RUPERT'S PEACE POLICY. THE SURRENDER OF BRISTOL. DIGBY'S PLOT AGAINST
RUPERT. THE SCENE AT NEWARK. RECONCILIATION WITH THE KING. THE FALL
OF OXFORD
After the battle of Naseby, misfortunes crowded thick upon the
Royalists. Garrisons surrendered daily to the Parliament; Goring
suffered a crushing defeat; and the King seemed in no way to raise
another army. Rupert retired to his city of Bristol, and summoned
Maurice to his side. But the younger Prince was at Worcester, which
was threatened by the Scots, and could not quit the place with honour.
"I hope when you have duly considered my engagement herein, you will be
pleased to excuse me for not observing your orders to be personally
with you,"[1] he wrote humbly to his brother.
After a three weeks' stay at Raglan, the King himself thought of
joining his nephew at Bristol. But the Prince's enemies opposed the
idea, and Rupert, though enough inclined to it, declared that he would
not be responsible for what he had not advised. And the rallying
loyalty of the Welsh, combined with continued misfortune in the West,
caused Charles to change his mind. In Rupert's eyes the King's final
decision was a matter of indifference; defeat was inevitable, and all
the Prince's efforts were directed towards peace. This complete change
of attitude is an evidence of Rupert's strong common-sense. In 1642 he
had been regarded as one of the obstacles which made peace impossible;
but in 1642 there had been hope, even {178} probability, of victory.
In 1645 defeat and ruin stared the Royalists in the face, and Rupert
would not, like the King and Digby, shut his eyes to disagreeable fact.
On July 28th he wrote to Richmond a plain statement of his views. "His
Majesty has now no way left to preserve his posterity, Kingdom, and
nobility, but by a treaty. I believe it a more prudent way to retain
something than to lose all. If the King resolve to abandon Ireland,
which now he may with honour, since they desire so unreasonably; and it
is apparent they will cheat the King, having not 5,000 men in their
power. When this has been told him, and that many of his officers and
soldiers go from him to them (_i.e._ to the Parliament), I must
extremely lament the condition of such as stay, being exposed to all
ruin and slavery. One comfort will be left,--we shall all fall
together. When this is, remember I have done my duty. Your faithful
friend, Rupert."[2]
On the same day he wrote to Legge:
"I have had no answer to ten letters I wrote, but from the Duke of
Richmond, to whom I wrote plainly and bid him be plain with the King,
and to desire him to consider some way which might lead to a treaty,
rather than undo his posterity. How this pleases I know not, but
rather than not do my duty and speak my mind freely, I will take his
unjust displeasure."[3]
This advice was in fact exceedingly displeasing to the King. Richmond,
who fully concurred in Rupert's opinion, showed the letter to his
master "with as much care and friendship to Rupert" as possible; and
the King read it graciously, saying that his nephew had "expressed as
great generosity as was all his actions;"[4] but, for all that, he
firmly forbade him to write in such a strain again. "Speaking as a
mere soldier or statesman," he acknowledged that {179} Rupert might be
right; but, "as a Christian, I must tell you that God will not suffer
rebels and traitors to prosper, nor this cause to be overthrown; and
whatever personal punishment it shall please Him to inflict on me must
not make me repine, much less give over this quarrel; and there is
little question that a composition with them at this time is nothing
less than a submission, which, by the grace of God, I am resolved
against, whatever it cost me. For I know my obligation to be, both in
conscience and honour, neither to abandon God's cause, injure my
successors, nor forsake my friends. Indeed I cannot flatter myself
with expectation of good success more than this, to end my days with
honour and a good conscience; which obliges me to continue my
endeavours, as not despairing that God may yet, in good time, avenge
his own cause.... I earnestly desire you not in any way to hearken
after treaties, assuring you, low as I am, I will not go less than what
was offered in my name at Uxbridge. Therefore, for God's sake, let us
not flatter ourselves with these conceits; and believe me, the very
imagination that you are desirous of a treaty will lose me so much the
sooner."[5]
But noble and earnest as were the King's words, they could not alter
his nephew's mind. Rupert had little faith that a miracle would be
vouchsafed to save the royal cause; and he could never be made to
understand that the questions at issue were such as admitted of no
compromise. Digby of course seized the opportunity of widening the
breach between King and Prince. Ever since Marston Moor, he had
intrigued with increasing success against his rival, and Rupert
struggled vainly in his meshes. "I would give anything to be but one
day in Oxford, when I could discover some that were in that plot of
Herefordshire and the rest. But I despair of it!"[6] the Prince had
written in the March of this year. In June he had sent Langdale to
Ormonde in {180} Ireland, as a counterfoil to O'Neil, and Digby
hastened to let the Lord Lieutenant know that Langdale was "a creature
of Prince Rupert, and sent over not without jealousy that Dan O'Neil
may be too frank a relater of our military conduct here."[7] And, July
21st, 1645, it is entered in the Prince's diary: "Ashburnham told the
Prince that Digby would ruin him."[8] By that time Rupert had become
convinced that Digby would succeed in his endeavours. A week later he
wrote passionately to Legge, from Bristol: "You do well to wonder why
Rupert is not with the King! When you know the Lord Digby's intention
to ruin him you will not then find it strange."[9]
Digby's chance was close at hand. Throughout July and August Rupert
busied himself at Bristol, circling about the country, pacifying and
winning over the Clubmen and trying to supply the deficiencies of the
Bristol stores. This town was now the most important garrison of the
King. It was the key of the Severn. It alone held Wales and the
Marches loyal, and its loss would also terribly affect the Royalists in
the south-west. Rupert had assured the King that he could hold the
place four months, and great was the horror and dismay when he
surrendered it after a three weeks' siege.
The truth was that he had found the town insufficiently supplied,
greatly undermanned, and full of despondency and disaffection. He had
done his best to remedy these evils; he ordered the townspeople to
victual themselves for six months, imported corn and cattle from Wales,
and he started manufactories of match and bullets within the town. All
the recruits he could gain were "new-levied Welsh and unexperienced
men," and even of these there were but few. "After the enemy
approached, His Highness never could draw upon the line above 1,500,"
and this to defend a {181} stretch of five miles![10] Moreover, all
his Colonels assured him that the wall was not tenable against a
vigorous assault. The one chance was that, if they repulsed the first
storm, the enemy might be discouraged, and the approaching winter might
save the city for yet a little while.
