THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR. POWICK BRIDGE. EDGEHILL. THE MARCH TO
LONDON
The setting up of the Royal Standard was a depressing ceremony. The
weather was so bad that the very elements seemed to fight against the
Royalists; and the standard was blown down the same night, which was
regarded as a very evil portent. Moreover, the Royal forces were still
so lamentably small that Sir Jacob Astley openly expressed a fear that
the King would be captured in his sleep.[1] The arms and ammunition
were not yet come from York, and a general sadness pervaded the whole
company. In this state of affairs, the King made another futile
attempt at treating with the Parliament; an attempt so distasteful to
Rupert and his officers "that they were not without some thought--or at
least discourses--of offering violence to the principal advisers of
it."[2] The abortive treaty proved, however, to the King's advantage,
for its failure turned the tide in his favour, and brought recruits to
his banner.
During the delay at Nottingham, Rupert was created a Knight of the
Garter, and, at the same time, he contrived to fall out with Digby.
Even as early as September 10th, we find Digby protesting against the
Prince's prejudice towards himself. Evidently he had indulged in
remarks upon Rupert's love of "inferior" company, which he now
endeavoured to explain away.[3] His apology was accepted; and for a
short time he served under the Prince.
{86}
Already Rupert was scouring the country in search of men, arms and
money. On September 6th "that diabolical Cavalier,"[4] as a Puritan
soldier called him, had surrounded Leicester and summoned the Mayor to
confer with him. That worthy cautiously declined the interview,
whereupon he received a peremptory letter, demanding L2,000 to be paid
on the morrow "by ten of the clock in the forenoon." He was assured
that the King's promise would prove a better pledge for repayment than
the "Public Faith" of the Parliament; and the letter concluded with the
characteristic assurance that, in case of contumacy, the Prince would
appear on the morrow, "in such a posture as shall make you to know it
is wiser to obey than to resist His Majesty's command."[5] Five
hundred pounds were forthwith paid, but a complaint was despatched to
the King, who hastened to disavow his nephew's arbitrary proceedings.
An attack on Caldecot House proved more to the Prince's credit. This
house belonged to a Warwickshire Puritan, a Mr Purefoy, then absent
with the troops of the Parliament. Early on a Sunday morning Rupert
appeared before the house, with five hundred men, and summoned it to
surrender. The summons was defied, and he ordered an assault. The
defenders consisted only of Mrs. Purefoy, her two daughters, her
son-in-law, Mr. Abbot, three serving-men, and three maids; yet the
fight was continued for some hours, and with serious loss to the
Cavaliers. At last Rupert forced the outer gates, fired the barns, and
advanced to the very doors. Then Mrs. Purefoy came out and threw
herself at the victor's feet. Rupert asked her what she would have of
him. She answered, the lives of her little garrison. Rupert then
raised her to her feet, "saluted her kindly," and promised that not one
of them should be hurt. But when he had entered the house and
discovered how small was the garrison, his pity was changed to
admiration. He {87} complimented Mr. Abbot on his skill and gallantry,
and offered him a command in his own troop, which was, however,
refused. Finally he drew off his forces, promising that nothing upon
the place should suffer injury. "And the Prince faithfully kept his
promise, and would not suffer one penny-worth of goods in the house to
be taken."[6] Such is the testimony of a fanatical enemy; nor is it
the only instance of Rupert's chivalry. "Sir Edward Terrell was a
little fearful, Prince Rupert had been hunting at his Park," wrote the
Puritan Lady Sussex; "but he took him much, with his courtesy to
him."[7]
On September 13th the King left Nottingham for Derby, and Rupert joined
his march at Stafford. There it was that the Prince fired a remarkable
shot, to prove his skill as a marksman. Standing in a garden about
sixty yards distant from the church of St. Mary, he shot clean through
the tail of the weathercock on the steeple, "with a screwed horseman's
pistol, and a single bullet."[8] The King declared that the shot was
but a lucky chance; whereupon Rupert fired a second time, with the same
result.
