berdeen, and to spread terror to Edinburgh. The news at once told.
The Scottish army in England refused to march further from its own
country; and used the siege of Newcastle as a pretext to remain near the
Border. With the army of Essex annihilated and the Scots at a safe
distance, no obstacle seemed to lie between the king and London; and as
he came up from the West Charles again marched on the capital. But if
the Scots were detained at Newcastle the rest of the victors at Marston
Moor lay in his path at Newbury; and their force was strengthened by the
soldiers who had surrendered in Cornwall, but whom the energy of the
Parliament had again brought into the field. On the twenty-seventh of
October Charles fell on this army under Lord Manchester's command; but
the charges of the Royalists failed to break the Parliamentary
squadrons, and the soldiers of Essex wiped away the shame of their
defeat by flinging themselves on the cannon they had lost, and bringing
them back in triumph to their lines. Cromwell seized the moment of
victory, and begged hard to be suffered to charge with his single
brigade. But Manchester shrank like Essex from a crowning victory over
the king. Charles was allowed to withdraw his army to Oxford, and even
to reappear unchecked in the field of his defeat.

[Sidenote: Cromwell.]

The quarrel of Cromwell with Lord Manchester at Newbury was destined to
give a new colour to the war. Pym, in fact, had hardly been borne to his
grave in Westminster Abbey before England instinctively recognized a
successor of yet greater genius in the victor of Marston Moor. Born in
the closing years of Elizabeth's reign, the child of a cadet of the
great house of the Cromwells of Hinchinbrook, and of kin, through their
marriages, with Hampden and St. John, Oliver had been recalled by his
father's death from a short stay at Cambridge to the little family
estate at Huntingdon, which he quitted for a farm at St. Ives. We have
seen his mood during the years of personal rule, as he dwelt in
"prolonging" and "blackness" amidst fancies of coming death, the
melancholy which formed the ground of his nature feeding itself on the
inaction of the time. But his energy made itself felt the moment the
tyranny was over. His father had sat, with three of his uncles, in the
later Parliaments of Elizabeth. Oliver had himself been returned to that
of 1628, and the town of Cambridge sent him as its representative to the
Short Parliament as t