A letter from Cromwell of 2 September, to his friend Lord Wharton, reveals his immense disquiet at these developments. The manifest excuse for the letter was the pleasant private task of congratulating Wharton on the birth of an heir, but he could not resist a bitter comment on the deliberate ingratitude of the Commons:27 “You know how untoward I am at this business of writing, yet a word. I beseech the Lord make us sensible of this great mercy here, which surely was much more than,... the House expresseth.” If only he could discuss it face to face with Wharton, but meanwhile Cromwell could at least solace himself with an outburst on paper: “Oh, His mercy to the whole society of saints, despised, jeered saints! Let them mock on. Would we were all saints. The best of us are (God knows) poor weak saints, yet saints; if not sheep lambs, and must be fed. We have daily bread, and shall have it, in despite of all enemies.” It was a reflection of Cromwell’s current disgust with the ways of the world that he begged his friend to regard his newborn son as simply another “mercy” and “not make you plot or shift for the young Baron to make him great. You will say, he is God’s to dispose of, and guide for; and there you will leave him.”* ( * Cromwell’s pious hopes for the baby’s future were not fulfilled. The boy, later ist Marquess of Wharton, became a notorious profligate, and was described by Swift as * wholly occupied by “vice and politics”. Perhaps he was even reacting against his early upbringing, for Swift also termed him that worst of all things “an atheist grafted on a dissenter”.)
* * *
By 12 September Cromwell was at Alnwick, and on the verge of crossing into Scotland, having paused for a Day of Thanksgiving at Durham. He also informed the Derby House Committee of his plans. On the same day he issued an order that any straggling Scots from the late defeat should be taken prisoner, so long as innocent Scots were not molested. He was now instructed to recover those two border fortresses of Berwick and Carlisle, which had been reft from Parliament’s hands at the start of the Second Civil War. From Alnwick Cromwell summoned Ludovick Leslie, the Governor of Berwick, in strong terms: there was now, since Preston, no need for further argument concerning the Tightness of Parliament’s cause against that of the Scots since “the witness that God hath borne against your army in their invasion of this kingdom which desired to sit in peace by you, doth at once manifest His dislike of an injury done to a nation that meant you no harm. ... If you deny me in this, we must make a second appeal to God, putting ourselves upon Him, in endeavouring to obtain our rights, and let Him be the judge between us .. ,”28
But as it happened the mood of the prevailing powers in Scotland was far from favourable towards a second “appeal to God”. The defeat of Hamilton at Preston had seen a parallel defeat of the moderates in Scotland, those in short who had favoured the first “appeal”. Those nobles and ministers who had frowned on the Engagers and by their lack of support helped to condemn Hamilton’s expedition, were now naturally in a much improved position. Chief amongst these and emerging as a formidable man indeed was Archibald Campbell, the ist Marquess of Argyll. Tall and wiry, with a lifting eyebrow and sly lips, there was much of the fox about him beyond his over-long inquisitive nose and his red hair. He also had a squint – “gley’d Argyll” the Scots called him – but, says Clarendon, “though by the ill-placing of his eyes, he did not appear with any great advantage at first sight, yet he reconciled even those who had aversion to him very strangely by a little conversation”.29
One is obliged to deduce that Argyll had charm. As far back as 1637 Argyll had been described as by far the most powerful subject in the kingdom. It was a tribute not only to his perspicuity but also to his vast domains stretching about the west of Scotland, his position as head of a mighty clan whose members had been known to shout in battle that they were not King Stewart’s, but King Campbell’s men. That Argyll was of an ardently religious nature cannot be doubted. That he was also witty and good company Clarendon’s testimony supports. That he was at the same time extremely devious would seem obvious in view of his many shifts of allegiance and position. As a newsletter of the time wrote referring picturesquely to the manner in which he constantly juggled and shuffled the political cards in his own hand: “he loveth not a game that must be played above board”. Yet in some sense there is always a particular difficulty in southern judgements on a Highland chief, and it is perhaps too easy to observe as did a satirist of his father:
No faith in plaids, no trust in highland trews
Camelion-like, they change so many hues .. .30
It would be possible to argue on the contrary that Argyll’s mainspring was a new type of Scottish patriotism; his fluctuating policies did show a wider concern for the future of Scotland, even if this future was also always closely identified with the enhancement of Clan Campbell and its notable chief.
