Memoirs of a Cavalier<br />A Military Journal of the Wars in Germany, and the Wars in England.<br /> by Daniel Defoe (book recommendations .TXT) 📖

began to shelter the designs of the men, they dropped away from us one by one; and at last in such numbers, that if we had stayed till the morning, we had not had fifty men left; out of 1200 horse and dragoons.

When I saw how it was, consulting with some of the officers, we all went to my Lord Holland, and pressed him to retreat, before the enemy should discern the flight of our men; so he drew us off, and we came to the camp the next morning, in the shamefullest condition that ever poor men could do. And this was the end of the worst expedition ever I made in my life.

To fight and be beaten is a casualty common to a soldier, and I have since had enough of it; but to run away at the sight of an enemy, and neither strike or be stricken, this is the very shame of the profession, and no man that has done it ought to show his face again in the field, unless disadvantages of place or number make it tolerable, neither of which was our case.

My Lord Holland made another march a few days after, in hopes to retrieve this miscarriage; but I had enough of it, so I kept in my quarters. And though his men did not desert him as before, yet upon the appearance of the enemy they did not think fit to fight, and came off with but little more honour than they did before.

There was no need to go out to seek the enemy after this, for they came, as I have noted, and pitched in sight of us, and their parties came up every day to the very out-works of Berwick, but nobody cared to meddle with them. And in this posture things stood when the pacification was agreed on by both parties, which, like a short truce, only gave both sides breath to prepare for a new war more ridiculously managed than the former. When the treaty was so near a conclusion as that conversation was admitted on both sides, I went over to the Scotch camp to satisfy my curiosity, as many of our English officers did also.

I confess the soldiers made a very uncouth figure, especially the Highlanders. The oddness and barbarity of their garb and arms seemed to have something in it remarkable.

They were generally tall swinging fellows; their swords were extravagantly, and, I think, insignificantly broad, and they carried great wooden targets, large enough to cover the upper part of their bodies. Their dress was as antique as the rest; a cap on their heads, called by them a bonnet, long hanging sleeves behind, and their doublet, breeches, and stockings of a stuff they called plaid, striped across red and yellow, with short cloaks of the same. These fellows looked, when drawn out, like a regiment of merry-andrews, ready for Bartholomew Fair. They are in companies all of a name, and therefore call one another only by their Christian names, as Jemmy, Jocky, that is, John, and Sawny, that is, Alexander, and the like. And they scorn to be commanded but by one of their own clan or family. They are all gentlemen, and proud enough to be kings. The meanest fellow among them is as tenacious of his honour as the best nobleman in the country, and they will fight and cut one another's throats for every trifling affront.

But to their own clans or lairds, they are the willingest and most obedient fellows in nature. Give them their due, were their skill in exercises and discipline proportioned to their courage, they would make the bravest soldiers in the world. They are large bodies, and prodigiously strong; and two qualities they have above other nations, viz., hardy to endure hunger, cold, and hardships, and wonderfully swift of foot. The latter is such an advantage in the field that I know none like it; for if they conquer, no enemy can escape them, and if they run, even the horse can hardly overtake them. These were some of them, who, as I observed before, went out in parties with their horse.

There were three or four thousand of these in the Scots army, armed only with swords and targets; and in their belts some of them had a pistol, but no muskets at that time among them.

But there were also a great many regiments of disciplined men, who, by their carrying their arms, looked as if they understood their business, and by their faces, that they durst see an enemy.

I had not been half-an-hour in their camp after the ceremony of giving our names, and passing their out-guards and main-guard was over, but I was saluted by several of my acquaintance; and in particular, by one who led the Scotch volunteers at the taking the castle of Oppenheim, of which I have given an account. They used me with all the respect they thought due to me, on account of old affairs, gave me the word, and a sergeant waited upon me whenever I pleased to go abroad.

I continued twelve or fourteen days among them, till the pacification was concluded; and they were ordered to march home. They spoke very respectfully of the king, but I found were exasperated to the last degree at Archbishop Laud and the English bishops, for endeavouring to impose the Common Prayer Book upon them; and they always talked with the utmost contempt of our soldiers and army. I always waived the discourse about the clergy, and the occasion of the war, but I could not but be too sensible what they said of our men was true; and by this I perceived they had an universal intelligence from among us, both of what we were doing, and what sort of people we were that were doing it; and they were mighty desirous of coming to blows with us. I had an invitation from their general, but I declined it, lest I should give offence. I found they accepted the pacification as a thing not likely to hold, or that they did not design should hold; and that they were resolved to keep their forces on foot, notwithstanding the agreement. Their whole army was full of brave officers, men of as much experience and conduct as any in the world; and all men who know anything of the war, know good officers presently make a good army.