On September 4th Fairfax sat down before Bristol, and summoned Rupert
to surrender, in rather peculiar language. The summons was a private
exhortation to the Prince himself, and a personal appeal to his sense
and humanity, "which," says Fairfax, "I confess is a way not common,
and which I should not have used but in respect to such a person, and
such a place."[11] He proceeded to explain that the Parliament wished
no ill to the King, but only his return to its care and Council, and
entreated Rupert to end the schism by a surrender without bloodshed.
The Prince only replied by demanding leave to send to ask the King's
pleasure. This Fairfax refused to grant, and Rupert entered into a
treaty, hoping thereby to spin out time until relief could come. But
the patience of Fairfax was soon exhausted. On September 10th he
assaulted the city, about 2.0 a.m., entered the lines at a spot held by
some new recruits, and was, by daybreak, in full possession of line and
fort. Thus the enemy was already within the city, and Rupert had no
hope of relief, for, since Naseby, the King had had no army in the
field. Moreover, since the siege began, no word had come to the Prince
from any quarter. Three courses now lay open to him. He might, with
his cavalry, break through Fairfax's army, leaving behind him just
sufficient men to keep the castle; this plan was rejected as
exceedingly dangerous and unsatisfactory. Secondly, he might retreat
to the castle, which could be held for a long time; but the castle
would not contain all the cavalry, and thus a large portion of it,
together with the "nobility, gentry and well affected of the town,"
would {182} be left to the mercy of the conquering foe.[12] Thirdly
and lastly, he could surrender on honourable terms; and this was the
course chosen by the Council of War. Rightly or wrongly, Rupert
entered into treaty, and a cessation of arms was agreed on. But the
cessation was violated by Fairfax's men, and Rupert thereupon declared
that he "would stand upon his own defence, and rather die than suffer
such injuries."[13] Fairfax hastened to apologise and make amends;
Rupert was pacified, and the treaty concluded. The terms were good and
honourable; the garrison were to march out with the honours of war, a
charge of bullet and powder was granted to each of the Prince's guards,
the sick were to stay uninjured in the city, and no private person was
to be molested. It must also be noted that Rupert yielded only at the
second summons, and after the city had been entered by the enemy.
Relief was "as improbable to be expected as easy to be desired," and
though he could certainly have held the castle longer, "the city had
been thereby exposed to the spoil and fury of the enemy, and so many
gallant men who had so long and faithfully served His Majesty, (whose
safeties His Highness conceived himself in honour obliged to preserve
as dearly as his own) had been left to the slaughter and rage of a
prevailing enemy."[14] It may be that Rupert mistook his position.
Perhaps he should have held the castle entrusted to him at all costs,
and suffered no other considerations to cross his military councils.
But his unwillingness to desert the townspeople and his beloved
cavalry, can hardly be counted to his discredit.
On September 10th the Royalist garrison marched out of Bristol, and was
escorted by Fairfax himself for two miles over the Downs. Rupert had
dressed himself carefully for his part, and there was nothing of the
broken down Cavalier about his attire. "The Prince was clad in
scarlet, {183} very richly laid in silver lace, and mounted upon a very
gallant black Barbary horse; the General (Thomas Fairfax) and the
Prince rode together, the General giving the Prince the right hand all
the way."[15] The courtesy on both sides was perfect; the Puritans
showed no unseemly triumph over their fallen foe, and the Prince bore
himself towards his conquerors as a soldier and a gentleman should.
"All fair respects between the Prince and Sir Thomas Fairfax," reported
a Puritan witness; "much respect from the Lord General Cromwell. He
(the Prince) gave this gallant compliment to Major Harrison, 'that he
never received such satisfaction in such unhappiness, and that, if ever
in his power, he will repay it,'"[16]
Truly Rupert shone more in evil fortune than in good, and he seems to
have completely won the hearts of his enemies. His request for muskets
for his men was readily granted, on his promise to deliver them up to
the Parliamentary convoy, at the end of his journey, "which every one
believes he will perform,"[17] said an adherent of the Parliament. And
the Puritan Colonel Butler, who convoyed him from Bristol to Oxford,
wrote of him to Waller, with enthusiasm. "I had the honour to wait
upon His Highness Prince Rupert, with a convoy from Bristol to this
place, and seriously, I am glad I had the happiness to see him. I am
confident we have been much mistaken in our intelligence concerning
him. I find him a man much inclined to a happy peace, and he will
certainly employ his interest with His Majesty for the accomplishing of
it. I make it my request to you that you use some means that no
pamphlet is printed that may derogate from his worth for the delivery
of Bristow. _On my word he could not have held it, unless it had been
better manned_."[18] Changed {184} indeed was the Puritan attitude
towards the mad Prince, and more than one officer of the Parliament was
eager to justify his conduct. "I have heard the Prince much condemned
for the loss of that city, but certainly they were much to blame,"
wrote another. "First let them consider that the town was entered by
plain force, with the loss of much blood. And then the Prince had
nothing to keep but the great fort and castle. Perchance he might hold
out for some weeks, but then, of necessity, he must have lost all his
horse, which was in all, 800; and he had no expectation of any relief
at all. Let all this be considered, and no man can blame him."[19]
But the advocacy of the Parliament was not likely to allay Royalist
indignation; nay, it was but another proof of Rupert's collusion with
the enemy! The Queen spoke "largely" of her nephew, giving out in
Paris that he had sold Bristol for money;[20] and the story gained
colour from the fact that the Elector really did receive a large sum
from the Parliament at this time. The loss of Shrewsbury was brought
up against Maurice, and it was rumoured that the younger Princes were
in league with the Elector; though they had never once written to him,
since he had chosen to identify himself with the Parliament. Here was
Digby's opportunity; and the King, overwhelmed by the unexpected
catastrophe, listened to his representations. On his arrival at
Oxford, Rupert received, from the hands of Secretary Nicholas, his
discharge from the army, a passport to leave the country, and a letter
from the King, desiring him "to seek subsistence somewhere beyond
seas."[21] Further, Nicholas was directed to deprive Legge of the
Governorship of Oxford, and to place him under arrest.
