At the opening of the campaign, the parliament had five armies—that of the Scots, of twenty-one thousand; that of Essex, ten thousand five hundred; that of Waller, five thousand one hundred; that of Manchester, fourteen thousand; and that of Fairfax, five thousand five hundred—in all, about fifty-six thousand men, of whom the committee of the two kingdoms had the entire disposal. In May, Essex and Waller invested Oxford, while Fairfax, Manchester, and the Scots met under the walls of York. Thus these two great royalist cities were attacked at once by all the forces of parliament. Charles, invested by a stronger force, and being deprived of the assistance of the princes, Rupert and Maurice, his nephews, who were absent on their marauding expeditions, escaped from Oxford, and proceeded towards Exeter. In the mean time, he ordered Prince Rupert to advance to the relief of York, which was defended by the marquis of Newcastle. The united royalist army now amounted to twenty-six thousand men, with a numerous and well appointed cavalry; and this great force obliged the armies of the parliament to raise the siege of York. Had Rupert been contented with this success, and intrenched himself in the strongest city of the north of England, he and Newcastle might have maintained their ground; but Rupert, against the advice of Newcastle, resolved on an engagement with the parliamentary generals, who had retreated to Marston Moor, on the banks of the Ouse, five miles from the city.
The next day after the relief of York was fought the famous battle of Marston Moor, (July 2, 1644,) the bloodiest in the war, which resulted in the entire discomfiture of the royalist forces, and the ruin of the royal interests at the north. York was captured in a few days. Rupert retreated to Lancashire to recruit his army, and Newcastle, disgusted with Rupert, and with the turn affairs had taken, withdrew beyond seas. The Scots soon stormed the town of Newcastle, and the whole north of England fell into the hands of the victors.
This great battle was decided by the ability of Cromwell, now lieutenant-general in the army of the parliament. He had distinguished himself in all subordinate stations, in the field of battle, in raising forces, and in councils of war, for which he had been promoted to serve as second under the Earl of Manchester. But his remarkable military genius was not apparent to the parliament until the battle of Marston Moor, and on him the eyes of the nation now began to be centred. Cromwell after the Battle. He was now forty-five years of age, in the vigor of his manhood, burning with religious enthusiasm, and eager to deliver his country from the tyranny of Charles I., and of all kings. He was an Independent and a radical, opposed to the Episcopalians, to the Presbyterians, to the Scots, to all moderate men, to all moderate measures, to all jurisdiction in matters of religion, and to all authority in political affairs, which did not directly emanate from the people, who were called upon to regulate themselves by their individual reason. Enthusiasm of the Independents. He was the idol of the Independent party, which now began to gain the ascendency in that stormy crisis. For three years, the Presbyterians had been in the ascendant, but had not realized the hopes or expectations of the enthusiastic advocates of freedom. By turns imperious and wavering, fanatical and moderate, they sought to curtail and humble the king, not to ruin him; to depress Episcopacy, but to establish another religion by the sword of the magistrate. Their leaders were timid, insincere, and disunited; few among them had definite views respecting the future government of the realm: and they gradually lost the confidence of the nation. But the Independents reposed fearlessly on the greatness and grandeur of their abstract principles, and pronounced, without a scruple, those potent words which kindled a popular enthusiasm—equality of rights, the just distribution of property, and the removal of all abuses. Above all, they were enthusiasts in religion, as well as in liberty, and devoutly attached to the doctrines of Calvin. They abominated all pleasures and pursuits which diverted their minds from the contemplation of God, or the reality of a future state. Cromwell himself lived in the ecstasy of religious excitement. His language was the language of the Bible, and its solemn truths were not dogmas, but convictions to his ardent mind. In the ardor of his zeal and the frenzy of his hopes, he fondly fancied that the people of England were to rise in simultaneous confederation, shake off all the old shackles of priests and kings, and be governed in all their actions, by the principles of the Bible. A sort of Jewish theocracy was to be restored on earth, and he was to be the organ of the divine will, as was Joshua of old, when he led the Israelites against the pagan inhabitants of the promised land. Up to this time, no inconsistencies disgraced him. His prayers and his exhortations were in accordance with his actions, and the most scrutinizing malignity could attribute nothing to him but sincerity and ardor in the cause which he had so warmly espoused. As magistrate, as member of parliament, as farmer, or as general, he slighted no religious duties, and was devoted to the apparent interests of England. Such a man, so fervent, enthusiastic, honest, patriotic, and able, of course was pointed out as a future leader, especially when his great military talents were observed at Marston Moor. From the memorable 2d of July he became the most marked and influential man in England. Hampden had offered up his life as a martyr, and Pym, the great lawyer and statesman, had died from exhaustion. Essex had won no victory commensurate with the public expectations, and Waller lost his army by desertions and indecisive measures. Both Essex and Manchester, with their large estates, their aristocratic connections, and their Presbyterian sympathies, were afraid of treating the king too well. The battle of Newbury, which shortly after was gained by the parliamentarians, was without decisive results, in consequence of the indecision of Manchester. The parliament and the nation looked for another leader, who would pursue his advantages, and adopt more vigorous measures. At this point, the Presbyterians would have made peace with the king, who still continued his insincere negotiations; but it was too late. The Independents had gained the ascendency, and their voice was for war—no more dallying, no more treaties, no more half measures, but uncompromising war. It was plain that either the king or the Independents must be the absolute rulers of England.
