Preface to the additional Odes of 1619.
To the worthy Knight, and my noble friend,
Sir Henry Goodere, a Gentleman of
His Majesty's Privy Chamber.
THese Lyric pieces, short, and few, Most worthy Sir, I send to you; To read them be not weary! They may become John Hewes his lyre, Which oft, at Polesworth, [19] by the fire, Hath made us gravely merry.
Believe it, he must have the trick Of Ryming, with Invention quick, That should do Lyrics well: But how I have done in this kind, Though in myself I cannot find, Your judgment best can tell.
Th' old British Bards (upon their harps For falling Flats, and rising Sharps, That curiously were strung) To stir their Youth to warlike rage, Or their wild fury to assuage, In these loose Numbers sung.
No more I, for fools' censure pass, Than for the braying of an ass; Nor once mine ear will lend them: If you but please to take in gree These Odes, sufficient 'tis to me: Your liking can commend them.
Yours,
Michael Drayton.
ODES,
with other Lyric Poesies.
To his Valentine.
MUse, bid the Morn awake! Sad Winter now declines, Each bird doth choose a Make; This day's Saint Valentine's. For that good Bishop's sake Get up, and let us see What Beauty it shall be That Fortune us assigns!
But, lo, in happy hour, The place wherein she lies; In yonder climbing Tower, Gilt by the glitt'ring Rise! O, Jove, that in a shower (As once that Thunderer did, When he in drops lay hid) That I could her surprise!
Her canopy I'll draw, With spangled plumes bedight: No mortal ever saw So ravishing a sight; That it the Gods might awe, And pow'rfully transpierce The globy Universe, Outshooting every light.
My lips I'll softly lay Upon her heavenly cheek, Dyed like the dawning day, As polished ivory sleek; And in her ear I'll say: "O thou bright Morning Star! 'Tis I, that come so far, My Valentine to seek.
"Each little bird, this tide, Doth choose her lovèd pheere; Which constantly abide In wedlock all the year, As Nature is their guide; So may we Two be true This year, nor change for new; As turtles coupled were.
"The sparrow, swan, the dove, Though Venus' birds they be; Yet are they not for love, So absolute as we! For reason us doth move; But they by billing woo. Then try what we can do! To whom each sense is free.
"Which we have more than they, By livelier organs swayed; Our Appetite each way More by our Sense obeyed. Our Passions to display, This season us doth fit; Then let us follow it. As Nature us doth lead!
"One kiss in two let's breathe! Confounded with the touch, But half words let us speak! Our lips employed so much, Until we both grow weak: With sweetness of thy breath, O smother me to death! Long let our joys be such!
"Let's laugh at them that choose Their Valentines by lot; To wear their names that use, Whom idly they have got." Saint Valentine, befriend! We thus this Morn may spend: Else, Muse, awake her not!
The Heart.
IF thus we needs must go; What shall our one Heart do, This One made of our Two?
Madam, two Hearts we brake; And from them both did take The best, one Heart to make.
Half this is of your Heart, Mine in the other part; Joined by an equal Art.
Were it cemented, or sewn; By shreds or pieces known, We might each find our own.
But 'tis dissolved and fixed; And with such cunning mixed, No diff'rence that betwixt.
But how shall we agree, By whom it kept shall be: Whether by you or me?
It cannot two breasts fill; One must be heartless still, Until the other will.
It came to me to-day: When I willed it to say, With Whether would it stay?
It told me, "In your breast, Where it might hope to rest: For if it were my guest,
"For certainty, it knew That I would still anew Be sending it to you!"
Never, I think, had two Such work, so much, to do: A Unity to woo!
Yours was so cold and chaste: Whilst mine with zeal did waste; Like Fire with Water placed.
How did my Heart intreat! How pant! How did it beat, Till it could give yours heat!
Till to that temper brought, Through our perfection wrought, That blessing either's thought.
In such a height it lies From this base World's dull eyes; That Heaven it not envies.
All that this Earth can show, Our Heart shall not once know! For it's too vile and low.
The Sacrifice to Apollo.
PRiests of Apollo, sacred be the room For this learned meeting! Let no barbarous groom, How brave soe'er he be, Attempt to enter! But of the Muses free, None here may venture! This for the Delphian Prophets is prepared: The profane Vulgar are from hence debarred!
And since the Feast so happily begins; Call up those fair Nine, with their violins! They are begot by Jove. Then let us place them Where no clown in may shove, That may disgrace them: But let them near to young Apollo sit; So shall his foot-pace overflow with wit.
Where be the Graces? Where be those fair Three? In any hand, they may not absent be! They to the Gods are dear: And they can humbly Teach us, ourselves to bear, And do things comely. They, and the Muses, rise both from one stem: They grace the Muses; and the Muses, them.
Bring forth your flagons, filled with sparkling wine (Whereon swollen Bacchus, crownèd with a vine, Is graven); and fill out! It well bestowing To every man about, In goblets flowing! Let not a man drink, but in draughts profound! To our god Phœbus, let the Health go round!
Let your Jests fly at large; yet therewithal See they be Salt, but yet not mixed with Gall! Not tending to disgrace: But fairly given, Becoming well the place, Modest and even, That they, with tickling pleasure, may provoke Laughter in him on whom the Jest is broke.
Or if the deeds of Heroes ye rehearse: Let them be sung in so well-ordered Verse, That each word have its weight, Yet run with pleasure! Holding one stately height In so brave measure That they may make the stiffest storm seem weak; And damp Jove's thunder, when it loud'st doth speak.
And if ye list to exercise your vein, Or in the Sock, or in the Buskined strain; Let Art and Nature go One with the other! Yet so, that Art may show Nature her mother: The thick-brained audience lively to awake, Till with shrill claps the Theatre do shake.
Sing Hymns to Bacchus then, with hands upreared! Offer to Jove, who most is to be feared! From him the Muse we have. From him proceedeth More than we dare to crave. 'Tis he that feedeth Them, whom the World would starve. Then let the lyre Sound! whilst his altars endless flames expire.
To his Rival.
HEr loved I most, By thee that 's lost, Though she were won with leisure; She was my gain: But to my pain, Thou spoilest me of my treasure.
The ship full fraught With gold, far sought, Though ne'er so wisely helmèd, May suffer wrack In sailing back, By tempest overwhelmèd.
But She, good Sir! Did not prefer You, for that I was ranging: But for that She Found faith in me, And She loved to be changing.
Therefore boast not Your happy lot; Be silent now you have her! The time I knew She slighted you, When I was in her favour.
None stands so fast But may be cast By Fortune, and disgracèd: Once did I wear Her garter there, Where you her glove have placèd.
I had the vow That thou hast now, And glances to discover Her love to me; And She to thee, Reads but old lessons over.
She hath no smile That can beguile; But, as my thought, I know it: Yea to a hair, Both when, and where, And how, she will bestow it.
What now is thine Was only mine, And first to me was given; Thou laugh'st at me! I laugh at thee! And thus we two are even.
But I'll not mourn, But stay my turn; The wind may come about, Sir! And once again May bring me in; And help to bear you out, Sir!
The Crier.
GOod folk, for gold or hire, But help me to a Crier! For my poor Heart is run astray After two Eyes, that passed this way.
Oh yes! O yes! O yes! If there be any man, In town or country, can Bring me my Heart again; I'll please him for his pain.
And by these marks, I will you show That only I this Heart do owe [own]: It is a wounded Heart, Wherein yet sticks the dart. Every piece sore hurt throughout it: Faith and Troth writ round about it. It was a tame Heart, and a dear; And never used to roam: But having got this haunt, I fear 'Twill hardly stay at home.
For God's sake, walking by the way, If you my Heart do see; Either impound it for a Stray, Or send it back to me!
To his coy Love.
A Canzonet.
I pray thee leave! Love me no more! Call home the heart you gave me! I but in vain that Saint adore That can, but will not, save me. These poor half kisses kill me quite! Was ever man thus servèd? Amidst an ocean of delight. For pleasure to be starvèd.
Show me no more those snowy breasts With azure riverets branchèd! Where whilst mine Eye with plenty feeds, Yet is my thirst not staunchèd. O Tantalus, thy pains ne'er tell! By me thou art prevented: 'Tis nothing to be plagued in Hell; But, thus, in Heaven, tormented!
Clip me no more in those dear arms; Nor thy "Life's Comfort" call me! O these are but too powerful charms; And do but more enthrall me. But see how patient I am grown, In all this coil about thee! Come, nice Thing, let thy heart alone! I cannot live without thee!
A Hymn to his Lady's Birth-place.
Coventry finely walled.
COventry, that dost adorn The country [County] wherein I was born: Yet therein lies not thy praise; Why I should crown thy Towers with bays? 'Tis not thy Wall, me to thee weds; Thy Ports; nor thy proud Pyramids; The shoulder-bone of a Boar of mighty bigness. Nor thy trophies of the Boar: But that She which I adore, (Which scarce Goodness's self can pair) First there breathing, blest thy air.
Idea; in which name I hide Her, in my heart deified. For what good, Man's mind can see; Only her ideas be: She, in whom the Virtues came In Woman's shape, and took her name. She so far past imitation As (but Nature our creation Could not alter) she had aimed More than Woman to have framed. She whose truly written story, To thy poor name shall add more glory, Than if it should have been thy chance T' have bred our Kings that conquered France.
Two famous Pilgrimages: one in Norfolk, the other in Kent. Had she been born the former Age, That house had been a Pilgrimage; And reputed more Divine Than Walsingham, or Becket's Shrine. Godiva, Duke Leofric's wife, who obtained the freedom of the city of her husband, by riding through it naked. That Princess, to whom thou dost owe Thy Freedom (whose clear blushing snow The envious sun saw; when as she Naked rode to make thee free), Was but her type: as to foretell Thou shouldst bring forth One should excel Her bounty; by whom thou shouldst have More Honour, than she Freedom gave. Queen Elizabeth. And that great Queen, which but of late Ruled this land in peace and State, Had not been; but Heaven had sworn A Maid should reign when She was born.
Of thy streets, which thou hold'st best, And most frequent of the rest; A noted street in Coventry. His Mistress's birthday. Happy Mich Park! Every year, On the Fourth of August there, Let thy Maids, from Flora's bowers, With their choice and daintiest flowers Deck thee up! and from their store, With brave garlands crown that door!
The old man passing by that way, To his son, in time, shall say: "There was that Lady born: which Long to after Ages shall be sung." Who, unawares being passed by, Back to that house shall cast his eye; Speaking my verses as he goes, And with a sigh shut every Close.
Dear City! travelling by thee, When thy rising Spires I see, Destined her Place of Birth; Yet methinks the very earth Hallowed is, so far as I Can thee possibly descry. Then thou, dwelling in this place, (Hearing some rude hind disgrace Thy city, with some scurvy thing Which some Jester forth did bring) Speak these Lines, where thou dost come, And strike the slave for ever dumb.
Footnotes
[19] In Warwickshire.
Thomas, third Lord Fairfax.
Short Memorials
of some things to be cleared
during my Command in the Army.
[1645 to 1650 A.D.]
[From the holograph, now Fairfax MS. 36, in the Bodleian Library, Oxford.]
[These Memorials are not written in a strictly chronological sequence. They are of surpassing interest: being the recollections, about 1665, of many stirring events in England between 1642 and 1650, by a chief Actor in the same; whose personal motto was, Mon DIEU, je servirai tant que je vivrai.]
NOw when GOD is visiting the nation [? an allusion to the Plague of London in 1665] for the transgressions of their ways, as formerly he did to one sort of men so doth he it to another sort; so that all may see their errors and his justice: and as we have cause to implore his mercy, having sinned against him; so must we still vindicate his justice, who is always "clear when he judgeth." [Ps. li. 4.]
Now therefore, by his grace and assistance, I shall truly set down the grounds my actions moved upon during that unhappy War; and those actions which seemed to the World the more questionable in my steering through the turbulent and perilous seas of that time.
The first embarking into the sad calamities of War was about the year 1641 when the general distemper of the Three Kingdoms had kindled such a flame even in the hearts (I mean the Difference between the King and Parliament), as every one sought to guard his own house by the authority of both these. But the different judgements and ways were so contrary that, before a remedy could be found out, almost all was consumed to ashes.
I must needs say my judgement was for the Parliament, as the King's, and Kingdom's, great and safest Council; as others were for the King, and averse to Parliament, as if it could not go high enough for the Perogative.
Upon which division, different Powers were set up, viz.: The Commission of Array for the King; and [the Militia for] the Parliament. But those of the Array so exceeded their Commission by oppressing many honest people; whom, by way of reproach, they called Roundheads: they being (for Religion, Estates, and Interest) a very considerable part of the country; that occasioned them to take up arms in their own defence, which was afterwards confirmed by Parliamentary authority.
Now my father being yet at his house at Denton, where I then waited on him, though he had notice from his friends that it was resolved that he should be sent for, as a prisoner, to York: yet he resolved not to stir from his own house; not knowing anything in himself to deserve it. But the country [Yorkshire] suffering daily more and more, many were forced to come and intreat him to join with them in defence of themselves and country [Yorkshire]; which [were] being sadly oppressed by those of the Array, which afterwards had the name of Cavaliers.
And being much importuned by those that were about him; he was resolved, seeing his country [Yorkshire] in this great distress, to run the same hazard with them for the preservation of it.
Then did the Parliament grant a Commission to him, to be General of the Forces in the North: myself also having a Commission under him, to be General of the Horse. But it is not my intention, in this place, to mention the several Services that were done in this Cause of the Parliament: being rather desirous to clear my actions in it than to declare them. Therefore I shall say no more [See however pp. [577-610]] of this Three Years' War in the North; there being nothing, I thank GOD! in all that time to be alleged against me.
But now I shall come to say something how I came to be engaged in the South.
There being some years spent, in those parts, in a lingering War between the forces of the King and [the] Parliament; and several battles so equally fought, as could scarce be known on which side the business in dispute would be determined; though it must be confessed the Parliament's Army was under the command of a very noble and gallant person, [Robert Devereux] the Earl of Essex: yet finding Time and Delay gaining more advantage on their affairs than Force had done; the Parliament resolved to make a change in the constitution of their Army; hoping by it to find a change also in businesses, which were then something in a declining condition.
So as, in this distemper of affairs, the Army was New Modelled; and a new General was proposed to command it. For which, by the Votes of the Two Houses of Parliament [in February 1645], myself was nominated; though most unfit: and so far from desiring of it, that had not so great an authority commanded obedience, [I also] being then unseparated from the royal Interest; besides the persuasions of nearest friends, not to decline so free and general a Call; I should have "hid myself [among the stuff," 1 Samuel x. 22.] to have avoided so great a charge. But whether it was from a natural facility in me, that betrayed my modesty; or the powerful hand of GOD, which all things must obey: I was induced to receive the Command.
Then was I immediately voted by the Parliament [in February 1645], to come to London to take up my charge [where he arrived on 18th February 1645]; though not fully recovered of a dangerous wound, which I had received a little before; and which, I verily believe, without the miraculous hand of GOD had proved mortal.
But here, alas! when I bring to mind the sad consequences that designing men have brought to pass since, from these first innocent undertakings, I am ready to let go that confidence I had, with Job to say: "Till I die, I will not remove my integrity from me; nor shall my heart reproach me so long as I live" [Job xxvii. 5]. But now more fit to take up his Complaint with a little alteration and to say, Why did I not die when I had that hurt? Why did I not give up the ghost when my life was on the confines of the grave? [See Job x. 18.]
