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The Army in Cromwellian England, 1649-1660$

Henry Reece

Print publication date: 2013

Print ISBN-13: 9780198200635

Published to Oxford Scholarship Online: January 2013

DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198200635.001.0001

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The Demise of the Army

The Demise of the Army

(p.189) 10 The Demise of the Army
The Army in Cromwellian England, 1649-1660

Henry Reece

Oxford University Press

Abstract and Keywords

The downfall of the army in England in 1659–60 has never been satisfactorily explained. Traditional interpretations focus on a ‘divided interest’ between officers and soldiers, the ambition of the army grandees, and a decline in political commitment among the soldiers who were now allegedly more concerned with pay. This chapter provides an alternative narrative for the period September 1658 to May 1660, which attributes the army's demise primarily to the Rump's repeated purges of its officer corps, which undermined army unity and the relationship between officers and soldiers, and also to the dismal lack of leadership displayed by the army's senior officers in late 1659. The chapter emphasizes that there was nothing pre-ordained about Monck's triumph, and that he could easily have been neutralized by more effective leadership from Fleetwood and Lambert.

Keywords:   officers, soldiers, pay, army purges, Rump, Monck, Fleetwood, Lambert

The downfall of the army in England in 1659–60 has never been satisfactorily explained. George Monck, with a force of about 6,000 men, prevailed against the army in England, which numbered around 28,000 soldiers, without any military engagement until John Lambert’s rising in April 1660, by which time it was all too late. Post-restoration accounts by Thomas Clarges, Monck’s brother-in-law and adviser, and by Thomas Gumble and John Price, Monck’s chaplains, inevitably eulogized Monck and portrayed the English army in unflattering terms.1 Correspondence and memoirs of leading civilian politicians are even more critical than later royalist accounts in their view of the army’s motives and intentions. Henry Cromwell, whose letters to and from his confidants in London are an important source for the Protectorate of Richard Cromwell between September 1658 and April 1659, was so intemperate in his attitude towards the army leaders that he could write of ‘the depraved appetites of such sick mindes’.2 Bulstrode Whitelocke rarely used sympathetic language to describe the army’s activities, while Lucy Hutchinson wrote of the ‘rash ambition’ of the army leaders in England.3 The republican Edmund Ludlow, whose memoirs are probably the single most important source on political developments in London between October 1659 and April 1660, saw the army leaders as men whom Cromwell’s example had ‘corrupted with the horrid vices of ambition and treachery, [who] found it easy to delude the inferior officers and private souldiers…into a compliance with any design, in order to get a living’ (even if the more explicit anti-militarism of the published Memoirs owes more to its late-seventeenth-century editor than it does to Ludlow himself).4 The only civilian involved in high politics in London (p.190) whose account is not axiomatically hostile to the army leaders is that of the Scottish outsider, Archibald Johnston of Wariston, ‘in whom vanity and ambition jostled with a cringing kind of Presbyterian piety’.5

The senior officers of the army in England wrote no memoirs and left no private correspondence for the last year of the Commonwealth. We have to rely on official apologias and letters designed for public consumption to gain any insight into their thinking. More material survives on the attitudes of junior officers, but even the collection of letters to Adam Baynes becomes noticeably thinner after the army’s interruption of the Rump in October 1659.6 There is little reliable evidence about the motivations of the rank and file soldiers, and what does exist needs to be carefully sifted. The paucity of material from within the army has tempted some historians into an excessive dependence on the views of hostile civilian politicians and the insights of royalist observers, foreign ambassadors, and commentators, often at a great distance from the events that they described.7 Newsletters sent from London in the months October to December 1659 to William Clarke, the army secretary in Scotland, were written by Monck’s supporters, were excessively optimistic in their predictions of future developments, and have far too often been taken as a reliable account of what was happening.8 Most accounts of the period cannot resist the evocative description of the scouts of Monck’s and Lambert’s armies meeting in November, shooting their pistols into the ground instead of fighting, conversing, and then parting: ‘the soldyers generally say they will not fight, but will make a ring for their officers to fight in.’ The only problem with this vivid narrative is that the encounter it purports to describe must have taken place somewhere north of Newcastle, while the author of the piece, Josias Berners, was in London and had ‘heard’ the story, and was anyway a hard-line opponent of the army’s Committee of Safety and a close associate of Sir Arthur Hesilrige.9 The facts relating to the army’s behaviour in 1659 and 1660 are well established; why it did (p.191) what it did is less clear, and the purpose of this chapter is to explain what caused its downfall.

Traditional interpretations of the army’s collapse focus on three or four interrelated themes: the ‘public hatred’ and ‘popular odium that took the heart out of’ the regiments in England;10 a divided interest between officers and soldiers that had emerged by 1659, much of it caused by officers buying up soldiers’ debentures on the cheap and using them to acquire crown lands;11 the ambition of senior officers who were driven by ‘their selfish desire to retain their commissions and to lord it over the land’;12 and the decline of ‘Cromwell’s once splendid redcoats’ into ‘a rabble’ motivated by the search for a paymaster.13 This chapter argues that none of these approaches is useful, or indeed relevant as a means of understanding the collapse of the army in England between October 1659 and March 1660. The severity with which the regiments in England suppressed the apprentices’ riot in London in December 1659 and demonstrations in favour of a free parliament in the early months of 1660 suggests that the soldiers cared little for their popularity among civilians; there were numerous instances of soldiers following the lead of trusted officers; the army grandees behaved more like lost sheep than ambitious despots; and the rank and file remained remarkably disciplined despite a chronic shortfall in the provision of pay. The army failed to offer effective opposition to Monck for two reasons: first, because its unity was undermined and the crucial relationship between officers and private soldiers within individual regiments was severed by the Rump’s purges, initially in July to September 1659, and then again in January 1660; second, because the army’s senior officers displayed a dismal lack of leadership in October and November 1659 when they had the opportunity to isolate Monck.

The Protectorate of Richard Cromwell: September 1658–April 1659

On the night of 21 April 1659 the army leaders called a rendezvous of the regiments in London. Richard Cromwell called a counter-rendezvous, but only two troops and three companies joined him. The Protector had no choice but to accede to the army’s demands and dissolve parliament the following day. Two weeks later, under intense pressure from republican colonels and junior officers, the army grandees abandoned the house of Cromwell and restored the Rump. The history of Richard Cromwell’s Protectorate is well known and needs no further retelling here.14 What (p.192) is necessary, however, is a brief discussion of some key issues that emerged in the second Protector’s seven-month rule, because they would materialize again in the last year of the Commonwealth.

With the death of its ‘dear and tender father’, the army stood exposed and insecure in September 1658.15 Richard Cromwell’s political inclinations, such as they were, leant towards the civilian grouping of moderate parliamentarians and ex-royalists that had been behind the offer of the crown to his father in 1657. Monck had already advised the new Protector to take an active role in the management of the army, and, less than two weeks after Oliver’s death, Edward Montagu, one of the leading players in the kingship debates, received the colonelcy of the cavalry regiment that had once been headed by the radical Colonel Thomas Harrison.16 Henry Cromwell, writing from Ireland, where he was lord deputy, wanted the army to be ‘so governed, that the world may never hear of them, unless there be occasion to fight’.17 In this context it was not surprising that the army was unsettled; junior officers in the capital met to discuss the army’s position, and the army’s address to the Protector on 21 September asked that the regiments be kept under the command of godly and honest officers.18 At the beginning of October a group of junior officers went further and requested that no officer should be dismissed or cashiered unless convicted by a court martial, and that Fleetwood should be appointed as commander-in-chief with power to commission all officers below field rank.19 The petition, which was never subscribed, harked back to the powers of appointment that Fairfax and Cromwell had each in turn enjoyed as lord general, and echoed the concerns that army officers had raised regularly in the 1640s and 1650s about the inviolability of military jurisdiction for members of the army. When the army grandees reported Richard’s insistence on retaining control of appointments but also his assurances about his desire to consult on army affairs, the officers ‘departed with much satisfaction’.20

(p.193) The agitation within the army in September and October 1658 can be interpreted as the first step in a determined push to increase its power within the body politic.21 But a different reading is possible. If these disturbances were a product of uncertainty and insecurity, the speed with which they fizzled out makes a good deal of sense. Richard Cromwell made two impressive speeches to gathered officers in October and November in which he promised that there would be no arbitrary dismissals; that no appointments would be made without consulting senior officers; and that Fleetwood was to be commander-in-chief under him. The Protector’s sincerity apparently impressed grandees and junior officers alike. The army had received the assurances it so badly wanted, ‘things looked fayre again’, and from November 1658 to March 1659 it was politically at peace.22

Persuasive speeches could not, however, produce pay for the army. Arrears stood at over £300,000 for the armies of the three nations, with the provision of current pay hampered by the inadequacy of the assessment at £35,000 a month for England and by the complexities of the existing establishment.23 In November the size of foot regiments was reduced to save money. Cavalry regiments in Dunkirk put down a mutiny among infantry soldiers over lack of pay, but discipline in the main armies remained remarkably good. Two troopers of Fleetwood’s regiment in England were cashiered for ‘endeavouring to carry on an unlawfull petition’ for arrears and an increase in pay at the end of the year, but their dismissal provoked no reaction within the army.24 The combination of large arrears of pay and political agitation, often viewed as a sure-fire formula for mutiny and discontent, failed to incite the army to action.

The only solution that the Protector and the Council of State could envisage to the problem of pay was to summon a parliament. The Protector’s speech to the members who met in January 1659 emphasized, as had his father’s a year before, the army’s constancy in spite of great arrears of pay. But parliament, dominated by moderate Presbyterian supporters of the Humble Petition and Advice, and leavened by a vocal and experienced minority of republicans opposed to the Protectorate, contained few friends of the army. Like so many other seventeenth-century parliaments, it was reluctant to vote taxes.25 By the end of March 1659 the armies in England, Scotland, and Ireland lay over seven, four, and fourteen months in arrears of pay respectively, with three months’ pay assigned to the regiments in England. Parliament made no serious attempt to address the chronic disparity (p.194) between revenue and expenditure, while ‘Officers’ purses’ were ‘emptied by their Loanes to the Souldiers, their credits to the Victualers extended to the utmost. The poor Souldier sometimes inforced to sell his expected Pay much under the value thereof, for ready money to buy bread.’26

Armed with legitimate grievances over pay, regularly attacked in parliament where a number of ‘country’ members clearly hoped for the army’s disbandment or at least substantial reduction, and increasingly the target of republican agitation, the army responded in muted fashion. ‘It is a miracle of mercy’, John Thurloe, no friend to the army leaders, told Henry Cromwell on 22 March 1659, ‘that wee are yet in peace, consideringe what the debates are, and what underhand workeinge there is to disaffect the officers of the army: but for ought I can perceive, they remeyne pretty staunch, though they are in great want of pay, for which noe provision is at all made, nor doe I see that wee are likelye to have any yet.’27 But it was not concerns over lack of pay that drove the army leaders to move against parliament; they did, after all, have plenty of experience of elected assemblies that would not provide money. The army turned on parliament because of what it saw as MPs’ determination to undermine the principle of indemnity for past actions; to question the army’s right of jurisdiction over its own members; and to prevent army officers from holding their own meetings. Oliver Cromwell had invariably protected the army against hostile parliaments; when his son showed that he could not or would not provide the same protection, the army turned on him as well.

In March 1659 parliament took up the case of Colonel Robert Overton, imprisoned by Cromwell since 1655 for his alleged plotting against the Protectorate. The debate offered a marvellous showcase for republicans to denounce the tyranny of a single person and for other MPs to question the whole basis of a separate military jurisdiction. Adam Baynes, who had left the army in 1657 at the same time as Lambert, and who in 1651 had taken a hard line in defending the army’s right to exercise military jurisdiction over Algernon Sidney, who was both an MP and an army officer, now argued for Overton’s release. Sir Arthur Hesilrige, never one to let facts get in the way of rhetoric, maintained that Overton ‘was not then an army man, but as one of the people of England’. Other members argued that in time of peace ‘we ought not to talk of martial law’, which was only ever intended for times of open war; and that ‘every man, military and other…is a commoner of England’. Thurloe tried to explain that ‘military men, in military times, do not so much consider form as matter’, and Judge-Advocate Henry Whalley reminded members that Overton was committed for military reasons, and warned them to ‘take heed how you discourage your army’ because they would expose other officers to legal actions, but their objections had no effect, and Overton was released.28 Later in the month, Hesilrige himself was greatly affronted (p.195) when a fellow MP told him that ‘all the laws made in the fag-end of the Long Parliament were not of force’. The diarist Thomas Burton observed that the remark was ‘ill resented by the army…for every man that acted, begins to say, “What did I do in that fag-end of a Parliament, and how shall I be indemnified but by my sword.”’ John Lambert, who was a civilian at this point, still spoke with the authentic tone of the aggrieved senior officer when he warned parliament: ‘I would have as little looking back as may be. If all actions be questioned that have been done in these late transactions, who of your friends that have served you fourteen years, can excuse his. I would not have those that came in after the heat of the day to look back with so much severity.’29

Repeatedly baited by parliament, the army leaders turned to a General Council of the Officers at the beginning of April. By this stage the republican pamphleteering campaign promoting the Good Old Cause was gaining ground in the army; the army leaders had started to talk privately to prominent former members of the Rump; and republican officers dominated the council.30 Although some of the council’s more extreme demands were toned down, The Humble Representation and Petition that it presented to the Protector on 6 April contained plenty of tough language, but it did not of itself mean that the Protectorate was doomed. The petition echoed in many respects what the army had sought in 1647: satisfaction of arrears and provision for ‘constant future Pay’; an end to suits brought in the law courts ‘for matters transacted by them as Souldiers, by command from their Superiours’; and retribution against those who ‘vilified’ the achievements of the army, the Rump, and the late Protector, and called ‘all their proceedings, and of such as acted in obedience to them, illegal and unwarrantable’.31

