopalians were unrepresented in the Assembly, most of the English

divines were prepared to endorse such a system in its essentials, but they were

persistently opposed by a small group of Independents who became known as

the Dissenting Brethren. In January 1644 the ﬁve most prominent of them

published An Apologetical Narration, in order to distinguish their position

from those of the Presbyterians on the one hand and of the separatists or sec-

taries on the other. They were all men of learning, trained in the universities

and ordained in the Church of England, who had gone into voluntary exile

during the Laudian regime and ministered to congregations of their fellow-

exiles in Holland. There they had followed ‘the congregational way’, like

their brethren in New England. Unlike the separatists they fully accepted the

authority of the civil power and valued a partnership with it, so long as it did

not oppress the churches over essential matters of faith and conscience.

Doctrine was not a point at issue, for in theology these moderate Independ-

ents professed a common Calvinist orthodoxy with the Presbyterians. What

they rejected was the concept, common to Anglicans and Presbyterians, of a

church co-terminous with the nation, embracing saints and sinners alike; they

could never accept that church membership was conferred merely by being

born and baptized in a parish. A true church for them could consist only of a

congregation of committed believers, men and women who had given mature

Towards a Resolution 297

Compare Gardiner, History of the Great Civil War, I, 430–1 and Wedgwood, King’s War,

p. 349 with Woolrych, Battles of the English Civil War, p. 88, and L. Kaplan, Politics and Reli-

gion during the English Revolution (New York, 1976), pp. 55–6.

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