But GOD having been pleased thus to give me my life as a prey; I took my journey southward: hoping I might be someway serviceable to the Public. But when I came thither, had it not been in the simplicity of my heart, I could not have supported myself under the frowns and displeasures showed me by those who were disgusted at this alteration; in which many of them were themselves so much concerned: and these did not only outwardly express it, but sought by all means to obstruct my proceedings in this new charge. Who though they could not prevent what the necessity of affairs pressed most to do, viz.: To march speedily out with the Army; yet were we, by them, made so inconsiderable for want of fit and necessary accommodations, as it rather seemed that we were sent to be destroyed and ruined than to do any service for the Kingdom by it. Insomuch as when I went to take my leave of a Great Person [Can this have been Denzil Holles?]; he told me, He was very sorry I was going out with the Army, for he did believe we should be beaten.
Surely then had some of our ends been Self Interest merely, this might have discouraged us: but it working no such effects, gave the more hopes of future success; as it did to the Parliament's advantage. But if any ill use hath been made of such mercies, let the mercies be acknowledged from GOD: but let the abuses receive their due reward of shame and punishment.
Thus, being led on by good success, and clear intentions of a Public Good; some of us could not discern the serpent which was hid in these spreading leaves of so Good Fortune: nor could believe the fruits of our hopes would prove as cockatrice's eggs; from whence so viperous a brood should afterwards spring up.
But, how ill deserving so ever we were: yet still it pleased GOD to give the Army such success in the years [16]45 and [16]46; that there remained in England neither Army nor fortress to oppose the Parliament in settling the peace of the Kingdom.
But this shining mercy soon became clouded with the mists of abominable hypocrisy [and] deceit; even in those men, who had been instrumental in bringing this War to a conclusion. Here was the vertical point on which the Army's honour and reputation turned into reproach and scandal. Here the power of the Army, which I once had, was usurped by the Forerunners of Confusion and Anarchy, viz.: the Agitators. [The Army appointed a Committee of Adjutators on 14th May 1647.]
My Commission as General bound me to act with [the co-operation of my] Council: but the arbitrary and unlimited power of this new Council would act without a General: and all that I could do, could not prevail against this stream; especially when the Parliament itself became divided, so that the pay was withheld from the Army, which heightened their distempers.
Then followed, Free Quarter [in November 1647]; and that brought a general discontent through the whole nation: which gave these factious Agitators matter enough for the carrying on of their designs; viz., To raise their own fortunes by the ruin of others.
But now, being much troubled to see things in this condition, I did rather desire to be a sufferer than to be a Commander: but, before I laid down my Commission, I thought it fit to consult with some friends rather than gratify my private sense and reason, which much desired it; especially having received it from a Public Authority, which might justly expect to have notice of it before I laid it down. Which was the cause of my continuing in the Army longer than I would have done (seeing I could not have my desire granted): which did indeed preserve the Parliament for some time, from those confusions and breakings, which afterwards Time and Confidence emboldened these men to.
But now I shall descend to some particulars of their Agitation:
At Nottingham was the first time that I took notice of it, by the soldiers' meetings to frame a Petition to the Parliament about their arrears [of pay]. The thing seemed just: but, not liking the way, I spake with some Officers that were principally engaged in it; and got it suppressed for that time.
Which was but as the cutting off of Hydra's head, which soon sprang up again (though not so near the Head Quarters; but in more remote corners of the Army, which I could not so timely prevent) so that they presented it to the Parliament; which they were highly displeased with. And now falling into difference; the consequence of which proved fatal not only to the King, but also destructive to one another. The one striving to uphold his authority: the other (who had a spirit of unsettlement) to preserve themselves from the ruin they feared. This (with a natural inclination to change) I believe created the thoughts of a New Government; which, in time, attained the name of a Common Wealth: though it never arrived to the perfection of it; being sometimes Democratical, sometimes Oligarchial, lastly Anarchial—as indeed all the ways attaining to it seemed nothing but a Confusion.
For now the Officers of the Army were placed and displaced by the will of the new Agitators; who, with violence, so carried all things, as it was above my power to restrain it. This made me have recourse to my friends to get me a discharge of my Command; so as there was a consultation with several Members of Parliament, who met about it: but none would undertake to move it to the House, as affairs then stood. And they perceiving that such a Motion would be unpleasing to them: which was the answer I received from them. And further that I should satisfy myself: for it would be the Parliament's care to compose all things in as good order as might be most for the good and settlement of the Kingdom. But these hopes, though they something supported my spirit; yet could not they balance the grief and trouble I had, that I could not get my discharge. So that, if you find me carried on with this stream; I can truly say, It was by the violence of it, and no consent of mine.
But the Army, having gotten this power and strength by correspondence with some in Parliament (who themselves did after find it [to their disadvantage] in the end) they [the Army] march nearer London [26th June 1647]: and, at Windsor [20th November 1647], after two days' debate in a Council of War, it was resolved to remove all out of the House [of Commons] whom they conceived to "obstruct," as they called it, "the Public Settlement."
Upon which expedition in this march, I was vehemently pressed: but here I resolved to use a restrictive power, when I had not a persuasive one. So when the Lieutenant General [Oliver Cromwell] and others pressed me to sign orders for marching, I still delayed the doing of it [in November 1647]; as always dreading the consequences of breaking Parliament, and at a time when the Kingdom was falling into a new War: which was so near, that my delaying but three or four days giving out Orders, diverted this humour of the Army from being Statesmen to their more proper duty of soldiers.
For, even then, Colonel Poyer declared [for the King] in Wales; great forces were raised with the Lord Goring in Kent; and Duke [of] Hamilton (almost at the same time) with a powerful Army of the Scots. All which set out work enough for that summer [of 1648].
This I write to shew how, by Providence, a few days' delay did prolong the Parliament more than a year from the violent breaches that afterwards happened to them.
Here again might be mentioned the great and difficult businesses the Army went through that year [1648]: hoping, as well aiming, it would be a good service to the Kingdom. But, seeing the factious Party grew more insolent as success made them more powerful, I shall forbear to relate those Actions; which would, otherwise, have deserved a better remembrance than, in modesty, [it] were fit for me to record: and [I] will rather punish myself here, with the continuance of the Story of the Army's Irregularities.
But one thing, of very great concernment in all after changes, should have been inserted before the mention of this Second War: but [it] will come in well enough in this place, without much interruption of this Discourse, viz.:
THE KING'S REMOVAL FROM HOLMBY,
the sad consequences whereof fill my heart with grief with the remembrance of it now; as it did then, with thoughts and care how to have prevented it.
Being then at Saffron Walden in Essex, I had notice that Cornet Joyce (an arch-Agitator that quartered about Oxford) had [on 4th June 1647] seized on the King's person, and removed his Quarters: and [had] given such a check to the Commissioners of Parliament which were ordered to attend His Majesty, that they refused to act any further in their Commission; being so unwarrantably interrupted.
But, as soon as I heard it, I immediately sent away two Regiments of Horse, commanded by Colonel Whalley to remove this force; and to set all things again in their due order and course.
But before he reached Holmby [or Holdenby]; the King was advanced two or three miles [from thence] on his way towards Cambridge; attended by Joyce. Here Colonel Whalley acquainted the King, That he was sent by the General to let him know how much he was troubled at those great insolencies that had been committed so near his person: and as he had not the least knowledge of it before it was done, so he had omitted no time in seeking to remove the force; which he had orders from me to see done. And therefore [Colonel Whalley] desired that His Majesty would be pleased to return again to Holmby, where all things should again be settled in as much order and quietness as they were before. And also he [Colonel Whalley] desired the Commissioners to resume their Charge, as the Parliament had directed them: which he had in charge also to desire them to do, from the General.
But the King refused to return; and the Commissioners refused also to act any more as Commissioners. Which Colonel Whalley still further urged, saying, He had an express command to see all things well settled again about His Majesty; which could not be but by his returning again to Holmby.
Which the King said positively, He would not do.
So Colonel Whalley pressed him no further: having indeed a special direction from me to use all tenderness and respect, as was due, towards His Majesty.
So the King came that night, or the second [6th June 1647] to Sir John Cutt's house [at Childerley] near Cambridge: where, the next day, I waited on His Majesty. It being also my business to persuade his return to Holmby. But he was otherwise resolved.
I pressed the Commissioners also to act again, according to the power that Parliament had given them: which they also refused to do.
So having spent the whole day [7th June 1647] about this business; I returned to my Quarters.
But before I took my leave of the King, he said to me, "Sir, I have as great an Interest in the Army as you." By which I plainly saw the broken reed he leaned upon.
These Agitators [or Adjutators], chameleon-like, could change into that colour which best served their ends; and so had brought the King into an opinion that the Army was for him: though [it was] never less for his safety and rights, than when it was theirs.
And that it might appear what real trouble this act was to me; notwithstanding the Army was almost wholly infected with the humour of Agitation, I called for a Court of War, to proceed against Joyce for this high offence, and the breach of the Articles of War. But the Officers (whether for fear of the distempered soldiers; or rather, as I fear, from a secret allowance of what was done) made all my endeavours herein ineffectual: and now (no punishment being able to reach them) all affairs steer after this compass:
The King and all his Party are in hopes. Those of the Parliament, and others who kept to their Covenant Interest, in fears. So as, for many months, Public Councils were turned into private Junto's. Which would have been less criminal, if it had ended in General Consent. But, on the contrary, it begat greater emulations and jealousies one of another. So that the Army would not entrust the King any longer with the liberty he had; nor would the Parliament suffer the King to undertake that which was properly their work to do, viz.: [the] Settling [of] the Kingdom with its just rights and liberties. And the Army were as jealous of the Parliament, that they [the Parliament] would not have care enough of their [the Army's] security.
All things growing worse and worse made the King endeavour his own escape, as he did [11th-14th November 1647]; but out of a larger confinement at Hampton Court, to a straiter one in the Isle of Wight.
Here the Parliament treated upon Propositions of Peace with the King. But, alas, the Envious One sowed tares that could not be rooted out, without plucking up the corn also.
And here was the King, as the golden ball, tossed before the two great Parties; the Parliament, and the Army: [which] grew to a great contest, which must again have involved the kingdom in blood.
But the Army, having the greater power, got the King again into their hands; notwithstanding all the means that could be used. The Treaty [? of Newport, ? October 1648] was scarcely ended, before the King was seized upon by the hands of the same person, Lieutenant Colonel Cobbett, who took him from Holmby [; and who now removed him, on 1st December 1648, from Carisbrooke Castle to Hurst Castle]. Soon after followed his Trial.
But to prepare a way to this work [the Trial] this Agitating Council had thought first how to remove out of the Parliament all those who were likely to oppose them in that work; which they carried on with that secrecy as that I had not the least intimation of it, till it was done: as some Members of the House can witness, with whom I was met, at that very time, upon especial business, when that horrible attempt was made by Colonel Pride upon the Parliament [on 6th December 1648]. It was so secretly carried on that I should get no notice of it: because I always prevented those designs when I knew of them. But by this "Purging of the House," as they called it, the Parliament was brought into such a consumptive and languishing condition as that it could never recover again that healthful Constitution which always kept the Kingdom in its strength and vigour.
But now, this Three-fold Cord being cut by the sword, the Trial of the King was the easier for them to accomplish. My afflicted and troubled mind for it, and my earnest endeavours to prevent it, will, I hope, sufficiently testify my abhorrence of the fact. And what might they not now do to the lower shrubs, having thus cut down the cedar? For, after this, [the] Duke [of] Hamilton, [the] Earl of Holland, and Lord Capel, and others, were condemned to death.
But here it is fit to say something for my own vindication about my Lord Capel, Sir Charles Lucas, and Sir George Lisle; who were prisoners at mercy upon the rendition of Colchester: seeing some have questioned the just performance of those Articles [of Surrender].
I (having laid siege to the town, and several assaults being made upon it) finding their forces within [to be] much more numerous than those I had without, forced me to take another course: blocking them up; and so, by cutting off all supplies, to bring them to a surrender. Which, after [a] four months' siege, they were necessitated to; and that upon mercy: they being between 3,000 and 4,000 men.
Now by Delivering upon mercy is to be understood, that some are to suffer, and the rest to go free.
So those forementioned persons only were to suffer; and all the rest freed.
So immediately after our entrance into the town [on 26th August 1648], a Council of War being called; those persons were sentenced to die, the rest to be quit.
Yet, on they being so resolved, I thought fit to manumit the Lord Capel, the Lord Norwich, &c. over to the Parliament (being the Civil Judicature of the Kingdom, consisting then of Lords and Commons) as the most proper Judges of their cases: being considerable for estates and families.
But Sir Charles Lucas and Sir George Lisle being mere Soldiers of Fortune; and falling into our hands by the chance of war, execution was done upon them. And in this distribution of Justice I did nothing but according to my Commission, and the trust reposed in me.
But it may be objected that I went into the Court during the Trial.
To this, I answer. It was upon the earnest entreaties of my Lord Capel's friends; who desired me to explain there, what I meant by Surrendering to mercy: otherwise I had not gone, being always unsatisfied with the Court.
But for this I shall need to say no more: seeing I may as well be questioned for the Articles of Bristol, Oxford, Exeter; or [for] any other Action in the War, as for this.
And now I have related the most remarkable things that might be alleged against me during the prosecution of the War.
Yet one thing more requires that I should say something to it, before I conclude, viz.: Concerning Papers and Declarations of the Army that came out in my name and the Council of Officers. I must needs say. From the time they declared their Usurped Authority at Triplow Heath [10th June 1647], I never gave my free consent to anything they did: but (being then undischarged of my place) they set my hand [signature] by way of course, to all their Papers; whether I consented or not.
And unto such failings all Authority may fall. As sometimes Kingly Authority may be abused to their, and the Kingdom's, prejudice; sometimes, under a Parliamentary Authority, much injury hath been done: so here, hath a General's Power been broken and crumbled into a Levelling Faction, to the great unsettlement of the Nation.
Yet, even in this, I hope all impartial judges will interpret as a force and ravishment of a good name; rather than a voluntary consent whereby it might make me seem to become equally criminal. Though I must confess, if in a multitude of words, much more in a multitude of actions, there may be some transgressions: yet, I can as truly say, they were never designedly or wilfully committed by me.
But now, when all the power was got into the Army, they cut up the root of Kingly Government. After this, were Engagements to relinquish the Title. Then [was] War declared against Scotland for assisting the King [Charles II.]: and several Leagues made with foreign Princes to confederate with their new Government, which was now a Common Wealth, against the Kingly Power.
Seeing which, with grief and sorrow, though I had as much the love of the Army as ever; though I was with much importunity solicited by the remaining Parliament, the Lieutenant General [Oliver Cromwell], and other Officers and soldiers, to continue my Command; and though I might, so long as I acted their designs, attain to the height of power and other advantages I pleased (for so I understood from themselves): yet (by the mercy and goodness of GOD, ever valuing Loyalty and Conscience before this perishing felicity) I did, so long as I continued in the Army, oppose all those ways in their counsels; and, when I could do no more, I also declined their actions, though not their Commission I had from the Parliament, till the remaining part of it, took it from me [25th June 1650].
Thus I have given you, in short, the sum of the most considerable things that the World may censure me for, during this unhappy War. Yet, I hope, among many weaknesses and failings there shall not be found crimes of that magnitude [for me] to be counted amongst those who have done these things through ambition and dissimulation. Hoping also that GOD will, one day, clear this Action we undertook, so far as concerns his honour; and the integrity of such as faithfully served in it. For I cannot believe that such wonderful successes shall be given in vain. Though cunning and deceitful men must take shame to themselves; yet the purposes and determination of GOD shall have happy effects to his glory, and the comfort of his people.
Thomas, third Lord Fairfax.
A Short Memorial of the Northern Actions;
during the War there,
from the year 1642 till the year 1644.
