The chief events of the winter months were the Treaty of Uxbridge, and the forming of the Parliament's new model army. The negotiation of January 1645 was due to Scottish influence, and though many of the Royalists were eager to come to terms, the religious question proved, as always, an insuperable obstacle. Moreover, it was quite impossible for Charles to accept the long list of excepted persons "who shall expect no pardon," which was headed by the names of his own nephews. The Princes themselves appear to have been infinitely amused by the circumstance, for it is recorded by Whitelocke, himself one of the Parliamentary Commissioners: "Prince Rupert and Prince Maurice being present, when their names were read out as excepted persons, they fell into a laughter, at which the King seemed displeased, and bid them be quiet."[27]
In spite of this incident, Rupert forwarded the treaty by all means in his power. He had been one of the first to meet the Commissioners on their arrival. They had gone, on the same day, to visit Lord Lindsey, and ten minutes after their entrance Rupert had put in an appearance, privately summoned by their host, as the Commissioners suspected. He had been present at all the discussions of the treaty, occasionally speaking to remind the King of some forgotten point, but otherwise keeping silence;[28] and when the treaty ultimately collapsed, the Prince "deeply deplored" its failure. He understood only too well the weakness of the King's resources, and the growing strength of the Parliament. The new model army, from which all incompetent officers were excluded, and which was to resemble in strength and discipline, Cromwell's own "lovely Company" was rapidly being developed. And as the power of the Parliament waxed, that of the King waned. Goring, brilliant, careless, valiant, and self-indulgent was losing the West by his negligence, and alienating it by his oppressions. Nor were matters much better elsewhere. Maurice had succeeded his brother in the care of Wales and the Marches, though without his title of President. His advent had been eagerly welcomed by the despondent Byron, but he was incompetent to deal with the difficulties that beset him. From Worcester, where he was established, he sent helpless appeals to Rupert for advice and assistance. In January he demanded an enlargement of his commission. "I desire no further latitude than the same from you that you had from the King,"[29] he told his brother discontentedly. He had promised a commission to the gentlemen of Staffordshire, which he had not the power to grant them, "though I would not let them know as much," he confessed, with youthful vanity.[30] Very shortly a serious misfortune befell him in the betrayal of Shrewsbury to the Parliament.—"A disaffected town with only a garrison of burghers, and a doting old fool of a Governor,"[31] it had been called by Byron, whose language was usually forcible.—And Maurice's difficulties were further increased by the wholesale desertion of his men.
The exhaustion of the country was making it harder than ever to find food and quarters for the soldiers. In Dorsetshire the peasants were already rising, under the name of "Clubmen," to oppose the encroachments of both armies. And the Royalist officers disputed among themselves over the supplies wrung from the impoverished country. From Camden, Colonel Howard simply returned Rupert's order to share his district with another regiment, "resolving to keep nothing by me that shall hang me," he explained; and he went on to assert that even his rival colonel "blushed to see the unreasonableness" of the Prince's order. "What horrid crime have I committed, or what brand of cowardice lies upon me and my men that we are not thought worthy of a subsistence? Shall the Queen's seventy horse have Westmester hundred, Tewkesbury hundred, and God knows what other hundreds, and yet share half with me in Rifsgate, who has, at this very present, a hundred horse and five hundred foot, besides a multiplicity of officers? Sir, at my first coming hither, the gentry of these parts looked upon me as a man considerable, and had already raised me sixty horse towards a hundred, and a hundred foot, and were continuing to raise me a greater number. But at the sight of this order of your Highness I resolved to disband them, and to come to Oxford where I'll starve in more security. But finding my Lieutenant-Colonel forced to come to your Highness and to tell his sad condition, I find him so well prepared with sadness of his own, that I cannot but think he will deliver my grievances rarely. As I shall find myself encouraged by your Highness, I will go on and raise more forces. Ever submitting all my proceedings to your Highness's orders—bar starving, since I am resolved to live."[32]
Not more cheering was the report of Sir Jacob Astley, then at Cirencester. "After manie Scolisietationes by letters and mesendgeres, sent for better payment of this garrison, and to be provided with men, arms and ammonition for ye good orderinge and defence of this place, I have received no comfort at all. So y^t in littel time our extreameties must thruste the souldieres eyther to disband, or mutiny, or plunder, and then y^e faulte will be laid to my charge. Gode sende y^e Kinge mor monne, and me free from blame and imputation."[33] Rupert had little comfort to give, and no money at all, but he answered the old soldier with the respect and consideration which he always showed him. In earlier days old Astley had been Governor to Rupert and Maurice, and to him they probably owed much that was good in them. Rupert, in consequence, never treated Astley in the peremptory fashion that he used with others. "For such precise orders as you seem to desire, I must deal freely with you, you are not to expect them," he wrote to his old Governor; "we being not such fit judges as you upon the place... I should be very loath, by misjudging here, to direct that which you should find inconvenient there."[34]
