This war without an enemy
Kevin Sharpe
THE CIVIL WARS OF ENGLAND by John Kenyon
Weidenfeld, f14.95, pp.296
0 ne of the casualties of narrow scho- larly specialisation is a failure to see the obvious. For all the vast literature on the English civil war, there has been compara- tively little attention paid to the fact that it Was precisely that: a war in which for the first time on such a scale in England troops were raised, fed, equipped — and fought. The importance of Professor Kenyon's book lies in the questions prompted by that realisation. How did a nation whose recent military engagements had only ended in fiasco recruit and provision 30,000 troops on each side and emerge after the wars as a formidable power in Europe? How did one factory produce 15,000 muskets and 5,000 pikes a year when before 1642 no national army had existed to create such demand? The idea that the Civil Wars were little more than a series of amateur scuffles', Kenyon argues, 'will not stand up to serious examination'. His narrative of the Origins, cause and consequences of the wars is therefore new in its emphasis on the militarisation and military history of Eng- land between 1642 and 1660.
The introductory account of the origins of the civil war, though clear and brisk, has little novel to say, and disappointingly little on the war against the Scots which pre- ceded the English conflict. The story comes into its own in 1642 when men were forced to choose sides. Conflicting senti- ments and considerations led to seemingly unnatural choices and subsequently un- stable allegiances. Lord Savile and the Earl of Holland changed sides several times. Parliamentarian noblemen, Kenyon re- flects, 'ought to have been as rare as socialist stockbrokers': unfortunately both have been numerous. In contradiction to those who argue that the King could get no following, Kenyon shows how both sides faced difficulties in recruiting infantry and increasingly resorted to conscripting (kid- napping would be more accurate) the lowest orders for their armies. Such un- promising bands, however, were licked into shape by foreign, Scots and English officers and were supplemented by profes- sional soldiers who returned from cam- paigns in Europe. These were the men who made armies of rabble. By the time of the first battle, among the royalist command Prince Rupert and the Earl of Lindsey were quarrelling (as the royalist command often were) over the merits of Dutch and Swedish tactics for the forthcoming en- gagement. The Royalists had the best of the early campaigns. The first major victory at Edgehill might have led to an assault on London and the end of the war. Parliament was certainly panicked by the threat into building a ring of forts around the capital but the opportunity to take it was lost. Thereafter the war was fought not in the south-east of England but largely north and west of Oxford, the paths of the field armies crossing again and again the same area. And thereafter too, despite indi- vidual successes, the war drifted into dead- lock. On the royalist side, the capture of Bristol might have led to a pincer move- ment on London, but there was no adequ- ate central command to co-ordinate the provincial armies. On parliament's side the only hope of real victory lay in capturing the King. As Sir William Waller observed, `the war can never end if the King be in any part of the land and not at the parliament, for break his army never so often, his person will raise another.'
In 1645 at the battle of Naseby, the king's army was broken — by a 'new model' army which gave Fairfax superior- ity in both horse and infantry. But, as Waller had predicted, the struggle was not over. After the failure of peace negotia- tions, a second civil war erupted in 1648 and was fought with more bitterness than the first. This time, however, the army secured the king's person and so was able to dictate the course of politics as well as war. 1649 saw the political triumph of the army officers who had militarised the nation. But their coup and the execution of `Don't they grow up quickly? He can already pronounce "Emergency Services". ' the king did not establish permanent milit- ary rule. Interestingly, Kenyon shows how gradually Oliver Cromwell reduced the army and civilianised the realm: uniforms were no longer worn at court after 1654 and by the end of the decade few of Cromwell's councillors had been active in the army. The idea that the 1650s was a period of bitterly unpopular and offensive military tyranny is a fabrication of the post-Restoration era.' After 1660, only a small army was retained, firmly under royal control; politics was no longer pur- sued by violence. Shaftesbury's Wapping bully boys failed to overawe the govern- ment in 1680, as their successors have failed in more recent history.
Though scholars will be frustrated by the absence of notes or references, Kenyon's narrative offers a vivid account of the wars for the general reader and new emphases well worth pursuing. His story pauses for some illuminating character sketches of key figures (Essex, Fairfax and Waller) and healthily sceptical criticism of ques- tionable judgments. The myth of a popular parliamentarian cause is scotched; and of the New Model army, against the radical sympathies of 1960s' historiography, he writes: 'faced with a choice between the pursuit of constitutional reform and their own personal security . . . the men natural- ly chose the latter.' Comments on the role of the army in the 1650s and the Restora- tion, made en passant, offer tempting suggestions for further consideration.
Yet here too the weakness of the narra- tive structure becomes apparent. The chro- nological story supersedes analytical study. Though we learn of the relative ineffective- ness of cannon (they could not be fired downhill) and of Prince Rupert's errors in riding off after a cavalry assault, there is no full discussion of options and tactics. Nor does the narrative permit a proper analysis of the problems and administration of pay, supply, communication and command. This, together with the absence of any consideration of the navy's role in the overall strategy, or of the importance of intelligence, propaganda and morale in deciding battles, makes it hard to under- stand precisely how and why the war took the course it did. Secondly, the subordina- tion, at times near neglect, of the political plot (the brief account of groups in the Long Parliament is confusing) itself weak- ens the military story — for tactics, battles and peace negotiations on both sides were, until the very end, inextricably inter- related. The account of the second civil war in particular suffers from this weak- ness. But if The Civil Wars of England does not perfectly blend the military and political history of the 1640s and 1650s, it will ensure we never forget that the war which Sir William Waller called 'this war without an enemy', the war some have romanticised as a series of chivalrous jousts between gentlemen, militarised the nation and left bloody corpses on the battlefields.
Previous page