From Stafford, Rupert proceeded by night to Bridgnorth, and from there
he went, on September 21st, to secure Worcester. Finding Worcester
quite indefensible, he resolved to go on to Shrewsbury, but, in the
meantime, he led his small troop into a field near Powick Bridge to
rest. The officers, among whom were Maurice, Digby, Wilmot, Charles
Lucas, and the Lords Northampton and Crawford, threw themselves down on
the grass, divested of all armour. In this position they were
surprised by a troop of Essex's horse, under Sandys and Fiennes, which
advanced, fully armed, down a narrow lane. In the confusion there was
scarcely time to catch the horses, and none to consult as to methods of
defence. Rupert shouted out the order to {88} charge, and vaulted on
to his horse. Maurice threw himself next his brother; and the other
officers, seeing that it would be useless to rejoin their men, followed
the Princes. Thus, with the officers in the van and the men straggling
behind as best they could, the Royalists charged. The Puritans,
well-armed and well-commanded though they were, could not stand against
that sudden fierce assault. Two of their officers fell, and in a very
few moments the whole body, nearly a thousand in number, broke and
fled, the "goodness of their horses" making it impossible to overtake
them. The number of the slain was between forty and fifty; six or
seven colours were captured, and a few Scottish officers taken
prisoners. The loss on the King's side was small, and though all the
officers, Rupert excepted, were wounded, none were killed. Maurice had
received so dangerous a wound in the head that he was reported killed,
but it was not long before he was again "abroad and merry."[9] The
slight loss suffered by the Cavaliers was the more remarkable since
they had had neither armour nor pistols, and had fought only with their
swords.[10]
The moral advantage of this skirmish was very great. It gave increased
courage to Rupert's troops and it "exceedingly appalled the adversary,"
to whom the Prince's name was henceforth "very terrible." To the
Elector, and to some of the friends of his family, such a reputation
was less gratifying than it was to Rupert himself. Dependent upon the
English Parliament as the Palatines were,--for King Charles could no
longer help them, and the Stadtholder was old and failing,--Rupert's
zeal in his uncle's cause was a serious disadvantage to them. "I
fear," wrote Roe to the Elector, "the freshness of his spirit and his
zeal to his uncle may have drawn from him some words, if not deeds,
that have begot a very ill odour; insomuch {89} that nothing is so much
cried out against as his actions, which do reflect upon your whole
family and cause, and there may be more need of a bridle to moderate
him than of spurs. They will never forgive me the ill-fortune to have
procured his liberty."[11] To this the Elector replied indignantly:
"It is impossible either for the Queen--my mother, or myself to bridle
my brother's youth and fieryness, at so great a distance, and in the
employment he has. It were a great indiscretion in any to expect it,
and an injustice to blame us for things beyond our help."[12] He did
his best to appease the Parliament by exhibiting his own ingratitude
towards his uncle. "The Prince Elector doth write kindly--others might
say basely--to the Roundhead Parliament,"[13] reported Sir George
Radcliffe. Further, Charles Louis published a manifesto in the names
of himself and his mother, deprecating Rupert's actions, and
disclaiming all sympathy with them. And in 1644 he came himself to
London, and took the Covenant; in reward for which hypocrisy the
Parliament lodged him in Whitehall, and granted him a large
pension.[14] Elizabeth was less time-serving, and her intercepted
letters to Rupert gave great offence to the Parliament. She tried to
pacify the indignation she had roused, writing to the Speaker: "Albeit
I cannot at present remember what I then particularly writ, yet if
anything did perchance slip from my pen in the private relation between
a mother and son, which might give them the least distaste, I entreat
them to make no worse construction of it than was by me intended."[15]
But she could not disguise her real sentiments, and her pension was
stopped by the Parliament. "Our gracious Mistress hath her part, as