I did not think to have taken up my pen any more, to have written on this subject: but that my silence seemed to accuse me of ingratitude to GOD for the many mercies and deliverances I have had; and of injuriousness to myself in losing the comfort of them, by suffering them to be buried in the grave of Oblivion in my lifetime.
Wherefore I shall set down, as they come to my mind, such things wherein I have found the wonderful assistance of GOD to me in the time of the War I was in the North: though not in that methodical and polished manner as might have been done; being but intended only for my own satisfaction, and the help of my memory.
As I said, in the First Part [p. [565]], my father was called forth by the importunity of the country [Yorkshire], to join with them in the defence of themselves: and [was] confirmed by a Commission of the Parliament [by Vote on the 23rd August 1642. He however did not actually receive the Commission till the 3rd December following.]
The first Action we had was at Bradford, where we had about 300 men. The Enemy, having about 700 or 800 and 2 pieces of ordnance, came thither to assault us [in October 1642]. We drew out close to the town to receive them. They had [the] advantage of [the] ground, the town being compassed with hills; which made us more exposed to their cannon shot, from which we received some hurt. Yet notwithstanding, our men defended the passages, which they [the Enemy] were to descend, so well that they got no ground of us. And now, the day being spent, they drew off; and returned back again to Leeds.
A few days after, Captain Hotham, with 3 Troops of Horse and some Dragoons, came to me; and then we marched to Leeds. But the Enemy, having notice of it, quitt[ed] the town in haste; and fled to York.
And that we might have more room, and be less burthensome to our friends; we presently advanced [in November 1642] to Tadcaster, 8 miles from York.
Now we being increased to 1,000 men, it was thought fit, for securing of the West Riding, at least the greatest part of it, from whence our greatest supply came, to keep the Pass at Wetherby; whither my father sent me with about 300 Foot and 40 Horse. The Enemy's next design, from York, was to fall on my Quarters there; which was a place very open and easy for them to do: there being so many back ways to enter in; and friends enough to direct and acquaint them with all we did.
About six of the clock in the morning [in November 1642], they set upon us with 800 Horse and Foot. The woods thereabouts favoured them so much as that our Scouts could get no notice of them; so as no alarm was given till they were ready to enter the town, which they might soon do for the Guards were all asleep in houses.
For in the beginning of the War, men were as impatient of Duty as ignorant of it.
Myself only was on horseback; going out, at the other end of the town, to Tadcaster: where my father lay.
One came running to me, and told me, The Enemy was entering the town. I presently galloped to the Court of Guard [the Piquet], where I found not above four men at their arms; as I remember, two Foot Sergeants and two Pike men, [who] withstood with me when Sir Thomas Glenham, with about six or seven Commanders more, charged us: where, after a short but sharp encounter, in which Major Carr was slain, they retired. And in this time more of the Guard were gotten to their arms. But I must confess I know [of] no strength, but the powerful hand of GOD, that gave them this repulse.
Afterward they made another attempt, in which Captain Atkinson was slain.
And here again, there fell out another remarkable Providence. During this conflict, our Magazine was blown up: which struck such a terror in the Enemy, thinking we had cannon (which they were informed we had not), that they instantly retreated. And though I had but a few Horse; they pursued the Enemy some miles, and took many prisoners.
We lost about eight or ten men, whereof seven were blown up with [the] powder: the Enemy, many more. [20]
At this time [Henry Clifford] the Earl of Cumberland commanded the Forces in Yorkshire for the King.
But (being of a peaceable nature; and by his amiable disposition having but few enemies, or rather because he was an enemy to few) he did not suit with their present condition and apprehension of fears. Therefore they sent to [William Cavendish] the Earl of Newcastle, who had an Army of 6,000 men, to desire his assistance: which he answered by a speedy march to York.
Being now encouraged by this increase of force, they resolved to fall on Tadcaster. My father drew all his men thither. But by a Council of War the town was judged untenable; and that we should draw out to an advantageous piece of ground by the town. But before we could all march out; the Enemy advanced [on 7th December 1642] so fast that we were necessitated to leave some Foot in a slight Work above the bridge to secure our retreat.
But the Enemy pressing still on us, forced us to draw back [return back], and maintain that ground.
We had about 900 men. The Enemy above 4,000: who, in Brigades, drew up close to the Works, and stormed us. Our men reserved their shot till they were very near; which then they disposed to so good purpose as forced them to retire, and shelter themselves behind the hedges that were hard by.
And here did the fight continue from 11 a clock at noon till 5 at night, with cannon and musket, without intermission.
They had, once, possessed a house by the bridge; which would have cut us [off] from our reserves that were in the town: but Major General Gifford, with a commanded party, beat them out again; where many of the enemies were slain and taken prisoners.
They attempted at another place; but were also repulsed by Captain Lister, who was there slain: which was a great loss, [he] being a discreet Gentleman.
And now, it growing dark, the Enemy drew off into the fields hard by; with intention to assault us again the next day. They left that night about 200 dead and wounded upon the place.
But our ammunition being all spent in this day's fight; we drew off that night, and marched to Selby: and the Enemy entered, the next day [8th December 1642], into the town [of Tadcaster]. And thus, by the mercy of GOD, were a few delivered from an Army who, in their thoughts, had swallowed us up.
Now, the Earl of Newcastle lay between us and our friends in the West Riding; and so [was] equally destructive to us both. But, to give them encouragement and help, I was sent [on Friday, 9th December 1642], with about 200 Foot and 3 Troops of Horse and some arms, to Bradford. I was to go by Ferrybridge: our intelligence being that the Enemy was advanced yet no further than Sherburn.
But when I was within a mile of the town [i.e. Ferrybridge]; we took some prisoners who told us That my Lord Newcastle laid at Pontefract, 800 men in Ferrybridge, and the rest of the Army in all the towns thereabouts.
So as now, our advance, or retreat, seemed [to be] alike difficult. But, there being not much time to demur in, a retreat was resolved on back again to Selby. 300 or 400 of the Enemy's Horse shewed themselves in our rear, without making any attempt upon us; and so, through the goodness of GOD, we got safe thither.
[Here, chronologically, comes in the Fight at Sherburn in Elmet, on Wednesday, 14th December 1642, described at page [584].]
And, in three days after, [21] having better intelligence how they lay, with the same number as before, I marched in the night by several towns where they lay, and arrived, the next day, at Bradford: a town very untenable; but, for their good affections, deserving all we could hazard for them.
Our first work there was to fortify ourselves; for we could not but expect strong opposition in it: seeing there lay at Leeds 1,500 of the Enemy, and 1,200 at Wakefield; neither above six or seven miles from us. They visited us every day with their Horse; for ours went not far from the town, being so unequal in number: yet they seldom returned without loss. Till, at length, our few men grew so bold; and theirs, so disheartened: as they durst not stir a mile out of their garrison.
But while these daily skirmishes were among the Horse; I thought it necessary to strengthen ourselves with more Foot. So, summoning the country [i.e. the West Riding of Yorkshire], which now our Horse had given some liberty to come into us; I presently armed them with the arms we brought along with us: so that, in all, we were now about 800 Foot.
But being too many to lie idle, and yet too few to be in continual duty; we resolved rather, through the assistance of GOD, to attempt them in their garrison than endure longer this trouble. So summoning the country in again; we made a body of about 1,200 or 1,300 men: with which we marched to Leeds, and drew them up [on Monday, 23rd January 1643] within [a] half cannon shot of their Works, in Battalia; and then sent in a Trumpet[er] with a Summons to deliver up the town to me, for the use of [the] King and Parliament.
They presently returned this answer, That it was not civilly done to come so near before I sent the Summons; and that they would defend the town, the best they could, with their lives.
So presently ordering the manner of the Storm, we all fell on at one time. The business was hotly disputed for almost two hours: but, after, the Enemy were beaten from their Works. The Barricadoes were soon forced open into the streets: where Horse and Foot resolutely entering, the soldiers cast down their arms, and rendered themselves prisoners. The Governor and some chief Officers swam the river and escaped. One Major Beaumont was drowned, as was thought. In all, there were about 40 or 50 slain; and [a] good store of ammunition [was] taken, which we had much want of.
But the consequence of this Action was yet of more importance. For those that fled from Leeds and Wakefield, (for they also quitted that garrison) gave my Lord Newcastle such an alarm at Pontefract, where he lay; as he drew all his Army back again to York: leaving once more a free intercourse between my father [at Selby] and me, which he had so long time cut off.
But, after a short time, the Earl of Newcastle returned again to the same Quarters [at Pontefract]; and we to our stricter duties.
But, after some time, we found that our men must either have more room, or more action. [This Fight at Sherburn took place on the 14th December 1642; and should have been mentioned earlier in this Narrative.[22]] Therefore Captain Hotham and I took a resolution, early in the morning to beat up a Quarter [Encampment] of the Enemy that lay at [Church] Fenton. But they being gone, we marched towards Sherburn [in Elmet]; intending only to give them an alarm there.
But they might see us, a mile or two, march over a plain common which lay by the Town; and therefore had sent about 20, or 30, Horse to guard a Pass near the town. I having the Van (For, at this time we [Fairfax and Hotham] commanded our Troops distinct one from another; both making 5 Troops of Horse and 2 of Dragoons), I told him, If he would second me, I would charge those Horse; and if they fled, I would pursue them so close[ly] as to get into the town with them. He promised to second me. I went to the head of my Troops, and presently charged them: who fled, and we pursued [them] close to the Barricado. But they got in, and shut it upon us; where my horse was shot at the breast. We so filled the lane; being strait [narrow] that we could not retreat without confusion, and danger of their falling in our rear. So we stood to it; and stormed the Work with pistol and sword. At the end of the Barricado, there was a straight passage for one single horse to go in. I entered there, and others followed one by one. Close at one side of the entrance stood a Troop of Horse: but so soon as eight or ten of us got in they fled. And by this time, the rest of our men had beaten them from their Barricado, and entered the town, which soon cleared the streets, and pursued those that fled. And now my horse, which was shot in the lane, fell down dead under me: but I was presently mounted again.
They in the towns about having taken the alarm, now made us think of securing our retreat with the prisoners we had gotten: and some of them [were] very considerable; among whom was Major General Windham. But we scarce[ly] got into good order before General Goring came, with a good body of Horse, up to us: and as we marched on, he followed close in the rear, without [our] receiving any hurt; only my Trumpet[er] had his horse shot close by me. So we returned again to Selby.
But though this could not free us wholly from a potent Enemy; yet we lay more quietly by them a good while after.
In this recess of action, we had several treaties [negotiations] about prisoners. And this I mention the rather, for that Captain Hotham here began to discover his intention of leaving the Parliament's Service, by making conditions for himself with the Earl of Newcastle (though [it was] not discovered till a good while after): which had almost ruined my father, and the forces that were with him.
For, being now denied help and succour from Hull and the East Riding; he was forced to forsake Selby, and retire to Leeds and those western parts where [I] myself was.
But to make good this retreat, I was sent to, to bring what men I could to join with him at Sherburn. For Newcastle's forces lay so, as he might easily intercept us in our way to Leeds: which he had determined [to do], and to that end lay with his Army on Clifford Moor; having perfect intelligence of our march.
But while my father, with 1,500 men ordnance and ammunition, continued [on 2nd April 1643] his way from Selby to Leeds; I, with those I brought to Sherburn, marched a little aside, between my Lord Newcastle's Army and ours. And to amuse [deceive] them the more, [I] made an attempt upon Tadcaster: whither they had 300 or 400 men; who presently quitted the town, and fled to York. Here we stayed three or four hours sleighting [destroying] the Works.
This put Newcastle's Army to a stand, which was on their march to meet us: thinking that he was deceived in his intelligence; and that we had some other design upon York.
He presently sent back the Lord Goring, with 20 Troops of Horse and Dragoons, to relieve Tadcaster. We were newly drawn off when they came. Goring pressed over the river to follow us.
But seeing we were far unequal to him in Horse, for I had not above 3 Troops; and [having] to go over Bramham Moor, a large plain: I gave direction to the Foot to march away, while I stayed with the Horse to interrupt the Enemy's passage in those narrow lanes that lead up to the Moor. Here was much firing at one another. But, in regard of their great number, as they advanced we were forced to give way: yet had gained by it sufficient time for the Foot to be out of danger.
But when we came up to the Moor again, I found them where I left them: which troubled me much, the Enemy being close upon us, and a great plain yet to go over. So [I] marched the foot in two Divisions, and the Horse in the rear. The Enemy followed, about two musket shot from us, in three good bodies: but yet made no attempt upon us. And thus we got well over the open campania.
But having again gotten to some little enclosures, beyond which was another Moor, called Seacroft Moor [now called Whin Moor. It is about five miles from Leeds], much less than the first. Here our men thinking themselves more secure, were more careless in keeping order; and while their officers were getting them out of houses, where they sought for drink, [it] being an exceedingly hot day; the Enemy got, another way, as soon as we, on to the Moor. But we had almost passed this plain also.
They [the Royalists] seeing us in some disorder, charged us both in Flank and Rear. The countrymen presently cast down their arms, and fled. The Foot soon after: which, for want of pikes, were not able to withstand their Horse. Some were slain; and many taken prisoners. Few of our Horse stood the charge. Some Officers, with me, made our retreat with much difficulty; in which Sir Henry Foulis had a slight hurt. My Cornet was taken prisoner. Yet [we] got to Leeds about two hours after my father, with those forces with him, was arrived safe thither.
This was one of the greatest losses we ever received. Yet was it a great Providence that it was a part, and not the whole, [of the] Force which received this loss: it being the Enemy's intention to have fought us that day with their whole Army, which was, at least, 10,000 men; had not the Attempt at Tadcaster put a stand to them. And so concluded that day with this storm that fell on us.
But now, being at Leeds, it was thought fit to possess some other place also: wherefore I was sent to Bradford, with 700 or 800 Foot and 3 Troops of Horse. These two towns being all the garrisons we had. At Wakefield, six miles off, lay 3,000 of the Enemy: but yet [we] had not much disturbance from them.
Being most busied about releasing our prisoners that were taken at Seacroft Moor, most of them being countrymen [Yorkshire peasants]; whose wives and children were still importunate for their release: which was as earnestly endeavoured by us; but no conditions would be accepted. So their continual cries, and tears, and importunities compelled us to think of some way to redeem these men: so as we thought of attempting Wakefield; our intelligence being that the Enemy had not above 800 or 900 men in the town.
I acquainted my father with our design: who approved of it; and sent [to Bradford] some men from Leeds; which enable us to draw out 1,100 Horse and Foot.
So upon Whit-Sunday [21st May 1643], early in the morning, we came before the town. But they had notice of our coming, and had manned all their Works, and set about 800 Musketeers to line the hedges about the town: which made us now doubt our intelligence; which was too late. Notwithstanding, after a little consultation, we advanced, and soon beat them back into the town; which we stormed in three places.
After two hours' dispute, the Foot forced open a Barricado, where I entered with my own Troop. Colonel Alured, and Captain Bright, followed with theirs. The street which we entered was full of their Foot: which we charged through, and routed; leaving them to the Foot which followed close behind us. And presently we were charged again with Horse led by General Goring: where, after a hot encounter, some were slain; and [he] himself taken prisoner by [the brother of] Colonel Alured.
And I cannot but here acknowledge GOD's goodness to me this day: who being advanced a good way single [alone] before my men, having a Colonel and a Lieutenant Colonel, who had engaged themselves to be my prisoners, only with me; and many of the enemies between me and my men, I light[ed] on a Regiment of Foot standing in the Market Place.
