NORTHERN MARCH. MARSTON MOOR

Throughout the year 1643 the advantage in arms had lain decidedly with the King, and the Parliament now sought new strength in an alliance with the Scots. Such an alliance involved a strict adherence to Presbyterianism, which was naturally very distasteful to the Independents, who were growing steadily in strength and numbers.

Therefore, though the entrance of the Scots into England in January 1644, brought a valuable accession of military force, it proportionately weakened the Puritan Party by increasing its internal dissensions. For a brief period the Independents sought alliance with those members of the Parliament and of the City, known as the Peace Party, and the result of this drawing together was a resolve to appeal privately to the King for some terms of agreement. The emissary employed in this secret negotiation was a certain Ogle, who had long been held a prisoner, but was now purposely suffered to escape. As an earnest of good faith, he was to a.s.sure the King that Colonel Mozley, brother of the Governor of Aylesbury, would admit the Royalists into that town. But Ogle was himself betrayed. Mozley had communicated all to the Presbyterian leaders of the Parliament. The whole plot was carefully watched, and plans laid to entrap Rupert himself. It was said that Ess.e.x boasted that he would have the Prince in London, alive or dead.

On the night of January 21st, Rupert set out to take possession of the offered town. The snow fell thick, but it did the Prince good service, for it prevented Ess.e.x falling {129} upon him, as had been intended.

Fortunately, also, Rupert was prudent, and declined to approach very near Aylesbury, until Mozley should appear on the scene in person.

This he failed to do. Then the Prince wished to a.s.sault the town on the side where he was not expected, but the brook which ran before it was so swelled by the snow and sudden thaw, as to be impa.s.sable.

Nothing remained but a speedy retreat, in which, owing to wind, snow and swollen streams, some four hundred men perished. In his fury Rupert would have hanged Ogle for a traitor, but the unfortunate man was rescued by the intercession of Digby. Probably the Secretary was moved as much by detestation of Rupert as by compa.s.sion for Ogle.

There was soon a new _causa belli_ between them.

In February Rupert was made a peer of the realm, as Duke of c.u.mberland and Earl of Holderness, in order that he might sit in the Royalist Parliament now called to Oxford. In the same month, it was proposed to make him President of Wales and the Marches, which appointment carried with it, not only military, but also fiscal and judicial powers, the right to levy taxes and to appoint Commissioners for the administration of the country. Digby had no mind to see his rival thus promoted, and he made the appointment the subject of a court intrigue. First he suggested that Ormonde would make a far better President than the Prince. But Ormonde could not possibly be spared from his Government of Ireland, and therefore Digby had to invent new delays and difficulties. "The business of the Presidency is at a standstill,"

wrote Rupert's faithful agent in Oxford, Arthur Trevor, "upon some doubts that my Lord Digby makes, which cannot be cleared to him without a sight of the patent which must be obtained from Ludlow."[1] The Prince seems to have been rather apathetic in the matter, for, in a few days, Trevor wrote again: "I am at {130} a stand in your business, not receiving your commands... Persuasion avails little at Court, where always the orator convinces sooner than the argument. Let me beseech your Highness you will be so kind as to bestow what time you can spare from the public upon your private interests; which always thrive best when they are acted within the eye of the owner."[2] From Byron, then at Chester, came an anxious letter, demonstrating the great importance of Wales as a recruiting ground, and as the place whence communication with Ireland was easiest. The state of the Marches was exceedingly critical, and Byron pathetically begged Rupert not to refuse them the aid of his presence. "I have heard that means is used underhand to persuade your Highness not to accept the President's place of Wales; the end of which is apparent, for if your Highness refuse it, it will lessen the military part of your command, be a great prejudice to the country, and withal lose an opportunity of settling such a part of the country, converging upon Ireland, that is most likely to reduce the rest."[3] To the other despairing commanders in those districts the prospect of Rupert's coming was as welcome as to Byron, and, urged by their letters, Rupert resolved not to be turned from the work.

Fortunately for himself he had staunch allies in Richmond, Nicholas, and above all, the Queen's favourite, Harry Jermyn. The last named was indeed all-powerful just then. "I find," wrote Trevor, alluding to the ciphers in which he corresponded, "not Prince Rupert, nor all the numbers in arithmetic have any efficacy without Lord Jermyn."[4] And Jermyn, strange to say, usually showed himself a good friend to Rupert.

