CHAPTER V
ARRIVAL IN ENGLAND. POSITION IN THE ARMY.
CAUSES OF FAILURE
During his last brief visit to England Rupert had promised to serve his uncle whensoever he should have need of him; and in August 1642, he received, through Queen Henrietta, his Commission, as General of the Horse. Immediately upon this he set out to join the King in England. He embarked in the "Lyon," the ship which had brought the Queen to Holland; but, after the Prince had come on board, the Commander, who was of Puritan sympathies, received a warning against bringing him over. Captain Fox's anxiety to get rid of his passenger was favoured by the weather. A storm blew them back to the Texel, and there Fox persuaded the Prince to go ashore, promising to meet him at Goree so soon as the wind should serve. Rupert thereupon returned to the Hague, and Fox, after quietly setting the Prince's people and luggage on shore, sailed away, and was no more seen in Holland.
Enraged and disappointed, Rupert appealed to the Stadtholder, who lent him another ship, commanded by Captain Colster. This time Maurice insisted on accompanying his brother, and the two Princes, having provided themselves with an engineer, a "fire worker," and a large store of arms, muskets, and powder, set sail for Scarborough. Near Flamborough Head they were spied by some Parliamentary cruisers, and a ship called the "London" came out to hail them. Colster hoisted the Dunkirk colours, but the other Captain, still unsatisfied, desired to search the small vessel in which the arms were stored. Rupert, who had been extremely, and even dangerously, ill throughout the voyage, struggled on deck "in a mariner's cap" and ordered out the guns, saying he would not be searched. On this the "London" shot to leeward, and two other ships came out to her aid. But Rupert succeeded in running into Tynemouth, and, anchoring outside the bar, landed by means of boats. His little vessel also escaped, and landed her stores safely at Scarborough in the night.[[1]]
When they reached Tynemouth it was already late, but Rupert's eagerness would brook no delay. "The zeale he had speedily to serve His Majesty made him think diligence itself were lazy."[[2]] Accompanied by Maurice, an Irish officer, Daniel O'Neil, and several others, he started at once for Nottingham. But the stars, in their courses, fought against him. As ill luck would have it, Rupert's horse slipped and fell, pitching him on to his shoulder. The shoulder was discovered to be out of joint, but, "by a great providence," it happened that a bone-setter lived only half a mile away. This man, being sent for in haste, set Rupert's shoulder in the road, and, "in conscience, took but one-half of what the Prince offered him for his pains." Within three hours the indefatigable Rupert insisted on continuing his journey.
Arrived at Nottingham, he retired to bed, but he was not destined long to enjoy his well-earned rest. A curious dilemma now brought him into contact with the two men who were to prove, respectively, his warmest friend and his bitterest foe, in the Royal Army,—namely, Captain Will Legge, and George, Lord Digby. The King, who was at Coventry, had sent to Digby, demanding a petard. Odd though it may appear, a petard was to Digby a thing unknown—"a word which he could not understand." He therefore sought out the weary Prince to demand an explanation. Rupert, at once, got out of bed to search the arsenal; but no such thing as a petard was to be found. Then, Captain Legge, coming to the rescue, contrived to make one out of two mortars, and sent it off to the King.[[3]] Rupert, following the petard, found his uncle at Leicester Abbey, and there formally took over charge of the cavalry, which then consisted of only eight hundred horse. On the next day, August 22nd, they all returned to Nottingham, where the solemn setting up of the Royal Standard took place.
War was now irrevocably declared, and Rupert found his generalship no sinecure. The King, in these early days, relied implicitly on his nephew's advice, and, though Commander of the Cavalry only in name, Rupert had in reality the whole conduct of the war upon his hands. The real Commander-in-Chief was old Lord Lindsey, but Rupert's position was one of complete independence. He was, indeed, instructed to consult the Council of War, but was also directed "to advise privately, as you shall think fit, and to govern your resolution accordingly."[[4]] Further, he requested that he might receive his orders only from the King himself. And this request King Charles unwisely conceded, thus freeing Rupert from all control of the Commander-in-Chief, dividing the army into two independent parties, and establishing a fruitful source of discord between the cavalry and infantry.
Yet Rupert was in many respects well-fitted for his post. Distinguished by his dauntless courage and resolute nature, he was possessed also of a knowledge of war such as was not to be learnt in England. He was really the only professional soldier of high rank in the army, and he proved himself both a clever strategist, and a good leader of cavalry, though he did unfortunately lack the patience and discretion necessary to the making of a successful general. "That brave Prince and hopeful soldier, Rupert," wrote the gallant Sir Philip Warwick, "though a young man, had in martial affairs some experience, and a good skill, and was of such intrepid courage and activity, that,—clean contrary to former practice, when the King had great armies, but no commanders forward to fight,—[[5]] he ranged and disciplined that small body of men;—of so great virtue is the personal courage and example of one great commander. And indeed to do him right, he put that spirit into the King's army that all men seemed resolved, and had he been as cautious as he was a forward fighter, he had, most probably, been a very fortunate one. He showed a great and exemplary temperance, which fitted him to undergo the fatigues of a war, so as he deserved the character of a soldier. Il était toujours soldat! For he was never negligent by indulgence to his pleasures, or apt to lose his advantages."[[6]]
In truth Rupert's cheerfulness and brilliant courage inspired confidence in his own troops, and terror in those of the enemy. "There was no more consternation in the King's troops now. Every one grew assured. The most timorous was afraid to show fear under such a general, whose courage was increased by the esteem we had of him."[[7]] And throughout the war Rupert was the very life of the Royalist army; "adored by the hot-blooded young officers, as by the sturdy troopers, who cried, when they entered a fallen city: 'D—— us! The town is Prince Rupert's!'"[[8]]
The very first skirmish of the war established his reputation. The terrified Puritans spread abroad reports of the "incredible and unresistible courage of Prince Rupert,"[[9]] which grew and multiplied as the war proceeded, until Rupert, "exalted with the terror his name gave to the enemy,"[[10]] would not believe that any troops could withstand his charge. "The enemy is possest with so strange and senseless a feare as they will not believe any place tenable to which Your Highness will march,"[[11]] reported his officers. Nor was it wonderful that the Puritans deemed him something more than human. Conspicuous always by his dress and unusual height, ever foremost in the charge, utterly "prodigal of his person," he bore a charmed life. Twice pistols were fired in his face, without doing him the slightest harm. Once his horse was killed under him, but "he marched off on foot leisurely, without so much as mending his pace."[[12]] While guarding the retreat from Brentford he stood alone for hours, exposed to a heavy fire, and yet came off unscathed. "Nephew, I must conjure you not to hazard yourself so nedlessely,"[[13]] wrote his anxious uncle; but the King's anxiety was uncalled for, Rupert remained uninjured till the end of the war, though Maurice was wounded in almost every action in which he engaged.
