But notwithstanding Walsingham's hints, Rupert's desire for a treaty was perfectly sincere and disinterested. Personally he had less to gain by it than most of the Cavaliers, and certainly he had nothing to save, for he had no stake in the country. And the perfect integrity of his party is sufficiently guaranteed by the very fact that it counted Richmond, Legge, and Philip Warwick among its members.
By October Rupert's patience was exhausted. He could not quit the country without the leave of the Parliament, he had no money to support himself, or his servants, and Legge was still a prisoner on his account. He resolved, at all hazards, to see the King. Fain would he have had Richmond accompany him, but the Duke, though still his faithful friend, would not leave Oxford.
"The Duke of Richmond goes not hence upon many considerations, though Prince Rupert much desired it. They are very good friends, and both much for peace, though not for particular ones,"[43] reported a Cavalier from Oxford. On October 8th Maurice met Rupert at Banbury, and together they set out for Newark. The journey was attended with much danger, for Newark was surrounded by a large army of the Parliament, and the Parliament had warned its officers to intercept the Princes. But Rupert in prosperity had always been faithful to his friends, and he now found that they would not forsake him in adversity. A troop of officers volunteered to escort him, and Maurice brought an addition of strength, making about 120 in all.
The enemy had posted about 1,500 horse at various places, to intercept the Princes' march, but all were skilfully evaded. Near the end of their journey, however, the Princes found themselves stopped at Belvoir Bridge, by Rossetter with three hundred horse. There was no choice but to charge through them. Two attempts failed, and Rupert turned to his men, saying cheerfully: "We have beaten them twice, we must beat them once more, and then over the pass, and away."[44] The third charge, carried them through the enemy, as he promised, and then they divided into two parties. The larger troop went on, with the baggage, to Belvoir; but the Princes, with about twenty more, proceeded by a short cut, which Rupert remembered passing ten years before when a boy, "shooting of conies." Here they were hotly pursued by a body of horse, and the enemy, thinking the Prince trapped, offered him quarter. His only answer was to direct his friends to follow him closely, and, breaking through the hostile ranks, they came safely to Belvoir Castle.[45]
Digby had not awaited the Prince's arrival, but had fled north, on the pretext of leading a force to join Montrose; and it was thought, on all sides, that he had done wisely. The King no sooner heard of his nephews' arrival at Belvoir than he sent to forbid their nearer approach. "Least of all I cannot forget what opinion you were of when I was at Cardiff," he wrote to Rupert, "and therefore must remember you of the letter I wrote to you from thence, in the Duke of Richmond's cipher, warning you that if you be not resolved to carry yourself according to my resolution, therein mentioned, you are no fit company for me."[46]
In defiance of this prohibition, Rupert came on next day to Newark. Within the town there existed a considerable party in his favour, headed by the Governor, Sir Richard Willys. Two days earlier Willys had received the King at the city gates, but he now rode out a couple of miles, with a large escort of horse, to meet the Prince. The accounts of the scene that followed are many, but all agree in the main points. Rupert walked straight into the presence of the King, and, without any apology or ceremony, abruptly informed him "that he was come to render an account of the loss of Bristol."[47] The King made no reply,—he probably did not know what to say,—and immediately went to supper. His nephews followed, and stood by him during the meal; but, though he asked a few questions of Maurice, he still would not speak to Rupert. After an embarrassing hour the King retired to his bed-chamber, and the Princes went to the house of Willys.
On the next morning Rupert was permitted to lay his defence before a court-martial, which acquitted him of any lack of "courage or fidelity," though not of indiscretion.[48] The verdict, though qualified, was in effect a triumph for Rupert, and completely vindicated his honour. As to the relief which the King fancied he had intended to send to Bristol, Sir Edward Walker, no friend to Rupert, admits that "it was a very plausible design on paper,... and I fear it would have been a longer time than we fancied to ourselves, before we made both ends to meet."[49] Here the matter should have ended, and had it done so, the whole affair would have been little to Rupert's discredit. Unfortunately his passionate temper now put him completely in the wrong.
The King had resolved to quit Newark, and, remembering Willys's frequent quarrels with the Commissioners of the County, and also his recent display of partisanship, he judged it unwise to leave him behind. For this reason he ordered him to change posts with Bellasys, who, since the death of Lord Bernard Stuart, had commanded the King's guards. This was promotion for Willys, but a very unwelcome promotion, for which he perfectly understood the King's motives. Moreover, Bellasys was Digby's friend, and the whole military party rose in protest against this new evidence of Digby's power. It was agreed that Willys should demand the grounds for his removal, and a trial by court-martial. The stormy scene which resulted has been rather confusedly described by Walker, Clarendon and others, but the best account is to be found in the diary of Symonds, though he unhappily repented of having written it, and tore a part of it out of his book.