"My Lord Jermyn is, from the root of his heart, your very great servant," declared Trevor. Apparently, also, Jermyn had reconciled the Queen to her nephew, for, at the same {131} time, Trevor informed Ormonde that he would speedily receive a request from the Queen "to be as kind as possibly your Lordship can unto Prince Rupert, especially in a present furnishment of some arms and powder."[5]

The appointment to Wales having been carried by his allies, Rupert was brought into very close connection with Ormonde. To Ireland the King looked for supplies of arms, ammunition, and of soldiers, as a counterpoise to the invasion of the Scots. The transport of these stores and troops was now regarded as part of Rupert's business in his new Government. He was willing enough to attend to the matter, for he was "mightily in love" with his Irish soldiers;[6] and, thanks to Ormonde's good sense and unswerving loyalty, a good understanding was preserved between himself and the Prince. Efforts to poison Ormonde's mind against Rupert were not wanting on the part of Digby. He did his best to make the Irish Lord Lieutenant think himself slighted by Rupert's preferment. "But let me withal a.s.sure you that I knew not of it till it was done," he wrote, "I being not so happy as to have any part in His Highness's Counsels."[7] To which the incorruptible Ormonde replied only, that he held himself in no way injured, and regarded the appointment as very fittingly bestowed on the Prince. Nor did Digby's new ally, Daniel O'Neil, meet with any better success. The Irish soldier of fortune had now quarrelled with Rupert, and thrown in his lot with that of the Secretary. Early in 1644 he was despatched to Ireland by Digby, in order to arrange various matters and, incidentally, to do Rupert as much harm as he could. But though introduced to Ormonde as Digby's "special, dear and intimate friend,"[8] he gained little credence. "I easily believe that Daniel O'Neil was willing I {132} should be Lord Lieutenant; and perhaps he will unwish it again,"[9] said Ormonde calmly. No doubt Rupert owed much to the good sense and diligence of Trevor, who was himself a staunch adherent of Ormonde, and honoured by him with the t.i.tle of "my friend." He seems to have been a clever man, of ready wit and unfailing energy, and he needed it all in his service of the Prince.

Rupert's new appointment involved the keeping up of an establishment at Shrewsbury, which he seldom occupied, but which added greatly to his expenses, and his personal labours were also multiplied. He had reached Shrewsbury on February 19th, having spent a week at Worcester and four days at Bridgnorth by the way. On March 4th he was "marching all night" to Drayton; on the 5th he was skirmishing with Fairfax; on the 6th he was "home" again; but only to resume his wanderings four days later.[10] He made it his business to visit every garrison under his charge, and his rapid movements were observed with pride by the Cavaliers. "In the morning in Leicestershire, in the afternoon in Lancashire, and the same day at supper time at Shrewsbury; without question he hath a flying army," reported the News-letters with cheerful exaggeration.[11] Certainly the Prince never spared himself, and he expected that others should show an equal energy and attention to business. Good officers, with other qualifications than mere social rank, he would have; and he allowed no private considerations to interfere with the public necessities. His vigorous decision did indeed bear hard on individual cases, as when he offered an unfortunate Herefordshire gentleman three alternatives,--to man and defend his house himself, to have it occupied by a governor and garrison of the Prince's own choosing, or to blow it up. But, if war is {133} to be effective, such hardships are inevitable; and by Rupert's zealous activity garrisons were wrested from the enemy, and those of the King established, all over the district, in their stead. Of course the complaints which were daily delivered to the Prince were multiplied by his promotion; but, amidst all his labours, he seems to have found a little leisure, for he begged of Ormonde "a cast of goshawks," for his amus.e.m.e.nt in his winter quarters.[12]

In the meantime his agent at Oxford enjoyed no easy task. For everything that Rupert wanted Trevor had to contend vehemently with Percy and Ashburnham, and, had he not been clever enough to win the alliance of Jermyn, his success would have been small indeed. Jermyn exerted himself n.o.bly. He collected evidence of Rupert's strength and necessities to lay before the Oxford Parliament. He supplied a consignment of muskets, pistols, and powder at his own expense;[13] he even combated the obstinacy of the King, though not always with success, as on one occasion he was forced to despatch supplies to Worcester, "where the King sayeth they are to go, and would have it so, in spite of everything that could be said to the contrary; though I did conceive it was your Highness's desire that they should be sent to Shrewsbury."[14]

Yet even Jermyn was occasionally disheartened by the Prince's insatiable wants. "His Majesty," wrote Trevor in February, "was very well pleased at your letter, and so was my Lord Jermyn, until he found your wants of arms, and ammunition. At which, after a deep sigh, he told me; 'This is of more trouble to me than it would be pain to me at parting of my flesh and bones.'" This despondency is partially accounted for by the next sentence; "The petards I cannot now send Your Highness, by reason of a strong quarrel that is fallen out between M.