A new Government was now formed for Scotland through the committee of Estates. The Engagers’ star was well and truly fallen. On the one hand a former commissioner, Loudoun, deserted their cause to become Chancellor. On the other hand a party of religious extremists among the Ayrshire peasantry known as Whigs or Whiggamores* ( * The origin of the nickname later given to the English political party, just as the Irish Catholic peasants gave rise to the opposing epithet – also originally opprobrious – of Tory.) ignited an armed rising against them. An alliance with Cromwell, himself the slayer of the Engagers, obviously had much more to offer the men now in power than the prospect of another battle. The new situation was duly explained to the English commander. Cromwell’s answering letter to Loudoun showed that he too believed there could be much common ground between Scots and English if the late Engagement could be thrown off. “And give us leave to say, as before the Lord who knows the secret of all hearts,” he replied on 18 September, “we think one especial end of Providence in permitting the enemies of God and goodness in both kingdoms to rise to that height, and exercise such tyranny over His people, was to show the necessity of unity amongst those of both nations …” Thus “the late glorious dispensation, in giving so happy success against your and our enemies in our victories, may be the foundation of union of the people of God in love and unity …” It was in a mood then to be cordial with the new men, if not the Engagers, that Cromwell finally crossed the border on 21 September 1648. The same day he wrote to the Committee of Estates to apologize for some inadvertent plundering by his own men, for there was to be no question of the Scots being antagonized by rapacious English soldiers, as the English a few months back had been enraged by the marauding Scots.31 The tone was to be one of amity.
An encounter with the new Scottish leaders ridden down to meet him, the first on their own ground, went extremely well, as Cromwell himself reported and indeed one of their tactfully chosen emissaries, Major Archibald Strachan, was a Scottish sectary who had actually served under Cromwell at Preston. Some time was spent “in giving and receiving mutual satisfaction concerning each other’s integrity and clearness”. Cromwell was happy to testify back to London that in Argyll, Elcho and other gentlemen with them “I have found nothing in them but what becomes Christians and men of honour”. The truth was that for all the hard knocks Cromwell had received personally from the Scots over the past five years, threatened with denunciation as an incendiary, plotted against, marched against, he had much common ground with these sincere Calvinists. A man such as Argyll who rose at five and prayed till eight had much in common with the Cromwell who not only prayed passionately himself but also constantly adjured others to do so, even fellow members of the House of Commons in an official battle report. When it came to the dispensations or mercies, the belief of the Covenanters in these vital signs was quite as burning as Cromwell’s own. It is true that they also subscribed to the further view, in which Cromwell could hardly follow them, that the Scottish nation had a special militant mission all its own, to evangelize its neighbour. Some Covenanters in this saw themselves as the true heirs of the Jews – there is “a very near parallel betwixt Israel and this church” Lord Johnston of Warriston,
one of the men responsible for framing the Covenant, had written in his diary “the only two sworn nations to the Lord …” This issue between the Scots and the English, the clash of providences, would be fought out in two years’ time. In the meantime Cromwell and the Covenanters certainly spoke the same language. He wrote to Fairfax on 2 October: “I hope there is a very good understanding between the honest part of Scotland and us here .. ,”32
The understanding proceeded. Lambert and the main army were now camped at Seaton, where Cromwell joined them, while Argyll hastened purposefully back to Edinburgh. An invitation from the Committee of Estates to visit the Scottish capital duly followed. On Wednesday, 4 October, Cromwell entered Edinburgh for the first time, and was welcomed – such were time’s revolutions – with “all solemnity” by Argyll, and the respect due to “the deliverer of their country”. His visit lasted three days. He was lodged in the house of the Countess of Moray in the Canongate, amidst other aristocratic dwellings in that narrow but historic thoroughfare; the spacious well-sited gardens at the back led down to Holyrood Park, and looked up to the great crag of Arthur’s Seat.* ( * Still to be seen in the Canongate, with a coroneted M for Moray over one window, although now a college of education.) Scottish hospitality was genial. That night there was a dinner held at the Castle, to which the English Army leaders were conveyed in coaches through the streets of Edinburgh. Argyll was there, and Johnston of Warriston, who had been particularly vehement against the Engagers, having as his nephew Bishop Burnet pointed out, “no regard to the raising of himself or his family though he had thirteen children, but presbytery was more to him than all the world”. Under such circumstances, and with Lambert’s army at Seaton, it was not difficult for Cromwell to secure all he had come for: all former Engagers and those that had “that same illaffected spirit” should be removed from offices of trust. Monro had to agree to disband his army. On the Friday, 6 October, Loudoun assured Cromwell that there was total agreement on all his terms. The anger of some of the Scots at this dissolution of their military strength, expressed in the “gnashing their teeth” in the faces of the English soldiers and stealing their horses, we may suppose did not trouble Cromwell.33