Two courses of action could still have saved the Protectorate. If Richard Cromwell had possessed his father’s political antennae, he would have followed Oliver’s example of a year earlier and dissolved parliament on sight of the army’s petition because of the clear evidence it contained of the growing amount of republican support in the army. Equally, if the Presbyterian and former royalist supporters of the Protectorate in parliament had been able to put aside their hostility to the army, oppose the republicans who were determined to undermine the Protectorate, and address pay and indemnity, they would probably have strengthened the army grandees’ position sufficiently to withstand republican agitation from the junior officers in London.32 As it was, on 12 April parliament attacked William Boteler, who had been a major of the late Protector’s cavalry regiment in 1658, and a major-general before that, when he cut across legal process and seized the estate of a delinquent by force. Boteler defended himself ‘by colour of his late Highness’ letter, commanding him so to do’, and said unapologetically that ‘he would never dispute the command of his general, be it legal or not’. MPs outdid each other in their (p.196) expressions of outrage, and compared Boteler’s actions to those of Strafford twenty years earlier. Anthony Morgan, who was one of Henry Cromwell’s closest advisers and hostile to the army leaders in England, tried to explain to parliament the way in which an army worked: ‘A soldier, by the martial law, is not to dispute the orders of his senior officers.’ But his argument was not one that MPs wanted to hear. Boteler was removed from the commission of the peace, and a committee was appointed to draw up an impeachment against him, ‘and to consider of a Course, how to proceed judicially against him, and against other Delinquents’.33

Two days later, over 500 officers attended a General Council, where it was agreed that every officer in the army should make an ‘attestation’ that the execution of Charles I had been just and lawful. On 18 April parliament voted that there should be no more meetings of officers without its consent and that of the Protector. It also insisted that no officer should retain his commission unless he engaged not to interrupt the free meeting of parliament. For the next three days the army leaders tried unsuccessfully to persuade Richard to dissolve parliament; the trial of strength on 21 April with the call for competing rendezvous had a predictable outcome. Richard had no choice other than to dissolve parliament. Within two weeks the overwhelming demands from republican colonels and junior officers in the army forced the army grandees to send Richard into early retirement and restore the Rump.34

The Protectorate fell because Richard Cromwell and parliament ‘proceeded too fast and too clumsily in reducing the political role that this always-political army felt to be its due’.35 By mid-April the army took the view that the Protector was ‘a person true to the civil interest, and not fixed to them’.36 Radical objections within the army to the rule of a single person—‘a passionate nostalgia for the high summer of the revolution’—clearly contributed to the dissolution of parliament and the removal of Richard. But it was parliament’s determination to attack the army—and this applied as much to the Presbyterian and former royalist supporters of the Protectorate as it did to the republicans—that facilitated the spread of republican sentiment within the army; and, in turn, it was the Protector’s inability to serve as a buffer between parliament and army that pushed the army leaders to place themselves at the head of republican agitation in the officer corps in London. If Richard was prepared to allow parliament to impeach a serving army officer for obeying orders, and to call into question the legality of what had been done in the previous ten years, then fears that he might attempt to remodel the army did not seem so alarmist.37

(p.197) The return of the Rump Parliament: May–October 1659

The army restored the Rump Parliament in the first week of May 1659. Austin Woolrych has elucidated the groundswell of republican sentiment, within and outside the army, that swept the reluctant army grandees into accepting the return of the Commonwealthsmen.38 The great irony of the next five months, given the reasons that led the army to move against the last parliament of the Protectorate, was that it now experienced more civilian interference in internal army matters than at any time since 1647. The army leaders, for all their initial reluctance to restore the Rump, and their unconcealed dislike of receiving new commissions from the Speaker in person, soon bowed to their restored masters.39 The euphoric reception accorded the Rump by the influential republican colonels and junior officers around London goes some way towards explaining the grandees’ submission; but they were also, as they later admitted, ‘desirous, like drowning men…to lay hold of anything that had the least appearance of Civil Authority’.40 This part of the chapter sets out to answer two questions: what impact did this parliamentary intervention have on the army; and why did the two champions of the Good Old Cause fall out so quickly?

Pay inevitably demanded immediate attention. Forces in the north were five weeks behind in pay and had to move quarters daily; cavalry regiments were badly short of horses. Underlying these difficulties was the perennial problem: ‘the weekly Income bearing no Proportion with the Constant Charge’.41 On 23 June parliament ordered that the next twelve months’ assessment of £35,000 a month on England be paid by October. With this increase, revenue would cover the current pay for the armies in the three nations but would fail to touch arrears, which stood effectively at three, eight, and thirteen months for the English, Scottish, and Irish armies respectively.42 The Rump might have achieved its ambition of stabilizing current pay had the number of soldiers on the establishment remained fixed, but by August there were an additional 8,000 men in arms in England to counter the threat of royalist risings. Between April 1659 and the end of the year the charge of the armies in England and Scotland increased by nearly 50 per cent. Mobilization against Booth’s rising highlighted the ramshackle state of government finances. Lambert’s reports from the north spoke of soldiers lacking shoes and stockings for their ‘long and dirty marches’. The Rump had gone a long way towards tackling the inadequate level of the assessment when its sitting was interrupted by the army in October.43 For all the importance of material issues to the army, lack of pay was not instrumental in provoking the split between army and parliament.44

(p.198) Even the army’s desire for political and religious reform was relegated to the sidelines this time around. Army petitions, as ever, demanded reform of the law and the universities, along with provision for a godly ministry.45 But the Rump’s tenure of power was so short, and a state of emergency existed for so much of it, that there was little time for the army’s hopes to be disappointed. Parliament’s failure to abolish tithes, which caused so much anguish to the godly, did not resonate with the army.46 Nor did army apologias, in contrast to those in 1653, accuse the Rump of planning to cling to power; there are no charges levied against a self-perpetuating, unicameral legislature. It is surely an exaggeration to describe the issue of a select senate, to coexist with parliament, as ‘a contentious issue all through the summer and autumn’.47 Included in the army’s petition to parliament of 12 May, the matter does not surface again in army petitions before or apologias after the dissolution. The army grandees clearly inserted the demand for a select senate in the May petition in desperation, in the hope of institutionalizing their own power in the face of a potentially hostile restored Rump, but then discovered that it had little support among the Rump’s influential adherents within the army48 Discussions around the idea of a select senate at this stage are interesting primarily to the historian of political thought; their impact on practical politics in mid-1659 was negligible.

The army eventually turned against parliament because of the Rump’s refusal to forgive the army for the dissolution of April 1653. ‘What hath been done’, Fleetwood wrote to Monck after the October dissolution, ‘but to undo whatsoever hath been done for these six yeares last past?’49 The army complained at length about the delay in the appearance of an act of indemnity, ‘as the medium of quiet and security to ourselves’, and when it did materialize about its ‘imperfect and ineffectual’ provisions.50 The vote against the former Major-General Thomas Harrison, barring him from holding any future employment as a punishment for his part in the 1653 dissolution, was contrary to the act of indemnity that had just been approved and created a precedent that threatened all officers involved in the Rump’s demise.51 Fleetwood’s appointment as commander-in-chief was limited to a year, and his authority was further ‘abridged’ by parliament’s insistence that commissions be bestowed by the Speaker.52 But by far the most conspicuous and far-reaching manifestation of this obsession with the past, which convinced the army of (p.199) the Rump’s desire for ‘revenge’ against it, was parliament’s purge of army officers.53

One of the few distinguishable tenets of the Good Old Cause was the restoration of those godly officers displaced by Cromwell. With the fall of the Protectorate, first the army and then parliament were inundated by demands to purge the army of ‘self-designers’.54 Parliament must remember, wrote one of its radical supporters, ‘that Right standeth in opposition unto Wrong in all persons, and in all Cases’.55 In terms of political expediency, the return of republican army heroes and the removal of prominent Cromwellians were essential. But the Rump went far beyond such a limited purge. ‘There hath been, in these late Changes’, parliament told Monck sternly, ‘great Discoveries of Men.’56 It was determined to shape the army in its own image. The means that Cromwell had used to control the army were ignored: he had never resorted to a mass purge; only cashiered those who openly opposed him; but never forced out their sympathizers.57 By encouraging political criteria to invade the system of appointments at every level, the Rump undermined army unity, discipline, and the all-important relationship between officers and men.

Many of those who had fallen out with Cromwell, such as John Lambert, Thomas Sanders, John Okey, and William Packer, had been restored to the army at the end of April by the Council of Officers.58 On 11 May parliament’s Committee of Safety ordered the army to present an account of all officers who had been faithful ‘to the tyme of the Long Parliament breakeing upp’. Two days later, parliament appointed a Committee for the Nomination of Officers, which consisted of four army men—Fleetwood, Lambert, Disbrowe, and Berry—with three civilian Rumpers—Hesilrige, Vane, and Ludlow.59 To the great discontent of the army leaders, the Rump established tight control over both committee and army by ruling, in a gesture designed to highlight the army’s ritualized subordination, that the Speaker should sign all commissions and grant them to officers in person, and by insisting that the duration of a commission was now dependent on the pleasure of parliament.60

Manœuvring for place started in earnest at the beginning of May.61 ‘The plurality of implomts that are falne’ represented an unrepeatable opportunity for one officer: ‘if I should not be provided for now I shall be out of hopes hereafter.’62 The proceedings of the Committee for Nomination had at times a McCarthyite flavour, with officers being required to justify their behaviour during (p.200) the Protectorate.63 The majority of information and accusations deposited before the committee concerned political opinions. Captain Barker, for example, represented himself as one of those cashiered by Cromwell for disaffection, but one of his fellow officers maintained that Barker had laid down his commission ‘upon some private occasions of his owne’.64 Retention or acquisition of a commission often depended on a written reference from, or even better a personal appearance by, a senior officer with impeccable republican credentials.65

Such close scrutiny of the past could only be disruptive. Relatively apolitical senior officers found themselves facing charges laid by republican zealots that they had ‘declyned their former principles’. A personal quarrel could be portrayed as a political parting of the ways. The danger of information from ‘private hands’, as Monck told parliament, was that men ‘may act their owne passions under pretence of publicque safety’.66 Even John Baynes, Adam Baynes’s cousin, whose connections few could match, nearly fell foul of the witch-hunt. Baynes had spent the Protectorate in Scotland under Monck, but the Baynes clan had stayed close to Lambert, and John Baynes was hardly a prominent Cromwellian. By early June 1659 he realized that he was under attack and knew ‘that without difficulty I may be traduced and wrongfully charged’. Given his distance from London, he was only too well aware ‘that perhaps I may never heare of my crime or accusers, till itt be too late to plead my innocencie’.67 Both the nature of his alleged failings and the identity of his accuser puzzled Baynes. Had he been too enamoured of ‘a single person’? Was his old friend Robert Lilburne lobbying against him?68 Writing in September, Baynes decried the adoption of strict political criteria that had created the prevailing atmosphere of distrust and suspicion:

I see some outed of their imploymts who I thought might deserve them, not knowing anything of miscarriage in them to render them incapable…that a slender hint given in by one or more (pretending friendship to the publick) against one, though there be noe sense in this information, but done out of disrespect, & from an ill spirit, yet that itt is takeing, and is hardly wiped off.69

After the dismissal of the Rump in October the army’s resentment became public. ‘What factions hereupon grew up in the Army, what new moulding, changing and transforming thereof (to the discomposure of the whole).’70 Critics of the army countered that officers were in a majority on the Committee for Nomination, and that parliament had countermanded the committee’s decisions in only a few (p.201) exceptional cases.71 Certainly, in the one surviving division list the four officers on the committee voted en bloc against Vane. The army grandees were reluctant to purge their senior colleagues and restore cashiered republican colonels. The committee nominated staunch Cromwellians such as Edward Whalley and William Boteler for commissions, only for parliament to reject them. Weeks passed before Matthew Alured and Robert Overton received regimental commands. Major Nathaniel Barton told his colonel, Thomas Sanders, newly restored to his command, that ‘you & I not bee in favour with some more than needs’.72 But the assumption that the army leaders were responsible for the new-modelling does not survive detailed scrutiny of the workings of the committee.