The King had just returned from church, and sat down to dinner, when Rupert, Maurice, Gerard, Willys and some other officers entered the room. Rupert "came in discontentedly, with his hands at his sides, and approached very near the King." Charles thereupon ordered the dinner to be taken away, and, rising, walked to a corner of the room. Rupert, Gerard and Willys followed him. Willys spoke first, asking, respectfully enough, to be told the names of his accusers. Rupert broke in impatiently: "By God! This is done in malice to me, because Sir Richard hath always been my faithful friend!" Gerard then launched into a protest on his own account, and Rupert again interrupted, saying: "The cause of all this is Digby!"—"I am but a child! Digby can do what he will with me," retorted the King bitterly.—A long and violent altercation followed. Rupert referred to Bristol, and the King sighed, "O nephew!" and then stopped short. Whereupon Rupert cried, for the third time: "Digby is the man that hath caused all this distraction between us!" But the King could endure no more: "They are all rogues and rascals that say so!" he answered sharply, "and in effect traitors that seek to dishonour my best subjects!" There was no more to be said; Gerard bowed and went out. Rupert "showed no reverence, but went out proudly, his hands at his sides."[50]
That evening the Princes and their party sent in a petition to the effect that: "Many of us trusted in high commands in Your Majesty's service, have not only our commissions taken away without any cause or reason expressed, whereby our honours are blemished to the world, our fortunes ruined, and we rendered incapable of command from any foreign prince,—but many others, as we have cause to fear, are designed to suffer in like manner."[51] They repeated their demand for trials by court-martial, and desired that, if this were refused, they might have passes to go over seas. The King answered that he would not make a court-martial the judge of his actions, and sent the passes. Next morning about ten o'clock, the two princes and Lord Gerard came privately to the bed-chamber to take their leave. Gerard "expressed some sense of folly,"[52] but the Princes offered no apology, and, with about two hundred officers, they rode off to Belvoir, "the King looking out of a window, and weeping to see them go."[53]
As an instance of the way in which stories are exaggerated, Pepys's account of the affair, written some twenty years after, is instructive: "The great officers of the King's army mutinied and came, in that manner, with swords drawn, into the market-place of the town where the King was. Whereupon the King says, 'I must horse,' and there himself personally; when every one expected they should be opposed, the King came, and cried to the head of the mutineers, which was Prince Rupert,—'Nephew, I command you to be gone!' So the Prince, in all his fury and discontent, withdrew; and his company scattered."[54]
This was the climax of the long-continued strife between the military and civilian parties; the civilians had triumphed, and the princes now resolved to leave the country. In great indignation, a large number of officers prepared to follow them. "This is an excellent reward for Rupert and Maurice!" declared Gerard wrathfully.[55] Rupert himself wrote to Legge: "Dear Will, I hope Goodwin has told you what reasons I had to quit His Majesty's service. I have sent Osborne to London for a pass to go beyond seas; when I have an answer you shall know more. Pray tell Sir Charles Lucas that I would have written to him before this, and to George Lisle, but I was kept close here.... If I can but get permission, I shall hope to see you and the rest of my friends once more; and in particular to bid farewell to my Lord Portland. I forgot to tell you that Lord Digby is beaten back again to Shipton. Alas, poor man!"[56]
Osborne, whom Rupert had sent to London to obtain from the Parliament a pass and safe convoy to a sea-port, found his mission greatly facilitated by Digby's new defeat, and the consequent capture of his papers. It was characteristic of the Secretary, that, though his love-letters were carefully preserved in cipher, all those of political importance were written in plain language. Among these papers was found a copy of the King's answer to Rupert's advice to treat, and the Parliament was moved thereby in Rupert's favour. A pass was granted, but on condition of a promise given never again to bear arms against the Parliament. This promise the Princes would not give; and, as they could not possibly leave the country without the Parliament's good will, they fought their way back to Woodstock.
A few weeks later Charles returned to Oxford, and at once released Legge from his confinement. Rupert was still at Woodstock, and his faithful friend lost no time in attempting to mediate between him and the King. "My most dear Prince," he wrote, November 21st, "the liberty I have got is but of little contentment when divided from you..., I have not hitherto lost a day without moving His Majesty to recall you; and truly, this very day, he protested to me he would count it a great happiness to have you with him, so he received the satisfaction he is bound in honour to have. What that is you will receive from the Duke of Richmond. The King says, as he is your Uncle, he is in the nature of a parent to you, and swears that if Prince Charles had done as you did he would never see him again, without the same he desires from you.... you must thank the Duchess of Richmond, for she furnished a present to procure this messenger—I being not so happy as to have any money myself."[57] And four days later, he wrote again: "I am of opinion you should write to your Uncle—you ought to do it—; and if you offered your service to him yet, and submitted yourself to his disposing and advice, many of your friends think it could not be a dishonour, but rather the contrary, seeing he is a King, your Uncle, and, in effect, a parent to you."[58]