La Roche {134} and Lord Percy, whose warrant and orders he absolutely denies to obey. Where it will end I know not. It begins in fire."[15]

This state of affairs must have lasted for weeks. Not until April did Trevor wring two petards from Lord Percy, "and now I have got them, I do not, for my life, know how to send them to your quarters," he declared. And La Roche seems to have been, even then, in the same impracticable frame of mind: "Your Highness's letters to M. La Roche I did deliver; and when he had sworn and stared very sufficiently, and concluded every point with, 'Noe money! noe money!'--he carried me to his little house by Magdalen, and when he had swaggered there a pretty time, and knocked one strange thing against another, he told me he would send me letters, wherewith I was well satisfied, not having money for him, without which I see he hath no more motion than a stone. He talks much of Captain Faussett, but whether good, bad, or indifferent, I swear I do not know!"[16]

Such were the contentions that delayed and handicapped the Royalist forces; but Arthur Trevor was not to be discouraged. "Until I have all the affairs, both of peace and war, settled as they may be most to your desires, I will not miss His Majesty an interview every morning in the garden,"[17] he protested; and, on a later occasion, he declared: "I am not so ill a courtier, in a request of money, as to sit down with one denial."[18] His difficulties were increased by the carelessness of Rupert himself, and he wrote to the Prince reproachfully: "I find a bill of exchange signed by Your Highness, and denied by the party you charged it on, and grown to be the discourse of the town before ever I heard a syllable of it. Truly the giving out that bill without giving me advice of it, that I might have {135} got the money ready, or an excuse for time, hath not done Your Highness right here."[19] Two days later he wrote again: "The liveries for your servants are now come. I only wait for your orders how I shall carry myself towards the merchants, who are very solicitous for ready pay. The sum will be about 200. If Your Highness will not have His Majesty moved in it, Lord Jermyn and I will try all the town, but we will do the worth."[20]

Rupert's answer is not forthcoming, but he was evidently as anxious as usual to pay this, or other debts, for he commissioned Trevor to represent to the King the "injustice" that the delay of money was doing towards men to whom he was indebted, and whom he would willingly satisfy.[21]

The needs of the North were becoming very pressing. Newcastle constantly represented the smallness of his forces, and the danger threatening from the Scots. Sir Charles Lucas also forwarded a melancholy account of the northern army, and Lord Derby implored Rupert to go to the rescue of his Countess who was valiantly defending Lathom House: "Sir, I have received many advertis.e.m.e.nts from my wife, of her great distress and imminent danger," he wrote, "unless she be relieved by your Highness, on whom she doth rely more than on any other whatsoever... I would have waited on your Highness this time, but that I hourly receive little letters from her who haply, a few days hence, may never write me more."[22] But greatest of all was the danger of Newark, besieged by Meldrum, Hubbard and Lord Willoughby. Already the brave little garrison was almost starved into surrender, and willingly would the men have sacrificed their lives in one desperate sally, but for the women and children who would thus have been left to the mercy of the foe. Rupert resolved to go first to the {136} relief of Newark.

But even Arthur Trevor could not obtain the supplies necessary for the exploit: "I can promise nothing towards your advantage in those supporters of war, money and arms..." he said. "Money, I am out of hopes of, unless some notable success open the purse strings ... March, and then I will make my last attempt for that business, and if I fail I will raise my siege, burn my hut, and march away to your Highness."[23]

Newark was in the last straits. To the reiterated summons of the Puritan forces, the valiant garrison replied only that they could starve, and they could die, but one thing they could not do, and that was open their gates to rebels. Rupert would delay no longer, and, in accordance with Trevor's advice, he set forth, on March 13th, with a small force, borrowed from the garrisons he pa.s.sed on the march. Ess.e.x at once despatched a force of cavalry in pursuit, of which Ashburnham advertised the Prince in the following concise note: "The strength that followeth your Highness is nine hundred dragoons, and one regiment of horse, which I hope they will all be d.a.m.ned."[24] By March 20th Rupert was at Bingham, twelve miles from Newark. The besiegers, who numbered some 2,500 horse and 5,000 foot, heard the news of his approach with light-hearted incredulity, being unable to believe that he could have the temerity to attack them; and in an intercepted letter the Prince found mention of "an incredible rumour" of his advance.[25] When within six miles of Newark he contrived to let the garrison know of his vicinity. Fearing that his cipher had fallen into the hands of the enemy, he dared not write, but sent only an ambiguous message, the meaning of which he did not even explain to the messenger: "Let the old drum be beaten, early on the morrow morning." Happily the Governor, Sir John Henderson, was quick to grasp the meaning--namely, {137} that he was to sally out on Meldrum at day-break.[26] By two o'clock in the morning, Rupert was in the saddle, and ere it was light, he charged down upon the besieging army. Surprised and confused, the besiegers broke their ranks, and at the same moment the garrison sallied. The fight was hot, and once at least Rupert was in imminent danger. He found himself a.s.saulted by "three st.u.r.dy Roundheads" all at once; one he slew with his own sword; Mortaigne, a French follower of the Prince, shot another, and the third, who had laid hold of Rupert's collar, had his hand cut off by O'Neil. The Prince was thus "disengaged, with only a shot in his gauntlet."[27] The engagement lasted nearly all day, but at dusk, Charles Gerard, who had been wounded and captured, came limping forth from the enemy's trenches, with offers of treaty. Rupert agreed to terms, and, on the following morning, Meldrum and his colleagues were permitted to raise the siege and march off with the honours of war.

