FIGHTING A WOMAN. FORMING THE TRENCHES. PUPPETS. A FALSE MOVE. “DO NOT
RECKON THAT LATHOM WILL BE YOURS.” A LETTER FROM THE EARL.
INEFFECTUAL FIRES. AT PRAYERS, OR ASLEEP? A SAD MASSACRE. HOSPITAL
NURSES. UNWELCOME VISITORS. IN THE EAGLE TOWER. BRAVE MAIDENS. A
CHANGE FOR THE WORSE. THREATS. THE COUNTESS’S ANSWER. “LONG LIVE THE
KING!” A TERRIBLE MONSTER, AND HIS IGNOBLE END. RIGBY’S IRRITATION.
GLEAMS. GOOD NEWS. DECAMPING. VICTORY! AND PRINCE RUPERT’S HOMAGE
That Lord Fairfax was reluctant to attack Lathom House is very certain,
whatever his reasons may have been. By some these are attributed to
shame at employing force against a woman; by others they are set to the
wholesome remembrance of what his deputies had beheld within the
precincts of the old mansion on that February morning.
Meantime the weeks fled on, the trenches were nearly completed. Close on
three months had passed, and the garrison, far from showing signs of
being starved, made their evidences of strength and activity very
conspicuous and troublesome by shooting at the trench-makers, and
harassing them in every possible way, so that the work proceeded very
slowly. It was only towards the end of April that the circle of
ditchwork began to meet. About this time, one more attempt to dissuade
Lady Derby from holding out any longer was made; ostensibly by six of
her neighbours, gentlemen of rank and distinction. When they asked an
interview with her, she received them with gracious courtesy, and, still
more, credited them with intentions of real goodwill towards herself.
Notwithstanding, she saw with her usual clearness of perception, that
they were but the puppets worked by the strings in the hands of the
Parliamentarians, and had been made to see the matter in their light.
These worthy delegates conjured her ladyship “by love of their country,
not to expose herself to great personal dangers, or the whole land to
destruction, which she could easily avoid, by relaxing the rigour of her
resolutions, and by lending an ear to their propositions.”
The Countess evinced none of the haughty contempt to these gentlemen
which she had shown the Parliamentarian officers. She vouchsafed a
reasonable explanation of the course which she had adopted, and then
added that they would do better to expostulate with the men who pillaged
and ravaged the country, rather than with her, who “asked as the one
favour that she might be left in peace in her own house.”
The little band retired, shouting as they went, “Long live the King, and
the Earl of Derby!” and the Parliamentarians knew that they had taken
another false step.
Still holding back, Sir Thomas Fairfax made one more forlorn attempt to
bring the indomitable lady to reason; and now, in the person of Colonel
Ashurst, substituted gentleness and some courtesy. He was bidden to tell
the Countess that, cancelling all the former conditions, she and all
those with her in the house might depart whither they would, with their
arms and baggage, artillery included, giving the house into the hands of
Sir Thomas Fairfax. This was on condition that the arms should not be
employed against the Parliament; and that “everyone in the house should
depart immediately, excepting one hundred persons who should go at the
end of ten days.”
To this proposal the Countess’s answer was: “Tell your general that I
have not yet lost my veneration for the Church of England, my allegiance
to my King, and my fidelity to my husband; I cannot therefore render up
this house until I have lost that respect and fidelity, or given my life
in their defence. Do not reckon, then, that Lathom will be yours.”
The siege was now determined on. The trenches encircled the house. The
blockade commenced. “The leaders had the courage to starve a woman; but
not to fight with her.”[13]
Footnote 13:
Halsall.
Yet once more Sir Thomas Fairfax stayed his hand, seemingly with little
regret. A letter reached him from Lord Derby. The Earl wrote from the
Isle of Man, demanding the right for his wife and children to have
perfect freedom to leave Lathom, and thus to spare their weakness the
horrors of a siege. He feared the brutality of the besiegers, and
believed that the house could be but scantily supplied with provisions.
When the Countess heard of this letter to Sir Thomas Fairfax, it had
only the effect of adding fuel to the flame of her courage.