But Rupert sulked, like Achilles in his tent, and his other friends took up the protest. "This night I was with the King, who expresses great kindness to you, but beleevs y^r partinge was so much the contrary as Y^r Highnes cannot but think it finill," wrote an anonymous correspondent, "Now truly, Sir, His Majesty conceiving it soe, in my opinion, 'tis ffitt you should make sume hansume applycation, for this reason; because my Lord Duke and others here, are much your servants, and all that are so wish your return to courte, though it be but to part frindlye. But I think it necessary you should prepare the way first by letters to the Kinge. Sir, I have no designes in this but your service, and if you understand me rightlye, that will prevayle so far as you will consider what I saye before you resolve the contrarye. I knowe there be sum that are your enemies, but they are such as may barcke, but I am confident are not able to fight against you appeare. Therefore, Sir, I beseech you, do not contrybute to the satisfaction of your foes, and the ruyne of your friends, by neglecting anything in your power to make peace with fortune. If after all your attempts to be rightlye understood you shall fayle of that, yet you cannot waynt honor for the action. 'Tis your Uncle you shall submit to, and a King, not in the condition he meryt! What others may saye I knowe not, but really, soe may I speak my opinion as a person that valews you above all the world besydes. I am confident you know how faithfully my harte is to your Highness!"[59] Also from Lord Dorset came a pathetic appeal: "If my prayers can prevail, you shall not have the heart to leave us all in our saddest times. If my advice were worthy of following, surely you should not abandon your Uncle in the disastrous condition these evil storms have placed him in."[60]
These exhortations and entreaties at length prevailed; the Prince suffered his natural generosity to overcome his pride, and was induced to write the required apology: "I humbly acknowledge that great error, which I find your Majesty justly sensible of, which happened upon occasion at Newark."[61] Several letters passed, and Charles then sent his nephew, "by Colonel Legge, a paper to confess a fault." Rupert returned a blank sheet with his signature subscribed, to signify his perfect submission to his Uncle's will: "the King, with tears in his eyes, took that so well that all was at peace.... The Prince went to Oxford, and the King embraced him, and repented much the ill-usage of his nephew." To this account of the reconciliation, is appended the marginal note, "ask the Duchess of Richmond," but the information that she was able to supply was never filled in.[62]
Rupert was now restored to the favour and the counsels of his Uncle, but not to military command. The war was practically over, and though the King would have had his nephew raise a new life-guard, the Oxford Council quashed the design. Then Charles confided to Rupert his intention of taking refuge with the Scottish army. The Prince distrusted the Scots, and strongly combated the idea; but, finding that he could not move the King's resolution, he obtained from him a signed statement that he acted against his nephew's advice. For one mistake, at least, the Prince would not be held responsible. April 27th, 1646, the King left Oxford secretly, rejecting Rupert's companionship on the grounds that his "tallness" would betray him.[63]
Oxford was now almost the last town holding out; on the first of May, Fairfax sat down before it, and the end was not long in coming. A little skirmishing took place, but the Royalists had no real hope of success. On one occasion Rupert, Maurice and Gerard went out against the Scots, with "about twenty horse, in stockings and shoes." In mere bravado, they charged three troops of the enemy, and Maurice's page, Robert Holmes, of whom we shall hear more hereafter, was wounded. Rupert also was hurt, for the first time in the war; "a lieutenant of the enemy shot the Prince in the shoulder, and shook his hand, so that his pistol fell out of his hand; but it shot his enemy's horse."[64]
Rupert had previously demanded of the governor, Sir Thomas Glemham, whether he would defend the town, but Glemham replied that he must obey the Council, and Rupert therefore interfered no more in the matter. On May 18th a treaty was opened with Fairfax, but broken off on a disagreement about terms. But by June 1st, all the water had been drawn off from the city, and surrender was inevitable. The treaty was renewed, and Rupert prudently came to the Council to demand a particular clause for the safety of himself and his brother. This occasioned a quarrel with Lord Southampton, who retorted that "the Prince was in good company," and was understood by Rupert to imply disrespect to his person. He sent Gerard to expostulate with Southampton, who offered no apology, but, saying that his words had been unfaithfully reported, repeated them accurately. Rupert was not satisfied, and sent Gerard again, with a message that he expected to meet Southampton "with his sword in his hand," and at as early a date as possible, lest the duel should be prevented. The Earl cheerfully appointed the next morning, and selected pistols as his weapons, acknowledging that he was no match for the Prince with the sword. But fortunately the suspicion of the Council had been roused; the gates were shut, the would-be combatants arrested, and a reconciliation effected. "And the Prince ever after had a good respect for the Earl."[65] There was no surer way of winning Rupert's esteem than by accepting a challenge from him.
After this episode, the special clause by which the Princes were to have the benefit of all the other articles, and free leave to quit the country, was inserted in the treaty, and accepted by Fairfax. Indeed the Parliament showed the Princes a greater leniency than might have been expected. They were permitted to take with them all their servants, and to remain in England for six months longer, provided they did not approach within twenty miles of London. But on their quitting Oxford, June 22nd, Fairfax gave them leave on his own authority to go to Oatlands, which was within the proscribed distance of the capital. The reason for their move thither, was their desire to see the Elector, who was then in London; but it greatly excited the wrath of the Parliament. Notwithstanding the express permission of Fairfax, it was declared that the Princes had broken the articles, and they were ordered to leave the country immediately, on pain of being treated as prisoners. In a letter curiously signed "Rupert and Maurice," they answered, meekly enough, that they had acted in all good faith, believing the general's pass sufficient, and that in coming to Oatlands they had regarded the convenience of the house more than the distance from London, "of which we had no doubt at all."[66]
But the Parliament refused to be pacified, and insisted that the Princes must depart within ten days. A long correspondence ensued, relating chiefly to passes for various servants, "whom we would not willingly leave behind." The list forwarded to the Parliament by Rupert, included a chaplain, some seven or eight gentlemen, footmen, grooms, a tailor, a gunsmith, a farrier, a secretary, "my brother's secretary's brother," and "a laundress and her maid."[67] On July 4th the brothers reached Dover, whence Rupert took ship for Calais, and Maurice for the Hague. Rupert's "family," as his train was called, followed more slowly, and rejoined him on July 23rd, at St. Germains. "Blessed be God, for his and our deliverance from the Parliament,"[68] piously concludes the journal of his secretary.
