THE FATE OF KINGS. ONLY ONCE AGAIN. THE CROWN JEWELS. A LOYAL VASSAL.
“THE VAIN SHADOW OF A KING.” SLANDER. TEMPTATION SCORNED. MORE ARDOUR
THAN DISCRETION
Charles, from the first day of his reign, had never known real peace of
mind or enjoyed a sense of security. The words put into the mouth of his
predecessor by Shakespeare,
“Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown,”
were ever, from first to last, realised by him to the full. Till that
head lay severed from his body in its coffin at Whitehall, it found no
rest. One by one he lost, by circumstances—generally the circumstance of
violent death—the friendship and counsel of those dearest to him.
Strafford and Laud had perished on the scaffold, and now he was called
upon to part with the Queen. In 1642, on the 10th of January, he left
his palace of Whitehall, whose doors he never again entered but to step
upon the scaffold. A little later he was at Windsor, and from thence it
was arranged her Majesty should repair to Holland, ostensibly for the
purpose of taking over her daughter, Henrietta Maria—still but a
child—to the Prince of Orange, who had married her six months
previously. The real object of the journey was however, to purchase arms
and ammunition, and to seek the aid and support of the Continental
Powers. The Queen took with her the Crown jewels to pawn or to sell, in
order to raise money for the purchase of war supplies. After
accompanying her to Dover, where she embarked for the Continent, Charles
had gone northwards, and established himself at York, there to wait the
issue of negotiations. That the issue of these could be doubtful, the
most earnest desirers of peace could hardly hope. The breach, daily
widening for so long, left no choice but to declare civil war; but both
parties shrank from the blame of throwing down the gauntlet. Finally, it
was done by the Parliamentarians, in the person of Sir John Hotham, who
refused, as “governor to the Parliament,” to open the gates of Hull. It
is at this juncture that the Earl of Derby, in absolute fact still only
Lord Strange, first came forth from his retirement to bear his loyal,
unswerving part on the King’s side of the contention. He was one of the
first to present himself at the Court at York, prepared in deed as by
word to give his life’s blood and the last penny in his purse for his
royal master and the legitimate cause.
It was now proposed to form a royal guard at York from among the
nobility of the neighbourhood. Fifty gentlemen refused to join his
company, and at their head was Sir Thomas Fairfax, who further
contrived, at great risk of being crushed by the feet of the King’s
horse, to fasten upon the pommel of Charles’ saddle a widely-signed
petition against war, and an entreaty that his Majesty would live in
peace with his Parliament. On the 1st June the propositions for
accommodation arrived at York from Westminster. They embodied demands
for the complete abolition of royal prerogative, and exercise of supreme
power for the Parliament. “If I granted your demands,” cried the King,
in a burst of indignation, “I should be nothing but an image—the vain
shadow of a king;” and he refused to listen further. The very terms
rendered it obvious that the Parliamentarians expected no other
response, any more than they desired it. Forty members only of the Lower
House voted against war, and one member, the Earl of Portland, in the
Lords. An army of the Parliamentarian party was at once organised, over
which Lord Essex was nominated commander-in-chief.
On the King’s side, his faithful subjects rallied quickly round him; and
Lord Strange appears in their foremost ranks with a contingent of three
thousand well-accoutred and well-provisioned men, raised from among his
own people. On finding however, that the King, isolated as it were at
York, was destitute of all assistance, and knew not where to obtain
weapons, Lord Strange placed at his disposal everything the arsenals of
his mansions contained.
Such generosity and self-devotion on the part of so powerful a nobleman
was hardly likely to go uncontested by the sycophants and time-servers
who swarm in royal courts. The Earl himself speaks of “the envy and
malice against which he had to defend his honour.” This jealousy found
its opportunity when, the hasty preparations made, the question became
in what county of the north the royal standard should be raised. After
listening “with a grave and serene dignity,” relates his biographer, “to
the several suggestions and reasons for the uplifting of the standard in
five or six of the more northern counties, Lord Strange begged the King
to turn his considerations upon Lancashire. Its neighbouring counties
were equally favourably disposed towards the royal cause. The people
were robust, and well fitted for good soldiers. For himself, Lord
Strange added, he was but an unworthy lieutenant of his Majesty; but he
would undertake to find, at his own expense, three thousand foot
soldiers and five hundred horse. Further, he would use his best
endeavour to enlist and enroll seven thousand men of the county, thus
furnishing his Majesty out of Lancashire alone a force of ten thousand
men. From thence, access was easy to the neighbouring counties. His
Majesty would find himself at the head of a powerful army, and be able
to march upon London before the rebels had had time for raising troops
to resist.”
The King determined to abide by this counsel. The standard was to be
unfurled at Warrington in Lancashire; and Lord Strange was commissioned
to levy forces and supplies, and to stir the population to the contest.
He rallied the Royalists at three points—at Preston, Ormskirk, and Bury.
That done, he prepared to go southward with the same object, first to
Cheshire, and then into North Wales, of which he was lieutenant. At this
point, the malignant spirit of the so-called Court party interfered; in
every probability to their own downfall, as to the ruin of the Royal
cause. Had the vacillating King remained true to himself and to this
powerful supporter at the difficult crisis, the whole tide of affairs
might have turned in the royal favour. Time, at least, would have been
obtained, and the disaffected party would have been forced to reconsider
its demands; but this was not to be. Hardly was Lord Strange gone on his
arduous mission than the slanderers set to work to prejudice Charles
against him. The old Earl, said they, was dying; Lord Strange was
ambitious, little favourable to the Court or conforming to its views.