These terms Rupert was accused of having broken. His men were eager to avenge a Puritan outrage at Lincoln, as formerly at Bristol they had remembered Reading. Therefore when Meldrum's forces marched off with "more than was conditioned," in the shape of arms and pikes, the Royalists seized the excuse to fall upon them, and, in their turn, s.n.a.t.c.hed away colours, and "more than the articles warranted." Rupert, as before, dashed amongst his men with his drawn sword, and he did not neglect to return the stolen colours, with apologies. The occurrence is described by Mrs. Hutchinson, but more fairly by Rushworth, who adds, after relating how the Puritans were despoiled of their pikes and colours: "the King's party excused it, by alleging that they (the Puritans) attempted to carry out more than was conditioned, and that some of theirs had been so used at Lincoln, and especially that it was against the Prince's mind, who slashed {138} some of his soldiers for it, and sent back all the colours they had taken."[28] When the enemy had fairly retired, Rupert made his entry into Newark, where he was received with delirious joy. Davenant, the Cavalier poet, who himself served in the northern army, celebrated the whole story in a long poem, and thus he describes the Prince's entrance:

"As he entered the old gates, one cry of triumph rose, To bless and welcome him who had saved them from their foes; The women kiss his charger, and the little children sing: 'Prince Rupert's brought us bread to eat, from G.o.d and from the King.'"[29]

Considering the small force with which it had been effected, Rupert's exploit was indeed wonderful, and congratulations poured in from all quarters. "Nephew," wrote the King, "I a.s.sure you that this, as all your victories, gives me as much contentment in that I owe you the thanks, as for the importance of it; which in this particular, believe me, is no less than the saving of all the North."[30]

"Our sense of it here is as much beyond expression as the action itself,"[31] declared Digby. Trevor offered all the appreciation possible "On this side idolatry," an expression of which he was rather fond; and even the quiet Richmond was roused to enthusiasm: "Give me leave to dilate now upon my particular joyes," he wrote, "and to retire them so farre from the present jubilee all men are in at your last great victory, to beginne with that which before this jubilee was one to me; I mean the honor and contentment I lately received from you, which, if valew can make precious and an intent affection do anything to show an acknowledgment, will not be lost. Your command to pray for you, at a time was then to come, shall be, as before, my {139} general rule."[32] Lord Newcastle added to his extravagant congratulations an entreaty that Rupert would push on to his aid; "without which that great game of your uncle's will be endangered, if not lost..., Could Your Highness march this way, it would, I hope, put a final end to all our troubles."[33] But Rupert, with the best will in the world, lacked the power to do as Newcastle desired. With an army at his back, he might indeed have pushed on northwards, conquered the eastern counties, and driven back the Scots; but he had no army at his disposal!

Brilliant though his recent achievement had seemed, it was but ephemeral in reality. Newark relieved, the men who had relieved it returned to the garrisons whence they came, and from which they could ill be spared. All that Rupert had gained was the preservation of a loyal town, and the surrender of a few scattered outposts which he had not men to garrison. Reluctantly he turned back to Wales, where he hoped he might yet raise a force to save the North.

During the weeks of recruiting which followed the relief of Newark, the usual disputes and jealousies agitated the Court. Jermyn, who was still Rupert's friend, expected shortly to quit Oxford with the Queen, and would fain have reconciled the Prince to Digby before his departure. "He has written several times to you since you went away, and you have not made him one answer," he protested. And he proceeded to explain, at great length, how advantageous a correspondence with Digby would be, and how exaggerated were the Prince's notions of the Secretary's hatred to him.[34] But such representations made no impression upon Rupert; the question really at stake was whether he or Digby should rule the King's counsels, and no compromise was possible between them. Another suggestion of Jermyn's met with more favour; there was a vacancy in the King's {140} Bedchamber, and only Rupert's nomination was needed to secure the appointment for his friend Will Legge. "The chief cause I write is to mention that to you which he (Legge) least looks after, viz., that which pertains to his own interests,"[35] said Jermyn. Rupert obtained the post for his friend, and wrote to "give him joy" of it.[36] At the same time the place of Master of the Horse was offered to himself; hitherto it had been held by the Marquess of Hamilton, who was now deprived of it on account of his disloyalty. "If the King offers Rupert the Master of the Horse's place, he will receive it as a favour," wrote Rupert, in reply to a question on the subject. "But he desires it may not be done so it may look as if Rupert had a hand in the ruin of my Lord Marquis. Let every one carry his own burden."[37]

Ere long, a hasty recall to Oxford roused all the Prince's indignation.