Such phrases contrast strongly with the Prince's usual high-handed procedure, of which we find the King himself complaining at this very time. "Indeed it surprised me a little this morning," he wrote to his nephew, "when Adjutant Skrimshaw told me that you had given him a commission to be Governor of Lichfield without ever advising with me, or even giving me notice of it;—for he told me as news, and not by your command. I know this proceeds merely out of a hasty forgetfulness and want of a little thinking, for if you had called to mind the late dispute between the Lord Loughborough and Bagot, that is dead, you would have advised more than you have done, both of the person, and the manner of doing it; and then, it may be, you would have thought George Lisle fitter for it than him you have chosen. Upon my word I have taken notice of this to none but this bearer, with whom I have spoken reasonable freely, by which you may perceive that this is freedom and nothing else, that makes me write thus, expecting the same from you to your loving Oncle."[35] Whether Rupert did or did not resent the reproof does not appear, but the King proved right, and Skrimshaw quarrelled with Loughborough no less than Bagot had done.
Perilous as was the condition of the Royalists on all sides, the condition of Wales seemed the most desperate, and thither Rupert hastened in the March of 1645. He took his way first to Ludlow, where he hoped to raise new forces, and a few days later he joined Maurice at Ellesmere. Thence he wrote despondently to Legge, dwelling on the great numbers of the enemy, and exhorting him to see that the Oxford army held Monmouthshire in check. "I am going about a nobler business," he added, "therefore pray God for me; and remember me to all my friends."[36] But by the 14th he had got an army together, and his spirits were marvellously revived. "We are few, but shrewd fellows as ever you saw. Nothing troubles us but that Prince Charles is in worse (condition), and pray God he were here. I expect nothing but ill from the West; let them hear that Rupert says so." (This was for Goring's benefit.) "As for Charles Lucas' business, assure the King that nothing was meant but that it should be conceded by Lord Hopton; but his lieutenant, Slingsby, is a rogue. I have enough against him to prove him so, when time shall be. This enclosed will show you a fine business concerning my cousin the Bishop of York. Pray acquaint His Majesty with it, it concerns him. Martin's man carried a letter to you from Stowe, which you did receive, and one for Sir Edward Herbert. Pray remember me to him, and to all my friends, and inquire about the letter; you'll find knavery in it. Prince Charles wrote to me about Mark Trevor; I denied it (i.e. refused) as well as I could: he goes to him. Cheshire will not prosper. (Maurice was there.) Your company is here, so is your friend Rupert."[37]
The allusion to the Archbishop of York shows that Rupert had already detected the intrigues of that warlike and treacherous prelate. He had fortified and defended his castle of Conway, but quarrelled incessantly with all the Royalist officers in the district, and eventually he admitted the enemy to his castle. At the date of the above letter he was following the example of Digby, and trying to sow dissension between Ormonde and Rupert. Cheshire and Wales, he declared, lay "all neglected and in confusion", owing to the private quarrels of Rupert's "favourite", Legge, and the Byrons, whom he represented as "thrown out of their governments, abandoned by the King, and left to die in prison."[38] The Byrons themselves do not appear to have made any such complaints; and a sentence in one of Lord Byron's letters to the Prince seems to deprecate the reports spread by the Archbishop. "I heard," he says, "that Your Highness was informed that, in your absence, I showed most disrespect to those you most honour. This is very far from the truth, as it ever shall be from the practice of your most humble and most obliged servant, Byron."[39]
And in spite of the Archbishop's hostility Rupert's efforts in the Marches were attended by success. On the 19th of April, having been rejoined by Maurice, he forced Brereton to raise his siege of Beeston Castle, which had endured for seventeen weeks. A few days later he was engaged in suppressing a revolt in Herefordshire, where the peasants were rising like the clubmen of Dorset. Most of them fled before the Prince, but two hundred stood their ground, of these Rupert took the leaders, and persuaded the rest to lay down their arms; he was anxious, if possible, to conciliate the people rather than to suppress them by force.[40] No sooner was this task accomplished than Astley arrived with the news that a Parliamentary force, under Massey, was at Ledbury. Without an instant's delay Rupert set out, marched all night, and attacked and routed Massey in the morning, April 22nd. From Ledbury he went to Hereford, where he remained some days before returning to Oxford.
