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, 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 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 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 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; "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 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 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 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 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 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.
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 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] 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 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.'
"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, 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 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.
CHAPTER IX
INTRIGUES IN THE ARMY. DEPRESSION OF RUPERT. TREATY
OF UXBRIDGE. RUPERT IN THE MARCHES. STRUGGLE WITH
DIGBY. BATTLE OF NASEBY
Terrible though the disaster in the North had been, the blow was softened to the King by successes in the West. During August, in company with Maurice, he pursued Essex into Cornwall and forced his whole army of foot to surrender without a struggle. But for the supineness of Goring, who had just succeeded Wilmot as General of the Horse, the Parliamentary cavalry might have been captured in like manner. But when Balfour led his troops through the Royalist lines, Goring happened to be carousing in congenial company; he received the news of the escape with laughter, and refused to stir until the enemy were safely passed away.[1] Goring's new prominence and importance was one among the many unfortunate results of Marston Moor. That battle had ruined Rupert's reputation, and it had proportionately raised that of Goring, who alone among the Royalist commanders had had success that day. To Goring, therefore, the King turned, and Goring's licence, negligence, indifference—or perhaps treachery—eventually lost the West completely to the Royalists. Had Rupert been placed in Goring's position he must have certainly effected more than did his rival.
For some time the King had been anxious to remove Wilmot from his command. As early as May he had suggested to Rupert, as "a fancy of my own,"[2] that Maurice should be declared General of the Horse in Wilmot's stead. But Rupert did not encourage the idea; he knew probably that his brother was unfit for so much responsibility. Wilmot therefore remained in command until August 9th. He was, as has been said, a good officer, but he talked so wildly in his cups that his loyalty was suspected; and when he was detected in private correspondence with Essex, the King decided to arrest him, and to promote Goring to his post. The arrest took place in sight of the whole army; but though Wilmot was exceedingly popular with his officers, they confined their protest to a little murmuring and a "modest petition" to be told the charges against their commander. The King responded by a promise that Wilmot should have a fair trial, and his partisans were apparently pacified, though Goring declared to Rupert: "This is the most mutinous army that ever I saw, as well horse as foot!"[3] Digby's account of the affair, also addressed to the Prince, was as follows: "We have lately ventured on extreme remedies unto the dangers that threaten us amongst ourselves. Lord Wilmot, upon Wednesday that was a s'ennight, was arrested prisoner on the head of his army, and Goring declared General of the Horse.... There have been since consultations and murmurings among his party, but the issue of them was only this enclosed modest petition, which produced the answer and declaration of the causes of his commitment; and so the business rests. My Lord Percy also withdrawing himself upon good advice, and my Lord Hopton being possessed of his charge, I make no doubt that all the ill-humours in our army will be allayed, now that the two poles on which they moved are taken away."[4]
But, though neither Wilmot nor Percy were estimable characters, Goring was no better, and the result of these drastic measures was only to render the state of Court and Army more confused and more factious than ever. Digby's partisans tried to lay the onus of Wilmot's fall on Rupert, and Rupert's friends endeavoured to refer it to Digby. Judging from Digby's own letter above quoted, Rupert, who was absent from the King's army during the whole of the proceedings, does not seem to have had much share in them. Certainly the Secretary gives no hint of his collusion. "Lord Digby is the great agent to incense the King," asserted Arthur Trevor. "My Lord Wilmot undertakes to turn the tables on him, and so the wager is laid head to head. Daniel O'Neil goeth his share in that hazard, for certainly the Lord Digby hath undone his credit with the King... And truly I look upon Daniel O'Neil as saved only out of want of leisure to dispose of him. Prince Rupert and Will Legge are his severe enemies; and so is Ashburnham."[5] Critical indeed was the position of the unlucky Daniel, who had been so lately the "dear and intimate friend" of Digby. Owing, as he explained to Ormonde, to "the unfortunate falling out of my two best friends," he had fallen between two stools. Wilmot he considered most to blame, for he had endeavoured to render Digby "odious to the army and to all honest people."[6] The army had been on the very point of petitioning against the Secretary when he forestalled the move by the unexpected arrest of his adversary. "How guilty he will be, I know not," was the conclusion of O'Neil. "But sure I am that the accusing of him was not seasonable, and his commitment less... and two friends I have lost!"[7] Wilmot himself seems to have directed his animus principally against Rupert. He was unwilling to stand his trial, and was therefore permitted to join the Queen, then in France. There he found the Marquess of Newcastle, whom he hoped to secure as an ally against the Prince. "I understand from one coming from Wilmot," wrote Trevor, "that he and the Marquess of Newcastle are preparing a charge against Prince Rupert, and will be at the next advice of Parliament at Oxford, where their party will be great,—the Marquess of Hertford, Lord Herbert—you may guess the rest. Prince Rupert and Daniel O'Neil are inconsistent in this state."[8]