Obviously in such discussions, even within such a short space of time, the ultimate destinies of both nations, to say nothing of the fate of the sovereign whom they shared, must have been discussed. Early October was an exceptionally delicate moment of intrigue and negotiation in the South. To the disgust of the Army, Parliament had indeed followed up the repeal of the Vote of No Addresses by a renewed application to the King, and was even now in the persons of Presbyterians such as Holies in the throes of those propositions known as the Treaty of Newport after the town on the Isle of Wight. Holies of course continued to be hampered by the need to look over his shoulder at the Army and the need to bear in mind its wrath if not its wishes. The Levellers continued to press for their own particular brand of government as seen in their Agreement of the People in a series of greater and lesser petitions. While Vane pleaded for the use of the Army’s own Heads of Proposals, Charles came up with the suggestion of a threeyear experiment with Presbyterianism, with limited toleration for sects and the control of the militia given to Parliament for ten years. These proposals the Commons had just rejected as Cromwell reached Edinburgh; so Charles was left outwardly thinking of further acceptable concessions, inwardly plotting the infinitely preferable solution of escape. On the Continent the arrival at long last of peace in Europe in the shape of the Treaty of Westphalia also further encouraged him to seek foreign support, newly freed from other responsibilities.
Out of touch obviously with the day-to-day political situation in London, the Isle of Wight, or for that matter the councils of the Army in the South, Cromwell was still bound to talk in some manner of the burning issue of the future with his Scottish hosts. Afterwards the record of these conversations – dependent on Scottish testimony – was used to accuse Cromwell of hypocrisy. In one discussion, according to a leading Presbyterian minister Robert Blair, Cromwell’s eyes filled with tears as he professed his opinions “with a fair flourish of words”; this enabled Blair to dismiss him angrily later in a famous phrase as “a greeting for weeping] devil”. But it is possible to sympathize with the weeping devil, being needled by the pressing and highly articulate Scots at a time of maximum political uncertainty. A more serious accusation than that of hypocritical tears is contained in the charge of Montrose, later repeated by Clarendon, that Argyll and Cromwell at this point entered into a compact to destroy the monarchy – not necessarily to kill the King, but “the keeping of the King always in prison, and so governing without him in both kingdoms”. Montrose used to say that Cromwell bragged about that achievement on his return to London with far more delight than his victory at Preston. Guthry, while admitting that “whatsoever passed among them cannot be infallibly known”, wrote in his Memoirs of the general belief that Cromwell had communicated to the Scots his design with regard to the King and had received their assent to it.34
Here it seems essential to distinguish between discussions and a compact. In the course of the former Cromwell might well have tried to discover from Argyll what his reaction would be to an England ruled without a monarchy – a topic on which he had not yet made up his own mind – and Argyll in turn might have indicated a wary acceptance. But that sort of cautious exploration of the other man’s feelings was very far from being a secret compact. Argyll of course always swore afterwards, throughout his trial and on the scaffold, that no such compact had been reached; he showed overwhelming relief when finally acquitted of any part in the King’s death, although condemned on other charges. But a further objection to the idea of a positive compact, and a more effective one, can be raised in the improbability of the notion that Cromwell in early October 1648 had yet made up his own mind as to what should be done about the King. The timing was quite wrong. The situation in the South was so fluid that even the opinion of his own allies in the Army might change from day to day. Furthermore, the extreme neurosis betrayed by his famous letters of the next month to “Robin” Hammond, to be considered in their place in the next chapter, points to a man still in the throes of indecisive anguish on the whole subject of the King and Government.