It was at this time that Rupert performed the stern act of retaliation, which so roused the wrath of the Parliament. The King's importation of Irish soldiers had been regarded by the Puritans as a gross aggravation of all his other crimes. They chose to regard all the Irish as responsible for the massacre of the Protestants which had occurred in Ireland in 1641, and in accordance with this view they gave them no quarter. In March 1645 Essex happened to take thirteen Irish troopers, whom he hanged without mercy; and Rupert immediately retaliated by the execution of thirteen Roundhead prisoners. Essex thereupon wrote an indignant letter, reproaching the Prince for his barbarous and inhuman conduct, to which Rupert responded in a letter "full of haughtiness", that since Essex had "barbarously murdered" his men, "in cold blood, after quarter given", he would have been unworthy of his command had he not let the Puritans know that their own soldiers "must pay the price of such acts of inhumanity."[41] The Parliament then took upon itself to remonstrate at great length, but received only a concise and decided reply from the Prince's secretary:
"I am, by command, to return you this answer. You gave the first example in hanging such prisoners as were taken, and thereupon the same number of yours suffered in like manner. If you continue this course you cannot, in reason, but expect the like return. But, if your intention be to give quarter, and to exchange prisoners upon equal terms, it will not be denied here."[42] The Prince's resolute attitude had the desired effect, and the Puritans were forced to recognise Irishmen as human beings.
In contrast with this incident, we find a frantic appeal to the Prince for mercy, dated April 28. A young Royalist officer—Windebank—had most unjustifiably surrendered Blechingdon House, of which he was Governor, and by a court-martial held at Oxford he was doomed to die. Poor Windebank was no coward, but he had acted in a moment of panic, engendered by the terror of his young wife, and it was on his behalf that Sir Henry Bard now pleaded with Rupert. "The letter enclosed was sent to me from Oxford, to be conveyed with all speed possible. Pray God it comes time enough! It concerns a most unfortunate man, Colonel Windebank. Sir, pity him and reprieve him! It was God's judgment on him, and no cowardice of his own. At the battle of Alresford he gave a large testimony of his courage, and if with modesty I may bring in the witness, I saw it, and there began our acquaintance. Oh, happy man had he ended then! Sir, let him but live to repair his honour, of which I know he is more sensible than are the damned of the pains of hell."[43] Rupert had saved Fielding, and he would in all probability have saved Windebank had it been possible. But, alas, Bard's letter was intercepted by the Parliament and never reached its destination! And Windebank died on May 3rd, the day before Rupert reached Oxford.