The committee met thirty-five times between June and October 1659, with Fleetwood and Hesilrige in attendance at virtually every meeting.73 Seven individuals could not hope to deal with all the claims, petitions, and charges that poured in, requesting restitution, confirmation, or promotion. Subcommittees, whose membership was dominated by prominent army republicans, were set up to handle petitions and specific charges. Leading republican officers like Matthew Alured were informally involved in reviewing some regimental lists. The radical John Wigan objected to being commissioned as lieutenant-colonel in Overton’s regiment because the other officers were all strangers, insisted that he be restored to his old regiment, and berated the committee for opposing the nomination of Fifth Monarchist officers. The two principal advisers to the committee on the regiments in Scotland, Colonel John Pearson and Lieutenant-Colonel John Mason, were ‘Anabaptists’ hostile to Monck. Irish officers compiled the list of officers for the army in Ireland, with Fleetwood’s advice, which they then presented to the committee.74 Hesilrige was probably the dominant individual on the committee. Monck later described him as ‘haveinge had the chiefe hand’ in modelling the regiments in the summer of 1659; and he acted as chairman of the committee on three of the four occasions when a record was kept.75 Nor was the Rump itself as passive as the army’s critics argued. Parliament instructed the committee to ensure that republican luminaries such as Nathaniel Rich, John Okey, Alured, and Overton received commands, as well as lesser lights such as John Streater and Arthur Evelyn. Members levelled objections against junior officers nominated by the committee.76 When the case of the Quaker Edward Byllynge came up, ‘the house were even divided thereupon once or twice, and afterwards it was moved and discussed again and again’ until Byllynge was offered a cornetcy.77

(p.202) Colonels had great freedom to nominate their own officers. The individual colonel presented his desired list to the committee, which then made any objections that it had. If any officers were removed from the list, colonels were quick to supply alternatives, either in person or through the agency of colleagues.78 Robert Overton, restored to his old regiment after four and a half years’ absence, placed his final list before the committee on 27 July, and it passed through parliament three days later with only a very small number of changes.79 A number of Overton’s appointments mirrored his own political and religious views: he brought in fellow religious radicals John Wigan and Richard Goodgroome as lieutenant-colonel and captain respectively; selected as his major John Nary, who was possibly involved in the petition of the Three Colonels in 1654; chose as one of his captains Francis Rawson, who had been involved in Overton’s ‘plot’ in Scotland in 1654; and also commissioned the man who had been his secretary in 1654.80 Overton was not the only restored colonel who staffed his regiment with fellow radicals.81

What did all these changes add up to across the army? The lack of muster rolls makes it impossible to track regimental changes in detail. One account in mid-June reckoned that 160 officers had already been removed. There were, inevitably, striking differences among the regiments. Those whose colonels rode out the change of government suffered few changes.82 In Colonel John Okey’s regiment, in contrast, not one of the junior officers had held a commission in the regiment nine years earlier. Thomas Sanders’s return to his former cavalry regiment led to the appointment of a new major, three new captains (out of four), two new lieutenants, three new cornets, and two new quartermasters (each out of six). One troop lost all its commissioned officers, and the regiment as a whole lost half its officers. Despite all these changes, Sanders himself became alienated from the Rump because of what he perceived as interference with his choices and delays in confirming his commission. In October 1659 one captain estimated that in some regiments as many as twenty officers lost their commissions.83

These figures do not in themselves advance the discussion far. More important was the damage caused to regimental morale and army unity. A long-standing association between officers and private soldiers was the cornerstone of army discipline and esprit de corps. In the second half of 1659, when the provision of pay to the army was worse than at any time since 1649, many soldiers found themselves under new officers—often men who had never served in that regiment (p.203) before, and who might have been out of military life for five years or more. John Shrimpton, who had been cashiered in 1649 for suspected involvement in the Leveller mutiny in Oxford, returned to the army for the first time in ten years. Nathaniel Barton, newly restored as major in Sanders’s regiment, scarcely knew ‘where I am, having bin soe long a stranger to Affayres’.84 The mass of political appointments overrode the normal process of promotions within regiments. Outsiders snapped up a good proportion of the available vacancies. In some cases officers were demoted, either to make way for stalwart republicans or as a reflection on hints of apostasy in their careers.85

The purges reduced the army to a state of uncertainty and disorganization from which it had not recovered by the time of the next round of purges in January 1660. Officers in the northern regiments had not been ordered to their charges in June, while their soldiers, ‘lyeing straglyng at their severall homes’, had no idea what was happening and were being misinformed by royalists, reduced officers, and other malcontents.86 Officers assigned to some regiments never went near them or took months to go down to their new commands. Troops were transferred from one regiment to another without apparent motive. Rumours of prospective candidates for vacancies circulated with abandon. An officer could be approved in one regimental list only to find his name omitted from a second list. The regiments in Ireland were in the ‘worst posture imaginable’ in November, with officers ‘unfixed’ and ‘much incensed’ as they waited to be cashiered yet continued in their commands.87

Army declarations after the Rump’s removal in October did not exaggerate in pointing to the creation of factions and disunity in the army. Officers were appalled to see colleagues displaced. Robert Baynes wrote furiously to his brother about the dismissal of Captain John Hargrave of Colonel Talbot’s regiment, who had been turned out ‘to make way for those that hath been otherway small friends, or else enemies to the interest we are now pleading for’. Twenty officers sent a letter of support on Hargrave’s behalf.88 Hostility to arbitrary decisions about long-serving officers united Baynes, who complained that those who ‘hath been in the service from the beginning, hath risen gradually, and always been faithful’ were being dismissed, and who supported the army’s move against the Rump in October, and Captain Clement Nedham, who saw seventeen- and eighteen-year veterans laid aside with never any crime charged against them ‘to gratify friends and relations’, and who opposed the October coup.89 The strong reaction among officers to arbitrary removals serves as a reminder that the army’s demand in October 1659 (p.204) for no dismissal without court martial was something more than grandee self-interest or an attack on parliamentary authority. The purges of summer 1659 were the first serious blow to army unity. In the summer of 1647 only about 7 per cent of the total New Model officer corps had resigned or been driven out because of their support for the army’s Presbyterian opponents in parliament, and at least on that occasion the reason for their departure was clear.90 Prior to 1659, the army had been able to accommodate a wide range of political and religious views because tenure of commission was dependent on fidelity to the government of the day rather than on ideological purity. But, from the summer of 1659 onwards, the intrusion of political considerations, often arbitrarily implemented, undermined the army’s professional organization.

The extent of the army’s dislike of interference in its internal affairs did not become public until after Booth’s rising. To the dominant republican officers in London, the purges were the price the army must pay for its years of supporting rule by a single person. But after August 1659 this heightened obsession with the failings of the past gave way to a sense of renewal. After a long period of peace, military action was ‘both a Purge and a Blood-letting’.91 The ease with which the army disposed of the royalist uprisings restored its self-image, and left officers ‘full of the sense of that seasonable Mercy and Success’. Winnington Bridge may have lacked something in comparison to Worcester, but there are distinct echoes in the army’s mood eight years after the more famous battle: ‘the Lord hath once more appeared to own You and Your Army’, it told the Rump.92 The Derby petition, produced by Lambert’s officers after the defeat of Booth’s rising and presented to parliament on 22 September, sought some recognition of the army’s achievement: the army had been ‘fixed and faithful’ to the interests of God’s people, while many ‘who had been Friends were either Apostates, Malignants, or Neuters’; the permanent appointment, permanent in the sense that all commissions before May 1659 were permanent, of Fleetwood, Lambert, Disbrowe, and Monck would be the best guarantee of an end to ‘divisions…breaches…mis-understandings’ in the army and would preserve its ‘Unity inviolable’.93 The army was not limbering up for a coup. Northern officers held back a supporting petition when they heard of parliament’s displeasure.94 What the army wanted was to be trusted and appreciated. It later complained that ‘none were fit for any thing but themselves [MPs], no others worthy to be trusted’.95

Reactions within parliament to the Derby petition were extreme. Vane was one of the few members who thought that they ‘should not taike so much offence at what the airmy did, but settle the gouverment with their consent’. Hesilrige apparently advocated Lambert’s imprisonment in the Tower. The approval of a (p.205) motion, without division, that to have any more general officers was ‘needless, chargeable, and dangerous to the Commonwealth’ recalled Denzil Holles’s ‘Declaration of Dislike’ of March 1647 in its inflammatory language and showed that the Rump would never trust nor forgive the army after the events of April 1653.96

Meetings of officers over the next fortnight resulted in the army’s petition to parliament of 5 October. Strongly defending the army’s conduct since May, the petition sought that the army should once again be left to settle its own affairs. No appointments should be made without the approval of the committee for nominations; Fleetwood’s commission as commander-in-chief, which was expiring, should be made permanent; and there should be no dismissal without court martial, so that ‘the discipline of the Army may be preserved inviolable’.97 The Rump made some moves to address the non-controversial requests in the petition, but on 11 October Hesilrige discovered that officers in London were soliciting signatures to the petition after its presentation to parliament. In May 1657 parliament had faced similar pressure from the army when Colonel Thomas Pride and others petitioned against the offer of the crown to Cromwell: ‘the house would not read their petition but were ready to call it a breach of privilege, but moderation was pressed and the petition layd aside.’98 On this occasion there was not much moderation in evidence. Algernon Sidney was amazed that his fellow Rumpers could over-react to so ‘modest’ a petition, as they declared all legislation passed since April 1653 null and void, unless they had specifically confirmed it, and ordained that any attempt to collect taxes without the consent of parliament would be high treason. The following day parliament deprived nine senior officers of their commissions and placed the government of the army in the hands of seven commissioners, four of whom were MPs. Three of these commissioners then called out two regiments to occupy Westminster. In response, Lambert paraded regiments that supported the army leaders. Through a night and day of considerable confusion, it became clear that the soldiers had no desire to fight each other, and that the traffic of deserters was largely one way, from the troops guarding parliament to the majority of the forces in London, which backed Lambert and Fleetwood. On 13 October the army once again dismissed the Rump.99

The army had no desire or intention to move against parliament; it was as confused as anyone by the position it found itself in on 14 October.100 But the Rump’s dismissal of nine senior officers was the logical conclusion of its determination to impose direct control over army appointments. Two days after the dissolution one of Monck’s correspondents reported from London: ‘When I sent you a pretty large narrative of matters in May last, I did therein intimate the grand dissatisfaction that was taken by displaceing of officers without heareing of them, or (p.206) laying anything to theire charge; and though the then humers gave way to it, yet I ever thought it would rise upp in judgement against the Parliament.’101

Conflicting armies in England and Scotland: October–December 1659

The latest dissolution initially led to few divisions within the army in England, with no more than twenty officers losing their commissions.102 Many officers shared the ‘Astonishmt and Sorrow’ of officers in Ireland at the ‘direfull and tragicall’ news of the abrupt ending of the godly alliance but recognized that ‘necessity and sense of duty’ had guided the officers in London.103 The Rump’s cashiering of nine senior officers and attempt to set regiment against regiment were outright attacks on army unity, and were presented as such in army declarations. Parliament should have recognized, wrote the French ambassador, that, ‘in all these commotions, the troops of England have avoided divisions, and that the minority has always given way to the majority, whatever cause the latter may have embraced’.104 The Irish army’s primary concern was to preserve the unity of the armies in the three nations ‘that soe we may be in the hand of the Lord as a threefold cord not easily broken’.105 Over the next two months the army grandees failed to capitalize on the instinctive loyalty of the regiments in England. Instead, their vacillations and lack of leadership allowed both Monck in Scotland and their opponents in England to grasp the political initiative.

A number of officers in both England and Scotland could not decide whether Monck’s army in Scotland, which had declared for the Rump, or the army leaders in England had right on their side. Colonel Robert Overton, the governor of Hull, disapproved equally of the Derby petition and the laying-aside of nine senior officers. Fearing ‘there is not so much sincerity on either side as can ballast the blood that may be spilt’, Overton resolved to secure the peace of Hull if Lambert’s and Monck’s armies advanced against each other.106 Captain Henry Watson in Inverness believed that the split between the two armies was the ‘bitterest portion that ever I yet met with’; divisions in the army could only ‘let in the boars of the forest into the Lord’s vineyard’. He undertook a ‘strict search’ of the various declarations to establish ‘the justice and equity of the cause of both parties’, and eventually decided to side with the army in England because he saw the latest interruption of the Rump as no worse than the army’s treatment of other civilian governments since the 1640s.107 Captain Robert Scrape, a seventeen-year veteran based in Dundee, admitted to Monck that he (p.207) disapproved of the dissolution, ‘yet I cannot find my heart to be drawn out so far to engage against them, as it hath been against those which they and we have been engaged together against’.108 Having served in Lambert’s regiment for much of the Protectorate, John Hodgson was transferred to Colonel Thomas Sanders’s regiment in the summer’s reorganization. Ordered in November to join his new regiment, which was serving in Scotland, Hodgson ‘repaired’ to Lambert, who was in Newcastle with his army facing Monck. Lambert offered Hodgson the freedom to travel to Scotland, collect his pay, and return to England. Hodgson responded that if he went to Scotland he would ‘lie open to many temptations’, and if there should be ‘a breach’ between the two armies ‘I had no heart to fight against him [Lambert], though I had a commission under Monck’.109 Hodgson stayed in England, but his dilemma points to the conflict that so easily arose between personal inclination and the dictates of military duty and obedience. Major Owen Cambridge, a supporter of Lambert, pleaded despairingly with his lieutenant, who remained in Scotland: ‘Be not shoked with a paper commission; but consider things.’110 We can too often assume that army officers focused primarily on ‘things’; for men with ten years or more of army service behind them, desertion or blatant disobedience of orders did not come naturally or easily.