“Tell Sir Thomas Fairfax that I thank him for his courtesy,” she
said to the messenger, a preacher in the employment of Captain
Rigby. “I shall always obey the commands of my lord, and the
general can treat with him; but until I am certain of his good
pleasure, I shall not give up his house, and I will not forsake
it; I await the issue of these events, as God may will it to
be.”
Meantime, Lord Derby had returned from the Isle of Man, and the Countess
contrived to send him a dispatch, which found him at Chester, occupied
in an endeavour to muster troops to march to her assistance; but as yet
the Earl had a mere handful of men only, and three thousand soldiers
surrounded Lathom.
Notwithstanding, the sorties from the house continued; cannon commenced
to fire upon the walls, but thanks to the configuration of the ground,
very ineffectually. The garrison was interested in watching the
manipulation of a mortar which was planted on a little mound at the
distance of half a musket range from the house. The first grenadoes from
it passed over the roof of the house, to the great joy of the besieged,
whom the Countess had supplied with the skins of the beasts slaughtered
for the daily food of the soldiers, in order that they might extinguish
the flames with these if the house should catch fire.
Four days of prayer and pious exercises interrupted the operations of
the besiegers, four days of “sleep,” says the Royalist chronicler,
profoundly incredulous in the matter of Colonel Rigby’s piety. At the
expiration of this time the garrison determined to waken the besiegers
by an angry sortie; they spiked several of their cannon, and took a
number of men prisoners. The Countess, proud of having left hardly any
of her own men in the hands of the enemy, would have surrendered these
in exchange; and she offered to render up all the prisoners she had
made, if the Parliamentarians would release some of the King’s friends
detained at Manchester, Preston, and Lancaster. This Colonel Rigby
promised to do; but he was wanting to his promise. “It was part of their
religion,” says the narrator of the siege of Lathom, “to observe faith
neither with God nor men; and there ensued a sad massacre of the
prisoners at Lathom, whom the Countess could neither keep or
release.”[14]
Footnote 14:
Halsall.
She was always engaged with her two daughters, Mary and Catherine,
superintending everything, providing for the nourishment of the
soldiers, seeing to the distribution of powder, tending the wounded,
frequently upon the ramparts, always in chapel at prayer time, and
smiling disdainfully when a bullet happened to fall into her
sleeping-chamber. She did not even deign to change her apartment until
she had received such a visit three or four times. “I will hold this
house while there is a bit of wall to shelter me, and a corner of roof
to cover my head,” she said, when she installed herself in the Eagle
Tower in the middle of the building. A bomb had fallen and burst in the
dining-hall during dinner, breaking all the casement panes, and smashing
the furniture, but not wounding anyone. The children were beside their
mother, but they had not stirred; scarcely had they changed colour. The
Countess bestowed a glance of approval on them. That was all, and the
repast was proceeded with.
Sir Thomas Fairfax, who from the beginning had never been heartily with
his task, discovered towards the end of April that his presence was
indispensable at York; and he delegated the command of the siege of
Lathom House to Colonel Rigby. With the departure of Fairfax, the entire
face of matters was changed. Lady Derby had no longer to do with “a
gentleman, a sincere patriot, but a well-reared man, with a noble heart,
and of pure hands. Her chief assailant now was an old attorney, a
wretched lawyer, a pilferer, a thief, a hypocrite, determined not to be
beaten by a woman.” He so little understood his new trade, that he
allowed his plentiful supply of powder to be so flung about and wasted,
that the besieged were able to renew their supplies of it from the
trenches.[15]
Footnote 15:
De Witt.
There was no letting “I dare not wait upon I would” with this Roundhead
warrior; and no sooner had he assumed the command than he announced his
intention of attacking the house with mortar and cannon. The Countess
was however, permitted the alternative of “giving up her house,
garrison, arms and ammunition next day before two o’clock in the
afternoon.” She was in the courtyard when the drummer who brought the
summons presented himself at the gates. She took the letter, and, having
glanced at it, said to the Parliamentarian: “You deserve to hang at
these gates. But you are only the foolish tool of a traitor’s vanity.