The King was about to begin his last campaign, and he therefore summoned both his nephews to his side. The two Princes reached Oxford on May 4th, after an extraordinarily rapid march, and three days later, the King set out for Woodstock, leaving Will Legge behind him as Governor of Oxford. Danger was on every side. The Scots dominated the North; the West was falling rapidly away, and Cromwell's new army threatened that of the King. At starting, Charles had but 1,100 men, but before a month was past, Rupert had doubled their number. Digby and the Court party would fain have joined with Goring in the west, but Rupert, "spurred on by the northern horse, who violently pursued their desires of being at home,"[44] was eager for the North. For the moment his star was in the ascendant, and, to Digby's disgust, the King yielded. "All is governed by Prince Rupert who grows a great Courtier," reported Arthur Trevor. "But whether his power be not supported by the present occasion is a question to ask a conjuror. Certainly the Lord Digby loves him not."[45] At Evesham, which was reached on the 9th, Rupert gave new offence to the Court by making Robin Legge, Will's brother, Governor of that town, in defiance of the wishes of the Council. Moving slowly northwards through the Midlands, he took Hawkesly House near Bromsgrove; on the following day he was at Wolverhampton. On the 27th both he and the King were the guests of the Hastings, at Ashby de la Zouch, and on the 29th Rupert "laye in the workes before Leycester."[46] By his skill and energy, this town was taken in two days, and the triumph not only revived the drooping spirits of the Cavaliers, but won them material advantages in the way of arms and ammunition. It was believed that Derby would have surrendered on a summons, but Rupert would not take the chance. Should it refuse his summons, he maintained, "out of punctilio of honour" he would be forced to lay siege to it, which he had not means to do.[47] Willingly would he have pressed on northwards, but Fairfax was threatening Oxford, and the civilians, always anxious to keep the army in the south, clamoured loudly of the danger of the Duke of York, the Council, the Stores, and all the fair ladies of the Court. The said ladies also "earnestly by letter, solicited Prince Rupert to their rescue."[48] Reluctantly he faced southwards. But the danger of Oxford was less imminent than had been represented; Fairfax retired from before it. Then the contest of Rupert against Digby, the soldier against the civilian was renewed. "There was a plot to send the King to Oxford, but it is undone," the Prince wrote to his "dear Will." "The chief of the counsel was the fear that some men had that the soldiers would take from them the influence they now possess with the King."[49]
It was in accordance with the perversity of Charles's fate that just when the Parliamentary army had thrown off civilian shackles, he was ceasing to be ruled by the military counsels of his nephew. Rupert again urged a march to the North. Digby and the Councillors of Oxford, ever eager to keep the army in the South, recommended an attack on the Eastern counties. The King remained at Daventry hesitating between the two counsels, and in the meantime Fairfax and Cromwell were advancing towards him. Rupert's unaccountable contempt for the New Model Army prevented him from taking the proper precautions, and he remained absolutely ignorant of Fairfax's movements, until he was quartered eight miles from Daventry. Then the King decided to move towards Warwick, and that night he slept at Lubenham, Rupert at Harborough. On the same evening Ireton surprised and captured a party of Rupert's men, as they were playing at quoits in Naseby. A few who escaped, fled to warn the King, and the King hastened to Rupert. With unwonted prudence, Rupert advised retreat; reinforcements might be found at Leicester and Newark, and there was yet a hope that Goring might march to their aid. He did not know, as Fairfax knew through an intercepted despatch, that Goring was unable to leave the West. But Digby and Ashburnham were for fighting, and once again the civilian triumphed. On June 14th took place the fatal battle of Naseby.
Very early the royal army was drawn up upon a long hill which runs two miles south of Harborough. Here Astley intended the battle to be fought, resolving to keep on the defensive. But the enemy did not appear, and Rupert, growing impatient, sent out his scout master to look for them, about eight o'clock in the morning. The man returned, after a perfunctory search, saying that Fairfax was not to be seen. Then Rupert, unable to bear inaction any longer, rode out to look for him in person, with a small party of horse. At Naseby he found the whole army of the Parliament. It was just then engaged in shifting its position, and Rupert jumped to the conclusion that it was in full retreat. Lured on by this idea, he established himself on a piece of rising ground to the right, and summoned the rest of the army from its well-chosen position to join him there. This was perhaps the chief cause of the defeat that followed. Rupert and Maurice charged together on the right, and swept the field before them, till they reached the enemy's cannon and baggage waggons. Here Rupert was mistaken for Fairfax, for both were wearing red cloaks, and some of the Puritan reserve rode up, asking, "How goes the day?" The Prince responded by an offer of quarter, which was met by a volley of musket shot. But Rupert could not stay to complete his conquest. His part of the battle had been won, but behind him Cromwell had scattered the Royalist left, and was trampling the infantry of the centre in "a dismal carnage."[50] The King was turned from the battle too soon, his whole army was disheartened and overwhelmed, and Rupert returned too late, to find Cromwell in possession of the field. The Royal army was destroyed, and the war almost at an end. That night the King retreated to Ashby, and the next day, Sunday, he reached Lichfield, whence he hastened on to Raglan Castle. Rupert went on westward to the Prince of Wales at Barnstaple.
