#edge hill

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Pyne Street, Edge Hill (Cairns), Queensland.

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Literary Magazine Looking for Submissions!!!!

Hi everyone! As part of my creative writing course at uni, a group of us are making a literary magazine called Capital Vice. It’s themed around the seven deadly sins and will be published online, as well as (hopefully) a limited number of physical copies. 

Edge Hill University is a great place to get your writing published (they have their own book prize, for one thing, and publish books each year) and the opportunity is open to you now, for free! 

Just save a copy of THIS submission form, fill it out, and send it to us @ [email protected].

Also email us their - or contact us @ capitalvice_litmag on Instagram - if you have any questions about submission ^-^ 

The deadline is the 24th of December - so get in there quick! 

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Went camping at a stunning hidden gem.

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The Battle of Edgehill, 23rd October 1642: ‘We Have Insensibly Slid into the Beginnings of a Civil War’

Hostilities Commence in England

Pikemen at the Battle of Rocroi, 1643 by Sebastian Vrancx

THE RAISING OF THE KING’S STANDARD in Nottingham, in direct contradiction and defiance of, Parliament’s own attempts to raise an army, ostensibly to put down the Irish rebellion, through its Committee of Defence, meant war between what would soon be two rival English military forces, was all but inevitable. However, this pell mell rush to conflict should not imply England was in the remotest way prepared for the six year conflagration it was about to inflict on itself: direct experience of warfare at almost every level of society was minimal. The early years of the English Civil War was to be characterised by naivety, incompetence and lack of leadership, although it would be no less lethal for that.

Parliament handed control of their nascent army to Robert Devereux, the Earl of Essex. He was appointed Major General and seemed a perfect fit. Essex had been estranged from the Royal Court for some time: his father had been executed for leading an eccentric rebellion against Queen Elizabeth I, and James I had permitted his divorce from Frances Howard for the publicly embarrassing reason of impotence. Essex had become a fervent member of Warwick’s faction in the House of Lords and had been a loud advocate of the execution of Strafford; he also enjoyed the confidence of John Pym. In addition to his impeccable Parliamentarian political credentials, Essex also had military experience, having fought with the Dutch against the Catholic Habsburgs, and seen action in Buckingham’s failed assault on Cadiz. This combination of political and military experience made him the obvious choice to lead Parliament’s armies. Devereux’s immediate problem however was how to forge the disparate forces into a coherent army. The responders to the Militia Ordinance were all aristocrats and local landowners who led groups of retainers to the Parliamentary army, in a style little changed from that of the Wars of the Roses. The men’s loyalties therefore remained parochial rather than national and would bedevil Parliament’s early efforts to create a professional force.

The gathering Royal army was in better shape. The commander of Charles’ cavalry, who was to become the most famous of the Royalist leaders and perhaps most deserving of the scornful Puritan epithet of “Cavalier”, was the King’s nephew, Rupert of the Rhine, son of the Elector of the Palatine, whose prevention from acceding to the throne of Bohemia in 1628 had effectively commenced the Thirty Years’ War. Rupert, aged just twenty three in 1642, was already militarily experienced and would prove to be one of the best cavalry commanders of the war, and a sound strategist, if hopelessly ill disciplined on the field of battle itself. Charles was also supported by a cadre of officers, experienced in the German wars, who would give the emerging Royal army a professional spine that would serve it well in the early years of the war. By September 1642, the Royal army had risen to nearly 10,000 infantry, horse and artillery and Charles determined that his forces would march on London, retake the capital and, hopefully, intimidate Parliament into an early surrender. Anticipating this tactic, Parliament therefore ordered Essex, whose forces now numbered some 25,000 men, to intercept the Royal forces, defeat them and with luck, capture the King, rescuing him from his evil counsellors in the process, and bring an end to the war that way. However the inexperience and poor command structures of both armies soon manifested themselves. Charles’ recruitment improved but the intended strike on London did not emerge as the Royalist forces gathered in the Severn Valley as more followers and their troops rallied to the cause. Essex meanwhile, beset with logistic problems, hunkered down in the Cotswolds, seemingly unable or unwilling to go in search of the King.

Perhaps typically, the first military action of the English Civil War took place almost by accident, on 23rd September outside Worcester when an unsuspecting column of Parliamentary cavalry travelling to the city was set upon by a detachment of Royalist horse at Powick Bridge, resulting in a Parliamentary rout. Despite the affair being little more than a skirmish, the encounter left 150 men dead on the field, and cemented Rupert’s reputation as a dashing cavalry commander to be feared. The victory emboldened Charles to make for London immediately, ignoring Essex’s army which by now had retreated into Worcester. On 12th October the Royal army set off for the capital. The Parliamentarians attempted to block the King’s advance but due to poor orienteering and a lack of scouts, neither army was entirely sure of the whereabouts of the other. In the event the two sides did come into contact, but by this stage, the Royal army was closer to London than that of Parliament. If Essex was to prevent the King taking the capital, battle would have to be joined. Characteristically, it was Rupert who took the initiative. His forces had already captured a force of Parliamentarian infantry near Kineton and learned the whereabouts of Essex’s army. Rupert recommended the Royal army establish itself on an escarpment known as Edgehill, overlooking the Parliamentary camp and invite battle. On October 23rd, the Royalists arrayed on Edgehill.

Essex’s army enjoyed a slight numerical advantage over that of the King, but being in the tactically disadvantageous position, Devereux saw no reason to start the fight. Both sides believed that one battle would be sufficient to end the civil quarrel and were therefore cautious. Ultimately they faced each other in similar formations: tightly packed pikemen and musketry in the centre, artillery in forward positions and cavalry and dragoons on the flanks. After an initial ineffectual artillery duel, the battle commenced in earnest when both Royalist cavalry wings charged their opposite numbers. The Parliamentary horse employed the tactics of stationery pistol fire followed by advance and were wholly unprepared for the continental shock tactics employed by Prince Rupert, consisting of rapid sabre led charge. The Parliamentarian cavalry were swept away. If at that point, Rupert’s cavalry had pivoted and attacked Essex’s foot from both flanks as the Royalist infantry advanced, Parliament’s forces would undoubtedly have been crushed and Edgehill may have turned out to be a decisive Royalist victory and the English civil war a short lived affair. However, the King’s cavalry, filled with the exhilaration of victory, pursued their defeated foes from the field towards Kineton and did not return to Edgehill for several hours.

The Parliamentary infantry then advanced, backed up by reserve cavalry not involved in the flank fighting, and fought ferociously, disabling the Royalist guns and at one stage seizing the Royal standard after Charles had foolishly given permission to his mounted Life Guards to join Rupert’s pursuit. In the melee the Royalist general Sir Edmund Verney was killed and Charles’ sons, Charles and James, were in danger of capture. As evening fell, both armies, exhausted and shocked at their first experience of battle, began to disengage. As Rupert’s cavalry at last returned to the field, Essex’s troops withdrew. The battle ended inconclusively, but 1,500 Englishmen lay dead on the field, killed by fellow Englishmen. It was a bitterly cold night and many of the wounded died of exposure or were summarily killed by plunderers (itself a horrifying novelty). The violence of the battle and its aftermath surprised both sides. The war was no longer theoretical or a threat: blood had been spilled and Cavaliers and Roundheads no longer viewed each other as participants in a family dispute, but as enemies.

It was now clear that this war would not be ended by a single battle.