Thus encompassed, and thinking what to do; I espied a lane which I thought would lead me back to my men again. At the end of this lane, there was a Corps du Guard [Piquet] of the Enemy's, with 15 or 16 soldiers; who were then just quitting it, with a Serjeant leading them off: whom we met. Who, seeing their [two] Officers, came up to us; taking no notice of me. They asked them, What they would have them do? for they could keep the Work no longer; because the Roundheads, as they called them, came so fast upon them.
But the Gentlemen, who had passed their words to me to be my true prisoners, said nothing. So, looking upon one another, I thought it not fit now to own them; as so much less to bid the rest to render themselves to me: so, being well mounted, and seeing a place in the Work where men used to go over, I rushed from them, seeing no other remedy, and made my horse leap over the Work. And so, by a good Providence, got to my men again: who, before I came, had, by the direction of Major General Gifford, brought up a piece of ordnance, and planted it in the Churchyard, against the body that stood in the Market Place; who presently rendered themselves.
All our men being got into the town, the streets were cleared, [and] many prisoners taken. But the Horse got off almost entire. But this seemed the greater mercy when we saw our mistake: now finding 3,000 men in the town, [and] not expecting half the number. We brought away 1,400 prisoners, 80 Officers, 28 Colours; and [a] great store of ammunition, which we much wanted.[23]
But seeing this was more a Miracle than a Victory; more the effect of GOD's divine power than human force; and more his Providence than the success of our prudence in making so hazardous an attempt: let the honour and praise of it be His only!
After this, we exchanged our men that were prisoners, with these: and were freed, a good while; from any trouble or attempt from [the] Enemy.
But then again it pleased GOD to mix water with our wine; and to bring us into a better condition by the brinks of ruin and destruction.
Hitherto, through His mercy, we had held up near[ly] two years against a potent Army: but they finding us now almost tired, with continual Services; treacherously used by our friends; and in want of many things necessary for support and defence—the Earl of Newcastle marched with an Army of 10,000 or 12,000 men to besiege us; and resolved to sit down before Bradford, which was a very untenable place.
My father drew all the forces he could spare out of the garrisons hither.
But seeing it impossible to defend the town but by strength of men; and not [having] above ten or twelve days' provisions for so many as were necessary to keep it: we resolved [on 29th June 1643] the next morning, very early, with a party of 3,000 men, to attempt his whole Army, as they lay in their Quarters, three miles off; hoping thereby, to put him into some distraction; which could not, by reason of the unequal numbers, be done any other way.
For this end, my father appointed four of the clock next morning [30th June 1643] to begin the march. But Major General [John] Gifford, who had the ordering of the business, so delayed the execution of it that it was seven or eight before we began to move: and not without much suspicion of treachery in it; for when we came near the place we intended, the Enemy's whole Army was drawn up in Battalia.
We were to go up a hill to them, which our Forlorn Hope [or Advanced Guard] gained by beating theirs into their Main Body; which was drawn up half a mile further, upon a plain called Adderton [the correct spelling is Adwalton] Moor. [It is also spelt Atherston and Atherton.]
We, being all up the hill, drew into Battalia also. I commanded the Right Wing, which was about 1,000 Foot and 5 Troops of Horse; Major General [John] Gifford, the Left Wing, which was about the same number. My father commanded all in chief.
We advanced through the enclosed grounds till we came to the Moor; beating the Foot that lay in them to their Main Body.
10 or 12 Troops of Horse charge us in the Right Wing [which was at the head of Warren's Lane]. We kept [to] the enclosures, placing our Musketeers in the hedges next the Moor; which was a good advantage to us, that had so few Horse.
There was a gate, or open place, to the Moor: where five or six might enter abreast. Here they strove to enter: we, to defend. But, after some dispute, those that entered the pass found sharp entertainment; and those that were not yet entered, as hot welcome from the Musketeers, that flanked them in the hedges. All, in the end, were forced to retreat; with the loss of Colonel Howard, who commanded them.
The Left Wing, at the same time, was engaged with the Enemy's Foot. Ours gained ground of them.
The Horse came down again, and charged us: being about 13 or 14 Troops. We defended ourselves as before; but with much more difficulty, many having got in among us: but [they] were beat[en] off again, with some loss; and Colonel Herne, who commanded that party, was slain. We pursued them [back] to their cannon.
And here I cannot omit a remarkable passage of Divine Justice. Whilst we were engaged in the fight with those Horse that entered the gate, four soldiers had stripped Colonel Herne naked; as he lay dead on the ground, [and] men still fighting round about him: and so dextrous were these villains, as they had done it, and mounted themselves again, before we had beaten them off. But after we had beaten them to their ordnance, as I said; and [were] now returning to our ground again; the Enemy discharged a piece of cannon in our rear. The bullet fell into Captain Copley's Troop, in which these four men were: two of whom were killed; and some hurt or mark remained on the rest, though dispersed into several Ranks of the Troop, which was [the] more remarkable.
We had not yet Martial Law amongst us: which gave me a good occasion to reprove it; by shewing the soldiers the sinfulness of the act, and how GOD would punish when men wanted power to do it.
This charge, and the resolution our soldiers shewed in the Left Wing, made the Enemy think of retreating. Orders were given for it; and some marched off the Field.
Whilst they were in this wavering condition, one Colonel Skirton, a wild and desperate man, desired his General to let him charge [on our Left Wing] once more, with a Stand of Pikes. With which he brake in upon our men; and they not [being] relieved by our Reserves, ([which were] commanded by some ill-affected Officers; chiefly Major General Gifford, who did not his part as he ought to do), our men lost ground: which the Enemy seeing, pursued this advantage by bringing on fresh troops. Ours, being herewith discouraged, began to flee; and so [were] soon routed.
The Horse also charged us again. We, not knowing what was done in the Left Wing; our men maintained their ground till a command came for us to retreat: having scarce any way now to do it; the Enemy being almost round about us, and our way to Bradford cut off. But there was a lane [Warren's Lane] in the field we were in, which led to Halifax: which, as a happy Providence, brought us off without any great loss; save of Captain Talbot and twelve more, which were slain in this last encounter.
Of those [on the Left Wing] that fled, there were about 60 killed, and 300 taken prisoners.
This business, having such ill success, our hopes of better could not be much: wanting all things that were necessary for defence, and [no] expectations of helps from any place.
The Earl of Newcastle presently lay siege to the town [of Bradford]: but before he had surrounded it, I got in with those men I brought from Halifax.
I found my father much troubled; having neither a Place of Strength to defend ourselves in, nor a garrison in Yorkshire to retreat to. For [Sir John Hotham the Elder,] the Governor of Hull had declared himself, If we were forced to retreat thither, that he would shut the gates on us.
But, while he was musing on these sad thoughts, a messenger was sent from Hull to let him know, The townsmen had secured [taken prisoner] the Governor [on the morning of the 29th June 1643]; and if he had any occasion to make use of that place, for they were sensible of the danger he was in, he should be very readily and gladly received [there]. Which news was joyfully received, and acknowledged as a great mercy of GOD to us: yet was it not made use of till a further necessity compelled it.
So my father, having ordered me to stay here [at Bradford] with 800 Foot and 60 Horse: he intruded [retired] that night [of 30th June 1643] for Leeds, to secure it.
Now Newcastle, having spent three or four days in laying his Quarters about the town; they brought down their cannon: but needed to raise no batteries, for the hills, within half [a] musket shot, commanded all the town; which [cannon], now being planted in two places, shot furiously upon us. [They] making also Approaches; which made us spend very much [ammunition].
Our little store was not above five and twenty, or thirty, barrels of powder at the beginning of the siege: yet, notwithstanding, the Earl of Newcastle sent a Trumpet[er] to offer us Conditions; which I accepted so they were honourable for us to take, and safe for the inhabitants.
Upon which, two Captains were sent to treat with him, and a Cessation [was agreed upon] during the time; but he continued working still, contrary to [the] agreement: whereupon I sent for the Commissioners again, suspecting a design of attempting something against us; but he returned them not till eleven a clock at night [of 1st July 1643], and then with a slight answer.
Whilst they were delivering it to us, we heard great shooting of cannon and muskets. All ran presently to the Works, which the Enemy was storming. Here, for three-quarters of an hour, was very hot service: but, at length they retreated.
They made a second attempt: but were also beaten off.
After this, we had not above one barrel of powder left; and no Match. So I called the Officers together: where it was advised and resolved [evidently about 1 a.m. on the 2nd July 1643] to draw off presently, before it was day; and by forcing a way, which we must do (they having surrounded the town), [in order] to retreat to Leeds.
Orders were despatched, and speedily put in execution.
The Foot, commanded by Colonel Rogers, was sent out, through some narrow lanes; who were to beat up the Dragoons' Quarters [Encampment]; and so to go on to Leeds.
[I] myself, with some other Officers, went with the Horse, which were not above 50, in an opener way.
Here I must not forget to mention my Wife, who ran great hazards with us in this retreat as any others; and with as little expression of fear: not from any zeal or delight, I must needs say, in the War; but through a willing and patient suffering of this undesirable condition.
But now I sent two or three Horsemen to discover what they could of the Enemy: which presently returned, and told us, There was a Guard of Horse close by us.
Before I had gone forty paces, the day beginning to break, I saw them on the hill above us; being about 300 Horse.
I, with some 12 more, charged them. Sir Henry Foulis, Major General Gifford, and myself, with three more [i.e., 6 out of 13] brake through. Captain Mudd was slain: and the rest of our Horse, being close by, the Enemy fell upon them, taking most of them prisoners; amongst whom my Wife was, the Officer behind whom she was [on horseback] being taken.
I saw this disaster; but could give no relief. For after I was got through, I was in the Enemy's Rear alone; for those that had charged also through, went on to Leeds; thinking I had done so too.
But being unwilling to leave my company: I stayed till I saw there was no more in my power to do; but to be made a prisoner with them. Then I retired to Leeds.
The like disorder fell amongst the Foot that went the other way, by a mistake. For after they had marched a little way, the Van fell into the Dragoons' Quarters [Encampment], clearing the way. But through a cowardly fear of him that commanded those men who were in the Rear; [he] made them face about, and march again into the town [of Bradford]: where, the next day [2nd July 1643], they were all taken prisoners.
Only 80, or thereabouts, of the Front, which got through, came to Leeds; all mounted on horses which they had taken from the Enemy: where I found them when I came thither; which was some joy to them, all concluding I was either slain or taken prisoner.
I found all in great distraction here [i.e., at Leeds].
The Council of War was newly risen, where it was resolved to quit the town, and make our retreat to Hull; which was 60 miles off, and many garrisons of the Enemy on the way. Which, in two hours time was done: for we could expect no less than that the Enemy should presently send Horse to prevent it. For they had 50, or 60, Troops within three miles.
But we got well to Selby; where there was a ferry: and, hard by, a garrison at Cawood.
My father, being a mile before, with a few men getting over the ferry; word came to us that he was in danger to be taken. I hastened to him with about 40 Horse: the rest [of the Horse] coming on after in some disorder. He was newly got into the boat.
The Enemy, with 3 Cornets of Horse, entering the town; I was drawn up in the Market Place, just before the street they came down. When they were almost half come into the Market Place, they turned on the right hand.
With part of my Troop, I charged them in the Flanks; [and] so divided them. We had the chase of them down the long street that goes to Brayton.
It happened, at the same time, [that] those men [which] I left behind, were coming up that street: [but] being in disorder, and under [the] discouragements of the misfortunes of many days before, [they] turned about, and gave way; not knowing that we were pursuing them in the rear. [That is, there were tearing along the Brayton road; (1) Fairfax's disordered Cavalry; then (2) the Royalist Cavalry; followed by (3) Fairfax with a part of his Troop.]
At the end of this street, was a narrow lane which led to Cawood. The Enemy strove to pass away there; but [it] being strait [narrow], caused a sudden stop: where we were mingled one among another.
Here I received a shot in the wrist of my arm, which made the bridle fall out of my hand: which [wound], being among the nerves and veins, suddenly let out such a quantity of blood as that I was ready to fall from my horse. So taking the reins in the other hand, wherein I had my sword; the Enemy minding nothing so much as how to get away: I drew myself out of the crowd, and came to our men that turned about; which were standing hard by. Seeing me ready to fall from my horse, they laid me on the ground: and [I] now, [being] almost senseless. My Chirurgeon came seasonably, and bound up the wound, [and] so stopped the bleeding.
After a quarter of an hour's rest there, I got on horseback again.
The other part of our Horse also beat the Enemy to Cawood back again, that way they first came to us.
So, through the goodness of GOD, our passage here was made clear. Some went over the ferry, after my father.
Myself, with others, went through the Levels [of the Fen Country, in North Lincolnshire; and south of the Humber] to Hull. But it proved a very troublesome and dangerous passage; having oft interruptions from the Enemy; sometimes in our front, sometimes in our rear.
And now I had been at least twenty hours on horseback, after I was shot [at Selby], without any rest or refreshment: and as many hours before. [40 hours from 1 a.m. on the night of 2nd July 1643, when Fairfax decided to cut his way out of Bradford, would make it about 5 p.m. of the 3rd July 1643.]
And, as a further addition to my affliction, my daughter [Mary, who afterwards married George Villiers, second Duke of Buckingham, see p. 611], not above five years old, being carried before her maid, endured all this retreat on horseback: but, Nature not [being] able to hold out any longer, [she] fell into frequent swoonings; and [was], in appearance, ready to expire her last [breath]. And having now passed the Trent [and therefore come into North Lincolnshire], and seeing a house not far off, I sent her, with her maid only, thither: with little hopes of seeing her any more alive; but intending, the next day, to send a ship from Hull for her.
So I went on to Barton [upon Humber: nearly opposite Hull]; having sent before to have a ship ready against my coming thither.
Here I lay down a little to rest; if it were possible to find any in a body so full of pain; and [in] a mind so full of anxiety and trouble. Though I must acknowledge it, as the infinite goodness of GOD, methought my spirits were nothing at all discouraged from doing still that which I thought to be my work and duty.
But I had not laid [down] a quarter of an hour before the Enemy came close to the town [of Barton]. I had now not above 100 Horse with me. We went to the ship; where, under the covert of her ordnance, we got all our men and horses aboard.
So passing [the] Humber, we arrived at Hull; our men faint and tired: [and I] myself having lost all, even to my shirt; for my clothes were made unfit to wear, with rents and the blood which was upon them. Considering which, in all humility and reverence, I may say, I was in Job's condition when he said, "Naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither. The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away. Blessed be the Name of the Lord." [Job i. 21.]
But GOD, who is a GOD of Mercy and Consolation, doth not always leave us in distress.
I having sent a ship, presently after I came into the town, for my daughter: she was brought, the next day [4th July 1643], to Hull; pretty well recovered of her long and tedious journey.
And, not many days after, the Earl of Newcastle sent my Wife back again, in his coach, with some Horse to guard her: which generosity gained more than any reputation he could have gotten in detaining a Lady prisoner upon such terms.
And many of our men, which were dispersed in this long retreat, came hither again to us.
Our first business now, was to raise new forces: which, in a short time, were about 1,500 Foot and 700 Horse.
The town [of Hull] being little; I was sent to Beverley with the Horse and 600 Foot.
But my Lord [of] Newcastle, who now looked upon us as inconsiderable, was marched with his whole Army into Lincolnshire: only leaving some few garrisons at York and other few places. He took in Gainsborough and Lincoln; and intended [to take] Boston next, which was the Key of the Associated Countries [Counties]. For his Orders, which I have seen, were to go into Essex; and block up London on that side.
But we, having laid a great while [from 4th July to 26th August 1643] still, were now strong enough in the Field for those forces that remained in the Country [Yorkshire]. So we sent out a good party to make an attempt upon Stamford Bridge, near York. But the Enemy, upon the alarm, fled thither [i.e. to York]; which put them all there in such a fear as they sent earnestly to desire him to return, or the Country [Yorkshire] would again be lost: for the Lord Fairfax had considerable forces.