His departure from the King was due to a new quarrel with Digby, who attributed the disaster to the fault of the Prince. "Let me know what is said among you, concerning our last defeat," Rupert wrote to Legge, at Oxford; "doubtless the fault of it will be put upon me... Since this business I find Digby hath omitted nothing which might prejudice me, and this day hath drawn a letter from the King to Prince Charles, in which he crosses all things that befell here in my behalf. I have showed this to the King, and in earnest; and if thereupon he should go on and send it, I shall be forced to quit Generalship and march towards Prince Charles, where I have received more kindness than here."[51] At the same time, Legge received a long account of the battle from Digby himself, in which the Secretary, very cleverly, charged all the misfortune of the day to the Prince, while pretending to acquit him. "I am sure that Prince Rupert hath so little kindness for me, as I daily find he hath, it imports both to me and mine to be much the more cautious not to speak anything that may be wrested to his prejudice. I can but lament my misfortune that Prince Rupert is neither gainable nor tenable by me, though I have endured it with all the industry, and justness unto him in the world, and I lament your absence from him. Yet, at least, if Prince Rupert cannot be better inclined to me, that you might prevail with him so far that his heats, and misapprehensions of things may not wound his own honour, and prejudice the King's service. I am very unhappy that I cannot speak with you, since the discourse that my heart is full of is too long for a letter, and not of a nature fit for it. But I conjure you, if you preserve that justice and kindness for me which I will not doubt, if you hear anything from Prince Rupert concerning me, suspend your judgment. As for the particular aspersion upon him, which you mention, of fighting against advice, he is very much wronged in it, ... and for particular time, place and circumstance of our fighting that day, His Highness cannot be said to have gone against my Lord Astley, or any other advice; for I am confident no man was asked upon the occasion,—I am sure no council was called. I shall only say this freely to you, that I think a principal occasion of our misfortune was the want of you with us.... But really, dear Will, I do not write this with reflection, for indeed we were all carried on at that time with such a spirit and confidence of victory as though he that should have said "consider" would have been your foe. Well, let us look forward! Give your Prince good advice, as to caution, and value of counsel, and God will yet make him an instrument of much happiness to the King, and Kingdom, and that being, I will adore him as much as you love him."[52] But "Honest Will" was quite shrewd enough to read between the lines of this elaborate epistle, and he answered with a spirit and candour worthy of his character. "I am extremely afflicted to understand from you that Prince Rupert and yourself should be upon so unkindly terms, and I protest, I have cordially endeavoured, with all my interest in His Highness, to incline him to a friendship with your Lordship, conceiving it a matter of advantage to my Master's service, to have a good intelligence between persons so eminently employed in his affairs, and likewise the great obligation and inclination I had to either of you. But truly, my Lord, I often found this a hard matter to hold between you; and your last letter gives me cause to think that your Lordship is not altogether free from what he accused you of, as the reason of his jealousies. Which was that you both say and do things to his prejudice, contrary to your professions, and not in an open and direct line, but obscurely and obliquely; and this, under your Lordship's pardon, I find your letter very full of. For where your Lordship would excuse him of the particular and general aspersions, yet you come with such objections against the conduct of that business, as would, to men ignorant of the Prince, make him incapable of common-sense in his profession. For my part, my Lord, I am so well acquainted with the Prince's ways, that I am confident all his General officers and commanders knew beforehand how, and in what manner, he intended to fight; and when, as you say, all mankind were of opinion to fight, it was his part to put it into execution. Were any man in the army dissatisfied in his directions, or in the order, he ought to have informed the General of it, and to have received further satisfaction. And for the not calling of a Council at that instant, truly, the Prince having before laid his business, were there need of it, the blame must be as much yours as any man's." And, after a great deal more to the same purpose, Legge concludes with the stout declaration, "and assure yourself you are not free from great blame towards Prince Rupert. And no man will give you this free language at a cheaper rate than myself, though many discourse of it."[53]
[1] Clarendon, Bk. VII. p. 96, note.