True, the order was revoked next day, but Rupert was none the less furious. How was he to effect anything of importance if his plans were to be interrupted and frustrated at Digby's whim? He would not endure, he wrote to Richmond, the discussion of all his proceedings by a mere civilian Council. The Duke strove to pacify him in a long and, as usual, incoherent letter. "You may perceive that no Oxford motion, if rightly represented, could move any cause of jealousy of a desseigne here either to forestall your judgement or prelimett yr command. I have bine present at most of the consultations; (till yesterday some occasions made me absent, and of that daies' worke my Lord Biron will give the best account); and in all I could ever discerne the proceeding hath bine to propound only by way of question alle thinges of moment, which were to be attended, or acted, by you." The recent recall to Oxford Richmond owned an exception to this rule, but as regarded other matters, he concluded; {141} "I think I could not have mist myselfe so much if other had been to be seen, or where the King's service, and my ancient respect for Rupert, (which time works no such earthy effects upon as to decay), call for my observation, that my senses could be deceived, or I not attentive. The most that was treated was when Will Legge was here, and in his presence, who certainly is a safe man to consult with in your interests. And the furthest discourse was but discourse!"[38] The King also wrote on the same day, promising that, whenever possible, his nephew should be _consulted_ rather than _commanded_; and a.s.serting with gentle dignity, "Indeed I have this advantage of you, that I have not yet mistaken you in anything as you have me."[39]

Whatever effect these soothing epistles might have had was nullified by a second letter from Digby, in which he a.s.sumed a tone of authority such as Rupert would not brook. "Lord Digby, with whom Prince Rupert hath no present kindness, writ yesterday about the relief of Lathom House," wrote Trevor to Ormonde. "The paper, which was not an order, but would fain have disputed itself into authority, was so ill-received that I am afraid my work of reconciliation is at an end."[40] Rupert was indeed in an angry frame of mind. He despatched a furious, incoherent letter to Legge, full of ironical and rather unintelligible complaints against his uncle, and dark threats of his own resignation.

"If the King will follow the _wise_ counsel, and not hear the soldier and Rupert, Rupert must leave off all." And he wound up with a short account of a successful skirmish, adding spitefully: "If Goring had done this you would have had a handsome story."[41] None of the plans then in favour at Oxford met with his approval. The Queen was bent on going to Exeter, in spite of her nephew's a.s.surance {142} that the place was most unsafe, as indeed it proved; and the King was extremely anxious to send the Prince of Wales to Bristol, as nominal head of the army in the West. But Rupert had not much faith in Maurice's army, and he thought that the young Prince would be far better under his own care. He had at that time a paramount influence over little Charles, and he had, besides, a staunch ally in one of his young cousin's gentlemen, a certain Elliot, whom the King considered to have "too much credit"[42] with his son. Between them, Prince Charles was inspired with such an aversion to his father's plan that he boldly declared he would have none of it, and added ingenuously, that his Cousin Rupert had "left him his lesson" before his departure from Oxford.[43] His submission to Rupert's will is evidenced by the letters of Elliot to the Prince: "He has commanded me to tell you that he is so far from believing that any man can love him better than you do, that he shall, by his good will, enterprise nothing wherein he has not your Highness's approbation. For the intention of carrying him to that army, (in the West,) he has yet heard nothing of it, and, if he shall, he will without fail oppose it; and I may say truely that if he has a great kindness for any man it is for your Highness."[44] For the moment Rupert triumphed. Richmond, who opposed the plan for the West as strongly as the Prince could have wished, a.s.sured him that it was "but a dream,"[45] and for a while it fell into abeyance.

In the beginning of May, Rupert's new levies were ready for action, but when the moment for the northern march had come, the Prince was, to his intense disgust, once more summoned to Oxford. So earnestly did he deprecate {143} the recall, that the King declared he would be content with 2,000 foot and one regiment of horse, provided that Rupert would join him at Oxford in the beginning of June. But the one demand was as fatal as the other. Rupert's heart was set on the relief of Lord Newcastle, and he could not bear that his hard won army should be thus ruthlessly torn from him. A personal interview with the King was his only chance, and, with characteristic rashness, he marched off to Oxford with the most slender of escorts, to plead his cause with his uncle. Eloquently he explained to the King the simplicity of his plans. All that Charles himself had to do was to keep the surrounding towns well garrisoned, to manoeuvre round Oxford with a body of horse, and, in the meantime, to leave Maurice free in the West, and Rupert free for the North. On May 5th the Prince left Oxford, having every reason to believe that his advice would be followed. But, on the very next day, Digby had persuaded the King to abandon the plan as too extensive; Rupert wrote to expostulate, but received only thanks for his "freedom," with the comment, "I am not of your opinion in all the particulars."[46] And when misfortune had ensued, it was but slight consolation that the King acknowledged his error, "I believe that if you had been with me I had not been put to those straits I am in now.

