After the capitulation at Warrington, Cromwell turned northwards again as soon as his soldiers could march. Monro and his six thousand men were still undisposed of, and he feared an attack from them upon the forces left at Preston. Colonel Ashton, who commanded at Preston, had under his charge prisoners more in number than his troops, and like Henry V. at Agincourt Cromwell had ordered Ashton to put the prisoners to the sword if he were attacked. But nothing was farther from Monro’s mind than an advance. On the news of the defeat at Preston, he retreated at once, marched through Durham, and re-entered Scotland. Garrisons were left in Berwick and Carlisle, which Cromwell summoned as soon as he came up, and when they refused to surrender he made a formal application to the Scottish Committee of Estates for their restoration. To give force to his demand he marched his army across the Tweed, protesting at the same time that he had no quarrel with the Scottish nation. If he entered Scotland it was simply to overthrow the faction which had instigated the late invasion.

“We are so far from seeking the harm of the well affected people of Scotland, that we profess as before the Lord, that we shall use our endeavours to the utmost that the trouble may fall upon the contrivers and authors of this breach, and not upon the poor innocent people, who have been led and compelled into this action, as many poor souls now prisoners to us confess.”

A revolution in Scotland facilitated Cromwell’s policy. The rigid Presbyterians of the west country, who abhorred any union with Episcopalians and Malignants, and cared more for the Kirk than the Crown, had risen in arms and seized Edinburgh. Argyle and his Highlanders backed them, and on September 26th the Hamiltonian faction, who formed the Committee of Estates, agreed to send Monro’s force back to Ireland, to disband their men, and to give up power to their rivals. Argyle’s party was only too glad to come to terms with Cromwell, and to procure the support of his army against their opponents, till they could organise a substantial force of their own. Orders were sent for the immediate surrender of Carlisle and Berwick, and Cromwell came to Edinburgh to treat with Argyle. “Give assurance,” demanded Cromwell, “that you will not admit or suffer any that have been active in or consenting to the engagement against England, to be employed in any public place or trust whatsoever. This is the least security I can demand.” There was nothing the rival faction would more willingly do, and by an Act of the Scottish Parliament “the Engagers,” as Hamilton’s partisans were called, were permanently excluded from political power.

Cromwell left three regiments in Scotland for a few weeks to secure the new government, and returned with the bulk of his army to England. Scarborough and Pontefract still remained to be captured, but the Second Civil War was over. Some of Cromwell’s friends amongst the Independent leaders blamed his agreement with Argyle, and saw no security for England in the predominance of a bigoted Presbyterian faction at Edinburgh. They thought that Cromwell should either have exacted more substantial guarantees for future peace, or divided power between the two parties, so that they would balance each other, and be incapable of injuring England. Cromwell answered that the one hope of future peace between the two nations lay in creating a good understanding between English Independents and Scotch Presbyterians, and that he had taken the only course which could produce it.

“I desire from my heart—I have prayed for—I have waited for the day to see—union and right understanding between the godly people—Scots, English, Jews, Gentiles, Presbyterians, Anabaptists, and all. Our brothers of Scotland—sincerely Presbyterians—were our greatest enemies. God hath justified us in their sight—caused us to requite good for evil—caused them to acknowledge it publicly by acts of State and privately, and the thing is true in the sight of the Sun.... Was it not fit to be civil, to profess love, to deal with clearness with them for the removing of prejudices; to ask them what they had against us, and to give them an honest answer? This we have done and no more: and herein is a more glorious work in our eyes than if we had gotten the sacking and plunder of Edinburgh, the strong castle, into our hands, and made a conquest from the Tweed to the Orcades; and we can say, through God, we have left such a witness amongst them, as, if it work not yet, by reason the poor souls are so wedded to their Church government, yet there is that conviction upon them that will undoubtedly have its fruit in due time.”

He came back to England with the confident hope that peace with Scotland was henceforth secure.

CHAPTER XI
CROMWELL AND THE KING’S EXECUTION
1648–1649

While Fairfax and Cromwell were fighting the armies raised in the King’s name, the Parliament was once more negotiating with Charles I. In spite of the vote for no addresses, passed on January 17, 1648, April was not over before both Houses were discussing the reopening of negotiations. Petition after petition came from the City demanding a personal treaty with the King, and the House of Lords echoed the demand. The Lords were so zealous for a peace that when Hamilton and the Scots invaded England they refused to join the Lower House in declaring them enemies. The Commons, more cautious, insisted that the King should accept certain preliminaries before any treaty began, and refused to allow him to come to London to treat. At last the two Houses arrived at a compromise, and on August 1st it was agreed that there should be a personal treaty with Charles in the Isle of Wight. The Commissioners of Parliament met the King at Newport on September 18th, a couple of days before Cromwell entered Scotland. Charles consented to annul his former declarations against the Parliament, and to admit that they had undertaken the war “in their just and lawful defence.” He promised the establishment of the Presbyterian system for three years, and a limited Episcopacy afterwards. He even offered the control of the militia for twenty years and the settlement of Ireland in such fashion as Parliament should think best. The question whether these concessions were a sufficient basis for lasting peace is one on which modern historians have differed as much as contemporary politicians did. It is certain that the King was not sincere in making them. “To deal freely with you,” wrote Charles to one of his friends, “the great concession I made this day—the Church, militia, and Ireland—was made merely in order to my escape.... My only hope is, that now they believe I dare deny them nothing, and so be less careful of their guards.” The Presbyterian leaders argued and haggled in the hope of obtaining the permanent establishment of Presbyterianism, but the question whether any treaty would bind the King they neglected to take into account.