Upon which, he returned again into Yorkshire; and, not long after, came to besiege Hull.
I, lying then at Beverley in the way of his march, finding that we were not able to maintain such an open place against an Army, desired Orders from my father to retire back to Hull.
But the Committee there (having always more mind of raising money, than to take care of the Soldiers; yet these [Committee] Men had the greatest share in command at this time) would not let any Orders be given for our retreat; and [it were] unfit for us to return without [them].
The Enemy marcheth from York, with his whole Army, towards us. Retreat, we must not. Keep the town, we could not. So to make our retreat more honourable, and useful both; I drew out all the Horse and Dragoons toward the Enemy, and stood, drawn up by a wood side, all that night.
The next morning [2nd September 1643], by day[time], our Scouts, and theirs, fired on one another. They march[ed] on with their whole body; which was about 4,000 Horse and 12,000 Foot.
We stood till they were come very near [to] us. I then drew off (having given directions before for the Foot to march away toward Hull), thinking to make good the retreat with the Horse.
The Enemy, with a good party, were upon our rear. The lane being but narrow, we made good shift with them till we got into Beverley, and shut the gates: which we had scarce time to do; they being so close upon us. But, in this business, we lost Major Layton, and not above 2 more.
The Enemy, not knowing what forces we had in the town, stayed till the rest of the Army came up; which was about a mile behind. This gave our Foot some advantage in their retreat: it being 5 miles to Hull, on narrow banks [and] so fittest for our Foot. I sent the Horse by Cottingham, an opener road; who got well thither.
But they [the Royalists] overtook the Foot: which, notwithstanding, made good their retreat till we got to a little bridge, 2 miles from Hull; where we made a stand.
The Enemy following close, our men here gave them a good volley of shot; which made them draw back, and advance no further. So, leaving a small Guard at the bridge, we got safe to Hull.
Thus not only for want of military skill in the Gentlemen of the Committee; but, to say no more, for want of good nature: we were exposed to this trouble and danger.
My Lord of Newcastle now lay siege to Hull, but at a great distance. The sluices being open, drowned the land two miles about the town: yet upon a bank, which was the highway, he approached so near as to shoot cannon shot at random into the town; which were, for the most part, fiery bullets. But the diligence and care of the Governor (who caused every inhabitant to watch his own house; and wheresoever they saw these bullets fall, to be ready to quench them) prevented the danger.
Our Horse was now useless: and many [horses] died every day; having nothing but salt water about the town.
I was therefore sent with the Horse, over [the Humber] into Lincolnshire, to join with [Edward Montagu,] the Earl of Manchester's forces; which were then commanded by Major General [Oliver] Cromwell: who received us at our landing, with his troops.
Sir John Henderson lay within three or four miles of this place with 5,000 men, to prevent our conjunction: but durst not attempt [it].
He marched three or four days near to us: but, for want of good intelligence, we did not know so much. For I altogether trusted to the care of our new friends, being a stranger in those parts: till one morning [9th October 1643] he set upon our Guards at Horncastle; which, being but newly raised in that Country [Lincolnshire], fled towards Lincoln, without giving any alarm to our Quarters, who lay dispersed and secure.
But Sir John Henderson, marching slowly with his Army, gave the alarm to some of our Quarters; which was soon taken by the rest: but, with some disorder, before we could get into a considerable body. My Lord Willoughby with his Horse, and my Dragoons commanded by Colonel Morgan, brought up the Rear. After some skirmishes, we lodged that night all in the Field.
And, next day [10th October 1643], the Earl of Manchester came to us with his Foot.
The day following [11th October 1643], we advanced again towards the Enemy; and choosing a convenient ground to fight on, we drew up the Army there. The Enemy did so on the side of another hill close by, having a little plain betwixt us.
Lieutenant General [Oliver] Cromwell had the Van [of Horse]; I, the Reserve [of Horse]: my Lord [of] Manchester all the Foot. After we had faced one another a little while; the Forlorn Hopes [Advanced Guards] began the fight. Presently the [Main] Bodies met in the plain: where the fight was hot for half an hour; but then we forced them to a rout. Above 200 killed, and 2000 taken prisoners. This was the issue of Horncastle Fight, or, as some call it, Winceby Fight.
At the same instant, we heard great shooting of ordnance towards Hull: which was a sally my father made [out of the town] upon my Lord of Newcastle's Trenches; who drew out most part of his Army to relieve them. But our men charged so resolutely as they possessed themselves of the cannon; and so pursued their advantage as [they] put the enemy into a total rout. Upon which, he raised the Siege, and returned again to York.
These two defeats together, the one falling heavy on the Horse, the other on the Foot, kept the Enemy all that Winter [of 1643-1644] from attempting anything.
And we, after the taking of Lincoln, settled ourselves in Winter Quarters.
But, in the coldest season of it, I was ordered by the Parliament to go and raise the Siege of Nantwich; which the Lord Byron, with the Irish Army, had reduced to great extremity.
I was the most unfit of all the forces; being ever the worst paid; my men sickly, and almost naked for want of clothes. I desired the Parliament that they would be pleased to supply these wants: not to excuse myself, as some who had no will to stir, though well enough accommodated with all these; and a business of so much importance. But their answer was a positive direction to march; for it would admit of no delay: which indeed was as grievous to me as that injunction was to the Israelites, to make bricks without straw.
But, foreseeing I should have such a return to my desires, I had, seeing the necessity of the business, upon my own credit got so much cloth as clothed 1,500 men: and [they were] all ready to march when these Orders came to me.
So, the 29th of December [1643], we got forwards from Falkingham in Lincolnshire to Nantwich, with 1,800 Horse and 500 Dragoons; and a Power to call the Regiments [of Foot] of Lancashire and Cheshire to make up the body of the Army. But it was not a little trouble to me, when I came to Manchester, to find some of them 30, some 40 miles distant: besides the disaffection of some of their Colonels, who went as their peculiar [individual] safety or Interest swayed them. But, finding more readiness in the inferior Officers and common soldiers, I got up, in a few days, near[ly] 3,000 Foot.
With this Army, we marched [from Manchester, on the 21st January 1644] to Nantwich; which was at the point of surrendering.
When we were within two days' march, I had intelligence that the Lord Byron had drawn off his Siege; and intended to meet us in the Field. I put my men into the order I intended to fight [in]; and so continued my march till we came within 3 miles of the town.
There, was a Pass kept with about 250 men. I sent Colonel Morgan, with his Dragoons, to beat them off: in which, his brother, who was his Lieutenant, was slain. The Major who commanded the other party, with some others, were taken prisoners.
We marched on till we came within cannon shot of their Works, where half of their Army was drawn up. The river [Weaver], which runs through the town, being raised with the melting of the snow, hindered, as we were informed, those that lay on the other side of the town from joining with them.
We called a Council [of War, on 25th January 1644] wherein it was debated, Whether we should attempt those in their Works [Entrenchments], being divided from the rest of the Army: or march into the town and relieve them; and, by increase of more force be better able, the next day [26th January 1644] to encounter them.
The latter was resolved on. So, making a way with [the] Pioneers through the hedges, we marched to[wards] the town.
But, after we had gone a little way, word came that the Enemy were in the Rear. So, facing about two Regiments [of Foot] and my own Regiment of Horse, commanded by Major Rousby, we relieving those that were already engaged. And so the fight began on all sides. These that fell on our Rear were those that lay [on] the other side of the town; which had passed the river [Weaver]. Those that were drawn up under their Works [about Acton Church], fell upon our Van, which was marching to the town. Thus was the battle divided; there being a quarter of a mile betwixt us.
In the division first engaged, our Foot, at the beginning, gave a little ground: but our Horse recovered this, by beating the Enemy's Horse out of the lanes that flanked our Foot; which did so encourage our men as they gained now of the Enemy, so as they made them retire from hedge to hedge till, at length, they were forced to fly to their Works [Entrenchments]. But their Horse retreated in better order towards Chester, without much loss.
Our other Wing [the Van], being assisted from the town, who sallied out with 700 or 800 Musketeers, beat the Enemy also back into the same Works [at Acton Church]; which we presently surrounded. ["Where," as Sir T. Fairfax said in his despatch, "they were caught as in a trap.">[
But, being in great disorder and confusion, [they] sooner yielded themselves prisoners; with all their Chief Officers, arms, Colours, and ammunition.
Thus, by the mercy of GOD, was this victory obtained: being yet the more signal in that we were not to deal with young soldiers, but with men of great experience; and an Army which had ever been victorious.
After this, we took in several garrisons in Cheshire: Lathom [House] only in Lancashire held out; which was besieged by the forces of that Country [County], but afterwards [the siege was] raised by Prince Rupert.
Having spent three or four months in this Expedition; my father commanded me back into Yorkshire, that by the conjunction of forces he might be the more able to take the Field.
We met about Ferrybridge [in April 1644]: he being come out of Hull thither, with intention to fall upon the Enemy's garrison at Selby.
And here I received another Command from the Parliament, to march immediately with my Horse and Dragoons, into Northumberland, to join with the Scots Army. The Earl of Newcastle, who was then at Durham, being much stronger in Horse than they; for want of which they could not advance no further. But it being resolved, within a day or two to storm Selby; I stayed till that business was over: which proved as effectual for the relief of the Scots Army.
The Governor of York lay in the town with 2,000 men. We drew Horse and Foot close to it. Sir John Meldrum led on the Foot; which had their General Posts appointed, where they should storm: I, with the Horse, ready to second them.
The Enemy within defended themselves [on the 11th April 1644] stoutly a good while. Our men at length beat them from the Line; but could not advance farther because of the Horse within.
I getting a Barricado open, which let us in betwixt the houses and the river. Here we had an encounter with their Horse. [After one charge, they fled over a Bridge of Boats to York.]
Other Horse came up, and charged us again, where my horse was overthrown; [I] being single [alone] a little before my men: who presently relieved me, and forced the Enemy back; who retreated also to York. In this charge, we took Colonel [Lord] Bellasis, Governor of York.
By this, the Foot had entered the town; and also took many prisoners.
This good success put them into great distraction and fears at York: who speedily sent to the Earl of Newcastle, to haste back thither; believing we would presently attempt them. This news suddenly called him back, leaving the Scots: who, with cold and oft alarms, were reduced to great extremity; but now advanced without delay after him.
The Earl of Newcastle gets into York [on 19th April 1644].
The Scots joined their forces with my father's at Wetherby: altogether making 16,000 Foot and 4,000 Horse. They marched on to York [, from Tadcaster, on 19th April 1644].
But for this work, it was thought fit to have more men; the town [of York] being large in compass, and strongly manned. Therefore the Earl of Crawford, [Lord] Lindsay and myself were sent to the Earl of Manchester, to desire him to join with us in the Siege: which he willingly consented to, bringing an addition of 6,000 Foot and 3,000 Horse [on 2nd June 1644].
So now the Army had three Generals, [Alexander] Leslie [, Earl of Leven], Manchester, and Fairfax; who lay apart in three Quarters before the town. But the north side still remained open to the town.
Some time was spent here without any considerable action till, in my Lord of Manchester's Quarters, approaches were made to St Mary's Tower; and soon came to mine it. Which Colonel [Laurence] Crawford, a Scotsman, who commanded that Quarter, (ambitious to have the honour alone of springing the mine [on 16th June 1644] undertook, without acquainting of the other two Generals with it, for their advice and concurrence): which proved very prejudicial. For, having engaged his party against the whole strength of the town, without more force to second him, he was repulsed with the loss of 300 men. For which, he had been surely called to account; but that he escaped the better by reason of this triumviral goverment.
So after, Prince Rupert came to relieve the town. We raised the siege [which had lasted from Monday the 3rd June to Monday the 1st July 1644] and Hessa[y] Moor [a portion of Marston Moor, 7 miles from York] being appointed the rendezvous, the whole Army drew thither.
About a mile from whence, Prince Rupert lay; the river Ouse being only betwixt us: which he, that night, passed over at Poppleton. And, the next day, [he] drew his Army into the same Moor we were on: who, being now joined with the Earl of Newcastle's forces, made about 23,000 or 24,000 men. But we, something more.
We were divided in our opinions what to do. The English were for fighting them; the Scots, for retreating, to gain (as they alleged) both time and place of more advantage. This latter being resolved on; we marched away [on Tuesday 2nd July 1644] to[wards] Tadcaster; which made the Enemy to advance the faster.
Lieutenant General Cromwell, Major General [David] Leslie, and myself, being appointed to bring up the Rear; we sent word to the Generals, of the necessity of making a stand. For else, the Enemy, having the advantage, might put us in some disorder; but, by the advantage of the ground we were on, we hoped to make it good till they came back to us.
[Which they did.]
The place was Marston Fields, which afterwards gave the name to this battle.
Here we drew up our Army. The Enemy was drawn up in Battalia on the Moor a little below us.
The day being, for the most part, spent in preparation we now began to descend toward them.
Lieutenant General Cromwell commanded the Left Wing of Horse; and [was] seconded by Major General [David] Leslie. I had the Right Wing [of Horse], with some Scotch Horse and Lances for my Reserves. The three Generals were with the Foot.
Our Left Wing charged first the Enemy's Right Wing; which was performed for a while with much resolution on both sides; but the Enemy, at length, was put to the worst.
Our Right Wing had not, all, so good success, by reason of the whins [furze] and ditches which we were to pass over before we could get to the Enemy, which put us into great disorder: notwithstanding, I drew up a body of 400 Horse. But because the intervals of [their] Horse, in this Wing only, were lined with Musketeers; which did us much hurt with their shot: I was necessitated to charge them. We were a long time engaged one with another; but at last we routed that part of their Wing. We charged, and pursued them a good way towards York.
[I] myself only [alone] returned presently, to get to the men I left behind me. But that part of the Enemy which stood [opposite to them], perceiving the disorder they were in, had charged and routed them, before I could get to them. So that the good success we had at first was eclipsed much by this bad conclusion.
But our other Wing, and most of the Foot, went on prosperously till they had cleared the Field.
But I must not forget to remember with thankfulness GOD's goodness to me this day. For having charged through the Enemy, and my [400] men going after [in] the pursuit; returning back [alone] to go to my other troops, I was gotten in among the Enemy, which stood up and down the Field in several bodies of Horse. So, taking the Signal [a white handkerchief, or a piece of paper] out of my hat, I passed through, for one of their own Commanders; and so got to my Lord of Manchester's Horse in the other Wing; only with a cut in my cheek which was given me in the first charge, and a shot [which] my horse received.
In which [first] charge also, many of my Officers and soldiers were hurt and slain. The Captain of my own Troop was shot in the arm. My Cornet had both his hands cut, that rendered him ever after unserviceable. Captain Mickelthwaite, an honest stout man, was slain. And [there was] scarce[ly] any Officer which was in this charge, which did not receive a hurt.
But Colonel Lambert (who should have seconded me; but could not get up to me) charged in another place. Major Fairfax, who was Major to his Regiment, had, at least, thirty wounds: of which he died; after he was abroad [out of doors] again, and [had] good hopes of his recovery.
But that which nearest of all concerned me, was the loss of my brother [Charles Fairfax]: who, being deserted of his men, was sore wounded; of which, in three or four days after, he died.
So as, in this charge, as many were hurt and killed as in the whole [Parliamentary] Army besides.[24]
Of the Enemy's part, there were above 4,000 slain, and many taken prisoners.
Prince Rupert returned into the South. The Earl of Newcastle went beyond the seas [on 5th July 1644], with many of his Officers. York presently surrendered [on the 15th July 1644], and the North now was wholly reduced by the Parliament's forces, except some garrisons.