With deep reluctance Nicholas obeyed orders; and both Legge and Rupert
behaved themselves with quiet dignity. {185} "According to your
commands, I went immediately to the Lord Treasurer," wrote Nicholas to
the King. "We thought fit to send for Colonel Legge thither, who
willingly submitted himself prisoner to your commands. This being
despatched, I went to Colonel Legge's house, where Prince Rupert dined,
and desiring to speak with him privately in the withdrawing room, I
presented to him first his discharge, and then after that your letter;
to which he humbly submitted himself, telling me that he was very
innocent of anything that might deserve so heavy a punishment.... Your
Majesty will herewith receive a letter from Prince Rupert, who will, I
believe, stay here, until he hears again from you, for that he cannot
without leave from the rebels go to embark himself, and without Your
Majesty's license, I hear, he will not demand a pass from the
rebels."[22]
Rupert's letter consisted of a grave and calm protest, and a demand for
a personal interview with his uncle. "I only say that if Your Majesty
had vouchsafed to hear me inform you, before you had made a final
judgment,--I will presume to present this much,--you would not have
censured me, as it seems you do." His first duty was, he admitted, to
give an explanation to the King, but, since the opportunity was denied
him--"In the next place I owe myself that justice as to publish to the
world what I think will clear my erring in all this business now in
question from any foul deed, or neglect, and vindicate me from desert
of any prevailing malice, though I suffer it. Your commands that I
should dispose myself beyond seas be pleased to consider of, whether it
be in my power, though you have sent me a pass, as times now are, to go
by it."[23] In accordance with this statement he published a detailed
account of the state of Bristol, and all that had passed there, and
continued at Oxford, awaiting the King's pleasure. "I must not omit to
acquaint Your Majesty," wrote the faithful {186} Nicholas, "that I hear
Prince Rupert hath not L50 in all the world, and is reduced to so great
an extremity as he hath not wherewith to feed himself or his servants.
I hear that Colonel Legge is in no more plentiful condition."[24]
The loss of Rupert's military experience was soon felt in the Royalist
ranks; and would have been felt more severely had there been any
serious undertaking on hand, or any army to execute it. As it was,
when the first moment of panic was past and men could consider the
question calmly, he appeared to have been hardly dealt with. To
seriously suspect him of treachery was absurd; he was, in effect, the
victim of Digby's malice; and the arrest of Legge, for no other crime
than that of being the Prince's friend, favoured this view. Digby of
course pretended that he could furnish proofs of Legge's contemplated
treacheries, "as soon as I can come at my papers, which were left with
Stanier, and all my other necessaries, at Worcester," and insisted
that, so long as Rupert were in England, it would be unsafe to set his
friend at liberty.[25] Equally, of course, no one--except the
King--believed him; for Legge's loyalty and integrity were above
suspicion. He was, says Clarendon, considered "above all
temptations,"[26] and the indignation felt at this injustice greatly
favoured the Prince's cause.
Digby had no mind to face "the fury of the storm"[27] which he had
raised. Before Rupert could reach Oxford the Secretary had hurried the
King away to Newark, a place which would be very difficult of access
for the Prince. Personally, Charles had inclined to Worcester, but
Digby would not hear of it. Not only was Worcester within easy
distance from Oxford, but Maurice was Governor there; and Maurice had,
as Digby knew, "a very tender sense {187} of the severity his brother
had undergone, and was ready to revenge it."[28]
The younger Prince was only just recovering from a second severe
illness. As before, his recovery had been despaired of, and his death
freely reported by friends and foes. "Maurice is very sick at
Worcester of the plague; some say he is dead, and the malignants are
very sorrowful at the news,"[29] said a Puritan pamphlet. While he was
still too ill to take any active share in the dispute, the King had
written to him, telling of Rupert's dismissal, but adding kindly: "I
know you to be so free from his present misfortune that it noways
staggers me in that good opinion I have ever had of you; and so long as
you be not weary of your employment under me, I will give you all the
encouragement and contentment in my power."[30] But Maurice was far
too devoted a brother to be soothed by such words. Ill though he was,
he made a copy of the King's letter in his own hand to send to Rupert,
and by all possible means he showed "sensibility" of the injury done to
his brother. Worcester was full of his partisans, and Digby knew
better than to venture into his power. At Newark, the Secretary felt
himself safe, and there he continued to inflame the King against his
nephew. The task was not difficult. The King was shaken and
despairing, and Digby had calumnies ready to his hand.
"It hath been the constant endeavours of the English nation--who are
naturally prone to hate strangers--to seek, with false calumnies and
scandalous accusations, to blast and blemish my integrity to my uncle
and to his Royal family," declared Rupert himself, a few years later.
"Neither hath the abuse laid on me by my uncle's pretended friends been
sufficient, but the gross lies and forgeries of that rebel nest at
Westminster have branded me with the worst {188} of crimes that
possible any man might be charged with.... The command which His
Majesty had been graciously pleased to confer on me--as I shall answer
at the day of judgment--I did improve to the best of my power, without
any treachery, deceit, or dissimulation. And for my unfortunateness, I
hope it was excusable, it being not only incident where I had command,
but in all other places where my uncle had any power of soldiers; yet,
notwithstanding, I was the butt at which envy shot its arrows, and all
my uncle's losses were laid to my charge."[31] This was not an unfair
statement of the case. It is the way of all nations and parties to
blame some one for their misfortunes, and the foreign prince made a
convenient scapegoat for the Royalists. The libels originated in the
"rebel nest" were taken up and cherished by the foes of Rupert's own
household. As early as February 1644, there had appeared a pamphlet
which stated plainly that Rupert was aiming at the English Crown. He
was not, it was suggested, "so far from the Crown, but, if once the
course of law, and the power of the Parliament be extinguished, he may
bid as fair for it, by the sword, as the King; having possessed himself
of so much power already under colour of serving the King; and having,
by his German manner of plundering, and active disposition in military
affairs, won the hearts of so many soldiers of fortune, and men of
prey. He is already their chieftain and their Prince, and he is like
enough to be their King.... This whole war is managed by his skill,
labour and industry; insomuch as, if the King command one thing and he
another, the Prince must be preferred before the King. Witness
Banbury, which was secured from plundering under the King's own hand;
but that was slighted, and the town plundered by Prince Rupert
vilifying the King's authority, and making it a fault of his
unexpertness, saying, 'His Uncle knew not what belonged {189} to war.'