who hath not, in these public sufferings," {90} wrote one of her
gentlemen in 1643. "It is upon a full year that her entertainments
have been stopped, and I believe that she fareth the worse for the
impetuousness of Prince Rupert her son, who is quite out of her
government."[16]
Directly after the skirmish of Powick Bridge, Rupert fell back upon
Ludlow, and it was while quartered there that he was supposed to have
made his first expedition into Essex's camp. The stories of his
disguises are told by Puritans, and are, as before said, very probably
apocryphal; but they are given here for what they are worth. The
Puritan army was encamped on Dunsmore Heath, and Rupert, riding as near
to it as he dared, overtook a man driving a horse which was laden with
apples. The man, on being interrogated, informed the Prince that he
was going to sell the apples to the soldiers of the Parliament. "Why
dost thou not go to the King's army?" asked the Prince; "I hear they
are generous sparks and will pay double!" "Oh," said the man, "they
are Cavaliers, and have a mad Prince amongst them. Devil a penny could
I get in the whole army." Rupert thereupon purchased the whole load
for ten shillings, changed coats and horses with the man, and himself
sold the apples to the forces of Essex. On his return, he gave the man
a second piece of gold, with the command to "go to the army, and ask
the commanders how they liked the fruit which Prince Rupert did, in his
own person, but this morning sell them."[17]
During this time the King had lain at Shrewsbury, whither he now
summoned all his forces, and on October 12th he began his march towards
London. This was in accordance with Rupert's scheme of concentrating
all forces on the centre of disaffection. The three brigades of foot
were commanded respectively by Sir Nicholas Byron, Colonel Wentworth,
and Colonel Fielding. Lord Lindsey was {91} Commander-in-Chief, and
Sir Jacob Astley was his Major-General; Ruthven, though a
Field-Marshal, preferred to remain entirely with the cavalry. The
dragoons were under Sir Arthur Aston, and most of the nobles and richer
gentry enlisted in Lord Bernard Stuart's regiment of gentlemen,
nicknamed "The Show Troop." "Never," says Clarendon, "did less baggage
attend a royal army, there being not one tent, and very few waggons, in
the whole train."[18] This being the case, it is singular that the
place where the King's tent was pitched is still pointed out at
Edgehill.
The Royalists advanced slowly, by way of Birmingham, halting at several
places on the march. On October 22nd the King reached Edgecot, and
Essex arrived the same day at Kineton, ready to bar his way. Rupert
advanced to Lord Spencer's house at Wormleighton, where his
quarter-master had a skirmish with the quarter-master of Essex, who had
also been sent to take possession of the house. Rupert's men captured
twelve of Essex's soldiers, from whom they learnt the unexpected
proximity of the enemy. Rupert thereupon made his men take the field,
and sent the intelligence to the King. The King responded in a brief
note: "I have given order as you have desyred; so I dout not but all
the foot and cannon will bee at Edgehill betymes this morning, where
you will also find your loving Oncle."[19]
Early in the morning of October 23rd, Rupert advanced his forces to the
summit of Edgehill, where, as he had expected, he was joined by the
King. A council of war was then held. But, alas, dissension was
already beginning in the army, the mutual jealousy of the officers
having grown on the march to "a perfect faction"[20] between the foot
and horse. On this occasion Rupert's bold and rapid tactics were
strenuously opposed by the cautious old Lindsey. But the King strongly
supported his nephew, and thereupon {92} Lindsey resigned his
generalship, preferring to fight as a mere colonel rather than to
nominally command a battle over which he had no control. Then his son,
Lord Willoughby,--deeply resenting the slight on his father,--refused
to charge with Rupert, and elected to fight on foot at his father's
side. Ruthven (afterwards Lord Brentford) was hastily appointed in
Lindsey's place, and as he had fought under Gustavus, he readily gave
his support to the Prince who followed the great Swede's tactics.