Soon after this, I went to Helmsley, to take in the Castle there: but received a dangerous shot in my shoulder; and was brought back to York. All, for some time, being doubtful of my recovery.
Yet, at the same time, the Parliament voted me to command in the South.
But my intention being only to keep in mind what I had been present in, during this Northern War; I shall put an end to this Discourse, where it pleased GOD to determine my service there.
Yet thus, with some smart from his rod, to let me see I was not mindful enough of returning my humble thanks and acknowledgments for the deliverances and mercies I received; and for which, alas, I am not yet capable enough to praise him as I ought. [I] that may say by experience, "Who is a GOD like unto our GOD?" [Ps. lxxi. 19.] Therefore, "Not unto us, O Lord; not unto us, but unto Thy Name; give we the praise!" [Ps. cxv.]
But as for myself, and what I have done, I may say with Solomon, "I looked on all the works that my hands have wrought; and on the labour that I had laboured to do: and, behold, all was Vanity and Vexation of Spirit. For there is no remembrance of the Wise more than of the Fool for ever; seeing that which now is, in the days to come shall be forgotten." Eccles. ii. 16.
FINIS.
Footnotes
[20] Sir Henry Slingsby gives the following Account of this Action:
My Lord of Cumberland sent out Sir Thomas Glenham once again to beat up Sir Thomas Fairfax's Quarters at Wetherby; commanding out a party both of Horse and Dragoons. He comes close up to the town, undiscovered, a little before sunrise; and Prideaux and some others enter the town through a back yard. This gave an alarm quite through the town.
Sir Thomas Fairfax was, at this juncture, drawing on his boots, to go to his father at Tadcaster. He gets on horseback, draws out some Pikes, and so meets our Gentlemen. Every one had a shot at him: he only making at them with his sword; and then retired again, under the guard of his Pikes.
At another part, Lieutenant Colonel Norton enters with his Dragoons. Captain Atkinson encounters him on horseback: the other being on foot. They meet. Atkinson missed with his pistol. Norton pulls him off horseback by the sword-belt. Being both on the ground; Atkinson's soldiers come in, fell Norton into the ditch with the butt ends of their muskets, to rescue their Captain. Norton's soldiers come in, and beat down Atkinson; and with repeated blows break his thigh; of which wound, he died. A sore scuffle between two that had been neighbours and intimate friends. After this they [Norton's Dragoons] retreated out of the town; with the loss of more than one Trooper killed, and one Major Carr, a Scotchman.
Memoirs, p. 40, Ed. 1806, 8vo.
[21] This is clearly wrong, and a slip of the memory. The Writer did not again go to Bradford until after the Victory of the Club Men there, on Sunday, 18th December 1642; which is thus described by Ferdinando, Lord Fairfax, in a letter from Selby on 29th December 1642.
I have formerly advertised that the Earl of Newcastle's Army have seized upon Leeds: where they plunder the well-affected party; and raise a very great sum of money out of those that they can draw to compound for their securities.
And from Leeds, they marched on Sunday, the 18th of this month, with 5 Troops of Horse, 6 Companies of Dragoons, 200 Foot, and two drakes [small cannon, or field pieces], of the Earl of Newcastle's Army; besides Sir William Savile and divers other Gentlemen of Yorkshire and their forces, that joined themselves with them: and came to Bradford, about ten a clock in the morning; intending to surprise the town, in [the] time of Prayer.
But the town, having scouts abroad, had notice of their coming; and gave the alarm to the country [district]: who came in to their succour from the parts adjoining.
Yet they had not in all above 80 muskets: the rest being armed with clubs and such rustic weapons; with which small force, they put the cause to trial with [against] the great strength of the Enemy. Who planted their drakes, and discharged each of them seventeen times upon the town; until a townsman, with a fowling piece, killed one of the Cannoniers. And then they all, with great courage, issued from the town upon the enemies; and killed many of them, and took about 30 prisoners: and forced the rest to retreat, leaving 40 of their muskets and [a] barrel of powder, with much other provision, behind them. And this, with [the] loss of 3 Bradford men.
The report of the country is that [of] the enemies, amongst those that were killed were Colonel Evers, and Captain Binns, and another Commander; and that Colonel Goring, General of the Horse with the Earl of Newcastle, was wounded; and Serjeant Major Carr, taken prisoner. And it is generally spoken, That 150 more are run away, upon the retreat; and are not since returned to Leeds.
In which victory the hand and power of GOD was most evident, the town being open on all sides and not defensible; assaulted on every side by a malicious and bloody Enemy; and defended by a few half-naked [half-armed] men: there being in the town not above 80 muskets before they got 40 more by the spoils of their enemies; so that [the] slaughter was, for the most part, with clubs and scythes mounted on poles, and came to hand blows.
With this defeat, the enemies are so enraged as they threaten revenge to Bradford.
Whereupon the Bradford men sent to me for succour of men and arms. And I have sent my son [Sir Thomas Fairfax] and Sir Henry Foulis to them, with 3 Troops of Horse and 120 Dragooners; who are safely arrived there: and [have been] received with great joy and acclamation of the country [district]; who flock to him and offer themselves most willingly to serve against their Popish enemies, if arms could be furnished to them.
He hath already surprised some victuals [convoys of provisions] sent in, upon warrants [requisitions], to the Enemy at Leeds, by the over-awed country [district]. And he hath sent Captain Mildmay, with his Troop of Horse, into Craven [i.e. the upper Wharfe-dale] to stop the raising of forces and money in that country: which is attempted by the Earl of Cumberland; who is lately retired from York to Skipton. And I hope he may leave nothing unattempted that may conduce to the safety of the country, so far as can be expected from the few forces he hath with him.
A Second Letter from the Lord Fairfax. Printed 5th Jan. 1642[-3]. British Museum Press Mark, E. 84. (15).
Another Account of the Bradford Victory, dated 21st December 1642, states:
They appeared in Barker End, about 9 a clock, when we had not in [the] town above 40 Musketeers; planted their ordnance in William Cooke's Barn; marched down the Causey [Causeway] with their Foot, whilst their Horse coasted about the town to hinder aid from coming in; possessed themselves of those houses under the Church; and from thence played hotly upon our Musketeers in the Church till 11 a clock: about which time [the] Halifax men, and other neighbours, came in to our help.
The fight, before hot, was then hotter. Our men, impatient to be cooped up in the Church, rushed out [and] forced a passage into the foresaid houses; and there our Club Men did good execution upon them. Thereabouts the fight continued till it was dark. Many of theirs were slain....
Their cannon, one of which shoots a 9 lb. ball [if so, it was a Demi-Culverin: see Vol. IV., p. 251] played all that time upon the town: but hurt no man, praised be GOD! who hath delivered those that were ordained to death, &c.
Brave News of the taking of Chichester, &c. &c. Printed 30th Dec. 1642. British Museum Press Mark, E. 83. (36).
[22] Sir Henry Slingsby says of this Fight:
Two days after, His Excellency [the Earl of Newcastle] came to York [5th December 1642]; he undertook to attempt to beat Lord Fairfax out of Tadcaster: in this he succeeded pretty well [on 7th December 1642]; and marched to Pomfret [Pontefract], which he made his Head Quarters. His Horse [was] at Sherburn, and towns next adjacent.
Here we were a little too secure. Sir Thomas Fairfax (with a party of 300 Horse; and, it seems, hearing the Officers in Sherburn were to have a feast) comes at noon-day, beats up our Quarters; [and] takes Commissary Windham, Sir William Riddall, and many others, prisoners.
Memoirs, p. 42, Ed. 1806, 8vo.
The date of this Fight is fixed by the following passage:
On Tuesday last [13th December 1642], about four of the clock in the morning, Sir Thomas Fairfax marched from Selby; fetching a compass, as if he declined Sherburn: yet, at last, [he] wheeled about, and assaulted that town about one of the clock, the next day [14th December 1642] &c. &c. A True Relation of the Fight at Sherburn, &c. Written on [Friday] 16th December 1642. British Museum Press Mark, E. 83. (15).
[23] Saturday night, the 20th of May [1643]. The Lord General [i.e. Ferdinando, Lord Fairfax] gave Order for a party of 1,000 Foot, 3 Companies of Dragooners, and 8 Troops of Horse, to march from the garrisons of Leeds, Bradford, Halifax, and Howley. Sir Thomas Fairfax commanded in chief. The Foot were commanded by Serjeant Major General Gifford and Sir William Fairfax. The Horse were divided into two bodies: 4 Troops commanded by Sir Thomas Fairfax, and the other 4 Troops by Sir Henry Foulis.
Howley was the rendezvous, where they all met on Saturday [20th May] last, about twelve a clock at night.
About two, next morning, they marched away: and coming to Stanley, where 2 of the Enemy's Troops lay, with some Dragooners; that Quarter was beaten up, and about one and twenty prisoners taken.
About four a clock in the morning [of 21st May 1643], we came before Wakefield. Where, after some of their Horse were beaten into the town, the Foot, with unspeakable courage, beat the enemies from the hedges, which they had lined with Muskeeters, into the town; and assaulted it in two places, Wrengate and Norgate: and, after an hour and a half's fight, we recovered [captured] one of their Pieces [of Ordnance] and turned it upon them; and entered the town, at both places, at one and the same time.
When the Barricadoes were opened, Sir Thomas Fairfax, with the Horse, fell into the town; and cleared the street: where Colonel Goring was taken by Lieutenant Alured, brother to Captain Alured, a Member of the House [of Commons].
Yet in the Market Place, there stood 3 Troops of Horse; and Colonel Lampton's Regiment: to whom Major General Gifford sent a Trumpet[er], with offer of Quarter, if they would lay down their arms.
They answered, They scorned the motion.
Then he fired a Piece of their own Ordnance upon them: and the Horse fell in upon them, [and] beat them out of [the] town. We took 39 Officers, 27 Colours of Foot, 3 Coronets of Horse, and about 1,500 common soldiers.
The Enemy had in the town 3,000 Foot and 7 Troops of Horse: besides Colonel Lampton's Regiment; which came into the town, after we had entered the town.
The Enemy left behind them 4 Pieces of Ordnance, with Amunition; which we brought away.
Thomas Fairfax. John Gifford. John Holman. Titus Leighton. Henry Foulis. William Fairfax. Robert Foulis. Francis Talbot.
A Miraculous Victory...at Wakefield. Printed 27th May 1643. British Museum Press Mark, E. 104. (13).
[24] A modest Refutation of an Error published in print by Master [Thomas] Fuller, in his book of Worthies [of England]. Title, [Yorkshire] Battles, pagina 225 [, Ed. 1662], in these words, viz.
Goring, [at the fight of Marston Moor,] so valiantly charged the Right Wing of the Enemy, that they fairly forsook the Field.
On this, Lord Fairfax made the following marginal Note in his copy:
I envy none the honour they deservedly got in this battle; nor am I ambitiously desirous of a branch of their laurel. But I see no reason to be excluded [from] the Lists: in which I underwent equal hazards with any others that day.
But [it] being my lot to be cast upon many disadvantages, having command of the Right Wing, with much difficulty I could get but 5 Troops in order: with which I charged the Enemy's Left Wing; when the business was hotly disputed a long time, at [the] sword's point. We broke through; and had the chase of many of them.
But, indeed, the rest of the Horse, [that] I could not draw up to charge with me, were soon routed with that part of the Enemy we left behind.
But to shew that some did their parts: having routed some of the Enemy, and taken Goring's Major General prisoner; few of us came off without dangerous wounds; and many [of them] were mortal.
Which shews that the Right Wing did not wholly leave the Field; as the Author of that book relates.
F. Grose, Antiquarian Repertory, 2nd Ed., III., p. 31, 1808, 4.
On Tuesday last [13th December 1642], about four of the clock in the morning, Sir Thomas Fairfax marched from Selby; fetching a compass, as if he declined Sherburn: yet, at last, [he] wheeled about, and assaulted that town about one of the clock, the next day [14th December 1642] &c. &c. A True Relation of the Fight at Sherburn, &c. Written on [Friday] 16th December 1642. British Museum Press Mark, E. 83. (15).
Goring, [at the fight of Marston Moor,] so valiantly charged the Right Wing of the Enemy, that they fairly forsook the Field.
I envy none the honour they deservedly got in this battle; nor am I ambitiously desirous of a branch of their laurel. But I see no reason to be excluded [from] the Lists: in which I underwent equal hazards with any others that day.
But [it] being my lot to be cast upon many disadvantages, having command of the Right Wing, with much difficulty I could get but 5 Troops in order: with which I charged the Enemy's Left Wing; when the business was hotly disputed a long time, at [the] sword's point. We broke through; and had the chase of many of them.
But, indeed, the rest of the Horse, [that] I could not draw up to charge with me, were soon routed with that part of the Enemy we left behind.
But to shew that some did their parts: having routed some of the Enemy, and taken Goring's Major General prisoner; few of us came off without dangerous wounds; and many [of them] were mortal.
Which shews that the Right Wing did not wholly leave the Field; as the Author of that book relates.
F. Grose, Antiquarian Repertory, 2nd Ed., III., p. 31, 1808, 4.
George Villiers,
second Duke of Buckingham.
An Epitaph on
Thomas, third Lord Fairfax.
[A Third Collection of...Poems, Satires, Songs, &c. against Popery and Tyranny. London, 1689. 4to.
[Lord Fairfax, the great General on the side of the Parliament, died in 1671; and his son-in-law, the Writer of this Epitaph, in 1688. Villiers never wrote a nobler Poem, irregular though it be.]
Under this stone does lie
One born for Victory,
1.
FAirfax the valiant; and the only He Whoe'er, for that alone a Conqueror would be. Both sexes' virtues were in him combined: He had the fierceness of the manliest mind, And eke the meekness too of womankind. He never knew what Envy was, or Hate. His soul was filled with Worth and Honesty; And with another thing, quite out of date, Called Modesty.
2.
He ne'er seemed impudent but in the Field: a place Where Impudence itself dares seldom show her face. Had any stranger spied him in the room With some of those whom he had overcome, And had not heard their talk; but only seen Their gestures and their mien: They would have sworn he had, the vanquished been. For as they bragged, and dreadful would appear; While they, their own ill lucks in war repeated: His modesty still made him blush to hear How often he had them defeated.
3.
Through his whole life, the Part he bore Was wonderful and great: And yet it so appeared in nothing more Than in his private last retreat. For it's a stranger thing to find One man of such a glorious mind, As can dismiss the Power he has got; Than millions of the Polls and Braves (Those despicable fools and knaves), Who such a pother make, Through dulness and mistake, In seeking after Power: but get it not.
4.
When all the nation he had won, And with expense of blood had bought; Store great enough, he thought, Of fame and of renown: He then his arms laid down With full as little pride As if he had been of his Enemies' side; Or one of them could do that were undone. He neither wealth, nor Places sought. For others, not himself, he fought. He was content to know (For he had found it so) That when he pleased, to conquer he was able; And left the spoil and plunder to the rabble. He might have been a King: But that he understood How much it is a meaner thing To be unjustly Great, than honourably Good.
5.
This from the World, did admiration draw; And from his friends, both love and awe: Remembering what in fight he did before. And his foes loved him too, As they were bound to do, Because he was resolved to fight no more. So blessed of all, he died. But far more blessed were we, If we were sure to live till we could see A Man as great in War, in Peace as just, as he.
ADVICE
TO A
YOUNG REVIEWER,
WITH A
SPECIMEN OF THE ART.
OXFORD:
SOLD BY J. PARKER AND J. COOKE;
AND BY
F. C. AND J. RIVINGTON, ST. PAUL's
CHURCHYARD, LONDON.
1807.