Therefore convey this answer to Rigby,” and she tore the paper in two.
“Tell this insolent rebel that he will have neither our persons, goods,
nor house. When our resources are exhausted, we shall find a fire more
supportable than Rigby’s. If God’s providence does not come to the
rescue, my house and my possessions shall burn before his eyes; and I,
my children and my soldiers, sooner than fall into his hands, will seal
our religion and our loyalty in the flames.”
She spoke in a loud, firm, and resonant voice. Her soldiers pressed
round her. “We will die for his Majesty, and for our honour!” shouted
they with one accord. The drummer departed from Lathom to cries of “Long
live the King!”
The mortar to which the Parliamentarians pinned their faith was indeed a
terrible engine of destruction. It was a monster which vomited forth
flame and bombs with somewhat impartial energy to both besieged and
besiegers. It was invaluable, of course, to the Parliamentarians; but it
refused to be humoured, and while serving their turn upon their enemies,
had done themselves no small damage. It might be, and was, the terror of
the garrison; but it was a dangerous friend to those whom it served. It
was capable of throwing stones thirteen inches in diameter and of eighty
pounds’ weight, and also grenadoes, balls of iron filled with powder and
lighted by fuses.
On Easter Monday it lodged a twenty-four pounder in the Countess’s
chamber in the Eagle Tower, where she was having breakfast with her two
daughters.
“The little ladies,” says the chronicler, “had stomach to digest cannon;
but the strongest soldiers had no hearts for grenadoes, and might not
they at once free themselves from the continual expectation of death?”
At all events they determined to try; and at four o’clock next morning a
small contingent of twenty-four soldiers stole noiselessly forth,
creeping under the shadow of the cannon until they reached the little
fort which commanded the mansion. At the same time Captain Fox, issuing
by another door, was in possession of the earthworks which guarded the
mortar. To reach this point, a deep ditch and a high rampart had to be
scaled. The first care of the two captains was to mount the ditch, while
the soldiers were prepared to defend themselves against the enemy, if it
should try to regain the position.
All the household of the Countess sallied forth and crowded round the
mortar, eager to give a hand to the ropes which were now passed about it
to drag it within the walls.
Captain Ogle, with a detachment of soldiers, protected the men who
pulled the ropes, and very soon, amidst the joyful shouts of the whole
garrison, and to the consternation of the besiegers, the savage monster
went rolling into the courtyard to the feet of the Countess, who
forthwith summoned Chaplain Rutter, and, in company with all her people,
rendered thanks to Heaven in the chapel.
The soldiers wanted to take the artillery as well, but the pieces were
too heavy, and they contented themselves with spiking them, as they had
vainly striven many times to do with the mortar.
“This action cost the Lathom men two soldiers; the loss of the enemy was
more considerable.”[16] All the time it was going on, the gunners on the
walls never ceased peppering the Parliamentarians, and did great havoc
among those who were near the fort and the trenches. The ditch was
levelled in this sally.
Footnote 16:
Halsall.
The joy at the capture of the mortar knew no bounds in the house. The
monster whose flames had so often threatened to burn the older parts of
the house, which were constructed mainly of wood, now lay in the
courtyard silent and impotent. The soldiers indulged their feelings by
bestowing on it a kick when they passed it, for all the terror it had
caused in its time. Everybody was the more delighted from the fact
coming to their knowledge that Captain Rigby had invited his friends and
neighbours that same day to assemble to witness either the ceding or the
burning of Lathom House. They were invited to be there at two o’clock.
“And they punctually arrived in time to console Rigby, who was
sick with shame and rage at finding himself beaten by a woman
and a handful of soldiers.”[17]
Footnote 17:
Halsall.
The besiegers now began to lose heart. Captains and men deserted the
camp; the rain, which fell incessantly that spring, destroyed their
trenches, and the undertaking throughout had brought them little credit.
On the 23rd May the Countess was once more required, in insolent terms,
to capitulate, “and to submit to the mercy of Parliament.” Lady Derby
replied with a bitter smile, “You mistake. You mean the cruelties, not
the mercies.”