It was one o'clock before the King's foot could be brought up to the
rest of the army; and though Essex was in order by eight in the
morning, he was in no hurry to begin the battle. His numbers were
already greater than those of the King, but he hoped still that three
more regiments might join him. Not till three o'clock did the fight
begin, and this was considered so late that some of the Royalists would
have willingly postponed it till the morrow. But it was to the King's
advantage to hasten the attack, since he had no provisions for his
army, and he hoped also to anticipate the arrival of Essex's
reinforcements. The history of the battle is an oft-told tale. Rupert
commanded the right wing, and he committed a serious error at the
outset by permitting the "Show Troop" to charge in the van. This troop
had been irritated by the scoffs of blunter soldiers, and it seemed but
courtesy to accede to its request, yet it was most unwise to do so, for
it left the King unguarded on the field. "Just before we began our
march," says Bulstrode, "the Prince passed from one wing to the other,
giving positive orders to the horse to march as close as possible,
keeping their ranks, sword in hand; to receive the enemy's shot without
firing either carbine or pistol till we broke in among them, and then
to make use of our firearms as need should require."[21] The charge
thus made, swept Essex's horse from the field, and Rupert's {93} horse
followed far in the pursuit. "Our horse pursued so eagerly that the
commanders could not stop them in the chase," said the Royalists.[22]
The King's foot, left unsupported on the field, suffered great damage.
Then it was that Lord Lindsey fell, and his gallant son was captured in
the attempt to save his father. Then Sir Edmund Verney died, and the
standard was taken, but subsequently regained. Only the enemy's own
want of skill and experience saved the King himself from capture. Thus
the advantage won by the first charge was lost, and when Rupert
returned he found the King with a very small retinue, and all chance of
a complete victory gone. Nor could the cavalry be rallied for a second
charge. Where the soldiers were collected together the officers were
absent, and where the officers were ready the soldiers were scattered.
Consequently the result of the battle was indecisive, and both sides
claimed the victory; the advantage really lay with the King, insomuch
as he held the field, and had opened the way to London. But the
Royalist losses had been very great. Besides Lindsey and Verney, had
fallen Lord Aubigny, brother of the Duke of Richmond, and many other
officers. Moreover, the Cavaliers were in a hostile country, unable to
obtain either food or shelter, and the night was terribly cold.
Towards daybreak the King retired to his coach to rest; and the morning
found the two armies still facing one another. Thus they remained
throughout the day, but towards evening Essex drew off to Warwick. No
sooner did Essex begin his retreat than Rupert started in pursuit. At
Kineton he captured the rear guard of dragoons, with their convoy of
money, plate and letters. The taking of the letters proved of no
slight importance, for among them Rupert discovered a circumstantial
report of his own proceedings, furnished to Essex by his own secretary.
There was found also the secretary's demand for an increase {94} of pay
from the Parliament, which already paid him L50 a week. The man was of
course tried, and hanged at Oxford.[23]
Rupert was now anxious to push on to London before the enemy could
rally. "He proffered, if His Majesty would give him leave, to march
with three thousand horse to Westminster, and there dissolve the
Parliament."[24] Very likely this plan might have succeeded, for the
panic in London was great, but the old Earl of Bristol declared that
Rupert, once let loose on London, would plunder and burn the city.
This fear so worked on the King that he refused to countenance the
design. It is only fair to add that Rupert indignantly repudiated the
intentions attributed to him. "I think there is none that take me for
a coward,--for sure I fear not the face of any man alive,--yet I shall
repute it the greatest victory in the world to see His Majesty enter
London in peace without shedding one drop of blood."[25] The tales
spread abroad of his "barbarousness and inhumanity" caused him real
annoyance, and he endeavoured to refute them in a published
"Declaration." After retorting on the Parliament various instances of
Puritan plundering and violence, he continued: "I must here profess,
that I take that man to be no soldier or gentleman that will strike,
much less kill, a woman or a child... And for myself, I appeal to the
consciences of those lords and gentlemen who are my daily witnesses,
and to those people wheresoever our army hath been, what they know, or
have observed in my carriage which might not become the son of a
king."[26] Doubtless the boast was made in all good faith, but
doubtless also the views of Rupert and his enemies as to what was
"becoming" differed widely, especially in regard to plunder. True the
Puritans not {95} infrequently plundered Royalists, just as the
Royalists plundered Puritans; but the Parliament had the less need to
do it, seeing that all the King's revenue was in its hands. The
hapless King could not, in consequence, pay his cavalry, and it was
Rupert's task to raise supplies from the country. He was authorised to
requisition daily provisions from the inhabitants of the places where
the horse were quartered. For all such supplies a proper receipt was
to be given, and the officers were not permitted, "upon pain of our
high displeasure," to send for greater quantities of provision than
would actually supply the men and horses.[27] To Rupert, used as he was
to continental warfare, such a state of affairs seemed natural enough.