[This splendid piece of irony was occasioned by the omniscient arrogance of the first Writers of the Edinburgh Review, then in its fifth year of publication, with, as Sir Walter Scott tells us, a sale of 9,000 copies each quarter, and a paramount influence in British society.
One usually looks to the reign of Queen Anne, to a Defoe, a Swift, or an Arbuthnot, for depth and subtilty of invention in prose; but here it is in abundance: not so much, perhaps, in what is so wittily said, as in the management and studied unfairness of the pettifogging malignant sham Review; where everything is said that ought to have been left out, and everything is left out that ought to have been said.
The Writer, of course, would only take a noble Poem for such maltreatment; and we must note the extreme liberality of his mind that, being a strong Churchman, and also at that time Tutor of Oriel College, Oxford, he selected a poem of the then scouted Milton for his example.
Among the brilliant strokes of this Satire, two seem pre-eminent:
(1) The designation of the Archangel of English Song as—Mr. M.
(2) Speaking thus of one whose life and thought were Purity itself—
But we have already had occasion to remark on the laxity
of Mr M.'s amatory notions.]
ADVICE
TO A
YOUNG REVIEWER, &c.
YOu are now about to enter on a Profession which has the means of doing much good to society, and scarcely any temptation to do harm. You may encourage Genius, you may chastise superficial Arrogance, expose Falsehood, correct Error, and guide the Taste and Opinions of the Age in no small degree by the books you praise and recommend. And this too may be done without running the risk of making any enemies; or subjecting yourself to be called to account for your criticism, however severe. While your name is unknown, your person is invulnerable: at the same time your aim is sure, for you may take it at your leisure; and your blows fall heavier than those of any Writer whose name is given, or who is simply anonymous. There is a mysterious authority in the plural, We, which no single name, whatever may be its reputation, can acquire; and, under the sanction of this imposing style, your strictures, your praises, and your dogmas, will command universal attention; and be received as the fruit of united talents, acting on one common principle—as the judgments of a tribunal who decide only on mature deliberation, and who protect the interests of Literature with unceasing vigilance.
Such being the high importance of that Office, and such its opportunities; I cannot bestow a few hours of leisure better than in furnishing you with some hints for the more easy and effectual discharge of it: hints which are, I confess, loosely thrown together; but which are the result of long experience, and of frequent reflection and comparison. And if anything should strike you, at first sight, as rather equivocal in point of morality, or deficient in liberality and feeling; I beg you will suppress all such scruples, and consider them as the offspring of a contracted education and narrow way of thinking, which a little intercourse with the World and sober reasoning will speedily overcome.
Now as in the conduct of life nothing is more to be desired than some Governing Principle of action, to which all other principles and motives must be made subservient; so in the Art of Reviewing I would lay down as a fundamental position, which you must never lose sight of, and which must be the mainspring of all your criticisms—Write what will sell! To this Golden Rule every minor canon must be subordinate; and must be either immediately deducible from it, or at least be made consistent with it.
Be not staggered at the sound of a precept which, upon examination, will be found as honest and virtuous as it is discreet. I have already sketched out the great services which it is in your power to render mankind; but all your efforts will be unavailing if men did not read what you write. Your utility therefore, it is plain, depends upon your popularity; and popularity cannot be attained without humouring the taste and inclinations of men.
Be assured that, by a similar train of sound and judicious reasoning, the consciences of thousands in public life are daily quieted. It is better for the State that their Party should govern than any other. The good which they can effect by the exercise of power is infinitely greater than any which could arise from a rigid adherence to certain subordinate moral precepts; which therefore should be violated without scruple whenever they stand in the way of their leading purpose. He who sticks at these can never act a great part in the World, and is not fit to act it if he could. Such maxims may be very useful in ordinary affairs, and for the guidance of ordinary men: but when we mount into the sphere of public utility, we must adopt more enlarged principles; and not suffer ourselves to be cramped and fettered by petty notions of Right and Moral Duty.
When you have reconciled yourself to this liberal way of thinking; you will find many inferior advantages resulting from it, which at first did not enter into your consideration. In particular, it will greatly lighten your labours, to follow the public taste, instead of taking upon you to direct it. The task of Pleasing is at all times easier than that of Instructing: at least it does not stand in need of painful research and preparation; and may be effected in general by a little vivacity of manner, and a dexterous morigeration [compliance, or obsequiousness], as Lord Bacon calls it, to the humours and frailties of men. Your responsibility too is thereby much lessened. Justice and Candour can only be required of you so far as they coincide with this Main Principle: and a little experience will convince you that these are not the happiest means of accomplishing your purpose.
It has been idly said, That a Reviewer acts in a judicial capacity, and that his conduct should be regulated by the same rules by which the Judge of a Civil Court is governed: that he should rid himself of every bias; be patient, cautious, sedate, and rigidly impartial: that he should not seek to shew off himself, and should check every disposition to enter into the case as a partizan.
Such is the language of superficial thinkers; but in reality there is no analogy between the two cases. A Judge is promoted to that office by the authority of the State; a Reviewer by his own. The former is independent of control, and may therefore freely follow the dictates of his own conscience: the latter depends for his very bread upon the breath of public opinion; the great law of self-preservation therefore points out to him a different line of action. Besides, as we have already observed, if he ceases to please, he is no longer read; and consequently is no longer useful. In a Court of Justice, too, the part of amusing the bystanders rests with the Counsel: in the case of criticism, if the Reviewer himself does not undertake it, who will?
Instead of vainly aspiring to the gravity of a Magistrate; I would advise him, when he sits down to write, to place himself in the imaginary situation of a cross-examining Pleader. He may comment, in a vain of agreeable irony, upon the profession, the manner of life, the look, dress, or even the name, of the witness he is examining: when he has raised a contemptuous opinion of him in the minds of the Court, he may proceed to draw answers from him capable of a ludicrous turn; and he may carve and garble these to his own liking.
This mode of proceeding you will find most practicable in Poetry, where the boldness of the image or the delicacy of thought (for which the Reader's mind was prepared in the original) will easily be made to appear extravagant, or affected, if judiciously singled out, and detached from the group to which it belongs. Again, since much depends upon the rhythm and the terseness of expression (both of which are sometimes destroyed by dropping a single word, or transposing a phrase), I have known much advantage arise from not quoting in the form of a literal extract: but giving a brief summary in prose, of the contents of a poetical passage; and interlarding your own language, with occasional phrases of the Poem marked with inverted commas.
These, and a thousand other little expedients, by which the arts of Quizzing and Banter flourish, practice will soon teach you. If it should be necessary to transcribe a dull passage, not very fertile in topics of humour and raillery; you may introduce it as a "favourable specimen of the Author's manner."
Few people are aware of the powerful effects of what is philosophically termed Association. Without any positive violation of truth, the whole dignity of a passage may be undermined by contriving to raise some vulgar and ridiculous notions in the mind of the reader: and language teems with examples of words by which the same idea is expressed, with the difference only that one excites a feeling of respect, the other of contempt. Thus you may call a fit of melancholy, "the sulks"; resentment, "a pet"; a steed, "a nag"; a feast, "a junketing"; sorrow and affliction, "whining and blubbering". By transferring the terms peculiar to one state of society, to analogous situations and characters in another, the same object is attained. "A Drill Serjeant" or "a Cat and Nine Tails" in the Trojan War, "a Lesbos smack putting into the Piræus," "the Penny Post of Jerusalem," and other combinations of the like nature which, when you have a little indulged in that vein of thought, will readily suggest themselves, never fail to raise a smile, if not immediately at the expense of the Author, yet entirely destructive of that frame of mind which his Poem requires in order to be relished.
I have dwelt the longer on this branch of Literature, because you are chiefly to look here for materials of fun and irony.
Voyages and Travels indeed are no barren ground; and you must seldom let a Number of your Review go abroad without an Article of this description. The charm of this species of writing, so universally felt, arises chiefly from its uniting Narrative with Information. The interest we take in the story can only be kept alive by minute incident and occasional detail; which puts us in possession of the traveller's feelings, his hopes, his fears, his disappointments, and his pleasures. At the same time the thirst for knowledge and love of novelty is gratified by continual information respecting the people and countries he visits.
If you wish therefore to run down the book, you have only to play off these two parts against each other. When the Writer's object is to satisfy the first inclination, you are to thank him for communicating to the World such valuable facts as, whether he lost his way in the night, or sprained his ankle, or had no appetite for his dinner. If he is busied about describing the Mineralogy, Natural History, Agriculture, Trade, etc. of a country: you may mention a hundred books from whence the same information may be obtained; and deprecate the practice of emptying old musty Folios into new Quartos, to gratify that sickly taste for a smattering about everything which distinguishes the present Age.
In Works of Science and recondite Learning, the task you have undertaken will not be so difficult as you may imagine. Tables of Contents and Indexes are blessed helps in the hands of a Reviewer; but, more than all, the Preface is the field from which his richest harvest is to be gathered.
In the Preface, the Author usually gives a summary of what has been written on the same subject before; he acknowledges the assistance he has received from different sources, and the reasons of his dissent from former Writers; he confesses that certain parts have been less attentively considered than others, and that information has come to his hands too late to be made use of; he points out many things in the composition of his Work which he thinks may provoke animadversion, and endeavours to defend or palliate his own practice.
Here then is a fund of wealth for the Reviewer, lying upon the very surface. If he knows anything of his business, he will turn all these materials against the Author: carefully suppressing the source of his information; and as if drawing from the stores of his own mind long ago laid up for this very purpose. If the Author's references are correct, a great point is gained; for by consulting a few passages of the original Works, it will be easy to discuss the subject with the air of having a previous knowledge of the whole.
Your chief vantage ground is, That you may fasten upon any position in the book you are reviewing, and treat it as principal and essential; when perhaps it is of little weight in the main argument: but, by allotting a large share of your criticism to it, the reader will naturally be led to give it a proportionate importance, and to consider the merit of the Treatise at issue upon that single question.
If anybody complains that the greater and more valuable parts remain unnoticed; your answer is, That it is impossible to pay attention to all; and that your duty is rather to prevent the propagation of error, than to lavish praises upon that which, if really excellent, will work its way in the World without your help.
Indeed, if the plan of your Review admits of selection, you had better not meddle with Works of deep research and original speculation; such as have already attracted much notice, and cannot be treated superficially without fear of being found out. The time required for making yourself thoroughly master of the subject is so great, that you may depend upon it they will never pay for the reviewing. They are generally the fruit of long study, and of talents concentrated in the steady pursuit of one object: it is not likely therefore that you can throw much new light on a question of this nature, or even plausibly combat the Author's propositions; in the course of a few hours, which is all you can well afford to devote to them. And without accomplishing one or the other of these points; your Review will gain no celebrity, and of course no good will be done.
Enough has been said to give you some insight into the facilities with which your new employment abounds. I will only mention one more, because of its extensive and almost universal application to all Branches of Literature; the topic, I mean, which by the old Rhetoricians was called ἐξ ἐναντίων, That is, when a Work excels in one quality; you may blame it for not having the opposite.
For instance, if the biographical sketch of a Literary Character is minute and full of anecdote; you may enlarge on the advantages of philosophical reflection, and the superior mind required to give a judicious analysis of the Opinions and Works of deceased Authors. On the contrary, if the latter method is pursued by the Biographer; you can, with equal ease, extol the lively colouring, and truth, and interest, of exact delineation and detail.
This topic, you will perceive, enters into Style as well as Matter; where many virtues might be named which are incompatible: and whichever the Author has preferred, it will be the signal for you to launch forth on the praises of its opposite; and continually to hold up that to your Reader as the model of excellence in this species of Writing.
You will perhaps wonder why all my instructions are pointed towards the Censure, and not the Praise, of Books; but many reasons might be given why it should be so. The chief are, that this part is both easier, and will sell better.
Let us hear the words of Mr Burke on a subject not very dissimilar:
"In such cases," says he, "the Writer has a certain fire and alacrity inspired into him by a consciousness that (let it fare how it will with the subject) his ingenuity will be sure of applause: and this alacrity becomes much greater, if he acts upon the offensive; by the impetuosity that always accompanies an attack, and the unfortunate propensity which mankind have to finding and exaggerating faults." Pref., Vindic. Nat. Soc., p. 6.
You will perceive that I have on no occasion sanctioned the baser motives of private pique, envy, revenge, and love of detraction. At least I have not recommended harsh treatment upon any of these grounds. I have argued simply on the abstract moral principle which a Reviewer should ever have present to his mind: but if any of these motives insinuate themselves as secondary springs of action, I would not condemn them. They may come in aid of the grand Leading Principle, and powerfully second its operation.
But it is time to close these tedious precepts, and to furnish you with, what speaks plainer than any precept, a Specimen of the Art itself, in which several of them are embodied. It is hastily done: but it exemplifies well enough what I have said of the Poetical department; and exhibits most of those qualities which disappointed Authors are fond of railing at, under the names of Flippancy, Arrogance, Conceit, Misrepresentation, and Malevolence: reproaches which you will only regard as so many acknowledgments of success in your undertaking; and infallible tests of an established fame, and [a] rapidly increasing circulation.
L'Allegro. A Poem.
By John Milton.
No Printer's name.
IT has become a practice of late with a certain description of people, who have no visible means of subsistence, to string together a few trite images of rural scenery, interspersed with vulgarisms in dialect, and traits of vulgar manners; to dress up these materials in a Sing-Song jingle; and to offer them for sale as a Poem. According to the most approved recipes, something about the heathen gods and goddesses; and the schoolboy topics of Styx and Cerberus, and Elysium; are occasionally thrown in, and the composition is complete. The stock in trade of these Adventurers is in general scanty enough; and their Art therefore consists in disposing it to the best advantage. But if such be the aim of the Writer, it is the Critic's business to detect and defeat the imposture; to warn the public against the purchase of shop-worn goods and tinsel wares; to protect the fair trader, by exposing the tricks of needy Quacks and Mountebanks; and to chastise that forward and noisy importunity with which they present themselves to the public notice.
How far Mr. Milton is amenable to this discipline, will best appear from a brief analysis of the Poem before us.
In the very opening he assumes a tone of authority which might better suit some veteran Bard than a raw candidate for the Delphic bays: for, before he proceeds to the regular process of Invocation, he clears the way, by driving from his presence (with sundry hard names; and bitter reproaches on her father, mother, and all the family) a venerable Personage, whose age at least and staid matron-like appearance, might have entitled her to more civil language.
Hence, loathèd Melancholy! Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born, In Stygian cave forlorn, &c.
There is no giving rules, however, in these matters, without a knowledge of the case. Perhaps the old lady had been frequently warned off before; and provoked this violence by continuing still to lurk about the Poet's dwelling. And, to say the truth, the Reader will have but too good reason to remark, before he gets through the Poem, that it is one thing to tell the Spirit of Dulness to depart; and another to get rid of her in reality. Like Glendower's Spirits, any one may order them away; "but will they go, when you do order them?"
But let us suppose for a moment that the Parnassian decree is obeyed; and, according to the letter of the Order (which is as precise and wordy as if Justice Shallow himself had drawn it) that the obnoxious female is sent back to the place of her birth,
'Mongst horrid shapes, shrieks, sights, &c.
At which we beg our fair readers not to be alarmed; for we can assure them they are only words of course in all poetical Instruments of this nature, and mean no more than the "force and arms" and "instigation of the Devil" in a common Indictment.
This nuisance then being abated; we are left at liberty to contemplate a character of a different complexion, "buxom, blithe, and debonair": one who, although evidently a great favourite of the Poet's and therefore to be received with all due courtesy, is notwithstanding introduced under the suspicious description of an alias.
In heaven, ycleped Euphrosyne; And by men, heart-easing Mirth.