Then was passed (April 3, 1645) the famous Self-Denying Ordinance, by which all members of parliament were excluded from command in the army, an act designed to get rid of Essex and Manchester, and prepare the way for the elevation of Cromwell. Sir Thomas Fairfax was appointed to the supreme command, and Cromwell was despatched into the inland counties to raise recruits. But it was soon obvious that the army could do nothing without him, although it was remodelled and reënforced; and even Fairfax and his officers petitioned parliament that Cromwell might be appointed lieutenant-general again, and commander-in-chief of the horse; which request was granted, and Cromwell rejoined the army, of which he was its hope and idol.
He joined it in time to win the most decisive battle of the war, the Battle of Naseby. battle of Naseby, June 14, 1645. The forces of both armies were nearly balanced, and the royalists were commanded by the king in person, assisted by his ablest generals. But the rout of the king's forces was complete, his fortunes were prostrated, and he was driven, with the remnants of his army, from one part of the kingdom to the other, while the victorious parliamentarians were filled with exultation and joy. Cromwell, however, was modest and composed, and ascribed the victory to the God of battles, whose servant, he fancied, he preëminently was.
The parliamentary army continued Success of the Parliamentary Army. its successes. Montrose gained the battle of Alford; Bridgewater surrendered to Fairfax; Glasgow and Edinburgh surrendered to Montrose; Prince Rupert was driven from Bristol, and, as the king thought, most disgracefully, which misfortune gave new joy to the parliament, and caused new thanksgivings from Cromwell, who gained the victory. From Bristol, the army turned southward, and encountered what royalist force there was in that quarter, stormed Bridgewater, drove the royalist generals into Cornwall, took Winchester, battered down Basing House, rich in provisions, ammunition, and silver plate, and completely prostrated all the hopes of the king in the south of England. Charles fled from Oxford, secretly, to join the Scottish army.
By the 24th of June, 1646, all the garrisons of England and Wales, except those in the north, were in the hands of the parliament. In July, the parliament sent their final propositions to the king at Newcastle, which were extremely humiliating, and which he rejected. Negotiations were then entered into between the parliament and the Scots, which were long protracted, but which finally ended in an agreement, by the Scots, to surrender the king to the parliament, for the payment of their dues. They accordingly marched home with an instalment of two hundred thousand pounds, and the king was given up, not to the Independents, but to the Commissioners of parliament, in which body the Presbyterian interest predominated.
At this juncture, (January, 1647,) Cromwell, rather than the king, was in danger of losing his head. The Presbyterians, who did not wish to abolish royalty, but establish uniformity with their mode of worship, began to be extremely jealous of the Independents, who were bent on more complete toleration of opinions, and who aimed at a total overthrow of many of the old institutions of the country. So soon as the king was humbled, and in their hands, it was proposed to disband the army which had gloriously finished the war, and which was chiefly composed of the Independents, and to create a new one on a Presbyterian model. The excuse was, that the contest was ended, while, indeed, the royalists were rather dispersed and humbled, than subdued. It was voted that, in the reduced army, no one should have, except Fairfax, a higher rank than colonel, a measure aimed directly at Cromwell, now both feared and distrusted by the Presbyterians. But the army refused to be disbanded without payment of its arrears, and, moreover, marched upon London, in spite of the vote of the parliament that it should not come within twenty-five miles. Several irritating resolutions were passed by the parliament, which only had the effect of uniting the army more strongly together, in resistance against parliament, as well as against the king. The Lords and Commons then voted that the king should be brought nearer London, and new negotiations opened with him, which were prevented from being carried into effect by the seizure of the king at Holmby House, by Cornet Joyce, with a strong party of horse belonging to Whalley's regiment, probably at the instigation of Cromwell and Ireton. His majesty was now in the hands of the army, his worst enemy, and, though treated with respect and deference, was really guarded closely, and watched by the Independent generals. The same day, Cromwell left London in haste, and joined the army, knowing full well that he was in imminent danger of arrest. He was cordially received, and forthwith the army resolved not to disband until all the national grievances were redressed, thus setting itself up virtually against all the constituted authorities. Fairfax, Cromwell, Ireton, and Hammond, with other high officers, then waited on the king, and protested that they had nothing to do with the seizure of his person, and even invited him to return to Holmby House. But the king never liked the Presbyterians, and was willing to remain with the army instead, especially since he was permitted to have Episcopal chaplains, and to see whomsoever he pleased.
The generals of the army were not content with the Seizure of the King. seizure of his majesty's person, but now caused eleven of the most obnoxious of the Presbyterian leaders of parliament to be accused, upon which they hid themselves, while the army advanced towards London. The parliament, at first, made a show of resistance, but soon abandoned its course, and now voted that the army should be treated with more respect and care. It was evident now to all persons where the seat of power rested.
In the mean time, the king was removed from Newmarket to Kingston, from Hatfield to Woburn Abbey, and thence to Windsor Castle, which was the scene of new intrigues and negotiations on his part, and on the part of parliament, and even on the part of Cromwell. This was the last chance the king had. Had he cordially sided now with either the Presbyterians or the Independents, his subsequent misfortunes might have been averted. But he hated both parties, and trifled with both, and hoped to conquer both. He was unable to see the crisis of his affairs, or to adapt himself to it. He was incapable of fair dealing with any party. His duplicity and dissimulation were fully made known to Cromwell and Ireton by a letter of the king to his wife, which they intercepted; and they made up their minds to more decided courses. The king was more closely guarded; the army marched to the immediate vicinity of London; a committee of safety was named, and parliament was intimidated into the passing of a resolution, by which the city of London and the Tower were intrusted to Fairfax and Cromwell. The Presbyterian party was forever depressed, its leading members fled to France, and the army had every thing after its own way. Parliament still was ostensibly the supreme power in the land; but it was entirely controlled by the Independent leaders and generals.