The proposed accusation of Rupert was never made, and was probably a figment of Wilmot's brain. Neither Hertford nor Herbert (with whom Rupert had clashed as President of Wales) had any love for the Prince, but they were both too loyal to increase the King's difficulties by factious action. And indeed in the spring of 1645, we find Hertford, Rupert, and Ashburnham in close alliance against Digby and Cottington; the three first desiring a treaty with the Parliament, and the other two opposing it. O'Neil was easily convinced that Wilmot owed his fall to Rupert, and in October 1644 he wrote to Ormonde: "Prince Rupert, whoe is nowe knowen to bee the primum mobile of that mischeef, iss strangely unsatisfied with Wilmot's resolutione. For he thought to make use of this occatione to ruine Lord Digby; but, his project fayling, he plays the Courtier and iss reconsyled, whiche iss a great hapines to the King."[9]
The truth was that, were the charges against them true or false, Wilmot and Percy did really owe their downfall to the hatred of Rupert and Digby. The Secretary had been the actual agent in the matter, but Rupert approved and supported his action. The two were willing enough to unite against their enemies, and they would have been equally willing to ruin each other. But for a time Rupert endeavoured, for his uncle's sake, to curb his hatred of the Secretary. In August the King had exhorted his nephew earnestly to make friends with Digby; "whom I must desire you (for my service, and because he is a useful servant) to countenance so far as to show him a possibility to recover your favour, if he shall deserve it... Not doubting but, for my sake, ye will make this, or a greater, experiment... I must protest to you, on the faith of a Christian—the reason of this protest I refer to Robin Legge—that as concerning your generosity and particular fidelity and friendship to me, I have an implicit faith in you."[10] This passionate protest was caused by the libels circulated against the Prince, some of which had reached the King's ears. For a while Rupert was pacified, and he made overtures of tolerance to Digby, who responded fluently that his previous unhappiness as the object of Rupert's aversion, would now serve only to increase his joy and satisfaction in the Prince's confidence and friendship.[11] "Rupert and Digby are friends; but I doubt they trust one another alike!"[12] was the Prince's own view of the matter, as expressed to Will Legge.
Digby had also formed a close friendship with Goring, "each believing that he could deceive the other." It was to Digby that Goring chiefly owed his promotion, though it had been accorded the approval of Rupert, who was inclined, just then, to tolerate Goring. Nor was George Goring backward in receiving overtures of peace. "My Prince," he wrote to Rupert familiarly, and he signed himself, "your Highness's all-vowed, all-humble, all-obedient Goring." Moreover, having made up his mind never to serve under Rupert again, he took care to add, "there is nothing on this earth I more passionately desire than to sacrifice my life in your service, and near your person."[13] But the truce could not last. Rupert, as Commander-in-Chief and Governor of Bristol, had a double power in the West, and Goring was determined to escape from his control. In January 1645, we find him writing with unwonted candour: "Your Highness is pleased to think yourself disobliged by me for desiring my orders under the King's hand. As I remember, Sir, the reason I gave His Majesty for it was the having more authority by that to guide the Council of this army to obedience; but one reason I kept to myself, which was that I found all my requests denied by your hand, and therefore desired my orders from another."[14]
The Prince of Wales had by this time been sent to Bristol as nominal General of the Western army, with a selection of the King's Councillors to assist him. The conflicting Borders of Rupert, Prince Charles's Council, and the King, gave Goring an excellent excuse for disobeying all. In March, Rupert indignantly desired Legge to ask the King whether he had authorised that Council to send orders to Goring, and added cautiously, "Let Sir Edward Herbert be by, he can argue better than you."[15] A few days later he visited his young cousin at Bristol, and advised him to send Goring with his horse into Wiltshire, or with his foot to besiege Taunton. Prince Charles sent orders as directed, but Goring, knowing them to emanate from Rupert, retired to Bath, and refused to do anything at all. Rupert now thoroughly "abhorred" the notion of Goring's proximity to the Prince of Wales, and had him recalled to Oxford. But there his friendship with Digby, and his own natural powers, won him so much influence with the King, that Rupert was soon as eager to send him back into the West as Goring was to escape from the Prince's vicinity. Thus their "very contrary affections towards each other,"[16] worked to one end. There was a second truce. Rupert told Goring, no doubt with some pleasure, all the evil that the Council of the West had said concerning him; and Goring returned the compliment, with notes and additions. Goring was given the command of all the West, whither he gladly departed. "Goring and Prince Rupert are now friends," wrote Trevor, "but I doubt the building being made of green wood, which is apt to warp and yield!"[17] As proved ere long to be the case.