... Neither shall Prince Rupert want abettors in his cursed design; for
many of our debauched and low-fortuned young nobility and gentry,
suiting so naturally with this new conqueror, will make no bones to
shoulder out the old King."[32] Eagerly did Rupert's Royalist foes
catch at the libel. We have already seen that, before Marston Moor,
Digby, Percy and Wilmot ventured to assert openly that the victory of
Prince or Parliament was a matter of indifference. And even after that
battle had broken his power, Sir George Radcliffe wrote to Ormonde of
"the great fear some have of Prince Rupert, his success and
greatness."[33]
The formation of Rupert's peace-party in 1645 put the finishing touch
to Digby's hatred of him, and also afforded means of exciting the
King's distrust. The sanguine and unpractical Secretary, ignorant of
military details, did not know that the King was beaten and could never
draw another army into the field. He had a thousand schemes for
gaining over the Scots, for obtaining help from Ireland or France, and
he would not, and could not, believe that the game was lost.
Consequently he resented the suggestion of compromise even more hotly
than did the King. "Alas! my Lord!" he wrote to Jermyn in August, "I
do not know four persons living, besides myself and you, that have not
already given clear demonstration that they will purchase their own,
and as they flatter themselves, the Kingdom's quiet, at any price to
the King, the Church, and the faithfullest of his party... The next
news that you will hear, after we have been one month at Oxford, will
be that I, and those few others who may be thought by our Counsels to
fortify the King in firmness to his principles, shall be forced or torn
from him. You will find Prince Rupert, {190} Byron, Gerard, Will
Legge, and Ormonde[34] are the prime instruments to impose the
necessity upon the King of submitting to what they, and most of the
King's party at Oxford, shall think fit."[35]
But though he thus posed as a martyr, Digby had no intention of letting
his rivals prevail. Ormonde he tried to gain over, of course without
success, by the suggestion that he might supplant Rupert as
Commander-in-Chief; and he had already laid a deliberate and ingenious
plot for ruining the reputations of Rupert and Legge. By means of his
agent, Walsingham, he obtained incriminating letters which represented
both the Prince and his friend as deeply involved in intrigue with the
Parliament. The letters, which are anonymous, were apparently the work
of some spy in the opposing camp, who was willing to supply any
information desired,--for a consideration. The Secretary was scarcely
so insane as to believe in the accusations which they contained, but it
suited his purpose to feign belief. Certainly it seems strange that
Digby, who was undoubtedly a gentleman, and by no means devoid of
honour and generosity, could have stooped to such baseness; but he had
a versatile mind, and he probably persuaded himself that Rupert's peace
policy was as dangerous to the King's interests as actual treachery
could be, and that any means were therefore justifiable to overthrow
its authors.
As early as August 8th, Walsingham forwarded to his patron an anonymous
letter which stated the absolute necessity of deposing Rupert from the
chief command. "I have not been silent heretofore concerning Prince
Rupert and his assistant, Will Legge.... Many did suppose, and those
none of the weakest men, that upon the late defeat (Naseby), his
Majesty would seriously take to heart the many great {191} and
irregular errors hitherto admitted."[36] Four days later, Walsingham
himself wrote from Oxford, hinting at a design to betray Bristol, and
proposing that Digby should get Legge supplanted at Oxford by Glemham.
"Legge is pleased daily to show his teeth plainer to you and yours....
Prince Rupert salutes him daily from Bristol with epistles beginning
'Brother Governor', which are communicated to the Junto you know of,...
Prince Rupert is now in general obloquy with all sorts of people,
except Will Legge, and some few others of that stamp. Now every one
desires his absence and discarding. His Majesty has had experience
both of his wilfulness and ignorance, _if of no worse_. Now is the
time to take the bridle out of Phaeton's hands, and permit him not a
third time to burn the world... Something extraordinary is on hand is
evident from the daily letters which pass between here and Bristol.
'Tis sure time to provide for the safety of Oxford; for I am certain
many things are done which will not bear examination, both within and
without the line."[37]
On the sixteenth, Walsingham wrote by Lady Digby's command, that Lord
Portland had joined the "Cumberlanders," as Rupert's party was now
called, and must be banished at all costs. The "Cumberlanders" were
endeavouring also to win Ashburnham, but some thought him "a slippery
piece, and dangerous to build upon." To this was added a hint that the
Prince was leaguing with the Irish rebels,--the last thing he was
likely to do as he had just urged the King to abandon them; but
Walsingham added cautiously that he held "only the skirts" of the
story, and could say nothing certain.[38]
On September 10th Bristol fell. That the very thing should happen at
which they had so darkly hinted, was luck beyond what the conspirators
had hoped; and Walsingham's {192} anonymous friend wrote to reproach
him for "making no better use of my frequent informations concerning
Prince Rupert and his creature, Legge." Further, he stated that Oxford
was also sold to the Parliament and would speedily share the fate of
Bristol. "I have seen the transactions for the bargain already, and
there is no prevention but by an immediate repair of His Majesty
thither, changing the Governor, and putting the city into the hands of
some worthy man. The same I say for Newark (?); for, believe me, we
esteem ourselves masters of both already. But whilst His Majesty is
solicitous for this, I would not, by any means, have him neglect his
personal safety, upon which he will needs have an extraordinary
watchful eye; for I hear a whisper as if something ill were intended
him, and to your master for his sake."[39] This extraordinary document
apparently constitutes the "proofs" against Legge of which Digby wrote
to Nicholas.