The army in Scotland lost over 150 commissioned and non-commissioned officers: this figure comprised those cashiered by Monck, men who refused to return from England, and officers who deserted.111 Colonel John Cobbett’s regiment lost all its field officers, five captains, six lieutenants, and two ensigns; in total, the regiment was shorn of over half its commissioned officers. Monck discharged eighteen officers in Colonel Charles Fairfax’s regiment. Non-commissioned officers were equally opposed to Monck’s stand as their more senior colleagues. The large gaps that appeared in many of the infantry regiments were all the more surprising because the foot had served constantly in Scotland, unlike cavalry regiments, which had done tours of duty, since 1651, and had been under Monck’s command since 1654.112 In the summer Monck had argued strenuously against any attempt ‘to alter’ any of the officers in Scotland because of their fidelity to the Rump. Despite his wholehearted endorsement of the officers of his own two regiments and those of Colonel Thomas Talbot, ‘being the regimentes that have layne neerest mee, and the officers more particulerly knowne to mee then the rest’, over twenty officers of his own infantry regiment and over fifteen of Talbot’s were removed or absented themselves.113

(p.208) Monck was very short of cavalry in Scotland, and those regiments that were there caused him considerable trouble. Two troops of Colonel Philip Twisleton’s regiment refused to join Monck; thirty-three of them were dismounted, while forty fled to England. Thirty troopers of Colonel Sanders’s regiment had to be dismounted. The troop sent to secure Carlisle garrison deserted its captain and went over to Lambert. Cavalry units were particularly open to the arguments of envoys from England who reached Scotland. Monck eventually resorted to using two of his senior officers as ‘itinerant reformers’ who dismounted troopers and replaced them with foot soldiers.114 But opposition to the stand taken by Monck was not limited to troopers, who tended to be of higher social standing than their counterparts in the infantry.115 Two companies of foot tried to break out of Perth by sea. Twenty-four privates and six corporals, most of whom belonged to the gathered church of one of their captains, were dismissed from the garrison at Ayr. The garrison at Berwick, unlike its governor, wanted to back the army in England. Monck’s own foot regiment presented him with far more problems than his cavalry regiment. Colonel John Pearson’s foot regiment in Scotland was twice on the point of mutiny at the end of October and wanted to see its colonel, who was with Lambert in Newcastle, before it declared for anyone.116 Monck took every precaution to prevent senior officers from the army in England getting through to their men. Colonel John Cobbett, a man of ‘great Spirit and good conduct’, was secured at Berwick: ‘it was seasonably done; for if he had been permitted to passe, the opinion which was had of him by the Souldiers, might have much hindred the Generalls Proceeedings.’117

The impact of so many withdrawals from the army in Scotland was undeniable.118 The number of officers who had left Monck’s army ‘might make you stager’, wrote Major Owen Cambridge in an attempt to persuade his lieutenant to join the exodus.119 Thomas Gumble and John Price, Monck’s chaplains, later admitted that the desertions gravely weakened his position and benefited Lambert. The loss of so many officers would have been even more disruptive had Monck, unlike the Rump in the summer of 1659 and in January 1660, not filled the vacancies by internal promotions.120

In contrast to the divisions in the army in Scotland, the regiments in England initially supported their leaders. Only twenty or so officers were cashiered after the (p.209) coup.121 Predictions from Monck’s newswriters in London in early November that Berry’s and Hacker’s regiments would desert the army’s cause proved wrong.122 Robert Overton, appointed one of the Rump’s seven army commissioners on 12 October, rejected Monck’s and Lambert’s overtures, and took steps to fortify his garrison at Hull. Even at the very end of December Overton turned down Thomas Fairfax’s request that he declare against Lambert.123 Officers at Carlisle tried to follow the same course of neutrality as Overton; when confronted with a direct choice, they opted to side with the forces in England.124 A number of garrison governors and militia commissioners in England moved actively to establish the rule of the military Committee of Safety in their locality.125

By mid-November, a month after the Rump’s removal, Monck’s cause looked desperate. His officer corps was in turmoil, and substantial numbers of his private soldiers had deserted to the army in England. His letters to the army in Ireland, to garrison commanders in England, and to the fleet had brought him no benefit. The Irish officers told him that they ‘did not think that the Offence of their Brethren in England did need so sharp a Remedy as to run into Blood’. The fleet, which he had commanded earlier in the 1650s, gave him ‘a very cold return’. His attempts to secure Newcastle and Carlisle had failed.126 When Monck sent Thomas Clarges, his brother-in-law and adviser, to England to drum up support, Clarges found that Hesilrige, ‘in despair of doing anything’, had retired to Woodstock; fearing that any attempt to raise forces himself would encourage the common enemy, Hesilrige at this point thought ‘it would be better to close with the Army in all their Exorbances, then venture with so much danger to oppose it’. As late as mid-December, Clarges believed that ‘things had no very good face’.127 Facing Lambert’s army of 12,000 men, Monck had only one obvious advantage, which was that he was better able to pay his troops than Lambert was his.128

(p.210) The failure of Lambert’s expedition against Monck opened the way for the return of the monarchy. Attempts to explain this failure have concentrated on Lambert’s forces rather than on developments in the south of England. Two related reasons are normally advanced to account for the disintegration of Lambert’s army: first, that the soldiers would not fight because they were unpaid; second, that the rank and file had no sympathy for what they saw as a quarrel between their officers and would, famously, ‘make a ring for their officers to fight in’.129 The practical objections to this idea of a ‘divided interest’ between officers and soldiers have been discussed elsewhere in this book. It is a notion derived from reading too many anti-army pamphlets whose intention was to drive a wedge between officers and men, a tactic dating back to the late 1640s.130 There is no evidence in army sources that officers and men were moving apart. On the contrary, soldiers expected and sought their officers’ leadership and guidance, as they had always done.131 The only surviving letter from a private soldier encourages a friend in Scotland to desert and join the troop in Newcastle under the command of your ‘ould frend Capten James Whright’.132 To argue that soldiers refused to fight their officers’ battles is to miss the point: no one on either side wanted to fight; they dreaded the possibility of armed confrontation.133 Twelve years later, Thomas Gumble recalled: ‘For upon the meeting of the Scottish and English Forces in the Field it was supposed (with good Probability) that they would with difficulty enough be brought to fight one against the other, and much feared they might one part runn over to the other.’134

Monck’s correspondents in London prophesized the imminent crumbling of Lambert’s forces from the moment they marched north. But the congenitally gloomy Captain Robert Baynes, who was at Lambert’s headquarters in Newcastle, and whose letters survive into the second week of December, records only a single instance of discontent among ‘some’ soldiers, which arose from dissatisfaction with ‘some’ officers, and which was anyway speedily resolved. He makes no mention at all of any trouble over lack of pay.135 Although the pay of the regiments was substantially in arrears—the foot between two and five months, the horse between four and seven months—Lambert ‘took up’ large sums from receivers-general in the provinces, and his officers lent money to their soldiers.136 Many of Lambert’s troops were ill paid, with some on free quarter, but there is no indication that this sapped their loyalty and discipline. Only two troops, both of Colonel Robert (p.211) Lilburne’s regiment, left the expeditionary force before the fall of the Committee of Safety in London, and then not until the third week of December; any other sign of desertions would have been eagerly seized on by Monck’s press. Guidance from officers was all important: one of Lilburne’s captains, who left Lambert and who was a veteran of the regiment, found his soldiers ‘free to follow me…as I see cause’.137 Robert Baynes’s letters reflect a hardening resolve among officers in the north to stand firm against Monck and his army, who ‘had no intentions for peace however they pretend thereunto’.138 ‘We knew of no Revolters from them’, wrote John Price, ‘till their Money and hopes were spent.’139

The army in England failed to resist Monck because of the dreadful leadership displayed by the grandees, primarily Fleetwood and Disbrowe in London, though Lambert in the north was also guilty. The forces in England had accepted the October dismissal of the Rump out of instinctive loyalty and a dislike of attempts to divide the army. But coming after such an unsettled summer, with most regiments still confused by the traffic of officers in and out, the dissolution exacerbated the mood of uncertainty. ‘Wee live in a very unsetteled distracted ayge,’ wrote Captain Griffith Lloyd on 18 October.140 Officers badly needed the justification and guidance from the centre that had always accompanied previous changes of government. Instead, the system of efficient communications between headquarters and periphery collapsed.141 Two weeks after the Rump’s removal, Robert Baynes was puzzled that there was no sign of any official declaration ‘to satisfie the Contrie of the grounds & reasons of the late change’.142 The governor of Cardiff complained in January 1660 that he had been ‘left in a mist in these tourning times’; he had neither seen nor heard from any army officer or MP since July 1659.143 Military and civilian officials in north Wales who had not received ‘the least expres or account from any publique person’, since the Rump’s removal were at ‘a stand as to our actings…the army heretofore declared their repentance for their former interruption…Wee know not but they may please to repent for this alsoe, or els the former repentance is to be repented off.’144

‘Secrecy and celerity’ were the two essential elements that the army leaders ignored in the two months from mid-October to mid-December 1659.145 At the end of November Robert Baynes pleaded with his brother to lobby Fleetwood to (p.212) move ahead quickly with the meeting of the General Council of the Officers ‘to the end noe tyme may be lost, delay being now the greatest danger’.146 Colonel John Jones, writing from Ireland to Fleetwood a week later, echoed the sentiment: ‘Delayes and longe Debates are exceedingly dangerouse.’147 The consultative General Council of the Officers, elected at regimental level, met in London on 6 December, after Portsmouth had already fallen to Hesilrige and his Rumper colleagues. What might have happened had the army leaders moved quickly and summoned the council to meet five or six weeks earlier, decided how a new parliament should be summoned, and set a date for elections? Would Monck’s guns have been effectively spiked? As it was, in circumstances demanding strong, decisive action, the council spent its time discussing tithes, religious persecution, and the virtues of direct and indirect elections. They ‘talke and debate of things, but that is the most they doe’, the Quaker Richard Hubberthorne complained of the army leaders.148

Lambert, and indeed Fleetwood, failed to appreciate that ‘Sudden Action was his true interest’.149 Monck, as his correspondents in London understood, had everything to gain by delay. Lambert’s tactics made no sense to contemporaries nor to Monck’s advisers writing some years later. Why did he march ‘in such haste to so farre North’? Once he had arrived in Newcastle, why did he just remain there and not, for example, try to cut off the four troops and six companies that Monck had sent to try to secure Newcastle? What might have happened if he had sent his cavalry into Scotland?150 The army leaders’ passivity was matched by their lack of ruthlessness. Thomas Clarges, one of Monck’s main advisers, was allowed to travel from London to Scotland in the hope that he would change Monck’s mind; Clarges himself expected ‘to be much worse Treated’. When some of Robert Lilburne’s officers told Lambert that they could not support him, ‘he was pleased, contrary to our own and friends expectations, to leave us to our liberties’. Prominent members of the Rump were left free to roam the country with predictable results. Colonel Nathaniel Whetham, a close friend of Monck and Anthony Ashley Cooper, who was now a leading opponent of the military government, was left in place as governor of Portsmouth; when Whetham admitted Hesilrige and other prominent Rumpers into the garrison at the beginning of December, Fleetwood naively complained that Whetham had ‘deceived his trust’.151

(p.213) Monck worked on the basis that, ‘in Actions of great Concernment, there was more use of Execution, than Councel’.152 Post-restoration accounts of his actions and motives were inevitably hagiographical, but Thomas Gumble’s account, in particular, conveys a vivid picture of a general closely involved in the reshaping of his army. Monck made personal visits to regiments and garrisons to gauge the loyalty of his officers and explain to his soldiers why he had taken his stand; reinforced his version of events with printed materials and a weekly newspaper; got rid of those officers whom he did not trust and imprisoned many of those who opposed him; devised a variety of means to send and receive intelligence; and personally checked the post to see whom he could trust.153

The failings of the grandees in London were disastrous because they gave the army’s opponents time to organize and opportunity to exploit uncertainty and divisions. On 3 December Whetham admitted Hesilrige and his colleagues into Portsmouth. Hesilrige was the first to point out that ‘we begun no contest, we waited two Moneths, and nothing was brought forth but confusion’. The first history of Monck’s coup noted sourly but accurately: ‘yet how slowly did Ireland and the Fleet joyn with him? And even the Council of State themselves…were backward enough to appear till they saw a Distraction in other Councels.’154 With the occupation of a major garrison, the army’s opponents gained in confidence. The city of London was becoming increasingly difficult to control, and on 13 December the fleet declared for parliament’s restoration, as did part of the army in Ireland. The army in England moved to espouse the cause of the Rump only once it became clear that the authority of the Committee of Safety had collapsed. On 20 December the forces besieging Portsmouth went over to Hesilrige and his colleagues; the differences between the two parties were not sufficient, they believed, to ‘warrant any actions of open hostility’.155 The regiments in London and the provinces soon followed this example. By 23 December the Rump Parliament was again returned to power.

The army in England deserted its leaders only when they had proved incapable of exercising their authority and power. None of those officers who opposed the dismissal of the Rump in October took any action until the last week of December, when the Rump had already been restored.156 Colonel Edward Salmon travelled north to explain the ‘late turn of affairs’ to Lambert’s army, which was ‘in consternation’ on receipt of the news. A council of war was held in Newcastle on the last three days of the year to discuss the expeditionary force’s next move. The decisions taken at these meetings are unknown because of the partial and contradictory nature of surviving reports. What is clear is that Lambert never seriously attempted to mobilize his forces against the restored Rump.157 Even had he wished, (p.214) Lambert could by this stage not have relied on his army to march south. The Irish brigade declared for parliament as soon as news of the restoration reached the north, and small groups of cavalry began to desert to Monck. In early January 1660 Lambert turned up at Northallerton with a small group of supporters. His regiments marched passively to quarters according to parliamentary order.158

The focus for any understanding of the collapse of the army in England must be the failure of the commanders in London, not the eventual wavering of the forces in the north. ‘The Head-quarters of an Army are like the Court, all others follow their Fashion,’ observed Thomas Gumble.159 Why did the grandees acquit themselves so feebly in the aftermath of their October coup? A split command, with Lambert far from London, did not make for concerted action, though this was a handicap that the army had overcome in the last quarter of 1648 when Cromwell was in the north until early December. Shortcomings of character go a long way towards providing an explanation. Charles Fleetwood, as commander-in-chief, fell far short of the resolution Fairfax demonstrated in 1647. Fleetwood’s ‘natural inclination to compliance’, in Cromwell’s words; his tendency to ‘lament’ rather than take action; and his overly ‘indulgent’ spirit, contributed to his total lack of suitability for the senior command to which Cromwell had promoted him.160 He, by his sins of omission, and Hesilrige, by his sins of commission, most notably his moves against the army on 11–12 October, were the two individuals most responsible for the collapse of the Commonwealth. Both John Disbrowe and John Lambert obviously lacked Cromwell’s peculiar gifts—‘there is none now upon the stage of action, that can pretend to the same advantage, that the former Protector had’, as officers opposed to the Rump’s removal noted—but neither did they, nor any of their senior colonels, possess the drive and ruthlessness that had characterized Henry Ireton’s moulding and direction of the army in late 1648.161 Lambert was a 40-year-old with a brilliant future behind him; the tough-minded and dominant political figure of the period 1653 to 1657 showed no sign of reappearing in 1659. Had he remained in the army in 1657, rather than retiring from public life in resentment over Cromwell’s acceptance of the Humble Petition and Advice, the army’s response to developments in 1659 might have been different. It remains unclear why the army leaders felt the need to dispatch an army to face Monck in the north so urgently. Monck recognized that a premature march into England could be disastrous. If the grandees had ensured that key garrisons were in the hands of officers who could be trusted, and undertaken a serious occupation of the city of London, as the army had done in August 1647, before or at least at the same time as sending the expeditionary force north, events might well have developed (p.215) differently. Army commanders in the provinces showed that the existence of a parliament was not a prerequisite for public order.162