“No, madam,” replied the puzzled delegate, “the mercies of Parliament.”
“The mercies of the wicked are cruel,” quickly responded she. Then she
added that it was not Parliament, but its corrupt agents with whom she
refused to treat. “Let them make terms with my lord,” she went on;
“failing that, they will have neither me nor my friends while there is
life in us.” When the deputy persisted, she said: “This insolent rebel
shall make no more proposals. If he does, his messenger shall hang at my
gates.”
For the last time the ambassador retired. Nothing daunted the Countess.
She paid no heed to all the gloomy rumours which reached her of the
Royalist reverses. Prince Rupert, on the other hand, had vanquished the
rebels at Newark, and was now marching to the assistance of Lord
Newcastle, who was at York, menaced on all sides. The Earl of Derby
implored the Prince to take his way by Lancashire, and relieve Lathom
House and his wife and children. He promised the troops £3000, which he
had borrowed on the jewels of his wife, she having contrived to find a
way of conveying them to him during the siege.
A few hours after the departure of the discomfited Parliamentarian
delegate late at night, one of Lady Derby’s couriers arrived at Lathom
House. To obtain his entrance he had killed the enemy’s sentinel. The
news which he brought the Countess was that Prince Rupert was on the way
to the relief of Lathom House, and that my Lord Derby accompanied him.
Deep thankfulness pervaded all hearts in Lathom House. The Countess
however, annexing a leaf from the enemy’s book of axioms, trusted in
God, “but kept her powder dry.” While rendering heartfelt thanks to
Heaven, she abated not one tittle of her unceasing vigilance.
In silence now the Parliamentarians guarded their trenches. The sound of
their mocking rhymes and songs was heard no more. The prowess and
successes of Cromwell and of Fairfax were no longer vaunted. No more was
said about taking the King in a mouse-trap. On the evening of the 26th
May the guard was so carelessly mounted, that Lady Derby resolved on a
grand sally next day, beginning at three o’clock in the morning.
But Prince Rupert was at hand—Prince Rupert, the terror of his foes, if
not also, like that Parliamentarian mortar, the terror of some of his
friends—and at one o’clock the Parliamentarian soldiers took up their
arms, folded their tents, and silently departed from Lathom, after a
four months’ fruitless siege, the loss of five hundred men, against the
loss of six of the besieged, and the expending of one hundred barrels of
gunpowder. Like a wise man, economical of his blood, Rigby stood no
longer upon much order of going, but went at once.
Still foresight and prudence detained the Prince and the Earl to punish
the enemy upon the way, and to destroy chances of any speedy or sudden
return to the attack; but it was not long before the victorious Lady of
Lathom stood at her gates to receive her husband, and to bid him welcome
to the home which she had so gallantly defended.
Sir Richard Crane attended the Earl, laden with twenty-two trophies
taken by her kinsman Prince Rupert at Bolton and Liverpool, to present
in homage to his “fair relative and companion in arms.” These banners,
after floating proudly in the breeze on the towers of Lathom, Lady Derby
hung in the chapel in reverent “gratitude to the God in whom she had put
her trust, and in memory of the deliverance which He had sent to
her.”[18]
Footnote 18:
De Witt.
Captain Roshern and Captain Chisenhall were raised by Prince Rupert, at
Lady Derby’s request, to the rank of colonel. The first was made
governor of Lathom House, the other followed the Prince’s fortunes.
The occasion ended, Charlotte de la Trémoille was now once more but a
gracious gentlewoman, a loving wife and mother. No word in her
correspondence makes the slightest allusion to her brave actions and
heroic endurance. Home and her children once more engrossed her
thoughts.
“Take good care of them,” said Prince Rupert, ere he bid his hostess
farewell; “the children of such a father and such a mother will one day
do their King such service as their parents have done theirs.” And
indeed “Faithful unto death” would have been the only motto for that
seventh Earl of Derby and his wife, Charlotte de la Trémoille, had they
ever needed to replace the one graved on their unsullied shield of “Sans
changer.”
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