The arrival of Rupert at Oxford, on September 16th, gave some
uneasiness to the conspirators. "Prince Rupert is hourly expected with
his train, which will so curb the endeavours of all honest men that it
will be mere madness to attempt anything,"[40] wrote Walsingham! But
two days later he had gained courage from the Prince's quiet acceptance
of his disgrace, to declare that now was the time to restore prosperity
to the Kingdom, "by weeding out those unhappy men that poison all our
happiness." Also, he related an incident intended to give colour to
the reports of Rupert's ambition. "As even now I came through the
garden of Christchurch, a gentleman met me, and took me into the inner
garden, and told me that he would show me our new ruler. Fancy! When
I came there, I found Prince Rupert and Legge, with the Lord--walking
gravely between them, on the further side. I seemed to take no notice
of the gentleman's meaning, but came away, resenting {193} to see the
nobility and gentry stand there bare at a distance, as if His Majesty
had been present."[41] A second letter, bearing the same date, and
sent at Lady Digby's desire, states that Rupert had declared that to
treat was "the only thing His Majesty hath now to do." But this desire
for peace Walsingham represented as a mere pose to mask the Prince's
real aims. "Observe but this popular and perilous design!... Assure
yourself, my Lord, that though this be Prince Rupert's aim here
pretended 'tis but the medium to his real one; yet it is so plausible
that you would bless yourself to see how it is here cherished by all
that are either malcontent, timorous, or suspected... Surely there is
no way left for His Majesty to recover, prosper, and give life to his
discouraged party, but by expressing his high dislike and distrust to
Prince Rupert."[42]
But notwithstanding Walsingham's hints, Rupert's desire for a treaty
was perfectly sincere and disinterested. Personally he had less to
gain by it than most of the Cavaliers, and certainly he had nothing to
save, for he had no stake in the country. And the perfect integrity of
his party is sufficiently guaranteed by the very fact that it counted
Richmond, Legge, and Philip Warwick among its members.
By October Rupert's patience was exhausted. He could not quit the
country without the leave of the Parliament, he had no money to support
himself, or his servants, and Legge was still a prisoner on his
account. He resolved, at all hazards, to see the King. Fain would he
have had Richmond accompany him, but the Duke, though still his
faithful friend, would not leave Oxford.
"The Duke of Richmond goes not hence upon many considerations, though
Prince Rupert much desired it. They are very good friends, and both
much for peace, though not for particular ones,"[43] reported a
Cavalier from Oxford. {194} On October 8th Maurice met Rupert at
Banbury, and together they set out for Newark. The journey was
attended with much danger, for Newark was surrounded by a large army of
the Parliament, and the Parliament had warned its officers to intercept
the Princes. But Rupert in prosperity had always been faithful to his
friends, and he now found that they would not forsake him in adversity.
A troop of officers volunteered to escort him, and Maurice brought an
addition of strength, making about 120 in all.
The enemy had posted about 1,500 horse at various places, to intercept
the Princes' march, but all were skilfully evaded. Near the end of
their journey, however, the Princes found themselves stopped at Belvoir
Bridge, by Rossetter with three hundred horse. There was no choice but
to charge through them. Two attempts failed, and Rupert turned to his
men, saying cheerfully: "We have beaten them twice, we must beat them
once more, and then over the pass, and away."[44] The third charge,
carried them through the enemy, as he promised, and then they divided
into two parties. The larger troop went on, with the baggage, to
Belvoir; but the Princes, with about twenty more, proceeded by a short
cut, which Rupert remembered passing ten years before when a boy,
"shooting of conies." Here they were hotly pursued by a body of horse,
and the enemy, thinking the Prince trapped, offered him quarter. His
only answer was to direct his friends to follow him closely, and,
breaking through the hostile ranks, they came safely to Belvoir
Castle.[45]
Digby had not awaited the Prince's arrival, but had fled north, on the
pretext of leading a force to join Montrose; and it was thought, on all
sides, that he had done wisely. The King no sooner heard of his
nephews' arrival at Belvoir than he sent to forbid their nearer
approach. "Least of all I cannot forget what opinion you were of when
I was at Cardiff," he wrote to Rupert, "and therefore must remember
{195} you of the letter I wrote to you from thence, in the Duke of
Richmond's cipher, warning you that if you be not resolved to carry
yourself according to my resolution, therein mentioned, you are no fit
company for me."[46]
In defiance of this prohibition, Rupert came on next day to Newark.
Within the town there existed a considerable party in his favour,
headed by the Governor, Sir Richard Willys. Two days earlier Willys
had received the King at the city gates, but he now rode out a couple
of miles, with a large escort of horse, to meet the Prince. The
accounts of the scene that followed are many, but all agree in the main
points. Rupert walked straight into the presence of the King, and,
without any apology or ceremony, abruptly informed him "that he was
come to render an account of the loss of Bristol."[47] The King made
no reply,--he probably did not know what to say,--and immediately went
to supper. His nephews followed, and stood by him during the meal;
but, though he asked a few questions of Maurice, he still would not
speak to Rupert. After an embarrassing hour the King retired to his
bed-chamber, and the Princes went to the house of Willys.
On the next morning Rupert was permitted to lay his defence before a
court-martial, which acquitted him of any lack of "courage or
fidelity," though not of indiscretion.[48] The verdict, though
qualified, was in effect a triumph for Rupert, and completely
vindicated his honour. As to the relief which the King fancied he had
intended to send to Bristol, Sir Edward Walker, no friend to Rupert,
admits that "it was a very plausible design on paper,... and I fear it
would have been a longer time than we fancied to ourselves, before we
made both ends to meet."[49] Here the matter should have ended, and
had it done so, the whole {196} affair would have been little to
Rupert's discredit. Unfortunately his passionate temper now put him
completely in the wrong.