[2] King to Rupert, 26 May, 1644. Rupert Correspondence. Add. MSS. 18981
[3] Warburton, III. p. 16.
[4] Add. MSS. 18981. Digby to Rupert, Aug. 15, 1644.
[5] Carte's Letters, I. 63. 13 Sept. 1644.
[6] Carte's Ormonde, IV. 190. 13 Aug. 1644.
[7] Ibid.
[8] Carte's Ormonde. VI. 206. 13 Oct. 1644.
[9] Ibid. Vol. VI. 203. 3 Oct. 1644.
[10] Add. MSS. 18981. King to Rupert, Aug. 30, 1644.
[11] Ibid. Sept. 23, 1644. Digby to Rupert.
[12] Rupert to Legge. Oct. 16, 1644. Warburton, III. p. 27.
[13] Warburton, II. 172, and III. 16.
[14] Warburton, III. p. 52.
[15] Warburton, III. p. 73. Rupert to Legge, Mar. 31, 1645.
[16] Clarendon, Bk. IX. p. 30.
[17] Carte's Letters, I. 86-87, 25 May, 1645.
[18] Warburton, III. p. 21.
[19] Ibid. p. 22.
[20] Rupert Transcripts. Richmond to Rupert, Sept. 14, 1644.
[21] Clarendon, Bk. VIII. p. 149.
[22] Warburton, III. p. 31.
[23] Warburton, III. p. 32.
[24] Clar. Hist. Bk. VIII. p. 29.
[25] Ibid. p. 108.
[26] Warburton, III. p. 32, and Rupert's Journal, Nov. 15, 1644, Clarendon Papers.
[27] Whitelocke. ed. 1732. p. 114.
[28] Ibid.
[29] Maurice to Rupert, Jan. 29, 1645. Warb. III. p. 54.
[30] Warburton, III. p. 54. Maurice to Rupert, Jan. 29, 1645.
[31] Rupert Transcripts. Byron to Rupert, 14 Jan. 1644.
[32] Warburton, III. p. 56-7. Howard to Rupert, Jan. 30, 1645.
[33] Rupert Transcripts. Astley to Rupert, Jan. 11, 1645. Pythouse Papers, p. 20.
[34] Domestic State Papers. Rupert to Astley. Jan. 13, 1645.
[35] Rupert Transcripts. King to Rupert, Jan. 1645.
[36] Warburton, III. p. 68. Rupert to Legge, Mar. 11, 1645.
[37] Ibid. p. 69, Mar. 24, 1645.
[38] Carte's Ormonde, VI. 271-272. Archbishop Williams to Ormonde, Mar. 25, 1655.
[39] Add. MSS. 18982. Byron to Rupert, Jan. 1645.
[40] Webb, Vol. II. pp. 141, 157, 178.
[41] Webb. II. pp. 146-147.
[42] Gilbert's History of the Irish Confederation, Vol. IV. p. XIV. Ralph Goodwin to Houses of Parliament, Mar. 23, 1645.
[43] Dom. State Papers. Bard to Rupert, Ap. 28, 1645.
[44] Walker's Historical Discourses, ed. 1705, pp. 126, 129.
[45] Carte's Letters, I. 90, May 25, 1645.
[46] Clarendon State Papers, Rupert's Journal, May 29, 1645.
[47] Walker, p. 128.
[48] Walker, p. 128.
[49] Warburton, III. p. 100. Rupert to Legge, June 8, 1645.
[50] Sir Edward Southcote. Troubles of our Catholic Forefathers. Series I. p. 392.
[51] Warburton. III. pp. 119-121. Rupert to Legge, June 18, 1645.
[52] Warburton. III. pp. 125-128. Digby to Legge. No date.
[53] Warburton, III. pp. 128-131. Legge to Digby, June 30, 1645.
CHAPTER X
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 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 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 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 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 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, 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 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. "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 Nicholas, "that I hear Prince Rupert hath not £50 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 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 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 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, 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 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 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 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]