The Austrians at Vlotho had called Rupert "shot free", and so he seemed now to Puritan and Cavalier.
"Sir, you're enchanted! Sir, you're doubly free
"From the great guns, and squibbing poetry,"[[14]]
declared a Royalist poet.
Rupert, moreover, seemed to be in all places at once. "This prince, like a perpetual motion.... was in a short time, heard of in many places at great distances,"[[15]] says the Parliamentary historian, May. And again: "The two young princes, and especially Prince Rupert, the elder brother, and most furious of the two, within a fortnight after his arrival commanded a small party.... Through divers parts of Warwickshire, Nottinghamshire, Leicestershire, Worcester and Cheshire did this young prince fly with those troops he had."[[16]] Nowhere did the adherents of the Parliament feel safe from his attack, and the magical rapidity of his movements enhanced the terror inspired by his prowess. Wrote his admirer, Cleveland:
"Your name can scare an atheist to his prayers,
"And cure the chincough better than the bears;
"Old Sybils charm toothache with you; the nurse
"Makes you still children; and the pondrous curse
"The clown salutes with is derived from you;
"'Now Rupert take thee, Rogue! How dost thou do?'"[[17]]
Yet Rupert, in spite of this reputation was neither ruffianly nor cruel. The News Letters called him "a loose wild gentleman",[[18]] and many accused him of hanging Roundheads at their own doors, and plundering villages wholesale;[[19]] but such rumours were libels. "Where are these men that will affirm it? In what country or town stood those houses betrayed by me, or by my sufferance, to that misery of rapine?" demanded the Prince, in answer to one of his accusers. "He will answer 'they' said it. But who 'they' were he knows not; in truth, nor I neither, nor no man else."[[20]] And said Sir Thomas Roe, who was not all inclined to approve the part Rupert had taken: "I cannot hear anything, credibly averred, which can be blamed by those who know the liberty of wars."[[21]] But the English did not know "the liberty of the wars," and they were naturally inclined to judge the young Prince harshly. Severe Rupert undoubtedly could be, if necessary. When the Puritans began a wholesale massacre of the King's Irish soldiers, the Prince promptly retaliated by executing an equal number of Puritan prisoners. But the stern act, coupled with the assurance that for the life of every Royalist that of a Roundhead should pay, effectually checked the barbarities of the Parliament. The nickname of "Prince Robber"[[22]] was certainly unjustly bestowed; yet the Royal Army had to be supported, and the only way to support it was by levying contributions on the country. "The Horse have not been paid, but live upon the country,"[[23]] wrote a Cavalier to his wife.
It is possible that Rupert was not over-scrupulous when the persons taxed happened to be Puritans, yet he always maintained what he considered a proper degree of discipline; and the frequent apologies of his officers prove that the Prince did not permit indiscriminate plunder. "Our men are not very governable, nor do I think they will be, unless some of them are hanged. They fall extremely to the old kind of plundering, which is neither for their good, nor for His Majesty's service,"[[24]] wrote Lord Wentworth. And, after a high-handed capture of some arms at Swanbourne, the same officer again apologised: "If your Highness think it too great a cruelty in us I hope you will pardon us. You shall consider that we could not have done otherwise."[[25]]
Another Colonel denied strenuously an accusation of oppression which had excited Rupert's anger against him.[[26]] That the failure at Edgehill was due to the greed of Rupert's men in plundering the baggage waggons, was an imputation which the Prince hotly resented. To his announcement that he could, "at least, give a good account of the enemy's horse," a bystander retorted: "And of their carts too!"[[27]] Whereupon the Prince drew his sword, and there was nearly a duel in the King's presence. The idea that he enriched himself by plunder is too absurd to need refutation; yet, were it needed, proof to the contrary might be found in a letter written at the end of the war, which draws a painful picture of Rupert's extreme poverty.[[28]]
For the rest, the Prince regarded the enemy with a soldierly chivalry. Instances of his courtesy are not wanting, and in all matters of honour he was most punctilious. "The Prince," said one of his officers, "uses to make good his word, not only in point of honour, but as a matter of religion too."[[29]] Thus, when his men snatched the colours of an enemy promised a safe passage, "some of them felt the edge of his sword," and the colours were courteously returned. To his honourable conduct, under similar circumstances at Bristol, the Puritan Governor bore generous testimony.[[30]]
But personal gallantry, promptitude, and ubiquity were far from being Rupert's only qualifications for his post. He understood, as he himself phrased it, "what belongs to war." His tactics were of the school of the great Gustavus, and he abolished the absurd custom of letting the cavalry halt to fire, before making a charge. At Edgehill he went from rank to rank, bidding the men to charge at the first word, and thus he formed an irresistible cavalry which never failed to sweep all before it, until it met its match at Marston Moor. His method was thus described by the son of one of his officers: "His way of fighting was that he had a select body of horse that always attended him, and, in every attack, they received the enemy's shot without returning it, but one and all bore with all their force upon their adversaries, till they broke their ranks, and charged quite through them. Then they rallied, and, when the enemy were in disorder, fell upon their rear and slaughtered them, into scarce any opposition."[[31]] And says Professor Gardiner: "Rupert was as capable of planning a campaign as he was of conducting a charge."[[32]] Until November 1644, at which period, it should be noted, Rupert's power was on the wane, the strategical superiority was decidedly with the King. The operations of the Royalist army were based on a well-conceived plan, that plan was varied and supplemented as occasion required. This skilful warfare Professor Gardiner ascribes to Rupert's genius. Why then, may we ask, did so good a soldier fail so signally?