So ended Rupert's part in the Civil War; a part played, on the whole, creditably, and yet not without serious faults both of temper and judgment. In the earlier days of the war, while possessed of the King's confidence, the Prince had been almost uniformly successful. Later, when he had to struggle against plots and counter-plots, a vacillating King, false friends, and open enemies, he failed. That Digby had laid a deliberate scheme for his overthrow is evident; yet he had made Digby his enemy by his own faults of temper, and his own indiscretions had placed the necessary weapons in the Secretary's hands. That he was unjustly treated with regard to Bristol there can be no doubt, but he ruined his own cause by his hopeless loss of temper. Nothing could justify the mutinous scene at Newark, and Rupert afterwards confessed himself ashamed of it. That the King's affairs would have prospered better had Digby's influence been less and Rupert's more, seems probable. Faults and limitations, Rupert had, but he understood war as Digby did not. His fidelity was irreproachable, and could never have been seriously doubted. But he knew when the cause was lost, though the sanguine secretary failed to perceive it, and his advice to make peace was reasonable enough. It was unfortunate that the position was such as made that reasonable advice impossible to follow.
[1] Warburton. III. p. 133. Maurice to Rupert, July 7, 1645.
[2] Warburton. III. p. 149. Rupert to Richmond, July 28, 1645.
[3] Ibid. p. 151. Rupert to Legge, July 28, 1645.
[4] Add. MSS. Richmond to Rupert, Aug. 3, 1645.
[5] Rushworth, VI. 132. King to Rupert, Aug. 3.
[6] Warburton, III. 73. Rupert to Legge, Mar. 31, 1645.
[7] Carte's Ormonde, VI. 303. Digby to Ormonde, June 26, 1645
[8] Warburton, III. p. 145.
[9] Ibid. p. 156. Rupert to Legge, July 29, 1645.
[10] A Narrative of the Siege of Bristol. Warburton, III. pp. 166-180.
[11] Warburton, III. pp. 172-174.
[12] Narrative of Siege of Bristol. Warburton, III. pp. 168-169.
[13] Ibid. p. 178.
[14] Narrative of Siege of Bristol. Warburton, III. p. 180.
[15] Narrative of Siege of Bristol. Warburton, III. p. 181.
[16] Pamphlet, Sept. 10, 1645. Warburton, p. 183.
[17] Ibid.
[18] Nicholas Papers, I. p. 65. Camden Society. New Series. Butler to Waller, Sept. 15, 1645.
[19] Carte's Original Letters, I. p. 134.
[20] Domestic State Papers. Honeywood, Oct. 7-13, 1645.
[21] Warburton, II. p. 185.
[22] Domestic State Papers. Nicholas to King, Sept. 18, 1645.
[23] Ibid. Rupert to King, Sept 18, 1645.
[24] Dom. State Papers. Nicholas to King, Sept. 18, 1645.
[25] Ibid. Digby to Nicholas, Sept. 26, 1645.
[26] Clarendon, Bk. IX. 91.
[27] Walker, p. 142.
[28] Clarendon, Bk. IX. 121. Walker, 142.
[29] Warburton, III. p. 183.
[30] Ibid. p. 188. King to Maurice, Sept 20, 1645.
[31] Pamphlet. Brit. Mus. "Prince Rupert: his Declaration", March 9, 1649.
[32] Pamphlet. Brit. Mus. "A Looking-glass wherein His Majesty may see his Nephew's Love."
[33] Carte's Ormonde, VI. 167, 18 July, 1644.
[34] The names are so printed in the Calendar of State Papers. But in the original MS. they are so blotted that only "Rupert" and "Legge" are really distinct. Professor Gardiner adds Culpepper.
[35] State Papers. Digby to Jermyn, Aug. 27, 1645.
[36] State Papers. Anon. to Walsingham, Aug. 8, 1645.
[37] Dom. State Papers. Walsingham to Digby, Aug. 12, 1645.
[38] Ibid. Aug. 16, 1645.
[39] Dom. State Papers. A to Walsingham, Sept. 14, 1645.
[40] Ibid. Walsingham to Digby, Sept. 14, 1645.
[41] Dom. State Papers, Sept. 16, 1645.
[42] Ibid. Sept. 16, 1645.
[43] Ibid. Oct. 11, 1645.
[44] Warburton, III. p. 194.
[45] Ibid. pp. 194-5.
[46] Add. MSS. 31022. King to Rupert, Oct. 15, 1645.
[47] Walker, pp. 136-137.
[48] Warburton, III. 201-203.
[49] Walker, 137.
[50] Symonds Diary. Camden Society, 268-270, also Walker, 145-148.
[51] Evelyn's Diary, ed. 1852. IV. 165-166.
[52] Walker, p. 148.
[53] Pamphlet. Merc. Brit. Warburton, III. 206, note.
[54] Pepys Diary, 4 Feb. 1665.
[55] State Papers. Gerard to Skipworth, Nov. 2, 1645.
[56] Dom. State Papers. Anon. to Legge, Nov. 3, 1645.
[57] Warburton, III. p. 211. Legge to Rupert, Nov. 21, 1645.
[58] Ibid. p. 212. Legge to Rupert, Nov. 25, 1645.
[59] Pythouse Papers, p. 27.
[60] Warburton, III. 213. Dorset to Rupert, Dec. 25, 1645.
[61] Ibid., p. 222. Rupert to King. No date.
[62] Warburton, III. p. 195-196.
[63] Ibid. p. 196.
[64] Warburton, III. p. 197.
[65] Clarendon's Life, ed. 1827, vol. III. p. 235.
[66] Cary's Memorials of Civil War, ed. 1842, vol. I. pp. 114-115.
[67] Warburton, III. pp. 234-235, note. Cary, I. 121-122.
[68] Prince Rupert's Journal. Clar. State Papers.
CHAPTER XI
THE ELECTOR'S ALLIANCE WITH THE PARLIAMENT.