Things being thus huddled up, the English came back to York, where the army separated, and the Scots went home to increase theirs; for I easily foresaw that peace was the farthest thing from their thoughts.

The next year the flame broke out again. The king draws his forces down into the north, as before, and expresses were sent to all the gentlemen that had commands to be at the place by the 15th of July. As I had accepted of no command in the army, so I had no inclination at all to go, for I foresaw there would be nothing but disgrace attend it. My father, observing such an alteration in my usual forwardness, asked me one day what was the matter, that I who used to be so forward to go into the army, and so eager to run abroad to fight, now showed no inclination to appear when the service of the king and country called me to it? I told him I had as much zeal as ever for the king's service, and for the country too: but he knew a soldier could not abide to be beaten; and being from thence a little more inquisitive, I told him the observations I had made in the Scots army, and the people I had conversed with there. "And, sir," says I, "assure yourself, if the king offers to fight them, he will be beaten; and I don't love to engage when my judgment tells me beforehand I shall be worsted." And as I had foreseen, it came to pass; for the Scots resolving to proceed, never stood upon the ceremony of aggression, as before, but on the 20th of August they entered England with their army.

However, as my father desired, I went to the king's army, which was then at York, but not gotten all together. The king himself was at London, but upon this news takes post for the army, and advancing a part of his forces, he posted the Lord Conway and Sir Jacob Astley, with a brigade of foot and some horse, at Newburn, upon the river Tyne, to keep the Scots from passing that river.

The Scots could have passed the Tyne without fighting; but to let us see that they were able to force their passage, they fall upon his body of men and notwithstanding all the advantages of the place, they beat them from the post, took their baggage and two pieces of cannon, with some prisoners. Sir Jacob Astley made what resistance he could, but the Scots charged with so much fury, and being also overpowered, he was soon put into confusion. Immediately the Scots made themselves masters of Newcastle, and the next day of Durham, and laid those two counties under intolerable contributions.

Now was the king absolutely ruined; for among his own people the discontents before were so plain, that had the clergy had any forecast, they would never have embroiled him with the Scots, till he had fully brought matters to an understanding at home. But the case was thus: the king, by the good husbandry of Bishop Juxon, his treasurer, had a million of ready money in his treasury, and upon that account, having no need of a Parliament, had not called one in twelve years; and perhaps had never called another, if he had not by this unhappy circumstance been reduced to a necessity of it; for now this ready money was spent in two foolish expeditions, and his army appeared in a condition not fit to engage the Scots. The detachment under Sir Jacob Astley, which were of the flower of his men, had been routed at Newburn, and the enemy had possession of two entire counties.

All men blamed Laud for prompting the king to provoke the Scots, a headstrong nation, and zealous for their own way of worship; and Laud himself found too late the consequences of it, both to the whole cause and to himself; for the Scots, whose native temper is not easily to forgive an injury, pursued him by their party in England, and never gave it over till they laid his head on the block.

The ruined country now clamoured in his Majesty's ears with daily petitions, and the gentry of other neighbouring counties cry out for peace and Parliament. The king, embarrassed with these difficulties, and quite empty of money, calls a great council of the nobility at York, and demands their advice, which any one could have told him before would be to call a Parliament.

I cannot, without regret, look back upon the misfortune of the king, who, as he was one of the best princes in his personal conduct that ever reigned in England, had yet some of the greatest unhappinesses in his conduct as a king, that ever prince had, and the whole course of his life demonstrated it.

1. An impolitic honesty. His enemies called it obstinacy; but as I was perfectly acquainted with his temper, I cannot but think it was his judgment, when he thought he was in the right, to adhere to it as a duty though against his interest.

2. Too much compliance when he was complying. No man but himself would have denied what at some times he denied, and have granted what at other times he granted; and this uncertainty of counsel proceeded from two things.

1. The heat of the clergy, to whom he was exceedingly devoted, and for whom, indeed, he ruined himself.

2. The wisdom of his nobility.

Thus when the counsel of his priests prevailed, all was fire and fury; the Scots were rebels, and must be subdued, and the Parliament's demands were to be rejected as exorbitant. But whenever the king's judgment was led by the grave and steady advice of his nobility and counsellors, he was always inclined by them to temperate his measures between the two extremes. And had he gone on in such a temper, he had never met with the misfortunes which afterward attended him, or had so many thousands of his friends lost their lives and fortunes in his service.

I am sure we that knew what it was to fight for him, and that loved him better than any of the clergy could pretend to, have had many a consultation how to bring over our master from so espousing their interest, as to ruin himself for