The reasons for failure are not far to seek. In the first place, Rupert was too complete a soldier for the task he had undertaken. His common-sense, soldierly point of view quite failed to embrace the political and constitutional sides of the question. He could no more comprehend the King's refusal to make any compromise, than he could have understood the moderate Royalists' dread of a complete victory for their own side. The boyish challenge purporting to be sent by him to Essex, shows, if genuine, how absolutely he failed to grasp the points at issue. "My Lord," it begins, "I hear you are a general of an army.... I shall be ready, on His Majesty's behalf, to give you an encounter in a pitched field at Dunsmore Heath, 18th October next. Or, if you think it too much labour, or expense, to draw your forces thither, I shall be as willing, on my own part, to expect private satisfaction at your hands, and that performed by a single duel. Which proffer, if you please to accept, you shall not find me backward in performing what I have promised.... Now I have said all, and what more you expect of me to be said, shall be delivered in a larger field than a small sheet of paper, and that by my sword, and not by my pen. In the interim I am your friend, till I meet you next."[[33]] The stories of his wandering in disguise through the quarters of the Parliament may be somewhat apocryphal, but they show, at least, the impression he made on his contemporaries. And there is nothing doubtful in the fact that he and Maurice laughed aloud in the face of the Parliamentary Commissioner who proclaimed them solemnly, "traitors, to die without mercy."[[34]]
Rupert, notwithstanding his twenty-two years and his unusual experiences, was a boy still; far too young for the position he held. He was over-confident, and rash with the rashness of youth. Frequently his victorious charge was but the prelude to disaster; for the cavalry were apt to pursue too eagerly, leaving the foot unsupported on the field. Still, it should be remembered that it must have been next to impossible to hold back those gallant, untrained troops; though probably Rupert did not try very hard to do it.
In truth the Royalist army was as hard a one to manage as ever fell to the lot of a general. It was an army of volunteers, supported chiefly by the private means of nobles and gentlemen, who, while scorning to take orders from one another, showed themselves equally averse to taking them from a foreign Prince. It was small, far smaller than that of Essex; undisciplined, badly armed, and continually on the verge of mutiny for want of pay. "It is e'en being, for the most part, without arms, a general of an army of ordnance without a cure, not a gun too, lesse money, much mutiny,"[[35]] wrote a faithful follower of Rupert, at one period of the war. The men were raw recruits; the officers were full of complaints and discontents, all showing a remarkable willingness to do anything rather than that which they were required to do. "The officers of your troop will obey in no kind of thing, and, by their example, never a soldier in that company," lamented Daniel O'Neil, from Abingdon. "I had rather be your groom in Oxford than with a company that shall assume such a liberty as yours does here!"[[36]] From Reading, protested Sir Arthur Aston, "I wish when your Highness gave your consent to leave me here behind you, that you had rather adjudged me to lose my head."[[37]] And from Wales came the striking declaration, "If your Highness shall be pleased to command me to the Turk, or the Jew, or the Gentile, I will go on my bare feet to serve you; but from the Welsh good Lord deliver me!"[[38]] From all sides came complaints of mutinies, of "unbecoming language," "affronts," injuries and violence. "In spite of my three several orders to come away, Captain Mynn remains at Newent," declared Colonel Vavasour. The garrison of Donnington not only defied the order to be quiet, "it being very late at night," but forcibly released one of their number, under arrest, and outraged the town by "robbing, and doing all villainy."[[39]]
Nor was it with insubordination alone that Rupert had to deal. Wrote Louis Dyves: "Our men are in extreme necessity, many of them having neither clothes to cover their nakedness, nor boots to put on their feet, and not money enough amongst them to pay for the shoeing of their horses."[[40]] And declared Sir Ralph Hopton: "It is inconceivable what these fellows are always doing with their arms; they appear to be expended as fast as their ammunition."[[41]] Another officer required supplies of biscuits: "For your Highness knows what want of victuals is among common men."[[42]] A fourth desired a change of quarters, "because the country, hereabouts, is so heavily charged with contributions, as our allowance falls short."[[43]] A fifth modestly requested, "to be put into the power of a thousand horse, or foot, and then I doubt not, by God's assistance, to give a sufficient account of what is committed to my charge."[[44]] Every one of them lacked arms and ammunition, and all their wants were poured out to the luckless young Prince, who was expected to attend to every detail, and whose own supplies were wretchedly insufficient.