EDWARD'S MARRIAGE. ASSASSINATION OF
D'EPINAY BY PHILIP
Before their departure from England, Rupert and Maurice had received a visit from their brother, the Elector. The Thirty Years' War was drawing to a close, and the Peace of Munster which was to restore Charles Louis to the Palatinate, was already under consideration. But the Elector could not make terms with the Emperor without the consent of his brothers, and therefore June 30th, 1646, he wrote to the Parliament:
"Having received information from Munster and Osnaburgh, that in whatsoever shall be agreed at the general treaty concerning my interests, the consent of all my brothers will be required, I am desirous to confer with my brothers Rupert and Maurice, afore their departure out of this kingdom, about this, and other domestic affairs which do concern us. Whereby I do not at all intend to retard my said brothers' journey; but shall endeavour to efface any such impressions as the enemies of these kingdoms, and of our family beyond seas, (making use of their present distresses,) may fix upon them, to their own and our family prejudice."[1] The desired interview was permitted by the Parliament, and on July 1st the Elector met his brothers at Guildford. What reception he had we do not know, but it cannot, in the nature of things, have been very cordial.
With all their faults, which were many, Rupert and Maurice were incapable of the meanness to which Charles Louis had descended, and for which he did not conceal the mercenary motive. During the King's prosperity he had lived much in England; and from the King he had received nothing but kindness and affection, though the Queen apparently gave him cause of complaint. In 1642 he had accompanied the King to York, but, finding war inevitable, he had quitted the Court at a moment's notice, and returned to Holland, just when Rupert and Maurice were hastening to their uncle's assistance. The Parliament "expressed a good sense" of this desertion, pretending to believe that Charles Louis had discovered secret designs of the King to which he could not reconcile his conscience.[2] And for some time the Elector watched events from a distance, taking care to detach himself from all connection with his brothers by declarations, and messages to the Parliament.
By 1644, it appeared to him that the Parliament was likely to have the better in arms, as it certainly had in money, and in the August of that year he suddenly arrived in London. In a very long, and very pious document he stated his reasons for his conduct. The Puritans, as "the children of truth and innocency who are not changed with the smiles or frowns of this inconstant world," were, he declared, his "best friends, and, under God, greatest confidants," and he wound up with a direct attack on Rupert. "Neither can His Highness forbear, with unspeakable grief, to observe that the public actions of some of the nearest of his blood have been such as have admitted too much cause of sorrow and jealousy, even from such persons, upon whose affections, in respect of their love and zeal to the reformed religion, His Highness doth set the greatest price. But, as His Highness is not able to regulate what is out of his power, so is he confident that the justice of the Parliament, and of all honest men, will not impute to him such actions as are his afflictions, and not his faults."[3]
Princes were scarce with the Puritans, and Charles Louis was well received, lodged in Whitehall, and granted a large pension.[4] In recognition of this he took the Covenant, and begged leave to sit in the Assembly of Divines, then debating on religious "reforms". His request was readily granted, and it is to be hoped that he suffered some weariness from the long-winded debates to which he thus condemned himself.
The King regarded his conduct with quiet indifference, only remarking that he was sorry, for his nephew's sake, that he thought fit to act in such a manner. It has been suggested that he willingly connived at this hypocrisy as the only means by which the Elector could obtain money, but Charles Louis' own letters to his mother disprove that view. In 1647, when the King was a prisoner, he often received the visits of his eldest nephew, and the Elector thus described their mutual attitude to Elizabeth: "His Majesty, upon occasion, doth still blame the way I have been in all this time, and I do defend it as the only shelter I have, when my public business, and my person, have received so many neglects at Court. Madame, I would not have renewed the sore of his ill-usage of me since the Queen hath had power with him, but that he urged me to it, saying that I should rather have lived on bread and water, than have complied with the Parliament, which he said I did 'only to have one chicken more in my dish'; and that he would have thought it a design more worthy of his nephew if I had gone about to have taken the crown from his head. These and such-like expressions would have moved a saint. Neither do I know of anyone, but Our Saviour, that would have ruined himself for those that hate one."[5]
The King seems to have entertained no suspicions of actual treachery on the part of his nephew, but it is by no means unlikely that Charles Louis really did cherish some vague design of "taking the crown from his head". If the King were deposed, and his children rejected as the children of a Roman Catholic Queen, then the Elector, after his mother, was the Protestant heir to the throne. Probably the aspersions cast upon Rupert would have better fitted his elder brother, and the French Ambassador did not hesitate to assert plainly in 1644: "Some entertain a design for conveying the crown to the Prince Palatine".[6] But, whatever his degree of guilt, the political conduct of Charles Louis could be regarded only with contempt by Rupert and Maurice, though concerning their "domestic affairs" they seem to have been of one mind with him.