What if all this levying of troops should be a cover for mischievous
designs? Was not Lord Strange allied to the blood-royal? The Stanleys
had not been always faithful to the party they seemed to favour—to wit,
that Stanley, his ancestor, who marched at Richard’s side to Bosworth
field, and remained to crown Henry of Richmond, his stepson, king. Had
not Earl Ferdinand, this Lord Strange’s uncle, openly declared his
claims upon the throne? This man—this James Stanley—had married a
Frenchwoman, a Huguenot, reared in the pernicious doctrines of the Low
Countries, one of the house of Nassau, which had stirred the United
Provinces to revolt. In such hands his Majesty could not be safe.
These arguments touched the characteristic weakness of Charles’s nature.
Prone to look upon the less hopeful and more shadowy side of a question,
he lent an ear to these representations of a jealous faction, and gave
orders for the raising of the standard at Nottingham. Lord Strange was
suddenly and unceremoniously deprived of his lieutenancy of Cheshire and
of Wales.
When he heard of these decisions of the King, he was greatly disturbed
for the moment. Then, “recovering himself with that greatness of soul
which belonged to his fine character,” he replied to the messenger of
the news: “May my master prosper—my poor self is of no consequence. If
this counsel be good for him, I shall not trouble myself more for what
happens to me. My wife, my children, and my country are very dear to me;
but if my prince and my religion are safe, I shall bless the enemies who
work their good, though it be at the price of my ruin.”
By the advice of the friends whom he was accustomed to consult in cases
of perplexity, he despatched a messenger to the King with assurances of
his fidelity, declaring that it was in vain that his enemies strove to
hinder him in serving him to the best of his power; that he would never
draw the sword against him; that he placed his lieutenancies of Cheshire
and of Wales at his Majesty’s disposal; and that he begged him also to
take back that of the county of Lancashire, so that no one could accuse
him more of pretentions against the King.
These frank assurances exercised their due effect upon Charles, who now
recognised the true value of so loyal and powerful a servant; but the
doubts thus cast upon Lord Strange had given great offence to his
friends and adherents, and materially injured the Royal cause in
Cheshire and Lancashire. Many of the country gentlemen, who had been
ready to risk life and money for their King, retired to their estates
once more; others went over in large numbers to the Parliamentarian
side. This exodus was such a large and important one, that its leaders
offered Lord Strange the command of their forces, or whatever other
position he might prefer. The offer was indignantly refused, and Lord
Strange prepared to join the King, who had now written him a letter with
his own hand, calling him to join; and the Royal standard was raised at
Nottingham on the 28th August 1642. Though things were no longer as they
were, the ardour for the King having cooled on account of his suspicious
treatment of the Earl—for such he now was, his father having just
died—Lord Derby did his utmost, and rallied around him from among his
own tenantry and friends a goodly force of three regiments of infantry
and three squadrons of horse. With these he was ordered to make an
attack on Manchester, which was now in the hands of the rebels. Scarcely
had he arrived with his soldiers before the place over which he
anticipated an easy victory, than the King summoned him to join his army
at Shrewsbury, since the Parliamentarians were marching upon them under
Lord Essex. Full of regret at being called off, Lord Derby obeyed this
mandate, to find himself once more the object of mistrust and of
jealousy. Directly he arrived his command was taken from him, the King
telling him that he was now wanted in Lancashire to keep watch there
upon the rebels.
“Worms will turn.” The Earl was a man, though one of very equable
temperament; but he was proud. For a moment he remained silent, in an
effort to restrain his indignation. Then he said to the King: “Sire, had
I merited this indignity, I should have also justly deserved hanging;
but my honour and my rank bid me claim your justice against those who
are thus insolent to your Majesty, as they are to me. And if there be a
man living (your Majesty excepted) who dares accuse me of the least
action to your disadvantage, I desire your permission to go and seek
this calumny upon his lips, at my sword’s point.”
The King was troubled. He sought to calm the Earl. “My affairs are in
such a bad state, my lord,” he said; “the rebels are marching against
me; and this is not the moment for us to quarrel among ourselves. Have a
little patience, and I will show you justice.”
The Earl was silent, swallowing his anger; but once more his soldiers
and friends, getting wind of the treatment to which he had been
subjected, waxed indignant, and refused their service. The Earl however,
succeeded in allaying their discontent; and on quitting Shrewsbury to
return to Lathom House, he left his troops loyal and determined as
himself in the King’s service.
The Parliamentarians of Lancashire soon learned of the Earl’s treatment
by the Royalists, and once more took advantage of it to try and tempt
him over to their side. “The Earl of Derby ought,” said they, “to resent
the outrages which he had suffered at Court from the King’s bad
advisers. His enemies were the enemies also of the nation. They attacked
the religion of all decent people; leaving his Majesty none but papists,
or those inclined to popery.” “The intention of Parliament,” went on the
message which Lord Derby received, “was to remove from about the royal
person such dark and dangerous designers, in order to ensure the true
Protestant religion. His lordship should receive a command worthy of his
greatness, and of that of his ancestors, if he would engage in the good
cause.”
Lord Derby did not even give himself the trouble to pen a reply to this
message.
“Say, I beg you,” he said to the Colonel charged with its
bringing, “to these Manchester gentlemen, and let them acquaint
those in London, that when they have heard I have turned traitor
I will listen to their proposals; but until then, if I receive
any more papers of this kind, it will be at the peril of him who
brings them.”
Prince Rupert, the King’s nephew, who arrived at this time to assist the
Royalists, and was placed by his Uncle at the head of the cavalry, was
one of the hot-headed, ardent folk, who are apt to encumber with their
assistance. Brave, and audacious to a degree, accustomed to rough German
warfare, he did much damage to the Royal cause by his wild raids over
the country, pillaging and ravaging wherever he went, but was of not
overmuch service in the day of battle. This was the state of things
between the Royalists and “the Rebels” when the two opposing armies met,
and fought out, on 23rd October 1642, that drawn battle of Edgehill.
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