Added to all this, there were private quarrels to be appeased. Wyndham declined to serve under Hopton, who had "disobliged" him.[[45]] Vavasour complained of "very high language" used towards him by Sir Robert Byron. At Lichfield disputes between the factions of Lord Loughborough and Sir William Bagot raged violently. "In all places where I come, it's my misfortune to meet with extreme trouble," lamented the brave old Jacob Astley, to whose lot the pacifying of this quarrel fell; "I have met, in this place with exceeding great trouble, the commanders and soldiers in the close at Lichfield, having shut out my Lord Loughborough."[[46]] And not even the efforts of old Astley could bring about a peace between the contending officers; "our minds being both too high to acknowledge a superiority,"[[47]] confessed Loughborough candidly. But even more serious than such quarrels as these were the court factions which divided the Royalist army against itself. From the very beginning, the attempts of the King's Council to regulate military affairs were bitterly resented by the soldiery. Courtier detested soldier, and soldier despised courtier! Nor were the military and civil factions the only ones existent; there was party within party, intrigue within intrigue. Wrote the shrewd Arthur Trevor, in 1643: "The contrariety of opinions and ways are equally distant with those of the elements, and as destructive, if there were not a special providence that keeps men in one mind against a third party, though they agree in no one thing among themselves."[[48]] Equally opposed to the military party of Rupert, and to the constitutionalists led by Hyde and Falkland, were the followings of the Queen and of Lord Digby. Bitter, private jealousies completed the confusion, and the vacillation of the King, who lent an ear now to one, now to another, destroyed all consistency of action. With such a state of affairs a young man of barely three-and-twenty was called upon to deal!
Obviously the position was one requiring the greatest tact, patience and circumspection, which were, unhappily, the very qualities most lacking in the young Prince. The circumstances of his early career had been calculated to inspire him with an exaggerated sense of his own importance. Notwithstanding his position as fourth child among thirteen, and the constant snubs of his mother, he had been spoilt by the Prince of Orange, and by the English Court. The admiration he had won, during his captivity among his enemies, added to his self-esteem. His steadfast refusal to renounce either his faith or his party, in spite of flatteries, threats, promises and persuasions, had raised him to the proud position of a Protestant martyr. "All the world knows how deeply I have smarted, and what perils I have undergone, for the Protestant cause,"[[49]] he declared to the English Parliament. Thus conscious of his own abilities and claims to distinction, and valuing to the full his previous experience, he was possessed of a not unnatural contempt for the military views of civilians. The overbearing manner which he permitted himself to assume towards Courtiers and Councillors gave great offence. "We hear that Prince Rupert behaves himself so rudely, whereby he doth himself a great deal of dishonour, and the King more disservice,"[[50]] was the report of a Royalist to his friends. "Prince Rupert's pleasure was not to be contradicted," and, "Prince Rupert could not want of his will," says the contemporary historian, Sir Edward Walker.[[51]] Clarendon complained that the Prince "too affectedly" despised what was said of him, and "too stoically contemned the affections of men."[[52]] While the faithful Sir Philip Warwick lamented that, "a little sharpness of temper and uncommunicableness in society, or council, by seeming, with a 'Pish!' to neglect all that another said and he approved not, made him less grateful than his friends could have wished. And this humour soured him towards the Councillors of Civil Affairs, who were necessarily to intermix with him in Martial Councils."[[53]] Certainly this was not the spirit calculated to recommend him to the English nobles, men who served their sovereign at their own cost, and who considered themselves at least as good as the son of a dethroned King.
Nor could Rupert atone for official imperiousness by geniality in private life. In happier days, at Heidelberg, Frederick's faithful steward had declared that the morose manners of his master rendered him "afraid and ashamed" when any one visited the castle.[[54]] Something of his father's disposition Rupert had inherited; and, with all his self-confidence, he was very shy. From the nobility both he and Maurice held aloof with a reserve born of pride and an uncertain position. Princes they might be, but they were also exiled and penniless, dependent on their swords, or on the bounty of their relatives. "The reservedness of the Prince's nature, and the little education he then had in Courts made him unapt to make acquaintance with any of the Lords, who were thereby discouraged from applying themselves to him," says Clarendon. "Whilst some officers of the Horse were well pleased to observe that strangeness, and fomented it, believing that their credit would be the greater with the Prince."[[55]] Maurice, of whom Clarendon confessed he had "no more esteem than good manners obliged him to,"[[56]] came in for yet stronger censure. "This Prince had never sacrificed to the Graces, nor conversed among men of quality, but had most used the company of inferior men, with whom he loved to be very familiar. He was not qualified with parts by nature, and less with any acquired; and towards men of the best condition, with whom he might very well have justified a familiarity, he maintained—at least—the full state due to his birth."[[57]] Doubtless Clarendon's personal dislike of the Palatines made him a severe critic; but, in the main, his censure was true enough. Their unfortunate shyness threw them almost entirely upon their officers, and men of lesser rank, for friendship and companionship. Nor was the position unnatural; for many of these men were already well known to them as brother officers in the army of the Stadtholder, and familiar guests at their home at the Hague.
