The History of England, from the Accession of James the Second - Volume 1 - Thomas Babington Macaulay (novel books to read TXT) 📗

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.