We return now to the autumn of 1644. Rupert's wanderings had brought him, by the end of August, to Bristol, whither he was pursued by doleful reports from his officers left in the Marches.
"My most dear Prince," wrote Legge from Chester, "in truth Your Highness's departure sent me back here a sad man, and the news I met with gave me new cause of trouble.... I despair of any good in Lancashire."[18] And in Cheshire itself, Byron and Langdale had just suffered a defeat from Massey. "Upon the spot where Your Highness killed the buck, as the horse were drawing out,"[19] explained Byron with careful exactness. These new misfortunes increased Rupert's melancholy, which was already deep enough. Something of his state of mind may be gathered from a sympathetic and consolatory letter written to him at this time by Richmond.
"Though I was very much pleased for myself with the honour and favour I had by yours from Bristol, yet I must confess, it takes not all unquietness from me. The melancholy you express must be a discontent, for my mind which has so much respect must partake of the trouble of yours. And I should be more restless if I did believe your present sad opinion would be long continued, or that there were just cause for it. All mistakes, I am confident, will wane, when the King can speak with power! I shall not prejudice that éclairissement by being tedious beforehand. Yet I will say that, though an intention (to that purpose) was not the cause of your coming sooner to the King, you could not have resolved better by the King's good at this time. So in your own understanding you must consent that even from those actions which are the most retired from an appearance (of it) blessings spring. How great this will be when Rupert makes it his care, as formerly our hope, measure by joy (sic). This I conclude doth certainly engage Rupert to know how great good he may bring the King, which must also assure Rupert of the love, value, and trust the King must have of him. This mutual satisfaction will prove happy to themselves, and to all who respect either, as I do both!"[20] The Duke's friendly attempt to console the Prince for past misfortunes, restore his self-confidence, and reassure him of the King's trust and affection seems to have succeeded. Rupert roused himself, and set out, September 29th, to meet the King at Sherborne in Dorset. Charles was just then returning from his successful expedition to Cornwall, and Waller had been despatched by the Parliament to intercept him. Rupert extracted from his uncle a promise not to fight until he could rejoin him, and hastened back to fortify Bristol. But the perilous condition of two Royalist garrisons, those of Basing House, and Donnington Castle, made delay impossible. The King sent peremptory orders to Rupert to join him at Salisbury with all the force he could muster. But, before Rupert could obey, Goring, "possessed by a great gaiety,"[21] had drawn Charles into the second unfortunate battle of Newbury. Rupert, making all possible haste, reached Marshfield near Bristol, the day after the battle, October 28th. There he learnt that the King had been defeated at Newbury, and was now at Bath. Maurice, it was feared, was dead or a prisoner. Upon this, Rupert asserted, oddly as it seems, that his brother was quite safe; and so it proved, for he was discovered at Donnington Castle.[22] Both Princes joined the King at Bath, and thence, by Rupert's advice, marched to Oxford. At Newbury they again encountered Waller and Cromwell, but refused battle, and Rupert succeeded in drawing off his forces without losing one man. The dexterous retreat was compared by one of the young nobles to a country dance.[23] On November 21st Rupert made a vain attempt to recover Abingdon, which was now possessed for the Parliament; and on the 23rd he entered Oxford with the King.
During the march, the Prince had finally received that appointment of Master of the Horse concerning which he had entertained so many doubts. At the same time he was declared Commander-in-Chief in place of the old Lord Brentford, who had become very deaf, and who "by the long-continued practice of immoderate drinking, dozed in his understanding."[24] The change was exceedingly popular with the soldiers, but exceedingly distasteful to the courtiers and councillors. Brentford had always been willing to permit discussion, only feigning unusual deafness when he was strongly averse to the proposals made. But Rupert showed himself "rough and passionate,"[25] cut short debate whenever possible, and endeavoured to carry all with a high hand. In addition to the promotion already conferred on him, he had expected the colonelcy of the Life-Guards, and when this was bestowed on Lord Bernard Stewart, the Prince felt himself so unreasonably injured "that he was resolved to lay down his command upon it."[26] He did in fact go the length of demanding a pass to quit the kingdom, but happily the persuasions of his friends brought him to a wiser state of mind, and he apologised for his folly. Another fruitless attempt on Abingdon closed the military proceedings of the year.