Thus condemned by Statesmen, distrusted by the old-fashioned officers, and disliked by the nobility, the Princes became the acknowledged leaders of the military faction. They soon had a devoted following; a following of which every member was a very gallant soldier, though doubtless many of them were also dissolute and reckless. Even Clarendon was forced to confess that Maurice, "living with the soldiers sociably and familiarly, and going with them upon all parties and actions,"[[58]] had made himself exceedingly popular amongst them. Rupert they adored; and the account of him handed down to Sir Edward Southcote by his father differs widely from the description of Clarendon. "My father," wrote Sir Edward, "still went with the King's army, being very ambitious to get into Prince Rupert's favour, being, he was, the greatest hero, as well as the greatest beau, whom all the leading men strove to imitate, as well in his dress as in his bravery... The Prince was always very sparkish in his dress, and one day, on a very cold morning, he tied a very fine lace handkerchief, which he took out of his coat pocket, about his neck. This appeared so becoming that all his mimics got laced pocket-handkerchiefs and made the same use of them; which was the origin of wearing lace cravats, and continued till of late years."[[59]] There was in fact a general eagerness to serve directly under the hero Prince. "I must confess, I have neither desire nor affection to wait upon any other general," wrote Sir Arthur Aston.[[60]] "'Tis not advance of title I covet, but your commission,"[[61]] protested another officer. Such letters indeed are numberless; and that of Louis Dyves, half-brother to Lord Digby himself, may serve as an example of all:—"Amongst the many discourses which I receive daily of the ill-success and unhappy conduct of his Majesty's affairs here, since the light and comfort of your presence was removed from us, there is none that affects me more than to live in a place where I am rendered incapable to do you service. Which, I take God to witness, hath been the chief bent of my harte from the first hour I had the honour to serve under your command; and I shall never deem myself happy until I be restored again to the same condition. If your Highness therefore shall be pleased to command my attendance, I will break through all difficulties, and come to you. And it shall be my humble sute unto His Majesty to give me leave to go where I know I shall be best able to serve him, which can be nowhere so well as under your command. If I may but understand of your gratious acceptance of the fervent desire I have to sacrifice my life at your feet, there shall no man with more cheerfulness of harte, be ready to expose it more frankly, than your Highness's most humble, most faithful servant, Louis Dyves. There is no man can make a truer character of my harte toward you, than the bearer, Mr. Legge."[[62]]
In a strain of jesting familiarity, wrote the young Lord Grandison: "and, by this light, you shall be unprinced, if you believe me not the most humble of your servants."[[63]] And the gallant George Lisle carried his devotion to such a pitch as to sign himself always, "your Highness's most faithful affectionate servant, and obedient sonne."[[64]]
But this cult of the Prince indulged in by the soldiery and some of the younger nobility, rather aggravated than healed the prevailing dissensions. It was indeed impossible for a boy of Rupert's age and passionate temper to throw oil on the troubled waters. He loved and hated with equal vehemence, and "liked what was proposed as he liked the persons who proposed it."[[65]] Such was his detestation of Digby and Culpepper that he never could refrain from contradicting all that they said. Wilmot he treated in like manner, and we read: "Whilst Prince Rupert was present... all that Wilmot said or proposed was enough slighted and contradicted," but that during the Prince's long absence in the North, he, Wilmot, "became marvellously elated."[[66]] Goring the Prince loved no better, and that general complained loudly that he, "denied all his requests out of hand."[[67]] And Lord Percy was also distinguished with a particular hatred.
To the objects of his affection, Rupert was, on the contrary, only too compliant; a failing most strongly, and most unfortunately, exhibited in his dealings with his brother Maurice. The younger Prince had none of his brother's ability, was ignorant of English manners and customs, "showed a great aversion from considering them," and "understood very little of the war except to fight very stoutly when there was occasion."[[68]] Yet Rupert "took it greatly to heart"[[69]] that Maurice held no higher command than that of lieutenant-general to Lord Hertford. Accordingly, he persuaded the King that Maurice ought to be made general in the West, and, the promotion being conceded, Maurice did considerable harm to the cause by his blundering and want of discipline. But, says Professor Gardiner, "Maurice was Rupert's brother, and not to be called to account!"[[70]]
Yet, his favouritism admitted, it must be confessed that Rupert's friends were generally well-chosen. Chief among them was Colonel William Legge, a man so faithful, so unselfish, and so unassuming, that he contrived to remain on good terms with all parties. Best known to his contemporaries as "Honest Will", he shines forth, amidst the intriguing courtiers of Oxford, a bright example of disinterestedness. In spite of his intimacy with Rupert, he contrived to remain for long on friendly terms with Lord Digby, though, as he told the latter, "I often found this a hard matter to hold between you."[[71]] To Legge, Rupert was wont to pour out the indignation of his soul in hastily scribbled letters, and "Will" pacified both the Prince and his enemies, as best he could, "conceiving it," he said, "a matter of advantage to my master's service to have a good intelligence between persons so eminently employed in his affairs."[[72]] At the same time he never hesitated to express his opinion in "plain language", and from him the fiery Prince seems to have accepted both counsel and reproof, without resentment. Even Clarendon could find nothing worse to say of Will Legge than that he was somewhat diffident of his own judgment.[[73]] And the King charged the Prince of Wales, in his last message, "to be sure to take care of Honest Will Legge, for he was the faithfullest servant that ever any Prince had." Which charge Charles II fulfilled at the Restoration.[[74]]
Next to Legge among Rupert's friends we must count the grave and melancholy Duke of Richmond. As a Stuart he was Rupert's cousin, and him the Prince excepted from his general dislike of the English nobility. Like Legge, Richmond was free from all self-seeking, honourable, upright, irreproachable, both in public and in private life. His personal devotion to the King, who had brought him up, was intense, and, at the end of the tragedy, he volunteered with Southampton and Lindsey, to die in the stead of his sovereign. Like the King, he was deeply religious, a faithful son of the Church. He was courteous to all, gentle and reserved, but "of a great and haughty spirit."[[75]] At the beginning of the troubles he had been almost the only man of the first rank who had unswervingly opposed the popular party; and he valued his fidelity at the rate it was worth. He gave his friendship slowly, and only with the approval, asked and received, of the King.[[76]] But his friendship, once given, was absolute and unalterable. He had in his character a Stuart strain of sensitiveness, amounting to morbidness. Thus, when gently warned by the King against too much correspondence with the treacherous Lady Carlisle, he considered his own loyalty impugned, and for weeks held aloof from the Committee of Secret Affairs. Hyde, commissioned by the distressed King to reason with the Duke, speedily discovered the true source of trouble to be Richmond's jealousy of his master's affection for Ashburnham. The King retorted by taking exception to Richmond's secretary, and it was long ere the hurt feelings of both King and Duke could be soothed. Yet, in spite of his own supersensitiveness, Richmond was a peacemaker. His letters to Rupert, long, involved and incoherent, are full of soothing expressions and assurances that all will go well. He also was struggling, and struggling vainly, to keep the peace between Rupert and Digby. But, though he watched over his cousin's interests with affectionate care, he was too honest and simple-minded to cope successfully with Oxford intrigues.
