THE PRESIDENCY OF WALES. THE RELIEF OF NEWARK. QUARRELS AT COURT.
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 assure 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 Essex 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 Essex 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 assault 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 impassable.
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 compassion for Ogle.
There was soon a new _causa belli_ between them.
In February Rupert was made a peer of the realm, as Duke of Cumberland
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 assure 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 title 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
amusement 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 nobly. 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 L200. 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 advertisements 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 passed on the march. Essex
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 damned."[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 assaulted by "three sturdy 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,
snatched 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 God 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 assure 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 asserting 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 assumed 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 assurance {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, assured 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 asserted; "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 assault 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 gratitude in noble 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 passage 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 assist 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 God 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 assistance 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 God, 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 bloody 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 God, 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 assuming 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
"multiteud 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 passing 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]
Rupert did not need the jeers of his enemies to convince him of his
failure. He was beaten and he knew it! His projects were crossed, his
labours unavailing, and in his heart he knew that the cause was lost.
The disaster had cut him to the heart, yet, in his pride, he would not
speak a word of self-justification. He had obeyed orders, the result
was unfortunate, and no excuse or vindication would he offer. Perhaps
he thought he acted generously in not shifting the responsibility to
the King, but Clarendon blames his reticence. "Prince Rupert, only to
his friends and after the murder of the King," he says, "produced a
letter in the King's own hand ... which he understood to amount to no
less than a peremptory order to fight, upon any disadvantage
whatsoever; and he added that the disadvantage was so great that it was
no wonder he lost the day."
Deeply had the iron entered into Rupert's soul! Other misfortunes were
yet to come; he was to know a yet more fatal defeat, poverty, hardships
such as he had never yet encountered, the misjudgment of friends, the
loss of those dearest to him; but nothing could be to him as the shock
of Marston Moor had been. Nothing could affect him as that first great
failure which dashed him from the height of triumph to the depths of
despair. He seems to have been, for a time, strangely unlike himself.
The strain under which he had laboured suddenly relaxed, apathy
succeeded {153} to over-wrought excitement, carelessness to vigilance,
self-indulgence to rigid self-restraint, and the Royalists looked on in
terrified dismay! "Prince Rupert is so much given to his ease and
pleasures that every man is disheartened that sees it,"[77] lamented
Arthur Trevor. Strangely do the words contrast with the "toujours
soldat" of Sir Philip Warwick, and with the general praises of the
Prince's "exemplary temperance," but Trevor would assuredly not have
spoken undeserved evil of his master. Despair had seized on Rupert's
soul, and he sought to drown the bitterness of memory in sensual
indulgences.
The mood passed with the autumn, and, ere the winter had come, Rupert
was a man again, ready as ever to do and dare. But the scar remained;
all his life long he carried the King's letter on his person, and all
his life long Marston Moor was a bitter memory to him!
[1] Rupert Correspondence. 18981 Add. MSS. British Museum. Trevor to
Rupert, Feb. 16, 1644.
[2] Rupert Correspondence. Add. MSS. Brit. Mus. 18981. Trevor to
Rupert, Mar. 30, 1644.
[3] Ibid. Byron to Rupert, April 1644.
[4] Carte's Ormonde. Trevor to Ormonde, Feb. 19, 1644. Vol. VI. pp.
37-38.
[5] Carte's Ormonde. Trevor to Ormonde, Feb. 19, 1644. VI. p. 37.
[6] Ibid. VI. 87, Apr. 13, 1644.
[7] Ibid. VI. 41, Digby to Ormonde, Feb. 20, 1644.
[8] Carte's Ormonde. Digby to Ormonde. Vol. VI. p. 21, Jan. 20, 1644.
[9] Carte's Ormonde, VI. p. 60, Ormonde to Radcliffe, Mar. 11, 1644.
[10] Rupert's Journal in England. Clarendon State Papers, 2254.
[11] Mercurius Britanicus, May-June, 1644; Webb, Hist. of Civil War in
Herefordshire, II. p. 54.
[12] Carte Papers, Bodleian Library, 8, 217-222. Rupert to Ormonde,
April 1644.
[13] Add. MSS. Brit. Mus. 18981. Trevor to Rupert, Feb. 16, 1644.
[14] Ibid. 18981. Jermyn to Rupert, Mar. 24, 1644.
[15] Add. MSS. 18981. Trevor to Rupert, Feb. 1644.
[16] Rupert Transcripts. Trevor to Rupert, Ap. 22, 1644.
[17] Trevor to Rupert, Feb. 1644. Add. MSS. 18981.