"Was I engaged to prohibit them making the best of their prisoners?" he
retorted in answer to a later charge made against his men.[28] And,
among the State Papers, there is to be found an engagement of a certain
John van Haesdonck to bring over to Rupert, two hundred expert soldiers
from Holland who were to be permitted to divide their booty, "according
to the usual custom beyond seas."[29]
But if Rupert understood "the law of arms" as the peaceful English
citizens did not, both he and his officers respected its limits, and
fain would have checked the excesses of their men. Whitelocke, while
lamenting the wreck of his own house, honourably acquitted the officers
in command of any share in it. "Sir John Byron and his brothers
commanded those horse, and gave orders that they should commit no
insolence at my house, nor plunder my goods." But, in spite of the
prohibition, hay and corn were recklessly consumed, horses were carried
off, books wantonly destroyed, the park railings broken down, and the
deer let out. "Only a tame young stag they led away and presented to
Prince Rupert, and my hounds, which were {96} extraordinary good."[30]
What Rupert did with the tame young stag history relates not, but he
certainly did not countenance such outrages. They were of course
attributed to his influence, but he could, and did, retort similar
instances--and worse--upon the soldiers of the Parliament: "I speak not
how wilfully barbarous their soldiers were to the Countess Rivers, to
the Lady Lucas in Essex, and likewise to many persons of quality in
Kent, and other places."[31]
Owing to the fear of Rupert's "downright soldierism" such advantage as
might have been gained from Edgehill was lost. Instead of pressing on
for London, the King wasted valuable time in the siege of Banbury. It
is to this period that the story of Rupert's visit to Warwick belongs.
To this town Essex had retreated after the battle, and about it his
army was still quartered. "Within about eight miles of the said city,
Prince Robert was forced by excess of raine to take into a little
alehouse out of the way, where he met with a fellow that was riding to
Warwick to sell cabbage nets, but stayed, by chance, to drink. He
bought the fellow's nets, gave him double what he asked, borrowed his
coat, and told him he would ride upon his horse some miles off, to put
a trick upon some friends of his, and return at evening. He left his
own nag and coat behind, and also a crown for them to drink, while
waiting his return. When he came to Warwick he sold his nets at divers
places, heard the news, and discovered many passages in the town.
Having done this he returned again, and took his own horse. Then he
sent them (_i.e._ the citizens of Warwick) word, by him he bought the
nets of, that Prince Rupert had sold them cabbage nets, and it should
not be long ere he would requite their kindness and send them
cabbages."[32]
{97}
On October 27th Banbury fell, and two days later the King entered
Oxford, where he was enthusiastically received. Rupert advanced to
Abingdon, overran the country, took Aylesbury, cut off Essex's
communications with London, and seized arms and forage for the King.
Essex sent Balfour to intercept the Prince; Rupert and Sir Louis Dyves
met him with a valiant charge across a swollen ford, but they were
forced back, and proceeded through Maidenhead to Windsor, "with the
most bloody and mischievous of all the Cavaliers."[33] The taking of
Windsor Castle would have enabled Rupert to stop the barges on the
Thames, and cut off the London traffic to the West. But his summons to
surrender was refused, and his assault repulsed. His men declared that
they would follow him anywhere against men, but not against stone
walls; and though he cheered them on to a second attack, that also
failed. Considering Windsor hopeless, he fell back to Kingston,
intending to erect there a fort to command the river. But the trained
bands of Berkshire and Surrey were ready to receive him. "About two of
the clock," says Whitelocke, "on the seventh of November, the Cavaliers
came on with undaunted courage, their forces in the form of a crescent.