Among Rupert's other friends was Sir Charles Lucas, who, said his sister, "loved virtue, endeavoured merit, practised justice, and spoke truth; was constantly loyal, and truly valiant."[[77]] Also, in high favour with the Prince was Sir Marmaduke Langdale, "a person of great courage and prudence",[[78]] a good scholar, and a good soldier; though Clarendon found him "a very inconvenient man to live with."[[79]] Less estimable was the hot-blooded Charles Gerrard, who, though as valiant a soldier as any of the others, reflected too many of Rupert's own faults; was rash, hot-tempered, and addicted to "hating on a sudden, without knowing why."[[80]] And besides these there were others too numerous to mention, valued by the Prince for their soldierly qualities, or for the frankness of their dispositions. But in the list of Rupert's friends, there is one more who must not be forgotten: one who was his inseparable companion for nearly six years, who shared his captivity in Austria, followed him to England, ate with him, slept with him, accompanied him to Council and to Church, shared all his dangers and hardships, and never left his side, till he fell, with many gallant Cavaliers, on the field of Marston Moor;—this was the Prince's white dog, Boye. This dog attained great fame in England, and Rupert's fondness for it was the subject of good-natured jesting among the Cavaliers, and of bitter invective from the Puritans. A satirical pamphlet, preserved in the Bodleian library, describes the dog's habits, and the mutual affection subsisting between him and his master! From it we learn that Boye was always present at Council, that he was wont to sit on the table by the Prince, and that frequent kisses and embraces passed between them. On the principle of "Love me, love my dog," the King also extended his favour to Boye: "For he himself never sups or dines, but continually he feeds him. And with what think you? Even with sides of capons, and such Christian-like morsels ... It is thought the King will make him Serjeant-Major-General Boye. But truly the King's affection to him is so extraordinary that some at court envy him. I heard a Gentleman-Usher swear that it was a shame the dog should sit in the King's chair, as he always does; and a great Lord was seriously of opinion that it was not well he should converse so much with the King's children, lest he taught them to swear." Boye repaid the King's affection warmly: "Next to his master, he loves the King and the King's children, and cares very little for any others." We are told further, in a paragraph evidently aimed at Rupert, that the dog, "in exercises of religion, carries himself most popishly and cathedrally. He is very seldom at any conscionable sermons, but as for public prayers, he seldom or never misses them.... But, above all, as soon as their Church Minstrel begins his arbitrary jig, he is as attentive as one of us private Christians are at St. Antholin's."[[81]] Boye is generally supposed to have been a poodle, and certainly he is so represented in the caricatures preserved of him. But he must have been in truth a remarkable one, for Lady Sussex relates in one of her letters, that when Rupert shot five bucks, "his dog Boye pulled them down."[[82]] To this "divill dog" were attributed supernatural powers of going invisible, of foretelling events, and of magically protecting his master from harm. "The Roundheads fancied he was the Devil, and took it very ill that he should set himself against them!" says Sir Edward Southcote.[[83]] Many of the Puritans did, in truth, imagine him to be Rupert's evil spirit, and it was reported that the dog fed on human flesh. Cleveland refers to their general fear of Boye in his "Rupertismus":—
"They fear the giblets of his train, they fear,
"Even his dog, that four-legged Cavalier,
"He that devours the scraps that Lunsford makes,
"Whose pictures feeds upon a child in stakes,
"'Gainst whom they have these articles in souse,—
"First that he barks against the sense o' th' House,
"Resolved 'delinquent,' to the Tower straight,
"Either to the Lyons, or the Bishop's gate.
* * * * * * * *
"Thirdly he smells intelligence, that's better,
"And cheaper too, than Pym's, by his own letter;
"Lastly he is a devil without doubt,
"For when he would lie down he wheels about,
"Makes circles, and is couchant in a ring,
"And therefore, score up one, for conjuring!"[[84]]
With the Cavaliers the dog was of course as popular as with the Puritans he was the reverse. It was reported, by their enemies, that the Royalists, after their capture of Birmingham, passed the night in "drinking healths upon their knees,—yea, healths to Prince Rupert's dog!"[[85]] Finally, when poor Boye had fallen on the field of battle, the death of Prince Rupert's "witch" was recorded with exultation in the Parliamentary journals: "Here also was slain that accursed cur, which is here mentioned, by the way, because the Prince's dog has been so much spoken of, and was valued by his master more than creatures of more worth."[[86]] Having said so much of Rupert's friends, it may be well to say a word of his principal enemies. Chief among these was George, Lord Digby, the eldest son of the Earl of Bristol. He was a man of great personal beauty, brilliant talents, and unrivalled powers of fascination. But he was unfortunately afflicted with a "volatile and unquiet spirit", and an over-active imagination. His natural charms and great plausibility won him the love and confidence of the King; but his unparalleled conceit and his insatiable love of meddling made him an object of detestation to the Palatine Prince.[[87]] As Secretary of State, Digby necessarily came into contact with Rupert, and the result was disastrous. No doubt there was much of personal jealousy mingled with Rupert's more reasonable objections to Digby; but the fact remains that Rupert understood war, and that Digby did not; that Rupert's schemes were reasonable and usually practicable, and that Digby's were wild and fantastic to a degree. Rupert resented Digby's interference and incompetence; Digby resented Rupert's off-hand manners and undisguised contempt of himself. Both were equally self-confident, and equally intolerant of rivalry. England was not large enough to contain the two, and Digby, by his superior powers of intrigue, carried the day.