The King had resolved to quit Newark, and, remembering Willys's
frequent quarrels with the Commissioners of the County, and also his
recent display of partisanship, he judged it unwise to leave him
behind. For this reason he ordered him to change posts with Bellasys,
who, since the death of Lord Bernard Stuart, had commanded the King's
guards. This was promotion for Willys, but a very unwelcome promotion,
for which he perfectly understood the King's motives. Moreover,
Bellasys was Digby's friend, and the whole military party rose in
protest against this new evidence of Digby's power. It was agreed that
Willys should demand the grounds for his removal, and a trial by
court-martial. The stormy scene which resulted has been rather
confusedly described by Walker, Clarendon and others, but the best
account is to be found in the diary of Symonds, though he unhappily
repented of having written it, and tore a part of it out of his book.
The King had just returned from church, and sat down to dinner, when
Rupert, Maurice, Gerard, Willys and some other officers entered the
room. Rupert "came in discontentedly, with his hands at his sides, and
approached very near the King." Charles thereupon ordered the dinner
to be taken away, and, rising, walked to a corner of the room. Rupert,
Gerard and Willys followed him. Willys spoke first, asking,
respectfully enough, to be told the names of his accusers. Rupert
broke in impatiently: "By God! This is done in malice to me, because
Sir Richard hath always been my faithful friend!" Gerard then launched
into a protest on his own account, and Rupert again interrupted,
saying: "The cause of all this is Digby!"--"I am but a child! Digby
can do what he will with me," retorted the King bitterly.--A long and
violent altercation followed. Rupert referred to Bristol, and the King
sighed, "O nephew!" {197} and then stopped short. Whereupon Rupert
cried, for the third time: "Digby is the man that hath caused all this
distraction between us!" But the King could endure no more: "They are
all rogues and rascals that say so!" he answered sharply, "and in
effect traitors that seek to dishonour my best subjects!" There was no
more to be said; Gerard bowed and went out. Rupert "showed no
reverence, but went out proudly, his hands at his sides."[50]
That evening the Princes and their party sent in a petition to the
effect that: "Many of us trusted in high commands in Your Majesty's
service, have not only our commissions taken away without any cause or
reason expressed, whereby our honours are blemished to the world, our
fortunes ruined, and we rendered incapable of command from any foreign
prince,--but many others, as we have cause to fear, are designed to
suffer in like manner."[51] They repeated their demand for trials by
court-martial, and desired that, if this were refused, they might have
passes to go over seas. The King answered that he would not make a
court-martial the judge of his actions, and sent the passes. Next
morning about ten o'clock, the two princes and Lord Gerard came
privately to the bed-chamber to take their leave. Gerard "expressed
some sense of folly,"[52] but the Princes offered no apology, and, with
about two hundred officers, they rode off to Belvoir, "the King looking
out of a window, and weeping to see them go."[53]
As an instance of the way in which stories are exaggerated, Pepys's
account of the affair, written some twenty years after, is instructive:
"The great officers of the King's army mutinied and came, in that
manner, with swords drawn, into the market-place of the town where the
King was. Whereupon the King says, 'I must horse,' and {198} there
himself personally; when every one expected they should be opposed, the
King came, and cried to the head of the mutineers, which was Prince
Rupert,--'Nephew, I command you to be gone!' So the Prince, in all his
fury and discontent, withdrew; and his company scattered."[54]
This was the climax of the long-continued strife between the military
and civilian parties; the civilians had triumphed, and the princes now
resolved to leave the country. In great indignation, a large number of
officers prepared to follow them. "This is an excellent reward for
Rupert and Maurice!" declared Gerard wrathfully.[55] Rupert himself
wrote to Legge: "Dear Will, I hope Goodwin has told you what reasons I
had to quit His Majesty's service. I have sent Osborne to London for a
pass to go beyond seas; when I have an answer you shall know more.
Pray tell Sir Charles Lucas that I would have written to him before
this, and to George Lisle, but I was kept close here.... If I can but
get permission, I shall hope to see you and the rest of my friends once
more; and in particular to bid farewell to my Lord Portland. I forgot
to tell you that Lord Digby is beaten back again to Shipton. Alas,
poor man!"[56]
Osborne, whom Rupert had sent to London to obtain from the Parliament a
pass and safe convoy to a sea-port, found his mission greatly
facilitated by Digby's new defeat, and the consequent capture of his
papers. It was characteristic of the Secretary, that, though his
love-letters were carefully preserved in cipher, all those of political
importance were written in plain language. Among these papers was
found a copy of the King's answer to Rupert's advice to treat, and the
Parliament was moved thereby in Rupert's favour. A pass was granted,
but on condition of a promise given never again to bear arms against
the {199} Parliament. This promise the Princes would not give; and, as
they could not possibly leave the country without the Parliament's good
will, they fought their way back to Woodstock.
A few weeks later Charles returned to Oxford, and at once released
Legge from his confinement. Rupert was still at Woodstock, and his
faithful friend lost no time in attempting to mediate between him and
the King. "My most dear Prince," he wrote, November 21st, "the liberty
I have got is but of little contentment when divided from you..., I
have not hitherto lost a day without moving His Majesty to recall you;
and truly, this very day, he protested to me he would count it a great
happiness to have you with him, so he received the satisfaction he is
bound in honour to have. What that is you will receive from the Duke
of Richmond. The King says, as he is your Uncle, he is in the nature
of a parent to you, and swears that if Prince Charles had done as you
did he would never see him again, without the same he desires from
you.... you must thank the Duchess of Richmond, for she furnished a
present to procure this messenger--I being not so happy as to have any
money myself."[57] And four days later, he wrote again: "I am of
opinion you should write to your Uncle--you ought to do it--; and if
you offered your service to him yet, and submitted yourself to his
disposing and advice, many of your friends think it could not be a
dishonour, but rather the contrary, seeing he is a King, your Uncle,
and, in effect, a parent to you."[58]
But Rupert sulked, like Achilles in his tent, and his other friends
took up the protest. "This night I was with the King, who expresses
great kindness to you, but beleevs y^r partinge was so much the
contrary as Y^r Highnes cannot but think it finill," wrote an anonymous
correspondent, "Now truly, Sir, His Majesty conceiving it soe, in my
{200} opinion, 'tis ffitt you should make sume hansume applycation, for
this reason; because my Lord Duke and others here, are much your
servants, and all that are so wish your return to courte, though it be
but to part frindlye. But I think it necessary you should prepare the
way first by letters to the Kinge. Sir, I have no designes in this but
your service, and if you understand me rightlye, that will prevayle so
far as you will consider what I saye before you resolve the contrarye.