During the years of turmoil in England the Palatines on the Continent had not been inactive. Edward and Philip, clinging together as did Rupert and Maurice, had resided chiefly in Paris, where they seem to have led a very gay life, if Sir Kenelm Digby is to be credited. "All my conversation is in the other world, and with what passes in the Elysian fields," wrote that romantic personage to Lord Conway; "gaieties of Paris, gallantries of Prince Edward, his late duel with Sir James Leviston, who extremely forgot his duty. In a word, it was impossible for a young man, and a noble prince, to do more bravely than His Highness did."[7]
A month later, Edward, inspired probably by Queen Henrietta, wrote to Rupert to suggest that he also should come over to fight for his uncle's cause. "I have a letter from my brother in France who desires my order to come to me; if it be His Majesty's desire I should send word presently," Rupert wrote to Legge in April 1645; and he added a postscript curiously indicative of the haste and want of thought with which he must have written. "Since I wrote I remember the King was contented, and therefore I will send an express for my brother."[8]
The express was sent: "This day arrived a gentleman from Prince Rupert to fetch his brother Edward into England," wrote Jermyn to Digby.[9] But ere the messenger could arrive Edward had eloped with a fair heiress, for whose sake he joined the Roman Church. Jermyn hastened to inform Rupert of the event. "Your Highness is to know a romance story which concerns you here in the person of Prince Edward, who is last week married privately to the Princess Anne, the Duke of Nevers' daughter. This Queen,[10] the thing being done without her consent, hath been very much offended at it, and, notwithstanding all the endeavours of your brother's friends, he hath received an order to retire himself into Holland, which he hath done,... But there will come no further disadvantage to him than a little separation from his wife. She is very rich, £6,000 or £7,000 a year is the least that can fall to her, maybe more; and she is a very beautiful young lady."[11]
Edward's bride, Anne de Gonzague, was in fact a very distinguished personage,—famous already for her startling adventures, and destined to become more famous as a political intrigante.[12] The displeasure of the Queen Regent was speedily softened by the intercession of Queen Henrietta, and still more by Edward's conversion, which went far to palliate his fault. On his own family it had precisely the opposite effect. His mother was furious; and the Elector, moved by fear of the English Parliament's disapproval, wrote indignantly that Edward could not be really "persuaded of those fopperies to which he pretends."[13] He also ordered Philip to quit Paris, where "only atheists and hypocrites" were to be found, and he exhorted his mother to remove a Roman Catholic gentleman from attendance on the boy, and to lay her curse upon him should he ever change his religion.[14]
Philip had no sooner returned to the Hague than he distinguished himself in a way which won him the affectionate admiration of all his brothers, and the lasting displeasure of his mother. Elizabeth's favourite admirer, at that period, happened to be the Marquis d'Epinay, a French refugee, remarkable for his fascinating manners and disreputable character. The young Palatines detested him, but the man, notwithstanding, became intimate at the Court, and was soon acquainted with the Queen's most private affairs. The intimacy produced scandal without, and dissension within the household. D'Epinay boasted of his conquest, and Philip, a boy of eighteen, could not endure his insolence.
On the evening of June 20, 1646, D'Epinay, and several of his countrymen encountered Philip alone. They greeted him by name, insulting both him and his mother, but eventually fled before the fierce onslaught of the youngest Palatine. The affair could not end thus. On the following morning, as he drove through the Place d'Armes, Philip caught sight of his enemy. Without a moment's thought he sprang from his curricle, and rushed upon D'Epinay. D'Epinay was armed, and received Philip on the point of his sword, wounding him in the side. Philip had no sword, but he was a Palatine, and he plunged his hunting-knife deep into the Frenchman's heart. D'Epinay fell dead, and Philip, flinging his knife from him, regained his curricle and drove off to the Spanish border.[15]
Then arose a mighty storm. The Queen, passionately bewailing her misfortune in having such a son, vowed that she would never look on Philip's face again. But Philip's brothers and sisters rose up in his defence. The Princess Elizabeth boldly averred that "Philip needed no apology,"[16] and, finding her position in her mother's house untenable, retreated to her Aunt at Brandenburg. And both Rupert and the Elector warmly espoused Philip's cause. "Permit me, madame," wrote Charles Louis, "to solicit your pardon for my brother Philip,—a pardon I would sooner have asked, had it ever entered my mind that he could possibly need any intercession to obtain it. The consideration of his youth, of the affront he received, and of the shame which would, all his life, have attached to him had he not revenged it, should suffice."[17] Rupert wrote, in the same strain, from Oatlands, and his letter was accompanied by a second from the Elector, in which he declared that the very asking pardon for Philip would "more justly deserve forgiving than my brother's action."[18] The Queen ultimately accorded a nominal pardon to the unfortunate Philip, for in July 1648, he was again at the Hague, under the protection of Rupert and Maurice, whom he accompanied to a dinner at which Mary, Princess of Orange, entertained her two brothers and three cousins.[19]
He had, in the meantime entered the Venetian service, rather to the annoyance of the Elector, who wrote: "I could wish my brother Rupert or Maurice would undertake the Venetian business, my brother Philip being very young for such a task."[20] But neither of the other two brothers had any intention of deserting the Stuart cause, and the Elector obtained leave from the Parliament for Philip to raise a thousand men in England. For this purpose, Philip visited his eldest brother in London, but stayed only a few weeks.[21] Returning to Holland, he completed his levies in the states, with some assistance from Maurice;[22] and in the autumn of 1648 he departed to Italy, whence he wrote to Rupert that the Venetians were "unworthy pantaloons."[23]
Rupert was, meanwhile, watching over the Stuarts in France, and Maurice remained quietly at the Hague with his mother and sisters. We find him with no more exciting occupation than the paying of visits of compliment on behalf of his mother; or walking meekly behind her and his sisters, when they met distinguished visitors in the garden of the Prince of Orange. Perhaps his health had suffered from his two severe illnesses in England, and he needed the long rest. But, whatever the reason, at the Hague he stayed, until May 1648, when he was summoned by Rupert to join the Royalist fleet.
[1] Cary's Memorials. Vol. I. p. 120.
[2] Clarendon. Hist. Bk. VII. p. 414
[3] Rupert Transcripts. Declaration of the Prince Elector.