With Lord Percy, in whose charge were all the stores of arms and ammunition, Rupert was not on much better terms than with Lord Digby. Powder, bullets, carts and horses proved fruitful sources of dissension. Rupert accused Percy of delaying his supplies, and Percy resented Rupert's staying of his carts.[[88]] In proof of his own blamelessness Percy appealed to the testimony of others. "My Lord Jermyn knows this was the truth, and no kind of fault in me.... Give me leave to tell you, sir, I cannot believe them, your real servants, that do give you jealousies of those that do not deserve them."[[89]] At other times Percy professed a great deal of devotion to Rupert, but always with a touch of sarcasm in his manner. His letters consequently offended the Prince, and Percy treated his indignation lightly: "Though you seemed not to be pleased that I should hope for the taking of Bristol before it was done, which fault I confess I do not understand, I hope you will give me leave to congratulate you now with the rest.... Your best friends do wish that, when the power is put absolutely into your hands, you will so far comply with the King's affairs as to do that which may content many and displease fewest."[[90]] Such phrases were not calculated to soothe, and the breach widened steadily until, in the autumn of 1644, Percy found himself so deeply involved in the disgrace of Wilmot that he sought refuge with the Queen in France.
With Lord Goring and Lord Wilmot, Rupert was likewise at daggers drawn. Both these men had been his comrades in the Dutch army, and Goring especially had been on intimate terms with the Palatines at the Hague. Indeed it seems likely that he had carried on a very flourishing flirtation with the Princess Louise; and a beautifully drawn picture letter which she addressed to him, is still extant. Distinguished, like Digby, for his personal beauty and fascinating manners, Goring was also justly celebrated for his brilliant courage. Yet it was no wonder that Rupert did not share his sister's friendship for him, since the man was as false and treacherous as he was brave and plausible. He had promoted and betrayed the Army Plot of 1641; he had received the charge of Portsmouth from the Parliament, held it for the King, and then surrendered it without a struggle. Yet no breath of suspicion ever sullied his courage, and his personal attractions and undoubted ability won him trust and confidence again and again. Rupert admired him for his talents, hated him for his vices, and feared him for his "master-wit", which made him a dangerous rival for the King's favour. Goring, on his part, heartily reciprocated the Prince's aversion; kept out of his command as far as possible, disobeyed his orders as often as he could, and amused himself by writing to his enemy in terms of passionate devotion. "I will hasard eight thousand lives rather than leave anything undone that may conduce to his Majesty's service or to your Highness's satisfaction; being joyed of nothing so much in this world as of the assurance of your favour, and that it will not be in the power of the devil to lessen your goodness to me, or to alter the quality I have of being your Highness's most humble, faithful, and obedient servant."[[91]]
Wilmot, Lieutenant-General of the Horse, was a less fascinating but a less unprincipled person than Goring. That is to say that, while Goring would betray any friend, or violate any promise, "out of humour or for wit's sake," Wilmot would not do either, except "for some great benefit or convenience to himself."[[92]] He is described by Clarendon as "a man of a haughty and ambitious nature, of a pleasant wit, and an ill understanding."[[93]] Like Goring, he drank hard, but not, like Goring, to the neglect of his military duties. With the dissolute wits of the army he was exceedingly popular, but Rupert, always so temperate himself, had no sympathy with the failings of Wilmot. As early as November 1642 he had conceived "an irreconcilable prejudice"[[94]] against his lieutenant-general. Possibly the seed of this prejudice had been sown at Edgehill, where Wilmot refused to make a second charge, saying: "We have won the day; let us live to enjoy the fruits thereof."[[95]] And justly or unjustly, the combined hatred of Rupert, Digby, and Goring accomplished Wilmot's overthrow in 1644.
[[1]] Warburton. Vol. I. pp. 460-462.
[[2]] Lansdowne MSS. 817.
[[3]] Warburton. I. p. 462.
[[4]] Rupert Transcripts. Instruction to the Prince. 1642.
[[5]] I.e. in the Scottish wars.
[[6]] Memoirs of Sir Philip Warwick, pp. 226-228.
[[7]] Lansdowne MSS. 817.
[[8]] A Looking Glass etc. Civil War Tract. Brit. Mus.
[[9]] Clarendon's Hist. of the Rebellion. Ed. 1849. Bk. VI. p. 46.
[[10]] Ibid. Bk. VI. p. 109.
[[11]] Mr. Firth's Transcripts. Geo. Porter to Rupert, March 24, 1644.
[[12]] Warburton. II. p. 250. Journal of Siege of Bristol.
[[13]] Pythouse Papers. Ed. Day. 1879. p. 46. 16 Nov, 1642.
[[14]] Rupertismus. Cleveland's Poems. Ed. 1687. p. 51.
[[15]] May. Hist. of Long Parliament. Ed. 1854. p. 249.
[[16]] May. Hist. of Long Parliament. Ed. 1854. p. 243-4.
[[17]] Rupertismus.
[[18]] Webb. Civil War in Herefordshire. Vol. I. p. 129.
[[19]] May. p. 244.
[[20]] Prince Rupert: His Reply. Brit. Mus.
[[21]] Webb. Civil War in Hereford. I. p. 149.
[[22]] Gardiner's Civil War, I. p. 15.