But the army leaders had a pronounced need for some kind of a legislative assembly to legitimize their actions, for ‘legall Instrumts and formall Nationall Constitutions’. In similar circumstances in 1653, Cromwell had nominated an assembly to succeed the Rump, and when that experiment failed he had ruled directly through the army for nine months before he called the first Protectorate parliament. The Lord Protector was less ‘wedded and glued’ to notions of parliamentary rule than were his senior officers. It was their initiative that led to the calling of the second Protectorate parliament, and after that body’s dissolution in February 1658 Fleetwood could envisage only another parliament as a cure for the nation’s ills.163 In late 1659, when circumstances demanded tough and rapid action, the officers could see only so far as a traditional legislative assembly, and spent much of their time debating its form and means of election. Archibald Johnston of Wariston watched the army’s disintegration at first hand:

They took on them gouverment whereof they have tuyse in one year given a demonstration of their incapacity to wield or manage…They could be drawn on a sudainty to break Parliments but with deliberation could [set]tle nothing…Everyone of the officers told to us their confusion and unfittnesse to manage such a business as gouverment.164

The army leaders were ultimately paralysed by their longing ‘to lay hold of any thing that had the least appearance of Civil Authority’.165

The end of the commonwealth:January–May 1660

On its return to power, the Rump immediately set about neutering the army as a political animal. Monck had purged Lambert’s officer corps as he marched south, and his changes were confirmed by parliament’s three army commissioners—Hesilrige, Herbert Morley, and Valentine Walton—who then proceeded to wreak havoc on the remaining regiments in England.166 Edmund Ludlow maintained, with some justification, that the commissioners worked on the basis of one simple criterion: since the previous October every officer had either supported or opposed the army grandees; they judged only by actions, not the motives informing those actions. A republican stalwart such as Robert Bennett scurried to provide testimonials that he had not followed orders from the army leaders.167 One reasonable estimate suggests that over 500 officers, perhaps 40 per cent of (p.216) commissioned officers, lost their places through the work of Monck and the parliamentary commissioners.168 But this catch-all figure needs to be disaggregated before the full impact of these changes on the various parts of the army can be appreciated. In Monck’s eyes, only one officer of Lambert’s cavalry regiment was fit to be continued, and he advocated a purge of Lambert’s private soldiers as well as his officers.169 Only half the field officers and one-third of the captains commissioned in summer 1659, and many of those were new appointments, survived in the same regiment after the purges of January and February 1660, and these numbers dropped even lower after the second round of purges that Monck conducted after his appointment as commander-in-chief on 25 February.170 Even these figures obscure major differences between regiments: Colonel Swallow’s cavalry regiment retained only five of its eighteen officers after January 1660, whereas thirteen each of John Okey’s and John Disbrowe’s cavalry officers remained.171

A high proportion of private soldiers now came under officers unfamiliar to them. In Colonel Biscoe’s and Colonel Sydenham’s regiments, only two out of a total of nine captaincies went to insiders.172 In total, probably about half the open captaincies went to outside appointments.173 The commissioners also moved officers around within regiments: the five surviving lieutenants of one regiment all changed companies. Personnel changes of this order produced inevitable chaos. In early February there were doubts in army circles whether parliament had confirmed all Monck’s changes in the northern regiments; Lambert’s former horse regiment lay ‘dispersed in severall places without any officers’.174 Traffic in and out of regiments was hectic: officers purged in summer 1659 were reinstated, as were men who had resigned or been removed in 1647 and 1648.175

Even officers who had retained their commissions resented these continued purges. Robert Baynes observed with distaste how officers dismissed in 1659, and some of those laid aside in 1648, were ‘earnestly soliciting for Comands’. It was paradoxical that officers who had so recently been purged ‘for being soe hott for a kingly government’ should now be seen as the fittest choices to support the interests of the commonwealth. Royalists were ‘not without hopes of finding some friends lately crept into the Armie’. His regiment would be ready to serve parliament if ‘it bee not too much shattered & broken’.176 His cousin John Baynes, a supporter of Monck at the end of 1659, also appreciated the folly of the Rump’s continuing purges and hoped ‘that there may not be such puttings in & out of places as hath (p.217) been within these nine Moneths, itt breeds much ill blood, and many heart-burnings’.177

The removal of so many officers hit centrally at every level of command in the army. Most new officers were, in Ludlow’s view, ‘either unknown to the souldiers, disaffected to the cause, or ignorant of military affairs’. Replacing junior officers in such numbers was more of a blow to discipline and unity than removing field officers. Filling the army with strange faces, argued one supporter of the Rump in early February, ‘will make as strange effects’. There was a clear rationale for purging field officers and even captains, but it was madness to turn out ‘Inferiour Fry (who ever yet have been the fastest friends to your power)’. ‘You have seen how little a Collonel signifies where his acquaintance is but green; souldiers love to bee lead by them, they have bled withal.’178 Robert Baynes echoed this theme in his conviction that if those officers discharged by Monck were to return to their commands, it would ‘abundantly please’ most of the rank and file in the north; with new officers, the soldiers ‘will be wavering with uncertaintie to which new interest they shall be drawne’.179

Lack of leadership not lack of pay determined the army’s reaction to the political developments of the months January to May 1660. Soldiers, of course, cared whether or not they were paid, but material grievances did not have a causal relationship to political activity or quiescence.180 Army arrears were large at the beginning of 1660, with foot regiments between two and seven months in arrears, and horse between four and nine months behind. But these totals took no account, as army administration recognized, of the ‘several considerable sums’ of the assessment collected without warrants or by warrants not brought to account, or of money taken from customs and excise officials.181 Arrears of pay were in reality probably no greater than in late 1648 or early 1649. Officers continued to find ways to prevent their soldiers’ destitution, with a number lending them money out of their own pockets.182 Between the Rump’s restoration in December 1659 and Charles II’s restoration in May 1660, soldiers in England mutinied only three times over pay. In every case trouble occurred when troops were ordered to leave their existing quarters.183 Two of the incidents involved Sir Brice Cochrane’s regiment, brutalized by its service in Flanders, from where it came in the summer of 1659, and where the calibre of officers fell a long way short of the norm in England. Three of Cochrane’s companies had terrorized Gloucester for ten weeks when the Rump ordered them to leave the city at the beginning of January 1660. With the officers divided among themselves over possible support for Lambert, the soldiers mutinied (p.218) for pay and discharge of quarters. The mutiny fizzled out within a day, and the companies left Gloucester. A month later six companies of the same regiment mutinied again, this time as they were preparing to be shipped from Gravesend back to Flanders. This second mutiny was apparently as much a protest against their new officers as it was to do with pay. A combination of cavalry troops and another infantry regiment reduced them to obedience.184

The most conspicuous mutinies, taking place in the heart of London, came on the first two days of February. Once again, the order to march out of settled quarters provoked hostility. The soldiers of George Twisleton’s regiment, formerly Thomas Fitch’s, which had garrisoned the Tower for years, refused to leave without pay on ‘pretence of their longe stay here and the necessityes of their familyes’. Mutiny broke out when an officer struck a soldier for insolence and the soldier retaliated with the butt end of his musket. Resentment towards officers was one of the most marked characteristics of the mutiny; a breakdown in the relationship between officers and soldiers was not surprising in a regiment that had experienced four commanding officers in less than a year and other major changes among its officers. Promises of pay restored the regiment to order on the same day.185 The next day, the regiment newly conferred on the son of Speaker Lenthall, previously that of Colonel William Sydenham, refused to leave its quarters in Somerset House when ordered to march out of London. Demanding payment of their arrears, which stood at over three months, the soldiers beat up some of their officers and tore up their colours. Other soldiers, probably part of Lambert’s former regiment, joined the mutineers. In the general confusion there were demands both for the restoration of Lambert and his officers and for a free parliament. During the day the government frantically raised cash to settle the soldiers’ arrears. Troops comfortably squashed an attempt by city apprentices to make the mutiny part of a rising against the Rump.186

It is easy to make too much of the London mutinies.187 Good officers were and always had been the prerequisite for good discipline. Parliament had passed the lists for Sydenham’s/Lenthall’s regiment the day before the mutiny: all the field officers, six captains, two lieutenants, and four ensigns lost their places, and five lieutenants changed companies.188 In this context, orders to leave settled quarters without pay were likely to cause trouble. The London mutinies did not herald the New Model’s decline into a mercenary army. As the behaviour of officers and soldiers demonstrated time and again over the next three months, these mutinies were exceptional events provoked by exceptional circumstances.

(p.219) The best means of understanding the character of the army in its last months of existence is to examine the attempts it made to oppose Monck in the first few months of 1660. There had always been immense practical difficulties facing troops scattered in the provinces when they tried to organize effective political activity. ‘Since in all these times…What ever was done at London,’ Thomas Clarges told Monck, ‘all the rest of the Regiments submitted.’ From the first week of February Monck and the regiments from Scotland were established in London, and the English army was widely dispersed across the south of the country, with each regiment divided into ‘very distinct stations’. In the north troops of Lambert’s former cavalry regiment could not quarter together for lack of money.189 With troops and companies geographically isolated, with little or no idea of the stance of other parts of the army, Monck could control the flow of information and emphasize the unity of the regiments in London.190 Ludlow, for one, recognized the army’s impotence so long as it lay scattered. He worked hard during February and March to persuade Hesilrige and other leading republicans to call the English regiments to London or organize a series of rendezvous in the provinces.191

But Hesilrige rejected Ludlow’s overtures. Monck later admitted that ‘noe man was soe capable to obstruct my designes’ as Hesilrige, who not only commanded two regiments and the four northernmost garrisons but also had ‘the chiefe hand’ in modelling the army. Hesilrige was, recollected John Price, Monck’s ‘Co-General…and able to vie with him in point of merit; he having been their Restorer in the South’.192 All that Ludlow could extract from Hesilrige in early February, however, was ‘a prolix commendation’ of Monck; Ludlow attributed this passivity partly to a conviction that ‘things were already gone so far’ that nothing could be done, and partly to a despairing hope that Monck ‘could not be such a devil to betray a trust so freely reposed in him’.193 Lack of leadership was fatal to the army’s cause. ‘For those who were willing to helpe us, could not: those whom we had some hope of, durst not; and those who could, were so far from doing itt that they imploy all their endeavours for the destroying of us.’194 For many leading politicians, the rancor and enmity engendered by the events of late 1659 were so strong that not even the threatened return of the common enemy could restore trust. Hesilrige proudly told Monck in March 1660 that he had not spoken to Lambert since the latter’s return to London after Booth’s rising in September 1659. Robert Baynes, complaining bitterly of the declaration made by Fairfax and the local gentry for a free parliament in the heart of York in the second week of February, recognized (p.220) that ‘all will not be well for want of some shewing person to command’.195 Baynes was typical of the bulk of officers who were ‘apter to follow in any Design (as men naturally are) then to begin the Action’. Some officers in Carlisle garrison would not declare their dislike of the readmission of the secluded members of parliament in February but preferred to see what moves were made elsewhere in the army before committing themselves.196

Why did junior officers and the rank and file not mobilize as they had in 1647 when faced by this lack of leadership from their senior officers? Put simply, the preconditions for success that applied in 1647 were missing in 1660. In the spring and summer of 1647 the New Model had quartered within easy striking distance of London; in 1660 the regiments were split up and distant from the capital. Army command in 1647 had initially been indecisive, divided, and itself vulnerable to attack from parliament; Monck in 1660 had the regiments from Scotland united behind him and occupied the centre of both military and civil government. Many officers in 1647 had permitted the emergence, and indeed encouraged rank and file agitation by their vacillation, absenteeism, lack of instruction from army commanders, and often sympathy with their soldiers’ grievances; officers in 1660 received a barrage of instructions from London to keep a close watch for any signs of discontent in the ranks.197 The January purges, rapidly followed by Monck’s further changes to the officer corps after he had become commander-in-chief in February, eroded the likelihood of officers and soldiers finding common cause. Monck sought to appoint ‘such as will obey and not dispute the power the Lord has placed over them, and preserve the souldjers under them in an obedient discipline, and not to permit them to bee troublesome with seditious adgitations’.198 Soldiers shrugged off the ‘golden reins’ of discipline in 1647 because they faced a hostile parliament offering the alternative of service in Ireland under distrusted officers with unsatisfactory settlement of arrears, or disbandment with even less payment of arrears and wholly inadequate indemnity provisions. The soldiers were successful because they persuaded their officers to head the revolt. In 1660 all these engines of revolution were absent. Without officer support, the efficacy of rank and file political activity was severely limited. Looking back on the early months of 1660, John Price concluded that ‘the Souldiers and inferiour Officers were not able to make any great or dangerous mutinies, as being left destitute of authority to countenance them’.199 What little we know of the views of private soldiers suggests that a good number of them disliked what was happening. Ludlow believed that ‘ten to one’ of the soldiers were friends of the Commonwealth. In York Robert Baynes judged that the ‘generalitie of the private solds seemes to be much abashed & troubled’ by declarations for a free parliament in the city. Elsewhere, soldiers (p.221) showed no reluctance in following their officers’ orders and used considerable force to disperse demonstrations in favour of a free parliament.200