I confess the best had been to have followed your advice."[47]

Richmond also lamented Rupert's absence. "We want money, men, conduct, provisions, time, and good counsel," he a.s.serted; "our hope rests chiefly in your good success."[48]

Rupert was by that time far away in the North. On May 8th he had returned to Shrewsbury, and on the 16th he began his long projected march to York. From Chester he drew out all the men who could be spared, leaving "honest Will Legge" in their place. At Knutsford he had {144} a successful encounter with some Parliamentary troops; and on the 25th he seized upon Stockport, which so alarmed the forces besieging Lathom House, that they raised the siege, and marched off to Bolton. So strong was the Puritanism of Bolton that it has been called the "Geneva of England," and Rupert at once resolved to take the town.

His first a.s.sault was repulsed, and the besieged, in their triumph, hanged one of his Irish troopers over the walls. The insult gave the Prince new stimulus; throwing himself from his horse he called up his retreating men, and renewed the attack with such vigour that the town was quickly stormed, and he entered it with Lord Derby at his side.

The angry troopers sacked the place; and Rupert sent the twenty-two standards he had taken to Lady Derby, as a graceful acknowledgment of her long and valiant defence of Lathom. Recruits now flocked to his standard, and his march became a triumphal progress; so great was the enthusiasm of the loyal town of Wigan, that rushes, flowers and boughs were strewn in the streets before him. On June 11th he won another triumph, in the capture of Liverpool, which suffered a like fate with Bolton. But he was disappointed of the stores he had expected to find there, which were all carried off by sea before the town fell. From Liverpool the Prince wrote a curious letter to the Bishop of Chester, asking for a collection to be made in all the churches of the diocese for the benefit of the sick and wounded soldiers. And he also expressed a desire that the clergy should exhort the people to prepare for their own defence and to maintain their loyalty, in language "most intelligent to the congregation."[49]

It was now high time to set out for York, which Newcastle felt that he could hold only six days more. Richmond wrote to urge as much haste as possible. "If York should be lost," he said, "it would prove the greatest blow {145} which could come from those parts, Rupert being safe; but what is fit to be done you will best know and judge."[50] But Rupert was not just then in a state of mind to judge calmly of anything. His enemies at Court, envious of his recent success, were preparing new calumnies against him, and profiting by his absence to excite the King's distrust. Some did not hesitate to hint at the Prince's over-greatness and possible designs on the Crown itself; and all urged the King to recall him, rather than suffer him to risk his army in a great battle. Trevor thus reported the affair to Ormonde: "Prince Rupert, by letters from Court, understands that the King grows daily more and more jealous of him, and of his army; so that it is the commonest discourse at the openest places, of the Lord Digby, Lord Percy, Sir John Culpepper, and Wilmot, that it is indifferent whether the Parliament or Prince Rupert doth prevail. Which doth so highly jesuite (_sic_) Prince Rupert that he was resolved once to send the King his commission and get to France. This fury interrupted the march ten days. But at length, time and a friend, the best coolers of the blood, spent the humour of travel in him, though not that of revenge.... This quarrel hath a strong reserve, and I am fearful that a little ill-success will send my new master home into Holland. I perceive the tide's strong against him, and that nothing will bring him to port but that wind which is called _contra gentes_."[51] And, about the same time, Ormonde was informed by another correspondent, that "Prince Rupert professeth against Lord Digby, Percy, Wilmot and some others. Some think that he will remove them from the King. The fear of this may do harm; perhaps had done already."[52] The ten days'

delay was spent chiefly at Lathom House, and by June 22nd, Rupert had sufficiently recovered his temper to set out for York. Some days previously Goring had {146} written that he was ready to join the Prince with 8,000 horse, and only awaited the appointment of a meeting-place. The King, at the same time, demanded Goring's instant return to himself, but Rupert took no notice of the order, being convinced, and rightly as it happened, that Goring's services were more necessary to himself. He joined Goring on the borders of Lancashire and Yorkshire. On the 26th he halted at Skipton, to "fix his armes,"[53] and to send a message to York. On the 29th he quartered at Denton, the house of the Puritan General, Lord Fairfax. Two of the Fairfaxes had fallen years ago, in the fight for the Palatinate, and Rupert, having noticed their portraits, preserved the house uninjured for their sakes. "Such force hath grat.i.tude in n.o.ble minds,"[54]