Judging indeed from the light and easy deportment of this gay Nymph; one might guess there were good reasons for a change of name as she changed her residence.
But of all vices there is none we abhor more than that of slanderous insinuation. We shall therefore confine our moral strictures to the Nymph's mother; in whose defence the Poet has little to say himself. Here too, as in the case of the name, there is some doubt. For the uncertainty of descent on the Father's side having become trite to a proverb; the Author, scorning that beaten track, has left us to choose between two mothers for his favourite: and without much to guide our choice; for, whichever we fix upon, it is plain she was no better than she should be. As he seems however himself inclined to the latter of the two, we will even suppose it so to be.
Or whether (as some sager say) The frolic wind that breathes the Spring, Zephyr with Aurora playing, As he met her once a Maying; There on beds of violets blue, And fresh-blown roses washed in dew, &c.
Some dull people might imagine that the wind was more like the breath of Spring; than Spring, the breath of the wind: but we are more disposed to question the Author's Ethics than his Physics; and accordingly cannot dismiss these May gambols without some observations.
In the first place, Mr. M. seems to have higher notions of the antiquity of the May Pole than we have been accustomed to attach to it. Or perhaps he sought to shelter the equivocal nature of this affair under that sanction. To us, however, who can hardly subscribe to the doctrine that "Vice loses half its evil by losing all its grossness"; neither the remoteness of time, nor the gaiety of the season, furnishes a sufficient palliation. "Violets blue" and "fresh-blown roses" are, to be sure, more agreeable objects of the Imagination than a gin shop in Wapping or a booth in Bartholomew Fair; but, in point of morality, these are distinctions without a difference: or it may be the cultivation of mind (which teaches us to reject and nauseate these latter objects) aggravates the case, if our improvement in taste be not accompanied by a proportionate improvement of morals.
If the Reader can reconcile himself to this latitude of principle, the anachronism will not long stand in his way. Much indeed may be said in favour of this union of ancient Mythology with modern notions and manners. It is a sort of chronological metaphor—an artificial analogy, by which ideas, widely remote and heterogeneous, are brought into contact; and the mind is delighted by this unexpected assemblage, as it is by the combinations of figurative language.
Thus in that elegant Interlude, which the pen of Ben Jonson has transmitted to us, of the loves of Hero and Leander:
Gentles, that no longer your expectations may wander, Behold our chief actor, amorous Leander! With a great deal of cloth, lapped about him like a scarf: For he yet serves his father, a Dyer in Puddle Wharf: Which place we'll make bold with, to call it our Abydus; As the Bankside is our Sestos, and let it not be denied us.
And far be it from us to deny the use of so reasonable a liberty; especially if the request be backed (as it is in the case of Mr. M.) by the craving and imperious necessities of rhyme. What man who has ever bestrode Pegasus for an hour, will be insensible to such a claim?
Haud ignara mali miseris succurrere disco.
We are next favoured with an enumeration of the Attendants of this "debonair" Nymph, in all the minuteness of a German Dramatis Personæ, or a Ropedancer's Handbill.
Haste thee, Nymph; and bring with thee Jest and youthful Jollity, Quips and cranks and wanton wiles, Nods and becks and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek And love to live in dimple sleek; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.
The Author, to prove himself worthy of being admitted of the crew, skips and capers about upon "the light fantastic toe," that there is no following him. He scampers through all the Categories, in search of his imaginary beings, from Substance to Quality, and back again; from thence to Action, Passion, Habit, &c. with incredible celerity. Who, for instance, would have expected cranks, nods, becks, and wreathèd smiles as part of a group in which Jest, Jollity, Sport, and Laughter figure away as full-formed entire Personages? The family likeness is certainly very strong in the two last; and if we had not been told, we should perhaps have thought the act of deriding as appropriate to Laughter as to Sport.
But how are we to understand the stage directions?
Come, and trip it as you go.
Are the words used synonymously? Or is it meant that this airy gentry shall come in a Minuet step, and go off in a Jig? The phenomenon of a tripping crank is indeed novel, and would doubtless attract numerous spectators.
But it is difficult to guess to whom, among this jolly company, the Poet addresses himself: for immediately after the Plural appellative you, he proceeds,
And in thy right hand lead with thee The mountain Nymph, sweet Liberty.
No sooner is this fair damsel introduced; but Mr M., with most unbecoming levity, falls in love with her: and makes a request of her companion which is rather greedy, that he may live with both of them.
To live with her, and live with thee.
Even the gay libertine who sang "How happy could I be with either!" did not go so far as this. But we have already had occasion to remark on the laxity of Mr M.'s amatory notions.
The Poet, intoxicated with the charms of his Mistress, now rapidly runs over the pleasures which he proposes to himself in the enjoyment of her society. But though he has the advantage of being his own caterer, either his palate is of a peculiar structure, or he has not made the most judicious selection.
To begin the day well, he will have the sky-lark
to come in spite of sorrow And at his window bid "Good Morrow!"
The sky-lark, if we know anything of the nature of that bird, must come "in spite" of something else as well as "of sorrow," to the performance of this office.
In the next image, the Natural History is better preserved; and, as the thoughts are appropriate to the time of day, we will venture to transcribe the passage, as a favourable specimen of the Author's manner:
While the Cock, with lively din, Scatters the rear of darkness thin, And to the stack, or the barn door, Stoutly struts his dames before; Oft listening how the hounds and horns Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn, From the side of some hoar hill, Through the high wood echoing still.
Is it not lamentable that, after all, whether it is the Cock, or the Poet, that listens, should be left entirely to the Reader's conjectures? Perhaps also his embarrassment may be increased by a slight resemblance of character in these two illustrious Personages, at least as far as relates to the extent and numbers of their seraglio.
After a flaming description of sunrise, on which the clouds attend in their very best liveries; the Bill of Fare for the day proceeds in the usual manner. Whistling Ploughmen, singing Milkmaids, and sentimental Shepherds are always to be had at a moment's notice; and, if well grouped, serve to fill up the landscape agreeably enough.
On this part of the Poem we have only to remark, that if Mr John Milton proposeth to make himself merry with
Russet lawns, and fallows grey Where the nibbling flocks do stray; Mountains on whose barren breast The labouring clouds do often rest, Meadows trim with daisies pied, Shallow brooks, and rivers wide, Towers and battlements, &c. &c. &c.
he will either find himself egregiously disappointed; or he must possess a disposition to merriment which even Democritus himself might envy. To such a pitch indeed does this solemn indication of joy sometimes rise, that we are inclined to give him credit for a literal adherence to the Apostolic precept, "Is any merry, let him sing Psalms!"
At length, however, he hies away at the sound of bell-ringing, and seems for some time to enjoy the tippling and fiddling and dancing of a village wake: but his fancy is soon haunted again by spectres and goblins, a set of beings not, in general, esteemed the companions or inspirers of mirth.
With stories told of many a feat, How fairy Mab the junkets eat. She was pinched, and pulled, she said: And he, by friar's lanthern led, Tells how the drudging Goblin sweat To earn his cream-bowl duly set; When, in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy Flail hath threshed the corn That ten day-labourers could not end. Then lies him down the lubbar Fiend; And, stretched out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength: And, crop-full, out of door he flings Ere the first cock his Matins rings.
Mr. M. seems indeed to have a turn for this species of Nursery Tales and prattling Lullabies; and, if he will studiously cultivate his talent, he need not despair of figuring in a conspicuous corner of Mr Newbery's shop window: unless indeed Mrs. Trimmer should think fit to proscribe those empty levities and idle superstitions, by which the World has been too long abused.
From these rustic fictions, we are transported to another species of hum.
Towered cities please us then, And the busy hum of men; Where throngs of Knights and Barons bold, In woods of peace, high triumphs hold: With store of Ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence, and judge the Prize Of Wit or Arms; while both contend To win her grace, whom all commend.
To talk of the bright eyes of Ladies judging the Prize of Wit is indeed with the Poets a legitimate species of humming: but would not, we may ask, the rain from these Ladies' bright eyes rather tend to dim their lustre? Or is there any quality in a shower of influence; which, instead of deadening, serves only to brighten and exhilarate?
Whatever the case may be, we would advise Mr. M. by all means to keep out of the way of these "Knights and Barons bold": for, if he has nothing but his Wit to trust to, we will venture to predict that, without a large share of most undue influence, he must be content to see the Prize adjudged to his competitors.
Of the latter part of the Poem little need be said.
The Author does seem somewhat more at home when he gets among the Actors and Musicians: though his head is still running upon Orpheus and Eurydice and Pluto, and other sombre personages; who are ever thrusting themselves in where we least expect them, and who chill every rising emotion of mirth and gaiety.
He appears however to be so ravished with this sketch of festive pleasures, or perhaps with himself for having sketched them so well, that he closes with a couplet which would not have disgraced a Sternhold.
These delights if thou canst give, Mirth, with thee I mean to live.
Of Mr. M.'s good intentions there can be no doubt; but we beg leave to remind him that there are two opinions to be consulted. He presumes perhaps upon the poetical powers he has displayed, and considers them as irresistible: for every one must observe in how different a strain he avows his attachment now, and at the opening of the Poem. Then it was
If I give thee honour due, Mirth, admit me of thy crew!
But having, it should seem, established his pretensions; he now thinks it sufficient to give notice that he means to live with her, because he likes her.
Upon the whole, Mr. Milton seems to be possessed of some fancy and talent for rhyming; two most dangerous endowments which often unfit men for acting a useful part in life without qualifying them for that which is great and brilliant. If it be true, as we have heard, that he has declined advantageous prospects in business, for the sake of indulging his poetical humour; we hope it is not yet too late to prevail upon him to retract his resolution. With the help of Cocker and common industry, he may become a respectable Scrivener: but it is not all the Zephyrs, and Auroras, And Corydons, and Thyrsis's; aye, nor his "junketing Queen Mab" and "drudging Goblins," that will ever make him a Poet.
W. Hunneman.
Old King Cole, his life and death.
[? Written between 1830 and 1837]
1.
OLd King Cole was a merry old Soul, And a merry old Soul was he: He called for his Pipe, and he called for his Glass, And he called for his Fiddlers three. There were Pa-gan-in-i and Spagnioletti, And to make up the three, Mori: For King Cole he was fond of a Tri- O, fond of a Trio was he.
For old King Cole was a merry old Soul, And a merry old Soul was he: He called for his Pipe, and he called for his Glass, And he called for his Fiddlers three.
2.
Old King Cole kept Court at the "Hole 'o the Wall" in Chancery lane, near the street which is termèd "Fleet" (A queer name for Chancery!): So his subjects to cloak from the very provok- ing Bills of an Attorney; Old King Cole turned his eyes to Coke, and a very good Lawyer was he.
For old King Cole, &c.
3.
Old King Cole, though a merry old Soul, Not read nor write could he; For to read and write, 'twere useless quite When he kept a Secretary. So his mark for Rex was a single "X," And his drink was ditto double: For he scorned the fetters of four and twenty Letters, And it saved him a vast deal of trouble.
For old King Cole, &c.
4.
Old King Cole was a musical Soul, So he called for his Fiddlers three; And he served 'em out a dozen pounds of best German resin, And they played him a Symphony. Spagnioletti and Mori, they play an Oratori; While the great Pa-gan-in-i Played God save the King, on a single string; And he went twelve octaves high!
For old King Cole, &c.
5.
Old King Cole loved smoking to his Soul, And a Pipe hard, clean, and dry; And Virginny and Canaster, from his Baccy Box went faster Than the "Dart" or the Brighton "Fly." With his Fiddlers three, and his Secretary, He'd kick up such a furious fume; You'd think all the gas of London in a mass Had met in his little back room.
For old King Cole, &c.
6.
Old King Cole was a mellow old Soul And he loved for to lave his clay: But not with water; for he had in that quarter An hy-dro-pho-bi-a. So he always ordered Hemp for those that joined a Temp- erance Society; And he swore a Drop too much, should always finish such As refused for to wet t'other eye.
For old King Cole, &c.
7.
On old King Cole left cheek was a mole, So he called for his Secretary; And bade him look in a Fortune-telling Book, And read him his destiny. And the Secretary said, when his fate he had read, And cast his nativity, A mole on the face boded something would take place; But not what that something might be.
For old King Cole, &c.
8.
Old King Cole, he scratched his poll; And resigned to his fate was he: And he said, "It is our will, that our Pipe and Glass you fill, And call for our Fiddlers three." So Pagan-in-i took Viotti in G; And his Concerto played he: But at page forty-four, King Cole began to snore: So they parted company.
For old King Cole, &c.
9.
Old King Cole drank so much Alcohol That he reeked like the worm of a still; And, while lighting his pipe, he set himself alight, And he blew up like a gunpowder mill. And these are the whole of the records of King Cole From the Cotton Library; If you like you can see 'em at the British Museum In Russell Street, Bloomsbury.
For old King Cole was a merry old Soul, And a merry old Soul was he: He called for his Pipe, and he called for his Glass, And he called for his Fiddlers three.
THE END OF THE
Eighth Volume
OF
AN ENGLISH GARNER,
INGATHERINGS FROM OUR HISTORY AND LITERATURE:
COMPLETING THE SERIES.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES.
1. Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as possible.
2. Silently corrected simple spelling, grammar, and typographical errors.
3. The footnotes have been moved to the end of their relevant chapters.
4. Page 7: "Index of First Lines of Poems and Stanzas": Original "All that this earth" should read "All that this Earth". Corrected.
5. Page 8: "Index of First Lines of Poems and Stanzas": The reference to Page 229 shows two entries. "If so you would" and "If you so would". They both link to the same stanza on Page 229. "If you so would" is correct. The incorrect entry has been removed.
6. Page 9: "Index of First Lines of Poems and Stanzas": Error in index: "Non convitia" shown in Index as Page 416 and in italics. It should read "Non convitia" (no italics) Page 415. The index has been corrected.
7. Page 9: "Index of First Lines of Poems and Stanzas": Original; "Painter, in lovely": should read "Painter, in lively". The index has been corrected.
8. Page 9: "Index of First Lines of Poems and Stanzas": Original; "Si coelum patria Page 416". It should read "Page 415". The index has been corrected.
90. Page 10: "Index of First Lines of Poems and Stanzas": Original; "The cruel, thou" Page 327. It should read; "If cruel, thou" Page 327. The index has been corrected and the reference moved to Page 8.
10. Page 10: "Index of First Lines of Poems and Stanzas": The reference to Page 540 shows two entries. "Thus while we" and "This while we are". They both link to the same stanza on Page 540. "This while we are" is correct. The original error in the index has been removed.
11. Page 10: "Index of First Lines of Poems and Stanzas": The reference to Page 532 showed two entries. "Thy ancient" and "The ancient". They were both link to the same stanza on Page 453. 'Thy ancient' is correct. The error in the index has been removed.
12. Page 10: "Index of First Lines of Poems and Stanzas": The reference to Page 453 showed two entries. "Thy Love, fair"' and "The love fair". They were both link to the same stanza on Page 453. "Thy love fair" is correct. The incorrect entry has been removed.
13. Page 56: Hyphenated words left to match original format.
14. Page 67: "(and yet, by long imprisonment"; Round bracket [(] unclosed. Left as the original as unable to ascertain where the author intended to place the closing bracket.
15. Page 119: Illustrated "[W]th lovely Neatherd" should read illustrated "[W]Ith lovely Neatherd". Corrected.
16. Page 344: Closing square bracket ] missing from end of paragraph: "p. 78, Ed. 1686.]". Corrected.
17. Page 508: The original text reads "[Sir Walter Cope co. Oxon.]"; it should read "Sir Walter Cope [co. Oxon.]". Corrected.
18. Page 520: 'Master ROBERT LEF' corrected to 'Master ROBERT LEE'.