There were three significant attempts to oppose Monck. Colonel Robert Overton’s stand at Hull had the greatest prospect for success because his garrison ‘was such, and so placed, as to render his Design practicable’. Overton had refused to support either Monck or Lambert during their stand-off in late 1659, and had told Monck in November that ‘you are under a bad influence, though you have a plausible pretence’. The two men had clashed again in January 1660, when Monck suggested that Overton was being slow in declaring for the restored Rump.201 The governor of Hull and his officers viewed the readmission of the secluded members on 21 February as a great boost for the ‘so often abjured interest of a King’. Overton, therefore, set out to muster what support he could among the forces in the north. In a letter addressed to Colonels Hugh Bethel, Charles Fairfax, and George Smithson, copies of which his agents distributed among troops in the north, Overton deplored the fact that ‘the abandoned Interest of Charles Stuart doth seem so to shine in the face of Publique Transactions’. Both his garrison and the other regiments in the north were ‘equally engaged and concerned in one Publique Cause’, and should be ‘as conjunctively abetting and assisting to the defence of it’.202

The three colonels at York were staunch supporters of Monck, whom they immediately informed. The general instructed Overton to come to London, appointed Charles Fairfax to replace him, and sent Colonel Matthew Alured and Major Jeremiah Smith to ensure that the governor followed his orders. Monck chose his envoys with care. Alured had close links with Hull and, like Overton, was a committed republican. According to John Price, Alured ‘prevaricated in his Trust’ and went privately to see Overton. Smith, a former officer in the garrison, an old friend of Overton’s, and well known in Hull, borrowed money in the town with the intention of seducing the soldiers away from the governor. But underhand methods proved unnecessary. Overton recognized the hopelessness of his position, admitted defeat in a letter to Monck on 6 March, and within a week had taken his final leave of the garrison.203 On his return to London, Overton explained to Ludlow: ‘there being a civill authority joined with a power favouring the cavaleers, the towne was so generally united against him, and the souldiery, which were not above six or seaven hundred, so divided from him and amongst themselves, that he had no hopes of keeping it.’204

(p.222) The second republican hero jerked into activity by the readmission was Colonel Nathaniel Rich, who went from London to East Anglia to prevail with his regiment to ‘declare…for the lawfull authority’.205 There was widespread discontent in the regiment at Monck’s readmission of the secluded members and five of the six troops attended a rendezvous at Bury St Edmunds on 25 February. Rich was later charged with appointing four agitators in each troop to present grievances. Soldiers reputedly insulted Monck without censure. Over the next three days the troops travelled towards Colchester and Sudbury with the apparent intention of persuading the infantry in the county to join them. But Rich’s freedom of movement soon ended. Colonel Richard Ingoldsby, whom Monck had appointed to replace Rich on 26 February, left London with ‘some of Monke’s guard and other ruffian like fellowes’, to take command of his regiment. Although Rich’s soldiers had promised to ‘be faithfull to him’, the approach of their legitimate colonel, armed for the fray, soon brought a change of mind. Rich surrendered on the last day of February.206

Before Rich left London, Ludlow had warned him that he was certain to fail unless he could find a garrison to serve as a base. The speed with which the soldiers transferred their allegiance was attributable, in Ludlow’s view, partly to Ingoldsby’s interest in the regiment, as its colonel in the later years of the Protectorate, but principally ‘because the torrent of the usurped authority and power ranne that way’. Boasting that one wished to insert a red-hot poker into Monck was all very well among like-minded soldiers, but the step from verbal discontent to physical action was a large one. As Ludlow observed of republican colonels in London at the beginning of March, ‘notwithstanding the big words they spake without doores’, they tamely submitted to Monck. To side with Rich was to follow a man with no commission, to mutiny against one’s colonel, and to take an isolated stand against the rest of the army.207 This unwillingness to fracture the unity of the army by taking up arms against fellow soldiers is one of the most marked features of the last year of the Commonwealth. Clashes within the army would only open the door to the common enemy. Even after the readmission of the secluded members, Ludlow refused to join a plot mooted by some of the former leaders of the army in England, ‘knowing that confusion, and consequently the bringing in of Charles Steward would be the product of it’.208

The enormous powers of a determined commander-in-chief, the lack of coordinated opposition from senior officers of the army in England, and the physical isolation of troops in the provinces explain the relative ease with which Monck mopped up potential opposition. Former officers made numerous attempts by personal appearance or pamphlet broadside to ‘debauch’ the troops through March and April 1660 but had very limited success, largely because of the vigilance (p.223) exercised by Monck and his officers.209 Colonel Charles Fairfax kept his soldiers ‘strictly to their duty’ and never went ‘a stonecast from the works’ at Hull after his appointment to replace Overton as governor.210 Monck, more than anyone, understood how an army worked. ‘There is not an officer in the army, upon any discontent’, he had written in September 1658, ‘that has the interest to draw two men after him, if he be out of place.’211 His dictum is the key to understanding Lambert’s abortive rising in April 1660, the third and final attempt to oppose Monck (and indeed army politics from 1647 to 1660).

Lambert escaped from the Tower on 10 April, lurked in London for a few days, then headed for the Midlands. Officers loyal to Monck were seriously concerned: ‘I have very good ground to believe that the Agitators & Lamberts Agents are all over England privately creeping amongst us & tempting our men from us & their affecons & I believe a Generall rising is intended & very great endeavours to cause all or most of the old Army to revolt.’212 Ludlow was slated to lead army and militia forces from the West Country to a rendezvous near Oxford. But he, presumably like many others, declined to commit himself until he saw whether Lambert had any chance of success. In the event, no more than 300 horse and 40 foot arrived at the first rendezvous at Daventry, near Northampton. When loyalist government forces arrived, the small group of rebels fled or surrendered. Lambert himself was ignominiously captured and returned to the Tower.213

The rising itself was a pathetic failure. But to take the pitiful turnout at Daventry as an accurate indication of the army’s mood is misguided.214 There was a wide gap between what many officers and soldiers wanted to do and what they were able to do. In July Monck looked back to mid-April as a time ‘when there was soe great a disposicion to mutiny in the army’.215 On 20 April Colonel Moss’s regiment, of which Ludlow had great hopes, was completely disbanded. One army colonel so lacked confidence in the fidelity of the rank and file that he urged that the oath of loyalty demanded of officers should be extended to every individual soldier. Sir Philip Monckton, one of the defenders of York against an attempted occupation of the city by disaffected troopers, believed that ‘if this City had been for Lambert the reputation of it would have made Monkes army to have left him, as it was upon the point without it’. Ludlow found the army troop at Salisbury beginning ‘to stagger (p.224) in their resolutions, and would without doubt have bin honest had they seene a power to protect them’.216 The lead given by commissioned officers was vital. Two troops deserted to Lambert while their commanding officers were absent in London. Having brought his troop to Lambert in the first place, Captain Robert Hesilrige, Sir Arthur’s son, had second thoughts and surrendered himself to government forces. Told that his personal capitulation was not enough and that he must atone for his defection by detaching his troop from Lambert, the younger Hesilrige returned to his soldiers, who dutifully followed their captain in changing sides again.217 One troop of Colonel Hacker’s regiment mutinied and insisted on going to see their absent captain. They did not declare against Monck, but ‘like mad, mutinous, furious fellowes they would goe unto their captain’. Thirteen of them left to join Lambert’s rising, but, had their captain been present, ‘not a man of his troop had stirred but I also beleive the majority of the troop would sooner engage against then for the General and parliament’.218

Lambert’s rising failed because of the insuperable difficulties involved in organizing a successful coup against army command from outside the army. If Lambert had been able to seize a garrison or town such as Oxford, in ‘a very proper situation to unite their forces’, Monck would have been much harder pressed. As it was, only Redcastle in north Wales held out for the rebels. Lambert attracted most support from those soldiers quartered relatively close to the Daventry rendezvous. The predominance of troopers among his followers reflected the greater political awareness in general of cavalry compared to foot, but it was also a measure of the logistical difficulties facing infantry if it needed to march large distances in a short time.219

Monck was extremely dissatisfied with the rank and file’s behaviour in April. He insisted that the oath of loyalty demanded of officers should be required of private soldiers as well, ‘which made so through a Reformation, that in many Regiments Thirty of a Troop disbanded, rather than they would consent to it, and many in the Foot Companies also left their Arms’.220 These mass resignations, almost certainly involving the sacrifice of accumulated arrears of pay, are in themselves sufficient refutation of the argument that the rank and file of the army was motivated by money and little else. Of course, the promise made by Charles II in the Declaration of Breda that all arrears of pay would be honoured was instrumental in securing the army’s acceptance of the restoration of the monarchy. But, by the time that promise was made, the army already lacked the capacity to alter the course of events. Repeated purges since the summer of 1659 had shattered army unity and undermined the relationship between officers and their men. At the last, the scattered, leaderless regiments proved unable rather than unwilling to preserve the Commonwealth.


(1) Sir Richard Baker, A Chronicle of the Kings of England (1665): the continuation of Baker was written by Edward Phillips, who relied heavily on Clarges for the account of events in 1659–60; Thomas Gumble, The Life of General Monck (1671); John Price, The Mystery and Method of His Majesty’s Happy Restauration (1680). For more details, see Royce Macgillivray, Restoration Historians of the English Civil War (The Hague, 1974), 48–61; Martine Watson Brownley, ‘Sir Richard Baker’s Chronicle and Later Seventeenth-Century English Historiography’, Huntington Library Quarterly, 52 (1989), 492.

(2) TSP vi. 93: Henry Cromwell to Thurloe, 4 March 1657. For some of Henry Cromwell’s letters between September 1658 and April 1659, see TSP vii. 400–1, 425–6, 454–5, 490, 498; and for letters to him, see CHC 403–517.

(3) Bulstrode Whitelocke, Memorials of the English Affairs, 4 vols (Oxford, 1853), iv. 338–409; The Diary of Bulstrode Whitelocke, 1605–1675, ed. Ruth Spalding (Oxford, 1990); Blair Worden, ‘The “Diary” of Bulstrode Whitelocke’, EHR 108 (1993), 122–34; Hutchinson, Memoirs, 220.

(4) Ludlow, Memoirs, ii. 138; Edmund Ludlow, A Voyce from the Watch Tower, ed. Blair Worden, Camden Society, 4th ser., 21 (1978), 39–55, 74–5.

(5) Diary of Sir Archibald Johnston of Wariston, 3 vols, Scottish History Society (Edinburgh, 1911–40); Woolrych, ‘Historical Introduction’, 100.

(6) The main sources are letters in Add. MS 21425; DRO, D 1232; Clarke Papers, iv; Leyborne-Popham; Hodgson, Memoirs.

(7) Both Woolrych, ‘Historical Introduction’, 8, 63, 66, 100, 112, 117, 131, 147–8, and Ronald Hutton, The Restoration: A Political and Religious History of England and Wales, 1658–1667 (Oxford, 1985), 23–4, 27, 35, 58, 64, 72, at times turn too readily to testimony from royalists and foreign ambassadors. The worst offender is Godfrey Davies, The Restoration of Charles II 1658–1660 (1955), which regularly adopts the prejudices of the army’s opponents: see, e.g. pp. 19, 21, 78, 156, 158, 165, 185, 216, 337, 357. See Ruth Mayers, 1659: The Crisis of the Commonwealth (Woodbridge, 2004), 25–6, for criticism of the three main secondary accounts on this score.

(8) Clarke Papers, iv. 92–5, 101–3, 168.

(9) Clarke Papers, iv. 300, printing a letter from Tanner MS 51, fo. 161. The letter is unsigned, but Firth reasonably attributes it to Berners, a long-time correspondent of the letter’s recipient, John Hobart of Norwich. Berners had been appointed by the restored Rump in May 1659 as one of the non-MP members of the Council of State; see G. E. Aylmer, State’s Servants: The Civil Service of the English Republic (1973), 210–12, for an account of his career. See Woolrych, ‘Historical Introduction’, 144; Derek Massarella, ‘The Politics of the Army 1647–1660’ (University of York D.Phil. thesis, 1977), 665; Derek Hirst, England in Conflict 1603–1660 (Cambridge, MA, 1999), 325; Clive Holmes, Why was Charles I executed? (London, 2006), 192; Davies, The Restoration of Charles II, 185; Cromwell’s Army, 380, for uses of this quotation.

(10) Austin Woolrych, ‘The Cromwellian Protectorate: A Military Dictatorship?’, History, 75 (1990), 229; Cromwell’s Army, 380; Davies, Restoration of Charles II, 356–7.

(11) Above, pp. 62–6.

(12) Davies, Restoration of Charles II, 356–7; Cromwell’s Army, 380; Hutton, The Restoration, 81–2.

(13) Woolrych, ‘Historical Introduction’, 165; Massarella, ‘The Politics of the Army 1647–1660’, 565; Hutton, The Restoration, 81–2; Davies, Restoration of Charles II, 357.

(14) Woolrych, ‘Historical Introduction’, 4–26, 58–71; Austin Woolrych, ‘The Good Old Cause and the Fall of the Protectorate’, Cambridge Historical Journal, 13 (1957), 133–61; Davies, Restoration of Charles II, 3–85; Hutton, The Restoration, 3–41; Ivon Roots, ‘The Tactics of the Commonwealthsmen in Richard Cromwell’s Parliament’, in D. Pennington and K. Thomas (eds), Puritans and Revolutionaries: Essays in Seventeenth Century History Presented to Christopher Hill (Oxford, 1978), 283–309; Derek Hirst, ‘Concord and Discord in Richard Cromwell’s House of Commons’, EHR 103 (1988), 339–58; Patrick Little and David Smith, Parliaments and Politics during the Cromwellian Protectorate (Cambridge, 2007), 117–20, 148–70; Jason Peacey, ‘The Protector Humbled: Richard Cromwell and the Constitution’, in Patrick Little (ed.), The Cromwellian Protectorate (Woodbridge, 2007), 32–52.