Prince Rupert, to the right wing, came on with great fury. In they
went pell-mell into the heart of our soldiers, but they were surrounded
and with great difficulty cut their way through, and made their way
across to Maidenhead, where they held their quarters."[34]
From his quarters at Maidenhead Rupert seized on Colebrook; an exploit
reported in London under the exciting title, "Horrible news from
Colebrook." In the same pamphlets the already terrified citizens were
cheered by the news: "The Prince hath deeply vowed that he will come to
London; swearing he cares not a pin for all the Roundheads or their
infant works; and saying that he will {98} lay their city and
inhabitants on the ground."[35] On November 4th, the King reached
Reading with the bulk of his army, and the Parliament, thoroughly
frightened, requested a safe-conduct, in order to treat. The King's
objection to one of their emissaries led to some delay, but danger
pressed; the Parliament yielded and sent its representatives. At the
same time it ordered Essex, who had also reached London, to take the
field. The King on his part advanced to Colebrook before he sent his
answer;--which was a proposal that Windsor should be given up to him as
a place for treaty, and avoided all mention of a cessation of arms. On
the same night, November 11th, he ordered Rupert to clear the way by an
attack on Brentford. At the same time he wrote to the Houses that he
intended to be in London next evening to hear what they had to say.
The Prince received the King's orders at Egham. There he had captured
two London merchants, and he judged it wise to detain them, lest they
should be spies. When they had recovered their liberty next day, they
gave the following account of their adventures. They had been taken to
the Prince, who was "in bed with all his clothes on," from which it was
inferred that he had vowed never to undress "or shift himself until he
had reseated King Charles at Whitehall." The Prince examined the
prisoners himself, and, attracted by a bunch of ribbons in the hat of
one of them, "he took the pains to look them over himself, and turned
and tossed them up and down, and swore there was none of the King's
favours there. The gentleman replying that they were the favours of
his mistress, the Prince smiling, without any word at all, returned him
his favours and his hat again." On the next morning they saw the King
and Prince together on Hounslow Heath. "Prince Rupert took off his
scarlet coat, which was very rich, and gave it to his man; and he
buckled {99} on his arms and put a grey coat over it that he might not
be discovered. He talked long with the King, and often in his
communications with His Majesty, he scratched his head and tore his
hair, as if in some grave discontent."[36]
The discontent was soon allayed by a successful dash upon Brentford.
The town was taken, though not without hard fighting, and there was
captured also a good supply of guns and ammunition. The question as to
whether this advance, pending negotiation, was or was not a breach of
faith on the King's part has been much debated. No cessation of arms
had been agreed on, but the Parliament, thinking it a mere oversight,
had sent again in order to arrange it. At the same time Essex was
warned to hold all his forces ready for battle, but to abstain from
acts of hostility. Essex having advanced towards him, the King would
have been completely surrounded, had he not seized upon Brentford.
Therefore, from the military point of view, the advance was altogether
justifiable; from the political, it was unwise, for it lost Charles the
hearts of the Londoners. "Charles's error," says Professor Gardiner,
"lay in forgetting that he was more than a victorious General."[37]
The King's triumph was short-lived. The citizens and the Parliamentary
troops rallied to the defence of the capital. An army, twice as large
as that of Charles, barred his way on Turnham Green. Essex advancing
on Brentford, forced Rupert to retire. This he did in excellent order,
entrusting the conduct of the retreat to Sir Jacob Astley. The Prince
himself stood his horse in the river beside the bridge that he might
watch his men pass over. And there he remained for hours, exposed to a
heavy fire, and all the while "cheering and encouraging the retiring
ranks to keep order, and to fire steadily on the advancing foe."[38]
His troops passed that night drawn up on Hounslow Heath; {100} thence
Rupert conducted them to Abingdon, himself returning, November 22nd, to
the King at Reading.