I knowe there be sum that are your enemies, but they are such as may
barcke, but I am confident are not able to fight against you appeare.
Therefore, Sir, I beseech you, do not contrybute to the satisfaction of
your foes, and the ruyne of your friends, by neglecting anything in
your power to make peace with fortune. If after all your attempts to
be rightlye understood you shall fayle of that, yet you cannot waynt
honor for the action. 'Tis your Uncle you shall submit to, and a King,
not in the condition he meryt! What others may saye I knowe not, but
really, soe may I speak my opinion as a person that valews you above
all the world besydes. I am confident you know how faithfully my harte
is to your Highness!"[59] Also from Lord Dorset came a pathetic
appeal: "If my prayers can prevail, you shall not have the heart to
leave us all in our saddest times. If my advice were worthy of
following, surely you should not abandon your Uncle in the disastrous
condition these evil storms have placed him in."[60]
These exhortations and entreaties at length prevailed; the Prince
suffered his natural generosity to overcome his pride, and was induced
to write the required apology: "I humbly acknowledge that great error,
which I find your Majesty justly sensible of, which happened upon
occasion at Newark."[61] Several letters passed, and Charles then sent
{201} his nephew, "by Colonel Legge, a paper to confess a fault."
Rupert returned a blank sheet with his signature subscribed, to signify
his perfect submission to his Uncle's will: "the King, with tears in
his eyes, took that so well that all was at peace.... The Prince went
to Oxford, and the King embraced him, and repented much the ill-usage
of his nephew." To this account of the reconciliation, is appended the
marginal note, "ask the Duchess of Richmond," but the information that
she was able to supply was never filled in.[62]
Rupert was now restored to the favour and the counsels of his Uncle,
but not to military command. The war was practically over, and though
the King would have had his nephew raise a new life-guard, the Oxford
Council quashed the design. Then Charles confided to Rupert his
intention of taking refuge with the Scottish army. The Prince
distrusted the Scots, and strongly combated the idea; but, finding that
he could not move the King's resolution, he obtained from him a signed
statement that he acted against his nephew's advice. For one mistake,
at least, the Prince would not be held responsible. April 27th, 1646,
the King left Oxford secretly, rejecting Rupert's companionship on the
grounds that his "tallness" would betray him.[63]
Oxford was now almost the last town holding out; on the first of May,
Fairfax sat down before it, and the end was not long in coming. A
little skirmishing took place, but the Royalists had no real hope of
success. On one occasion Rupert, Maurice and Gerard went out against
the Scots, with "about twenty horse, in stockings and shoes." In mere
bravado, they charged three troops of the enemy, and Maurice's page,
Robert Holmes, of whom we shall hear more hereafter, was wounded.
Rupert also was hurt, for the first time in the war; "a lieutenant of
the enemy shot the Prince in the shoulder, and shook his hand, so {202}
that his pistol fell out of his hand; but it shot his enemy's
horse."[64]
Rupert had previously demanded of the governor, Sir Thomas Glemham,
whether he would defend the town, but Glemham replied that he must obey
the Council, and Rupert therefore interfered no more in the matter. On
May 18th a treaty was opened with Fairfax, but broken off on a
disagreement about terms. But by June 1st, all the water had been
drawn off from the city, and surrender was inevitable. The treaty was
renewed, and Rupert prudently came to the Council to demand a
particular clause for the safety of himself and his brother. This
occasioned a quarrel with Lord Southampton, who retorted that "the
Prince was in good company," and was understood by Rupert to imply
disrespect to his person. He sent Gerard to expostulate with
Southampton, who offered no apology, but, saying that his words had
been unfaithfully reported, repeated them accurately. Rupert was not
satisfied, and sent Gerard again, with a message that he expected to
meet Southampton "with his sword in his hand," and at as early a date
as possible, lest the duel should be prevented. The Earl cheerfully
appointed the next morning, and selected pistols as his weapons,
acknowledging that he was no match for the Prince with the sword. But
fortunately the suspicion of the Council had been roused; the gates
were shut, the would-be combatants arrested, and a reconciliation
effected. "And the Prince ever after had a good respect for the
Earl."[65] There was no surer way of winning Rupert's esteem than by
accepting a challenge from him.
After this episode, the special clause by which the Princes were to
have the benefit of all the other articles, and free leave to quit the
country, was inserted in the treaty, and accepted by Fairfax. Indeed
the Parliament showed the Princes a greater leniency than might have
been expected. They {203} were permitted to take with them all their
servants, and to remain in England for six months longer, provided they
did not approach within twenty miles of London. But on their quitting
Oxford, June 22nd, Fairfax gave them leave on his own authority to go
to Oatlands, which was within the proscribed distance of the capital.
The reason for their move thither, was their desire to see the Elector,
who was then in London; but it greatly excited the wrath of the
Parliament. Notwithstanding the express permission of Fairfax, it was
declared that the Princes had broken the articles, and they were
ordered to leave the country immediately, on pain of being treated as
prisoners. In a letter curiously signed "Rupert and Maurice," they
answered, meekly enough, that they had acted in all good faith,
believing the general's pass sufficient, and that in coming to Oatlands
they had regarded the convenience of the house more than the distance
from London, "of which we had no doubt at all."[66]
But the Parliament refused to be pacified, and insisted that the
Princes must depart within ten days. A long correspondence ensued,
relating chiefly to passes for various servants, "whom we would not
willingly leave behind." The list forwarded to the Parliament by
Rupert, included a chaplain, some seven or eight gentlemen, footmen,
grooms, a tailor, a gunsmith, a farrier, a secretary, "my brother's
secretary's brother," and "a laundress and her maid."[67] On July 4th
the brothers reached Dover, whence Rupert took ship for Calais, and
Maurice for the Hague. Rupert's "family," as his train was called,
followed more slowly, and rejoined him on July 23rd, at St. Germains.