[[23]] Sydney Papers. Spencer to Lady Spencer. II. p. 667.
[[23]] Rupert Correspondence. Warburton. II. p. 191.
[[25]] Ibid. p. 193.
[[26]] Rupert Transcripts, Colonel Blagge to the Prince, 2 March, 1643.
[[27]] Verney Memoirs, Vol. II. p. 115.
[[28]] Dom. State Papers. Nicholas to King, Sept. 18, 1645.
[[29]] Warburton. II. 262.
[[30]] Warburton. II. 267.
[[31]] Troubles of our Catholic Forefathers. Ed. Morris. 1872. Sir Edward Southcote's Narrative, 1st Series, p. 392.
[[32]] Gardiner's Civil War, I. p. 2.
[[33]] Civil War Pamphlets. British Museum. "Prince Rupert's Message to my Lord of Essex."
[[34]] Whitelocke's Memorials, 1732, p. 114.
[[35]] Carte's Ormonde, VI. p. 197, 20 Aug. 1644.
[[36]] Warburton, II. p. 82. 19 Dec. 1642.
[[37]] Ibid. II. p. 175.
[[38]] Ibid. II. p. 386. 11 Mar. 1644.
[[39]] Transcripts, 30 Jan. 1644.
[[40]] Warburton, II. p. 85.
[[41]] Ibid. II. p. 291, 17 Sept. 1643.
[[42]] Transcripts. Blagge to Rupert. 1643.
[[43]] Rupert Transcripts. Dyves to the Prince. Sept. 21, 1642.
[[44]] Ibid. Kirke to Prince. 22 Feb. 1644.
[[45]] Add MSS. 18982. Wyndham to the Prince. Jan. 6, 1644.
[[46]] Transcripts. Astley to the Prince, Jan. 12, 1645.
[[47]] Ibid. Loughborough to the Prince, July 25, 1645.
[[48]] Carte's Ormonde. Trevor to Ormonde. Nov. 21, 1643. Vol. V. pp. 520-1.
[[49]] Prince Rupert: his Declaration. Pamphlet. British Museum. See Warb. II. p. 124.
[[50]] Hist. MSS. Commission. 5th Report, p. 162. Ap. I. Sutherland MSS. Stephen Charlton to Robert Leveson, 1642.
[[51]] Walker's Historical Discourses. Ed. 1705. p. 126.
[[52]] Clarendon Hist. Bk. VII. p. 279.
[[53]] Warwick Memoirs, p. 228.
[[54]] Green's Princesses, V. p. 267.
[[55]] Clarendon's History. Bk. V. p. 78.
[[56]] Clarendon's Life. Ed. 1827. Vol. I. p. 197, note.
[[57]] Clar. Hist. Bk. VII. p. 85.
[[58]] Clar. Life. I. p. 196, note.
[[59]] Sir Edward Southcote's Narrative, p. 392.
[[60]] Rupert Correspondence. Aston to the Prince. Aug. 1643.
[[61]] Ibid. Sandford to Prince. No date.
[[62]] Rupert Correspondence. Add. MSS. British Museum. 18981. Louis Dyves to the Prince. Apr. 8, 1644.
[[63]] Rupert Transcripts. Grandison to Prince. Feb. 7, 1645.
[[64]] Ibid. Lisle to Prince. Dec. 6-13, 1644.
[[65]] Clarendon. Bk. VIII. 168.
[[66]] Ibid. VIII. 30.
[[67]] Rupert Transcripts. Goring to Prince. Jan. 22, 1643.
[[68]] Clarendon. Bk. VII. 85, note.
[[69]] Ibid. 144.
[[70]] Gardiner's Civil War. Vol. I. 197.
[[71]] Wm. Legge to Lord Digby. Warburton. III. p. 129.
[[72]] Wm. Legge to Lord Digby. Warburton. III. p. 129.
[[73]] Clarendon. Bk. X. p. 130.
[[74]] Collins Peerage: 'Dartmouth'. Vol. IV. p. 107 et passim.
[[75]] Clarendon Hist. Bk. VI. p. 384.
[[76]] Clarendon Life. I. p. 222.
[[77]] Life of Newcastle, by Duchess of Newcastle. Ed. Firth. 1886, p. 280.
[[78]] Carte Papers. Trevor to Ormonde, Sept. 13, 1644.
[[79]] Clarendon State Papers. Hyde to Nicholas. Febr. 7, 1653.
[[80]] Clar. Hist. Bk. IX. p. 21.
[[81]] Pamphlet. Bodleian Library, Oxford. "Observations on Prince Rupert's White Dog called Boye."
[[82]] Verney Memoirs. Vol. II. p. 160.
[[83]] Sir Edward Southcote's Narrative, p. 392. Pamphlet. Brit. Mus.
[[84]] Cleveland's Poems, p. 51. Rupertismus.
[[85]] Pamphlet. Brit. Museum. London, May 1643. "Prince Rupert's Burning Love to England."
[[86]] More true Relation; also Vicars' Jehovah Jireh, p. 277.
[[87]] See Clarendon State Papers: A Character of the Lord Digby.
[[88]] Rupert Transcripts, July 30, 1643, also Aug. 17, 1643, Percy to Rupert.
[[89]] Ibid. Mar. 21, 1642.
[[90]] Rupert Transcripts, July 29, 1643.
[[91]] Rupert Correspondence. Goring to the Prince, May 12, 1645. Add. MSS. Brit. Mus. 18982.
[[92]] Clarendon Hist. Bk. VIII. 169.
[[93]] Ibid. VIII. 30.
[[94]] Clar. Hist. Bk. VI. 126, note.
[[95]] Ibid. VI. p. 79, note.