[4] Whitelocke, 85, 101.
[5] Forster's Eminent Statesmen. 1847. Vol. VI. pp. 80-81
[6] Von Raumer's History of England in 17th Century. III. p. 330.
[7] Cal. Dom. State Papers, 13/23 Feb. 1645. Chas. I. DVI. f. 43.
[8] Warburton, III. p. 75.
[9] Cal. Dom. State Papers. Jermyn to Digby, 12 May, 1645.
[10] Anne of Austria, Queen Regent of France.
[11] Warburton, III. p. 82. 5 May, 1645.
[12] Memoirs of Anne de Gonzague. Ed. Sénac de Meilhan. Memoirs of Cardinal De Retz, and of Mademoiselle de Montpensier.
[13] Bromley Letters, p. 127, 28 Nov. 1645.
[14] Bromley, pp. 129-131.
[15] Soeltl's Elizabeth Stuart, 1840. Bk. IV. Chap. 7, pp. 402-403.
[16] Strickland's Elizabeth Stuart, p. 209.
[17] Ibid.
[18] Bromley Letters, p. 134.
[19] Queen's Princesses, VI. p. 149.
[20] Bromley Letters, p. 136. Elector to Elizabeth, Jan. 9, 1646-7.
[21] Whitelocke, p. 306.
[22] State Papers, 20 April, 1647.
[23] Rupert Transcripts, Sept. 30, 1648.
CHAPTER XII
COMMAND IN THE FRENCH ARMY. COURTSHIP OF MADEMOISELLE.
DUELS WITH DIGBY AND PERCY
Sometime before the end of the war the Queen of England had fled to France, and had set up her court at that home of Royal exiles,—St. Germains! There she had been joined by her son, the Prince of Wales, and by many English Cavaliers; and thither went Rupert in July 1646. "If thou see Prince Rupert," wrote King Charles anxiously to his wife, "tell him that I have recommend him unto thee. For, albeit his passions may sometimes make him mistake, yet I am confident of his honest constancy and courage, having at the last behaved himself very well."[1] Henrietta, convinced by her husband's words, or forgetful of the reproaches she had so recently heaped upon her nephew, received Rupert graciously, and to the Prince of Wales he was of course very welcome.
Nor was his reception at the French court less cordial. The Queen Regent, impressed by his romantic history and famous courage, showered marks of her favour upon him; and Mazarin, the true ruler of France, at once offered him a command in the French army, "upon whatever conditions of preferment or advantage he could desire."[2] Rupert hesitated to accept the flattering offer, without his Uncle's sanction. "Prince Rupert had several assurances by the mouth of the Duke of Orleans, Cardinal Mazarin and others, of the charge of the foreign forces mentioned in my last," says a letter in the Portland MSS., "but I am informed he defers to accept the commission of it, until he hears his Uncle, the King of Great Britain, doth approve it; which deference is well taken here."[3]
Apparently Charles expressed approval of the arrangement, for Rupert finally entered the French service, reserving to himself the right of quitting it whenever his Uncle should need him. He was immediately given the rank of Field-Marshal, with a regiment of foot, a troop of horse, and a commission to command all the English in France. The Cavaliers, exiled and destitute, eagerly embraced the opportunity of serving under their Prince, and Rupert had no difficulty in raising a large corps, more especially as the conditions of service were exceptionally good. Among those who applied for a commission was the ever plausible Goring, but he found himself promptly refused, and thereupon took service under Spain.
The summer of 1647 found Rupert fighting his old enemies the Spaniards, in Northern France, and on the borders of Flanders. The campaign was a desultory one, in which little was effected, owing partly to the jealousies of the French officers, who were little more in concord than those of the English army had been. The two Marshals, Rantzau and Gassion, detested each other, and Gassion, at least, was exceedingly jealous of Rupert's reputation. His conduct throughout the campaign was, if not treacherous, extremely eccentric and he seems to have deserved the name of "that madman" bestowed on him by Rantzau.
They marched first to the relief of Armentières, and, on their arrival near the town, Gassion invited Rupert to come and "view the enemy" accordingly they set out alone, and advanced some way down the river, concealing themselves behind the sheltering hedges. Then Gassion, directing the Prince to stay behind until he called him, proceeded alone to a little house on the river bank. In the meantime some Spanish soldiers came down in a boat, and landed by the house. Rupert saw them clearly, but dared not warn his comrade lest they should hear him sooner than could Gassion. Luckily the French Marshal was equal to the emergency. He was wearing a Spanish coat, and when he came face to face with the Spanish soldiers, he had the presence of mind to address them in their own language, and as though he were one of their officers. This so surprised them that they stood still, staring; and Gassion, with more prudence than dignity, took to his heels. In spite of the enemy's fire, he regained the hedge, and Rupert, coming to meet him, pulled him over the ditch. "Mort Dieu!" gasped the Marshal. "Ça m'arrive toujours!" To which Rupert retorted in the dry manner which he seems to have usually assumed towards Gassion, "Je n'en doute point, si vous faites souvent comme ça." Both got safely away, but the battle intended to relieve Armentières never took place.[4] The Spaniards numbered three times as many as the French: and when Gassion began to draw out his troops next day, Rantzau flew to exhort Rupert to stop such madness. The Prince thereupon urged Gassion to give up the idea of battle; the army was withdrawn to Arras, and Armentières fell to the Spaniards.