"Blessed be God, for his and our deliverance from the Parliament,"[68]
piously concludes the journal of his secretary.
So ended Rupert's part in the Civil War; a part played, on the whole,
creditably, and yet not without serious faults {204} both of temper and
judgment. In the earlier days of the war, while possessed of the
King's confidence, the Prince had been almost uniformly successful.
Later, when he had to struggle against plots and counter-plots, a
vacillating King, false friends, and open enemies, he failed. That
Digby had laid a deliberate scheme for his overthrow is evident; yet he
had made Digby his enemy by his own faults of temper, and his own
indiscretions had placed the necessary weapons in the Secretary's
hands. That he was unjustly treated with regard to Bristol there can
be no doubt, but he ruined his own cause by his hopeless loss of
temper. Nothing could justify the mutinous scene at Newark, and Rupert
afterwards confessed himself ashamed of it. That the King's affairs
would have prospered better had Digby's influence been less and
Rupert's more, seems probable. Faults and limitations, Rupert had, but
he understood war as Digby did not. His fidelity was irreproachable,
and could never have been seriously doubted. But he knew when the
cause was lost, though the sanguine secretary failed to perceive it,
and his advice to make peace was reasonable enough. It was unfortunate
that the position was such as made that reasonable advice impossible to
follow.
[1] Warburton. III. p. 133. Maurice to Rupert, July 7, 1645.
[2] Warburton. III. p. 149. Rupert to Richmond, July 28, 1645.
[3] Ibid. p. 151. Rupert to Legge, July 28, 1645.
[4] Add. MSS. Richmond to Rupert, Aug. 3, 1645.
[5] Rushworth, VI. 132. King to Rupert, Aug. 3.
[6] Warburton, III. 73. Rupert to Legge, Mar. 31, 1645.
[7] Carte's Ormonde, VI. 303. Digby to Ormonde, June 26, 1645
[8] Warburton, III. p. 145.
[9] Ibid. p. 156. Rupert to Legge, July 29, 1645.
[10] A Narrative of the Siege of Bristol. Warburton, III. pp. 166-180.
[11] Warburton, III. pp. 172-174.
[12] Narrative of Siege of Bristol. Warburton, III. pp. 168-169.
[13] Ibid. p. 178.
[14] Narrative of Siege of Bristol. Warburton, III. p. 180.
[15] Narrative of Siege of Bristol. Warburton, III. p. 181.
[16] Pamphlet, Sept. 10, 1645. Warburton, p. 183.
[17] Ibid.
[18] Nicholas Papers, I. p. 65. Camden Society. New Series. Butler
to Waller, Sept. 15, 1645.
[19] Carte's Original Letters, I. p. 134.
[20] Domestic State Papers. Honeywood, Oct. 7-13, 1645.
[21] Warburton, II. p. 185.
[22] Domestic State Papers. Nicholas to King, Sept. 18, 1645.
[23] Ibid. Rupert to King, Sept 18, 1645.
[24] Dom. State Papers. Nicholas to King, Sept. 18, 1645.
[25] Ibid. Digby to Nicholas, Sept. 26, 1645.
[26] Clarendon, Bk. IX. 91.
[27] Walker, p. 142.
[28] Clarendon, Bk. IX. 121. Walker, 142.
[29] Warburton, III. p. 183.
[30] Ibid. p. 188. King to Maurice, Sept 20, 1645.
[31] Pamphlet. Brit. Mus. "Prince Rupert: his Declaration", March 9,
1649.
[32] Pamphlet. Brit. Mus. "A Looking-glass wherein His Majesty may
see his Nephew's Love."
[33] Carte's Ormonde, VI. 167, 18 July, 1644.
[34] The names are so printed in the Calendar of State Papers. But in
the original MS. they are so blotted that only "Rupert" and "Legge" are
really distinct. Professor Gardiner adds Culpepper.
[35] State Papers. Digby to Jermyn, Aug. 27, 1645.
[36] State Papers. Anon. to Walsingham, Aug. 8, 1645.
[37] Dom. State Papers. Walsingham to Digby, Aug. 12, 1645.
[38] Ibid. Aug. 16, 1645.
[39] Dom. State Papers. A to Walsingham, Sept. 14, 1645.
[40] Ibid. Walsingham to Digby, Sept. 14, 1645.
[41] Dom. State Papers, Sept. 16, 1645.
[42] Ibid. Sept. 16, 1645.
[43] Ibid. Oct. 11, 1645.
[44] Warburton, III. p. 194.
[45] Ibid. pp. 194-5.
[46] Add. MSS. 31022. King to Rupert, Oct. 15, 1645.
[47] Walker, pp. 136-137.
[48] Warburton, III. 201-203.
[49] Walker, 137.
[50] Symonds Diary. Camden Society, 268-270, also Walker, 145-148.
[51] Evelyn's Diary, ed. 1852. IV. 165-166.
[52] Walker, p. 148.
[53] Pamphlet. Merc. Brit. Warburton, III. 206, _note_.
[54] Pepys Diary, 4 Feb. 1665.
[55] State Papers. Gerard to Skipworth, Nov. 2, 1645.
[56] Dom. State Papers. Anon. to Legge, Nov. 3, 1645.
[57] Warburton, III. p. 211. Legge to Rupert, Nov. 21, 1645.
[58] Ibid. p. 212. Legge to Rupert, Nov. 25, 1645.
[59] Pythouse Papers, p. 27.
[60] Warburton, III. 213. Dorset to Rupert, Dec. 25, 1645.
[61] Ibid., p. 222. Rupert to King. No date.
[62] Warburton, III. p. 195-196.
[63] Ibid. p. 196.
[64] Warburton, III. p. 197.
[65] Clarendon's Life, ed. 1827, vol. III. p. 235.
[66] Cary's Memorials of Civil War, ed. 1842, vol. I. pp. 114-115.
[67] Warburton, III. pp. 234-235, _note_. Cary, I. 121-122.
[68] Prince Rupert's Journal. Clar. State Papers.
{205}