As it was by 9 October, Cromwell was able to report back to the Speaker of the House of Commons from Dalhousie that all Scotland’s forces were now disbanded. His Scottish mission was accomplished, but all his military work was not yet over. Proceeding south via Carlisle and Newcastle, where he was feasted by the Mayor, he reached Durham on 20 October. Here extremely practical matters awaited him concerning the settlement of the whole of the north of England, and there was also a request from the York Committee that he should personally see to the reduction of Pontefract Castle. The next eight weeks, crucial in English history, spent by others in the South in conferences, councils’ proposals and counter-proposals, were to be spent by Cromwell in matters of military administration three hundred miles from London. It was the necessary finale to what Cromwell always regarded as an unnecessary and mischievous war.
11 Providence and necessity
Since providence and necessity had cast them upon it, he should pray God to bless their counsels
CROMWELL ON THE TRIAL OF THE KING, 26 December 1648
Cromwell’s stay before Pontefract was to have a surprising, even sinister, extension until the very end of November, when he would then have been absent from London for close on seven months. Yet there is no doubt that in the first instance the reduction of this doughty castle was an important part of the settlement of England following the close of the Second Civil War. Established at near-by Knottingley, Cromwell planned the siege of Pontefract with as much care as if it had been a battle, for in the wake of the Scottish invasion it would have been highly irresponsible to have abandoned such a stronghold untaken. Built on rock, the castle was difficult to mine, and it also had plenty of water; its thick towers, reminiscent of the dark days gone by when Rich
ard n had been done to death there, could neither be scaled nor battered down. It was no wonder that the siege had been a long and fruitless one, with occasional merry cessations when the siegers and besieged toasted each other as “Brother Cavalier” and “Brother Roundhead”. Cromwell’s correspondence hummed with demands for supplies, and all the administrative detail allied to the pacification of the North, down even to the humble problems of a Mrs Gray who wanted to visit her sick brother inside Pontefract, or a poor woman outside unable to feed her own family yet compelled to give quarter to soldiers “much beyond her ability”.1
How forward the Royalists could still be with the aid of such a base was demonstrated by a daring raid on their part at the end of October. Four Cavaliers with a forged message from Cromwell actually penetrated the lodgings of Colonel Rainsborough, that veteran of the Putney debates, at Doncaster and abducted him; in an ensuing scuffle in the street as he attempted valiantly to elude his captors, Rainsborough was killed. The Royalist plan had been to exchange Rainsborough for Sir Marmaduke Langdale, believed to be languishing in Nottingham Castle, although ironically enough Langdale had escaped by his own efforts the day before. But the murder created a sensation in Parliament, where it was generally attributed to Rainsborough’s reputation as one of the first to suggest the trial of the King, and Cromwell himself took urgent steps to trace and punish the offenders.
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