comments the Fairfax who tells the story. Lord Fairfax and his son were both engaged at the siege of York, together with Lord Manchester, and the Scotch General, Leven; but there was no good intelligence between the Parliamentary commanders, and they dared not await the onslaught of the Prince. "Their Goliah himself is advancing, with men not to be numbered,"[55] was the report among the Puritans; and when Rupert reached Knaresborough on June 30th, only twelve miles distant from York, the Generals of the Parliament raised the siege and marched off to Marston Moor. They hoped to bar Rupert's pa.s.sage to the city, but by skilful manoeuvring he crossed the Ouse, and halted outside York. "Prince Rupert had done a glorious piece of work," wrote a soldier of the Parliament. "From nothing he had gathered, without money, a powerful army, and, in spite of all our three generals, had made us leave York."[56] So far all was well, and well for Rupert had he left things thus! But, alas, he was about to make his first great mistake, and to take a decided step on his downward career.

{147}

The blame of the disastrous battle of Marston Moor has always been laid upon Rupert, but his friends were wont to ascribe it rather to Lord Digby, who, they believed, had inspired the King's "fatal" letter of June 14th; a letter which Rupert carried about him to his dying day, though he never produced it in refutation of any of the charges against him. "Had not the Lord Digby, this year, given a fatal direction to that excellent Prince Rupert to fight the Scottish army, surely that great Prince and soldier had never so precipitately fought them,"[57]

declared Sir Philip Warwick, who was himself present at the battle.

The King began his letter with apologies for sending such "peremptory commands," but went on to explain: "If York be lost I shall esteem my crown little less.... But if York be relieved, _and you beat the rebels' army of both Kingdoms, which are before it, then, but otherwise not_, I may possibly make a shift, upon the defensive, to spin out time until you come to a.s.sist me."[58] The order was plain, and though Rupert did sometimes ignore less congenial commands, he could scarcely disobey such an order as this, unless he had private information that his uncle's situation was less desperate than he had represented it.

Culpepper, at least, never doubted what would be the Prince's action: "Before G.o.d you are undone!" he cried, when told that the letter was sent--"For upon this peremptory order he will fight, whatever comes on't!"[59]

And Culpepper was right. Rupert greeted Newcastle with the words, "My Lord, I hope we shall have a glorious day!" And when Newcastle advised him to wait patiently, until the internal dissensions of the enemy broke up their camp, he retorted, "Nothing venture, nothing have!" and declared that he had "a positive and absolute command to fight the enemy."[60] He showed plainly that he had no {148} intention of listening to the Marquess, at whose cost the whole northern army had been raised and maintained. The older man was silenced, vexed at his subordination to the young Prince whom he had so eagerly called to his aid, and hurt and offended by Rupert's abrupt manners. But, as Professor Gardiner has pointed out, Newcastle's achievements were not such as could inspire great respect in the soldier prince.[61] He was but a dilettante in war as in the gentler arts, and his reasoning was not, on the face of it, very convincing. His manoeuvres might fail; and Rupert, who had not yet met Cromwell's horse, had no reason to suppose that his charge would be less effective now than in time past.

As for the Parliamentary forces, their only hope lay in battle, and they gladly perceived the Prince's intention to fight.

Throughout the day the two armies faced one another; but Rupert dared not attack without Newcastle, and there was considerable delay in drawing out his forces. Trevor reported that, "The Prince and the Marquess of Newcastle were playing the Orators to the soldiers in York, being in a raging mutiny for their pay, to draw them forth to join the Prince's foot; which was at last effected, but with much unwillingness."[62] But it was the interest of Rupert's partisans to undervalue the a.s.sistance lent by the Marquess; and Trevor himself did not arrive on the scene till the battle was over. By other accounts it does not seem that the Prince entered the city at all. Though he had not yet met with Cromwell, he had heard of him, and he is said to have asked a prisoner, "Is Cromwell there? And will they fight?" The answer was in the affirmative, and Rupert despatched the prisoner back to his own army, with the message that they should have "fighting enough!" To which Cromwell retorted: "If it please G.o.d, so shall he!"[63] {149} The evening was wild and stormy. As it grew dusk, Rupert ordered prayers to be read to his men, a proceeding much resented by the Puritans, who regarded religion as their own particular monopoly. Earlier in the war, they had complained that the Prince "pretended piety in his tongue";[64] and now they declared wrathfully: "Rupert, that b.l.o.o.d.y plunderer, would forsooth to seem religious!"[65]