At Reading they were detained some days by the illness of the Prince of
Wales, but on Tuesday, the 29th, the King took up his winter quarters
in Oxford. Rupert continued to hover about Essex's army, and ordered
Wilmot to take Marlborough. This duty Wilmot accomplished, but with
evident reluctance. "Give me leave to tell your Highness that I think
myself very unhappy to be employed upon this occasion," he wrote,
"being a witness that at other times, in the like occasions, troops are
sent out without any manner of forecast or design, or care to preserve
or quarter them when they are abroad."[39] It is not remarkable that
Rupert did not love an officer who addressed him in such a strain. Sir
John Byron also wrote with ill-concealed impatience to demand his
instant removal from Reading, where, he said, the want of accommodation
was ruining his regiment. And Daniel O'Neil sent pathetic accounts of
his struggles with the Prince's own troop, in the absence of their
leader. "They say you have given them a power to take what they want,
where they can find it. This is so extravagant that I am confident you
never gave them any such. That the rest of the troop (not only of your
own regiment, but that of the Lieutenant-General) may be satisfied,
declare in what condition you will have your company, and how
commanded. And let me, I beseech you, have in writing the orders I
shall give to that party you sent into Buckinghamshire."[40] Already
numberless such complaints were pouring in. Even then the Royalists,
as Byron said, "abounded in nothing but the want of all things
necessary;" and Rupert was well-nigh distracted by his efforts to
supply their needs, quash their mutinies, and soothe their discontents.
So closed the year 1642.
[1] Clar. Hist. Bk. VI. p. 1.
[2] Ibid. VI. 21.
[3] Rupert Transcripts. Digby to Prince, Sept. 10, 1642.
[4] Dom. State Papers. Wharton to Willingham, 13 Sept. 1642.
[5] Rupert to Mayor of Leicester. Warburton, I. p. 393.
[6] Vicars' God in the Mount, pp. 155-157.
[7] Verney Memoirs, Vol. II. p. 160.
[8] Plot's Hist. of Staffordshire, Ch. 9, p. 336. Hudibras, ed. 1810.
I. p. 156, _note_.
[9] Warburton, I. p. 409. Falkland, 28 Sept. 1642.
[10] Clarendon. Hist. Bk. VI. 44-46. Dom. S. P. 13 Sept. 1642
[11] Webb Civil War in Herefordshire. Vol. I. p. 131. 20 Sept. 1642.
[12] Dom. State Papers. Chas. I. Vol. 492. fol. 31. 6 Oct. 1642.
[13] Carte, Original Letters. Vol. I. p. 47. 8 Mar. 1643.
[14] Whitelocke. p. 101.
[15] Green. VI. 11.
[16] Warburton: II. p. 196.
[17] Pamphlet. Brit. Museum. Prince Rupert: his Disguises.
[18] Clarendon. Bk. VI. 75.
[19] King to Rupert. Warburton. II. p. 12.
[20] Clarendon. Bk. VI. p. 78.
[21] Bulstrode's Memoirs. Ed. 1721. p. 81.
[22] Carte's Original Letters, Vol. I. p. 10.
[23] Warburton, II. pp. 4, 47.
[24] Ibid. I. p. 465.
[25] Prince Rupert: his Declaration. Pamphlet. British Museum.
[26] Prince Rupert: his Declaration. Pamphlet. Brit. Mus. Warburton,
II. 124.
[27] Rupert Papers. Order of King. Warb. II. 71.
[28] Prince Rupert: his Reply.
[29] Dom. State Papers, 27 Nov. 1642.
[30] Whitelocke's Memorials, p. 65. Ed. 1732.
[31] Pamphlet. Brit. Mus. Warb. II. p. 121.
[32] Prince Rupert: his Disguises. Pamphlet. British Museum.
[33] Pamphlet. British Museum. Warb. II. p. 50.
[34] Warburton, II. pp. 50-51. Whitelocke's Memorials.
[35] Horrible News from Colebrook. London, Nov. 11, 1642. Pamphlet.
Brit. Museum.
[36] Relation of Two London Merchants. Pamphlet. British Museum.
[37] Gardiner's Civil War, Vol. I. p. 60.
[38] Rupert MSS. Warburton, II. p. 67.
[39] Rupert Transcripts. Wilmot to the Prince, Dec. 1st, 1642.
[40] Warburton, II. p. 82. Rupert Correspondence. O'Neil to the
Prince, Dec. 19, 1642.
{101}