(15) TSP vii. 375: Fleetwood to Henry Cromwell, 7 September 1658.

(16) Woolrych, ‘The Good Old Cause’, 136; David Underdown, Pride’s Purge: Politics in the Puritan Revolution (Oxford, 1971), 344; Peter Gaunt, ‘Cromwell, Richard (1626–1712)’, ODNB; TSP vii. 387; Clarke Papers, iii. 164, 167; Davies, Restoration of Charles II, 31. Montagu’s appointment had been mooted in December 1657 but was rejected because of army opposition: Regimental History, 192. John Disbrowe complained at the end of 1658 that ‘several sons of Belial [had] crept in amongst them’; given Montagu’s flirtation with the Royalists in summer 1659, Disbrowe had a point: A Collection of the State Letters of the Right Honourable Roger Boyle, ed. T. Morrice (1743), 27; Underdown, Pride’s Purge, 350; Bernard Capp, Cromwell’s Navy: The Fleet and the English Revolution 1648–1660 (Oxford, 989), 337–40.

(17) TSP vii. 454: Henry Cromwell to Fleetwood, 20 October 1658.

(18) Woolrych, ‘Historical Introduction’, 12

(19) TSP vii. 436; Clarke Papers, iii. 165.

(20) Cromwell’s Army, 48–9; above, pp. 52–9; TSP vii. 436; Clarke Papers, iii. 165.

(21) Derek Massarella, ‘The Politics of the Army and the Quest for Settlement’, in Ivan Roots (ed.), ‘Into Another Mould’: Aspects of the Interregnum (Exeter, 1988), 127; Davies, Restoration of Charles II, 19, 33. It is instructive to compare the overheated letters of Lord Fauconberg in London to Henry Cromwell in Ireland with those of Thomas Clarges, Monck’s brother-in-law and agent of the Scottish and Irish armies in London, who did not play down the disturbances in the army but had a more realistic understanding of what they signified: TSP vii. 386, 406–7, 413–14, 437–8, 450–2, 462, 498–9, 511, 528–9, 541.

(22) TSP vii. 447–9, 452, 511; Clarke Papers, iii. 168–70; Davies, Restoration of Charles II, 36–40; TSP i. 767.

(23) CSPD 1658–9, 80; SP 18/182, fo. 48; above, Ch. 5. For examples of the army’s plight, see TNA: PRO 31/17/33, fos 98, 131, 150, 184, 203, 242, 268–9.

(24) CHC 419, 435; TNA: PRO 31/17/33, fo. 298; TSP vii. 460–1.

(25) Davies, Restoration of Charles II, 49; Burton, Diary, iv. 140.

(26) CJBurton, Diary, iv. 140–1The Humble Representation and Petition of the General Council of the Officers of the Armies of England, Scotland, and Ireland

(27) Woolrych, ‘The Good Old Cause’, 145TSP

(28) Burton, Diary, iv. 149–63. See Woolrych, ‘The Good Old Cause’, 142, for Overton’s triumphal arrival in London.

(29) Burton, Diary, iv. 221–3, 303

(30) Woolrych, ‘The Good Old Cause’, 146–8; Austin Woolrych, Britain in Revolution 1625–1660 (Oxford, 2002), 718–20.

(31) The Humble Representation and Petition, 4–7.

(32) See Little and Smith, Parliaments and Politics, 117–20, for a discussion of the role of the Presbyterians in parliament. Cf. Woolrych, Britain in Revolution, 719–20.

(33) CJ vii. 636–7; Burton, Diary, iv. 403–12.

(34) Woolrych, ‘The Good Old Cause’, 149–61; Davies, Restoration of Charles II, 79–90.

(35) Woolrych, ‘Military Dictatorship?’, 229.

(36) TSP i. 767: John Maidstone to John Winthrop.

(37) Woolrych, ‘Historical Introduction’, 69Clarke Papers

(38) Woolrych, ‘The Good Old Cause’, 133–61; Woolrych, Britain in Revolution, 715–24.

(39) Woolrych, ‘Historical Introduction’, 99.

(40) A Declaration of the General Council of the Officers of the Army (1659), 4.

(41) Add. MS 21425, fos 52, 59; CJ vii. 689.

(42) CJ vii. 692; SP 18/203, fos 181–91.

(43) TNA: PRO 30/24/33/14, fo. 45; Mercurius Politicus 18–25 August 1659, 681–4; above, p. 176.

(44) Only one of the two official army apologias produced after the dissolution in October mentions parliament’s dilatoriness in passing a new assessment, and then only as a subsidiary cause of the distrust between the two bodies: The Armys Plea for their Present Practice (1659), 20.

(45) The Humble Petition and Addresse of the Officers of the Army to the Parliament of the Commonwealth ofBaker, Chronicle, 701–2

(46) Above, p. 176; A Declaration of the General Council, 18, published after the October dissolution, mentions tithes as a brief afterthought but not as a grievance against the Rump.

(47) Woolrych, ‘Historical Introduction’, 70.

(48) The Derby petition in September 1659 sought that the proposals of the 12 May petition be implemented but did not mention a select senate in particular: Baker, Chronicle, 712–13. The only complaint from the army on the subject came from John Disbrowe after the Rump’s removal in October: Ludlow, Memoirs, ii. 166.

(49) Clarke Papers, iv. 73.

(50) A Declaration of the General CouncilThe Armys PleaCf. Ludlow, Memoirs, ii. 166.

(51) The Armys Plea, 20–1. Cf. Leyborne-Popham, 168–9.

(52) A Declaration of the General Council, 6.

(53) The Armys Plea, 20.

(54) See, e.g. Twelve Plain Proposals offered to the Honest and Faithfull Officers and Souldiers of our English Army (1659); The Humble Petition of divers Inhabitants of the County of Hertford (1659); The humble Petition of the Sentinels in the Regiment formerly belonging to Major-General Goffe (1659).

(55) The Weekly Intelligencer 3–10 May 1659, 1–2.

(56) CJ vii. 680.

(57) Above, Ch. 3.

(58) Clarke PapersBaker, Chronicle, 699.

(59) SP 18/203, fo. 6; CJ vii. 650–1. The Committee for Nomination was not established by act until 8 June, so the officers of the seven regiments approved by parliament on 28 May were vetted by the Committee of Safety: CSPD 1658–9, 375; CJ vii. 668–9.

(60) Davies, Restoration of Charles II, 105–6.

(61) Add. MS 21425, fos 47, 51, 59.

(62) Add. MS 21425, fo. 49: Richard Pease to Baynes, 12 May 1659.

(63) see Reece, ‘Military Presence’, 245

(64) SP 25/127, fos 103–6. Cf. SP fos 15–16, 44; Add. MS 21425, fo. 77.

(65) Add. MS 21425, fos 51, 69, 71, 94, 102, 125; SP 25/127, fos 1, 4, 13, 15–16, 41, 48, 64.

(66) SP 25/127, fo. 41; Add. MS 21425, fo. 59v; Clarke Papers, iv.22: Monck to Speaker Lenthall, 18 June 1659.

(67) Add. MS 21425, fo. 61.

(68) Add. MS 21425, fos 66, 81.

(69) Add. MS 21425, fo. 131.

(70) A Declaration of the General Council, 6.

(71) E.D., The Declaration of the Officers of the Army Opened, Examined & Condemned (1659), 20–2TSP

(72) SP 25/127, fo. 112; Davies, Restoration of Charles II, 107–8; Ludlow, Memoirs, ii. 82, 95–6; CSPD 1658–9, 394; E.D., The Declaration of the Officers of the Army Opened, 22; DRO, D1232/080.

(73) SP 25/127, passim. Fleetwood and Hesilrige attended 33 out of a maximum of 35 meetings, Disbrowe and Berry 27 out of 35, Vane 22 out of 35, and Lambert and Ludlow 21 out of 35. Lambert could plead the distraction of Booth’s rising for his non-attendance in August and September.

(74) SP 25/127, fos.17, 22, 38–9, 77, 102; CSPD 1658–9, 389; LRO 133–4; Baker, Chronicle, 705; Ludlow, Memoirs, ii. 94. Cf. Clarke Papers, iv. 252; Regimental History, 356–8.

(75) Clarke Papers, iv. 303: Monck to Sir Edward Turner, 4 July 1660; SP 25/127, passim.

(76) CJ vii.678, 698, 714, 748–9.

(77) Children of Light, ed. H. H. Brinton (New York, 1938), 113–14CJ

(78) SP 25/127, fos 27, 35, 90, 100, 108, 109; CSPD 1659–60, 8, 21, 36; DRO, D1232/088.

(79) CSPDCJSee Reece, ‘Military Presence’, 247–8

(80) J. H. Y. Briggs, ‘John Wigan and the First Baptists of Manchester’, Baptist Quarterly, NS 25 (1973–4), 151–66; Regimental History, 333–4, 484–5, 487; Bernard Capp, The Fifth Monarchy Men (1972), 250; Rawlinson MS A.208, fo. 359; CJ vii.678; TSP iii. 29–30, 56.

(81) SP 25/127, fos 27–8; Add. MS 21425, fos 59, 75; CJ vii. 669; Regimental History, 151.

(82) Clarke Papers, iv. 21; Add. MS 4165, fo. 28; Add. MS 21425, fo. 91; SP 28/142, pt 3; CJ vii. 704.

(83) SP 28/142, pt 3; CJ vii. 697; Clarke Papers, v. 305–6; Lynn Beats, ‘Politics and Government in Derbyshire 1640–1660’ (University of Sheffield Ph.D. thesis, 1978), 343–5; TSP vii. 754. See Beats, ‘Politics and Government in Derbyshire’, 349–60, for Sanders’s political trajectory in 1659–60, which included flirtation with Booth’s rising and support for Monck’s admission of the secluded members.

(84) Massarella, ‘The Politics of the Army 1647–1660’, 581

(85) CSPD 1658–9, 387; 1659–60, 57, 74; Regimental History, 467; Clarke Papers, iv. 19.

(86) Add. MS 21425, fo. 59r–v: Joseph Pease to Baynes.

(87) DRO, D1232/082, 090; Baker, Chronicle, 721; Gumble, Life of Monck, 101–2; Add. MS 21425, fos 69, 125; Regimental History, 274; Clarke Papers, iv. 19; Clarke MS 31, fo. 170; LRO 133 (misdated 1657); Reece, ‘Military Presence’, 249; Inedited Letters of Cromwell, Colonel Jones, Bradshaw and other Regicides, ed. Joseph Mayer (Liverpool, 1861), 104–5.

(88) LRO 133 (misdated 1657); Add. MS 21425, fo. 152.

(89) LRO 133 (misdated 1657); TSP vii. 754.

(90) NMAAustin Woolrych, Soldiers and Statesmen: The General Council of the Army and its Debates 1647–1648 (Oxford, 1987), 134.

(91) The Loyall Scout 29 July–5 August 1659, 113.

(92) The Armys Plea, 15; The Humble Representation and Petition, 3.

(93) The Humble Petition and Proposals of the Officers under the command of the Right Honorable the Lord Lambert in the late Northern ExpeditionBaker, Chronicle, 712–13.

(94) Add. MS 21425, fo. 141.

(95) A Conference between Two Souldiers (1659), 13.

(96) Johnston of Wariston, Diary, iii. 139; Davies, Restoration of Charles II, 148–9; Woolrych, ‘Historical Introduction’, 113.

(97) The Humble Representation and Petition, 2–9.

(98) CHC 271: Anthony Morgan to Henry Cromwell, 12 May 1657.

(99) Sydney Papers, ed. R. W. Blencoe (London, 1825), 169–70; Davies, Restoration of Charles II, 150–4; Woolrych, ‘Historical Introduction’, 115–17.

(100) Woolrych, ‘Historical Introduction’, 118.

(101) Clarke Papers, iv. 62.

(102) Below, p. 208.

(103) Inedited Letters, 90–2.

(104) A Declaration of the General CouncilF. P. G. Guizot, History of Richard Cromwell and the Restoration of Charles II, trans. A. R. Scoble, 2 vols (London, 1856), ii. 268.

(105) Inedited Letters, 90–2.

(106) The Humble and Healing Advice of Collonel Robert Overton (1659), 6.

(107) Memorials of the Civil War: Comprising the Correspondence of the Fairfax Family, ed. Robert Bell, 2 vols (London, 1849), ii. 185–9

(108) Leyborne-Popham, 126–7.

(109) Hodgson, Memoirs, 158–9.

(110) Clarke Papers, iv. 156–7: Cambridge to Thomas Mouns, 30 November 1659.

(111) Mercurius PoliticusMercurius PoliticusThe Weekly PostA Narrative of the Proceedings of the Northern ArmiesA Letter of November 16th from an eminent officer in the Army at EdenburghGumble, Life of Monck, 137

(112) Mercurius PoliticusBaker, Chronicle, 727Regimental History

(113) Clarke Papers, iv. 16–17: Monck to Speaker Lenthall, 2 June 1659; Mercurius Politicus 24 November–1 December 1659, 922–3.

(114) Baker, Chronicle, 727; Gumble, Life of Monck, 137, 142; Mercurius Politicus 24 November–1 December 1659, 913–15, 922; 1–8 December 1659, 938; The Weekly Post 22–9 November 1659, 233–4; Clarke Papers, iv. 142; A Letter of November 16th, 3; Price, Mystery and Method, 58.