The Prince had drawn up his army for immediate attack. In the centre was placed his foot, flanked on the right by Goring's horse; on the left wing, which was opposed to the Scots, Rupert placed his own cavalry. Behind the Prince's army was disposed that of Newcastle, both horse and foot. But by the time that the line of battle was ready, evening had come, and Rupert judged it too late to fight. Here lay his fatal error, for he had drawn up his forces to the very edge of a wide ditch which stretched between himself and the foe; instant attack alone could retrieve the position. Yet Rupert seems to have been unconscious of his mistake, for he showed his sketch of the plan of battle gaily to Lord Eythin (the General King, who had been with him at Vlotho), asking how he liked it. "By G.o.d, Sir, it is very fine on paper, but there is no such thing in the field!" was Eythin's prompt reply. Then Rupert saw what he had done, and meekly offered to draw back his men. "No, Sir," retorted Eythin, "it is too late."[66] Seeing that nothing could be done, the Prince sat down on the ground to take his supper, and Newcastle retired to his coach to smoke. In another moment the enemy fired, and the battle had begun. Rupert flew to the head of his horse, but Cromwell's horse charged over the ditch, and Rupert's one chance, that of a.s.suming the offensive, was gone. For a few moments he drove Cromwell back, but Leslie's Scots {150} came up, and Rupert's once invincible cavalry fled before "Ironside", as he himself named Cromwell on that day. In the Royalist centre the Scots did deadly work.

Newcastle's Whitecoats fell almost to a man, dying with their own blood the white tunics which they had vowed to dye in the blood of the enemy.

On the right, Goring routed the Yorkshire troops of the Fairfaxes, who fled, reporting a Royalist victory; but that success could not redeem the day. Rupert's army was scattered, Newcastle's brave troopers were cut to pieces, York fallen, the whole north lost, and--worst of all--Rupert's prestige destroyed. Arthur Trevor, arriving at the end of the battle, found all in confusion, "not a man of them being able to give me the least hope where the Prince was to be found."[67] Rupert had, in fact, finding himself all alone, leapt his horse over a high fence into a bean-field, and, sheltered by the growing beans, he made his way to York, "escaping narrowly, by the goodness of his horse."[68]

Dead upon that fatal field he left his much loved dog. In the hurry and excitement of the charge he had forgotten to tie it up with the baggage waggons, and it followed him into the battle. "Among the dead men and horses which lay upon the ground, we found Prince Rupert's dog killed," says Vicars.[69]

It was reported by the Puritans that Rupert declared himself unable to account for the disaster, except by the supposition that "the devil did help his servants;" a speech characterised as "most atheistical and heathenish."[70] The Prince blamed Newcastle, and Newcastle blamed the Prince; but the manner in which each took his defeat is so characteristic as to deserve quotation.

"Sayes Generall King, 'What will you do?'

"Sayes ye Prince, 'I will rally my men.'

{151}

"Sayes Generall King, 'Nowe you, what will you, Lord Newcastle, do?'

"Sayes Lord Newcastle, 'I will go into Holland.'

"The Prince would have him endeavour to recruit his forces. 'No,'

sayes he, 'I will not endure the laughter of the Court.'"[71]

Newcastle's decision was the subject of much discussion at Court. "I am sure the reckoning is much inflamed by my Lord Newcastle's going,"[72] declared O'Neil, who on this occasion sided with the Prince. Rupert had done his best to detain both Eythin and the Marquess, but when he found his efforts vain, he let them depart, promising to report that Newcastle had behaved "like an honest man, a gentleman, and a loyal subject."[73] Eythin he found it harder to forgive; and some months later that General wrote to represent the "mult.i.teud of grieffs" he endured through the Prince's bad opinion of him. "I would rather suffer anything in the world, than live innocently in Your Highness's malgrace,"[74] he declared.

Rupert's own conduct was soldierly enough. Bitterly though he felt the position, he was of stronger mould than the fantastic Marquess.

Clarendon blames him severely for leaving York, but Clarendon was no soldier, and he did not understand that the attempt to hold the city, with no hope of relief, would have been sheer madness. What Rupert could do, he did: gathering together the shattered remnants of his army, he marched away into Shropshire, "according to the method he had before laid for his retreat; taking with him all the northern horse which the Earl of Newcastle left to His Highness, and brought them into his quarters in Wales, and there endeavoured to recruit what he could."[75] On the second day of his retreat he halted at Richmond, {152} where he remained three days, "staying for the scattered troops."

On July 7th he resumed his march, and pa.s.sing by Lathom House, whence Lord Derby had departed, he came on the 25th to Chester. On the Welsh Marches he wandered until the end of August, foraging, recruiting, skirmishing, while the Parliament exulted in his overthrow. "As for Rupert which shed so much innocent blood at Bolton and at Liverpool, if you ask me where he is, we seriously protest that we know not where to find him."[76]