[18] Warburton. II. p. 377. Trevor to Rupert, Feb. 22, 1644.
[19] Warburton. II. p. 377. Trevor to Rupert, Feb. 22, 1644.
[20] Ibid. Trevor to Rupert, Feb. 24, 1644. Warb. II. 379.
[21] Add. MSS. Trevor to Rupert, Mar. 11, 1644.
[22] Warburton. II. p. 383. Derby to Rupert, Mar. 7, 1644.
[23] Warburton. II. p. 388. Trevor to Rupert, Mar. 24, 1644.
[24] Ibid. p. 392. Ashburnham to Rupert.
[25] Baker's Chronicle, p. 571.
[26] Warburton. II. 393-4. Dickison's Antiquities of Newark.
[27] Webb. I. p. 385.
[28] Hutchinson Memoirs, ed. Firth. 1885. I. p. 325: Rushworth. ed.
1692. pt. 3. II. 308.
[29] Davenant's Poems. Siege of Newark.
[30] Warb. II. 398. King to Rupert, March 25, 1644.
[31] Ibid. p. 399. Digby to Rupert, Mar. 26, 1644.
[32] Rupert Transcripts. Richmond to Rupert, Mar. 25, 1644.
[33] Warburton. II. p. 400. Newcastle to Rupert, Mar. 29, 1644.
[34] Rupert Transcripts. Jermyn to Rupert, Mar. 26, 1644.
[35] Warburton. II. p. 405. Jermyn to Rupert, Ap. 13, 1644.
[36] Ibid. p. 407. Rupert to Legge. No date.
[37] Ibid.
[38] Rupert Transcripts. Richmond to Rupert, Ap. 21, 1644.
[39] Ibid, and Warburton. II. 403, _note_. King to Rupert, 1st and
21st Ap. 1644.
[40] Carte's Ormonde. VI. p. 87. Trevor to Ormonde, Ap. 13, 1644.
[41] Warburton. II. 408. Rupert to Legge, Ap. 23, 1644.
[42] Clarendon Life. I. 229.
[43] Add. MSS. 18981. Ellyot to Rupert, May 7, 1644.
[44] Ibid. 18981. May 22, 1644.
[45] Rupert Correspondence. Add. MSS. 18981. Richmond to Rupert, May
26, 1644.
[46] Rupert Transcripts. King to Rupert, May 26, 1644.
[47] Ibid. June 7, 1644; Warburton. II. p. 415.
[48] Richmond to Rupert, June 9, 1644; Warb. II. p. 415.
[49] Warburton. II. p. 432.
[50] Rupert Transcripts. Richmond to Rupert, June 14, 1644.
[51] Carte's Ormonde. VI. p. 151. Trevor to Ormonde, 29 June 1644.
[52] Ibid. VI. p. 167. Radcliffe to Ormonde, 18 July, 1644.
[53] Clar. State Papers. Rupert's Journal, Fol. 135.
[54] Fairfax Correspondence, ed. Johnson. 1848. I. p. 1.
[55] Pamphlet. Brit. Mus. Warburton. II. p. 442.
[56] Webb. II. p. 59.
[57] Warwick's Memoirs, p. 274.
[58] Rupert Correspondence. King to Rupert, June 14, 1644; Warburton.
II. p. 438.
[59] Warburton. II. p. 438.
[60] Clarendon State Papers. 1805. Life of Newcastle, ed. Firth, p.
77, _note_.
[61] Gardiner's Civil War. Vol. I. p. 374.
[62] Carte, Original Letters. I. 57, 10 July, 1644.
[63] Gardiner, Vol. I. p. 376.
[64] Pamphlet. Brit. Mus. Prince Rupert's Message to My Lord of Essex.
[65] Vicars' Jehovah Jireh. God's Ark. p. 281.
[66] Gardiner. I. p. 377.
[67] Carte's Letters, I. p. 56.
[68] Whitelocke, p. 94.
[69] Vicars' God's Ark. p. 277,
[70] Ibid. p. 274.
[71] Warburton, II. p. 468.
[72] Carte's Letters, I. 59. O'Neil to Trevor, 26 June, 1644.
[73] Life of Newcastle, ed. Firth, 1886. p. 81.
[74] Pythouse Papers, p. 21. General King to Rupert, Jan. 23, 1645.
[75] Rupert's Diary. Warburton, II. 468
[76] Webb, II. 71.
[77] Carte's Ormonde, VI. 206. Trevor to Ormonde, 13 Oct. 1644.
{154}