On the retreat to Arras, Rupert was attacked by Piccolomini, in great force. Again and again Rupert repulsed his charge, retreating slowly all the time. Gassion, actuated by jealousy, sent an order to the Prince to remain where he was; but Rupert, retorting fiercely that it was the other Marshal's day of command, continued his retreat. After that he despatched a formal complaint of Gassion's conduct to the Queen Regent, who rebuked Gassion with the curious question—"Was he a general or a Croat?"[5]
The Spaniards marched next to La Bassée, and Gassion there invited Rupert to take another survey of their forces, asking, "Are you well mounted, Sir? Shall we go see the army?" Rupert assented, and they started—not this time alone, but with three or four others in their company. They had not gone far when they fell into an ambush of foot soldiers, and perceived that a troop of Spanish horse was following to cut off their retreat. Seeing this, they wheeled round, and two of Rupert's gentlemen, Mortaigne and Robert Holmes, beat back a troop of Spaniards who were crossing the rivulet between them and the French. Both were hurt, Mortaigne in the hand and Holmes in the leg. Mortaigne retired, but Holmes lay upon the ground, exposed to the sweeping fire of the enemy. Rupert was retreating with the French, but, seeing Holmes in this predicament, he turned and went calmly back through the Spanish fire, with Mortaigne following him. With great danger and difficulty he lifted Holmes on to his own horse, and brought him safely off, "not a man of the French volunteers coming to his assistance.[6]
In this inglorious campaign there seems to have been little save retreats to record. An attempt to relieve Landrécies failed as that at Armentières had done, chiefly through the mistake, or treachery of a guide. Rupert was told off to secure the retreat with three German regiments and one of Croats. Continually skirmishing with the Spanish horse, he had got through the first pass, when Gassion returned to him, in great distress, saying that the cannon was stuck fast in the mud, and would have to be abandoned. Rupert replied that, if he might have the Picardy guards and a regiment of Swiss, he would not only make good the retreat, but would also bring off the cannon. Gassion willingly sent back the required troops, and Rupert made good his promise, without losing a single man. This done, "he thought to have lain down and refreshed himself," but an order came to march on to La Bassée, and he at once set out with the horse, leaving the foot to follow. At La Bassée he won the only success that fell to the French in the campaign. Reaching the town that night, he found that a relief of some four hundred men, under Goring, had just been despatched thither by the Spaniards; the opportunity was more than welcome. All Goring's men were captured by Rupert's guards, and most of them, being English, transferred their services to the Prince.[7] That same night Rupert began his line round the town, and in less than three weeks it was his.
Gassion was furiously jealous. During the whole course of the siege, he had refused to lend any aid whatever, and when the town was taken in spite of him, his jealousy led him to play the Prince a very treacherous trick. He invited him one morning to "take the air," and Rupert, for the third time, agreed to accompany him. They went out attended by a guard of eighty horse; but a peasant warned the Spaniards of their whereabouts, and an ambush was laid to intercept their return. As they came back, Rupert noticed a dog sitting with its back towards him, and staring into the wood. The circumstance roused his suspicions; he took off his cloak, threw it to his page, and pressing after Gassion who was some yards ahead, cried: "Have a care, sir! There is a party in that wood!" As he spoke the hidden enemy fired a smart volley. Setting spurs to their horses, the French party broke through it, losing only Rupert's page, who was taken, but courteously released next day. No sooner were they through the fire than Gassion faced about, saying: "Il faut rompre le col a ces coquins-là.—Pied à terre!" He took his foot from his stirrup; and Rupert, naturally understanding that they were to attack the ambush, dismounted. A few officers followed his example, and thereupon Gassion marched off with their horses, leaving them to face the difficulty as best they could. A sharp skirmish followed, in which Rupert received a shot in the head, but he contrived to retreat after Gassion, who was calmly waiting at some distance. The French General then expressed polite regret for the accident: "Monsieur," he said, "je suis bien fâché que vous êtes blessé!" To which Rupert replied, with crushing brevity: "Et moi aussi!"[8]
This little skirmish ended an uneventful campaign, and Rupert returned to St. Germains, "where he passed his next winter with as much satisfaction as the tenderness he felt for his royal uncle's affairs would permit."[9] King Charles was then a prisoner at Hampton Court, whence he wrote a very affectionate letter to his nephew, sympathising with him for his recent wound, and assuring him that, "next my children, I say next, I shall have most care of you, and shall take the first opportunity either to employ you, or to have your company."[10]
Rupert was in the meanwhile, exerting himself in the service of the Prince of Wales. It was the ambition of Henrietta to unite her eldest son to her niece, the daughter of the Duke of Orleans, known as La Grande Mademoiselle. This lady, as heiress of the Montpensiers, had inherited an enormous fortune, which Henrietta desired to acquire for her son's benefit. But young Charles did not care for his pompous cousin, and, in order to avoid the trouble of love-making, declared that he could not speak French. Though Rupert himself had obstinately declined to mend his fortunes by marriage, he seems to have been very anxious to overcome his cousin's contumacy. He became his interpreter, in which rôle he was obliged not merely to translate, but to invent pretty speeches for the refractory Charles. The task was a difficult one, for Mademoiselle was not stupid, and observed that when her supposed lover wished to discuss dogs and horses with the young King of France he could speak French well enough.[11] Moreover, neither Rupert nor Henrietta could make Prince Charles dance with his cousin if he did not choose to do so. Mademoiselle pointed out his neglect of her to Rupert, "who," says she, "immediately made me all the excuses imaginable."[12] But neither Rupert's excuses, nor Henrietta's protestations could bring the affair to the desired conclusion.