(115) Gumble, Life of Monck, 142NMA

(116) A Narrative of the Proceedings of the Northern Armies, 5; Clarke Papers, iv. 160–1; Gumble, Life of Monck, 132–3; Baker, Chronicle, 722; Price, Mystery and Method, 47; Daniel Mackinnon, Origins and Services of the Coldstream Guards, 2 vols (London, 1833), i. 77–8; Mercurius Politicus 24 November–1 December 1659, 913–15.

(117) Gumble, Life of Monck, 160; Baker, Chronicle, 723.

(118) The Faithfull IntelligencerMercurius BritanicusBaker, Chronicle, 727

(119) Clarke Papers, iv. 156–7.

(120) Gumble, Life of Monck, 142; Price, Mystery and Method, 58.

(121) Clarke MS 32, fos 129v–130v. Seven of these officers were colonels, including two leading Rumpers—Hesilrige and Morley. Most of them, men such as Alured, Okey, Sanders, Barton, and Streater, had been out of the army for at least five years.

(122) Clarke PapersReece, ‘Military Presence’, 257

(123) A Letter from Ma.Gen. Overton, Governour of Hull, and the Officers under his Command (1659)The Humble and Healing Advice of Collonel Robert OvertonThe Weekly PostMercurius PoliticusA Narrative of the Northern AffairsClarke PapersThe Faithfull IntelligencerMemorials of the Civil War

(124) Baker, Chronicle, 723.

(125) A Letter Sent to the Right Honourable William Lenthal…Concerning the Securing of Windsor Castle for the ParliamentThe Parliamentary IntelligencerCSPDClarke PapersZachary Grey, An Impartial Examination of the Fourth volume of Mr Daniel Neal’s History of the Puritans (1739)Leyborne-Popham

(126) Gumble, Life of Monck, 136–7, 139; Baker, Chronicle, 727; Inedited Letters, 98–9. See Bernard Capp, Cromwell’s Navy: The Fleet and the English Revolution 1648–1660 (Oxford, 1989), 342–51, for developments in the fleet.

(127) Baker, Chronicle, 728Leyborne-Popham

(128) F. D. Dow, Cromwellian Scotland (Edinburgh, 1979), 253; Davies, Restoration of Charles II, 176.

(129) Clarke Papers, iv. 300; above, p. 190, for discussion of this account.

(130) Above, p. 64. For the traditional view on the collapse of Lambert’s army, see Firth Cromwell’s Army, 205–6, 380; Davies, Restoration of Charles II, 168–9, 357; Godfrey Davies, ‘The Army and the Restoration of 1660’, Journal of the Society for Army Historical Research, 32 (1954), 27. For army command’s view of these attacks in 1647, see LJ ix. 556.

(131) Above, p. 96, 208; below, p. 224.

(132) Clarke Papers, iv. 157–8: G.E. to John Was, 1 December 1659.

(133) Clarke Papers, iv. 156; Add. MS 21425, fo. 175; LRO 151–3.

(134) Gumble, Life of Monck, 141.

(135) Clarke Papers, iv. 94, 103; Add. MS 21425, fos 175–7, 181, 183–5. Reports of Lambert’s soldiers mutinying three times (Clarke Papers, iv. 103) are completely unsupported, even by Monck’s propaganda.

(136) TNA: PRO 30/24/33/14, fos 8–9, 21, 22; Add. MS 21425, fos 189, 201; SP 29/24, fo. 51; Leyborne-Popham, 169, 170–1.

(137) A Letter from a Captain of the Armyto an Honourable Member of ParliamentReece, ‘Military Presence’, 58.

(138) Mackinnon, Coldstream Guards, i. 77–8.

(139) Price, Mystery and Method, 58. Hutton, The Restoration, 73, 79, takes a different view on the morale of Lambert’s army and the significance of pay as an issue influencing soldiers’ behaviour.

(140) Bodleian, Carte MS 73, fo. 319.

(141) See Ch. 3 for the importance of good communication between 1647 and 1658.

(142) Add. MS 21425, fo. 168. See Inedited Letters, 101–3, 114, for complaints from officers in Ireland about the quality of the army’s official apologia, and for the lack of communication from London.

(143) SP 18/219, fo. 8.

(144) TSPsee Hutton, The Restoration, 721659

(145) The phrase comes from Twelve Plain Proposals.

(146) Add. MS 21425, fo. 184.

(147) Inedited Letters, 115.

(148) Friends’ House Library, London, Caton MS iii.400; Add. MS 18979, fo. 266; Woolrych, ‘Historical Introduction’, 147–50; Massarella, ‘The Politics of the Army 1647–1660’, 644–50.

(149) Price, Mystery and Method, 61.

(150) Clarke Papers, iv. 102; A Narrative of the Northern Affairs, 5; Gumble, Life of Monck, 156; Price, Mystery and Method, 61. See F. M. S. McDonald, ‘The Timing of General George Monck’s March into England, 1 January 1660’, EHR 105 (1990), 363–76, for a detailed discussion of the factors influencing Monck.

(151) Baker, Chronicle, 721; A Letter from a Captain of the Army, 3; Mayers, 1659, 266; C. D. and W. C. D. Whetham, History of the Life of Colonel Nathaniel Whetham (1907), 145–6, 191–2; Clarke Papers, iv. 169.

(152) Baker, Chronicle, 722.

(153) Gumble, Life of Monck, 132–3, 140, 157, 160, 169–70; Baker, Chronicle, 722; Woolrych, ‘Historical Introduction’, 135.

(154) The True Copys of Several Letters from PortsmouthBaker, Chronicle, 740.

(155) Ludlow, Memoirs, ii. 183.

(156) The Loyall ScoutA. H. Woolrych, ‘Yorkshire and the Restoration’, Yorkshire Archaelogical Journal, 156 (1958), 492.

(157) Mercurius Politicus 29 December–5 January 1660, 995; The Parliamentary Intelligencer 26 December–2 January 1660, 16; The Publick Intelligencer 2–9 January 1660, 996, 1002; Grey, An Impartial Examination, Appendix, 139–40; Clarke MS 32, fos 200v, 210. Cf. Hutton, The Restoration, 316.

(158) The Parliamentary Intelligencer 26 December–2 January 1660, 16; 9–16 January 1660, 47; Mercurius Politicus 29 December 1659–5 January 1660, 1003–4; A Letter from a Captain of the Army, 4–6; Clarke Papers, iv. 232, 237; Leyborne-Popham, 140–1; CSPD 1659–60, 295; LRO 153; The Weekly Post, 30 December 1659–6 January 1660, 288; The Publick Intelligencer 2–9 January 1660, 996.

(159) Gumble, Life of Monck, 107.

(160) CHCGeorge Bishop, A Manifesto Declaring what George Bishope hath been to the City of Bristoll (1665), 2.

(161) TSP vii. 771–4.

(162) 181see Hutton, The Restoration, 83.

(163) Inedited Letters, 90–2; TSP iv. 520; vi. 839–40; vii. 22, 100, 451; Abbott, iv. 717.

(164) Johnston of Wariston, Diary, iii. 159, 162.

(165) A Declaration of the General Council, 4.

(166) CJ vii. 808; Clarke Papers, iv. 254–5.

(167) Ludlow, Memoirs, ii. 204–5

(168) Davies, Restoration of Charles II, 261.

(169) Grey, An Impartial Examination, Appendix, 161–3CSPD

(170) Reece, ‘Military Presence’, 267

(171) CSPD 1659–60, 8; CJ vii. 697, 704, 808–9, 839; Clarke MS 53 (unfol.).

(172) CJsee Reece, ‘Military Presence’, 268.

(173) This estimate is based on the information in CJ vii; CSPD 1659–60; Clarke MSS 52, 53.

(174) CJ vii. 682, 829; Add. MS 21425, fos 202, 204.

(175) Regimental History, 154, 157–8, 198, 200–2, 208–9, 260–3, 274, 276, 317, 319–20, 323–5, 383, 487, 606; CSPD 1659–60, 295; Add. MS 21425, fo. 195.

(176) Add. MS 21425, fos195, 201: Robert to Adam Baynes, 19, 31 January 1660.

(177) Add. MS 21425, fo. 197: John to Adam Baynes, 24 January 1660.

(178) Ludlow, Memoirs, ii. 204A Coffin for the Good Old Cause

(179) Add. MS 21425, fo. 208: Robert to Adam Baynes, 20 February 1660.

(180) See Ch. 5 for a discussion of the relationship between lack of pay and political activity.

(181) TNA: PRO 30/24/33/14, fos 8–9, 21–2; CJ vii. 802–3; Leyborne-Popham, 170–1.

(182) CSPD 1659–60, 293, 297; Add. MS 21425, fo. 201. See Ch. 5 for discussion of how soldiers survived when pay was not forthcoming.

(183) See Ch. 5 for more details on why movement from settled quarters was often a potential flashpoint for trouble.

(184) Regimental History, 687; Rawlinson MS A.65, fos 17–18, 21, 23, 25, 27, 51, 69, 81, 86–7; Leyborne-Popham, 118, 144; above, p. 178; The Publick Intelligencer 30 January–6 February 1660, 1068; The Parliamentary Intelligencer 6–13 February 1660, 97–8; CSPD, 1659–60, 327, 591.

(185) SP 25/99, fo. 47; Regimental History, 340–6; Davies, Restoration of Charles II, 274; Woolrych, ‘Historical Introduction’, 165; E.D., The Declaration of the Officers of the Army Opened, 22–3; CJ vii. 830.

(186) Davies, Restoration of Charles II, 274–5; Woolrych, ‘Historical Introduction’, 165–6; Ludlow, Memoirs, ii. 214.

(187) Woolrych, ‘Historical Introduction’, 165.

(188) CJ vii. 682, 829.

(189) Baker, Chronicle, 740–2; Clarke Papers, iv. 302; Davies, Restoration of Charles II, 273–4; Add. MS 21425, fo. 204.

(190) Mercurius PoliticusCf. Phil Withington, ‘Views from the Bridge: Revolution and Restoration in Seventeenth-Century York’, Past and Present, 170 (2001), 146–7.

(191) Ludlow, Memoirs, ii. 224, 232, 241–2; Ludlow, Voyce, 90–2. There is a danger of over-reliance on Ludlow’s account for these months because of a lack of other sources: even the unexpurgated A Voyce from the Watch Tower is prone to self-justification and wishful thinking.

(192) Clarke PapersPrice, Mystery and Method

(193) Ludlow, Memoirs, ii. 212–13

(194) Ludlow, Voyce, 89.

(195) Clarke Papers, iv. 261; Add. MS 21425, fo. 204.

(196) Baker, Chronicle, 722Leyborne-Popham

(197) Clarke Papers, iv. 266–7, 268–9; HMC, Fifth Report, Appendix, 361; HMC, Thirteenth Report, Appendix, vi. 4.

(198) Clarke Papers, iv. 256: Monck to Speaker Lenthall, 22 January 1660.

(199) Price, Mystery and Method, 140.

(200) Ludlow, Voyce, 90185

(201) Price, Mystery and Method, 124The Humble and Healing Advice of Collonel Robert OvertonClarke Papers

(202) Leyborne-PophamBaker, Chronicle, 753Clarke PapersThe Parliamentary Intelligencer

(203) Baker, Chronicle, 753–4; Add. MS 21424, fo. 1; ‘Two Letters’, 313; Price, Mystery and Method, 126; SP 28/81, fo. 864; Clarke Papers, iv. 245; Leyborne-Popham, 170–1; The Parliamentary Intelligencer 12–19 March 1660, 200–1, 208.

(204) Ludlow, Voyce, 96TSP

(205) Ludlow, Voyce, 85. See Reece, ‘Military Presence’ 280, for a discussion of when, at the end of February, Rich actually left London.

(206) Leyborne-PophamThe Parliamentary IntelligencerLudlow, Voyce, 85.

(207) Ludlow, Voyce, 85, 88; Leyborne-Popham, 168–9. See Reece, ‘Military Presence’, 279, for discussion of Colonel John Okey’s half-hearted attempt to garrison Bristol.

(208) Ludlow, Voyce, 91–2.

(209) The Parliamentary Intelligencer 5–12 March 1660, 183; 26 March–2 April 1660, 224; 16–23 April 1660, 272; Mercurius Publicus 19–26 April 1660, 271; 26 April–3 May 1660, 278; An Exact Accompt of the daily Proceedings in Parliament 27 April–4 May 1660, 874; Clarke Papers, iv. 266–7; Leyborne-Popham, 176, 180; HMC, Fifth Report, Appendix, i. 198.

(210) Leyborne-Popham, 182.

(211) TSP vii. 387.

(212) DRO, D1232/105: Captain John Sheirman to Colonel Thomas Sanders, 21 April 1660.

(213) Ludlow, Voyce, 111–12, 114–16; Baker, Chronicle, 761–2; Leyborne-Popham, 176–7; Mercurius Publicus 19–26 April 1660, 269; An Exact Accompt 20–7 April 1660, 861; The Parliamentary Intelligencer 23–30 April 1660, 288; Regimental History, 158–60; Davies, Restoration of Charles II, 335; Hutton, The Restoration, 115–16.

(214) Davies, ‘The Army and the Restoration of 1660’, 27, notes the ‘supine conduct’ of Lambert’s troops in failing to turn out to support him. Hutton, The Restoration, 115, provides the best discussion of the active opposition to the government that Lambert’s escape triggered.

(215) Clarke Papers, iv. 303.

(216) An Exact AccomptLeyborne-PophamvLudlow, Voyce, 91, 112

(217) Mercurius PoliticusBaker, Chronicle, 761–2Leyborne-PophamVoyceRegimental History

(218) DRO, D1232/105: John Sheirman to Thomas Sanders, 21 April 1660.

(219) Leyborne-Popham, 176; Mercurius Publicus 26 April–3 May 1660, 288; Regimental History, 78.

(220) Baker, Chronicle, 761.