Yorkshire Battles

by Edward Lamplough

Rupert’s position was excellent for the fighting of a defensive battle. To cross the ditch that lay between the armies was a serious undertaking for either army, but especially for the Parliamentarians, as Rupert had lined the hedge with musketeers, and had planted a battery on an eminence behind his centre, thus demanding a heavy sacrifice of life from the Parliamentarians before they could exchange blows with his centre, and, in the event of his assuming the offensive, the advance would be partially covered by the battery.

The combined armies consisted of about 46,000 men, and were of almost equal strength, the Parliamentarians having, probably, some little advantage in numbers. For several hours no hostile movement took place, with the exception of a few discharges of cannon, by one of the first shots of which the loyal Sir Gilbert Houghton lost his son. Apparently both parties were awed by the importance of the impending conflict, and reluctant to make the first movement, with all the difficulties attending the passage of the ditch and hedge.

The pleasant summer afternoon waned into evening, peaceful and calm. Seven o’clock approached: surely the bloody bout would be delayed until the morrow. Occasionally the cannon roared, and a few men fell; one of these unfortunates was young Walton, Cromwell’s nephew, who was severely wounded; and it is supposed that this brought about the Parliamentarian attack.

“It was now between six and seven, and Rupert, calling for provisions, dismounted, and began to eat his supper. A large number of his followers did the like. Newcastle strolled towards his coach to solace himself with a pipe. Before he had time to take a whiff, the battle had begun.”—Gardiner.

Manchester moved forward his infantry in heavy masses, with pikes and muskets ready for the deadly work, and attempted the passage of the ditch, while Cromwell’s magnificent cuirassiers swept forward to clear the same formidable obstacle, and engage the enemy’s right. Rupert hurried forward a large body of musketeers to meet Manchester’s attack, and at the same time swept their ranks by the deadly discharges of his field battery. Rupert’s musketeers being covered by the hedge, inflicted heavy loss upon the Parliamentarians, and Manchester vainly exerted himself to re-form their shattered ranks. Two cannons were hurried up, and the officers exposed themselves with the utmost devotion to encourage their troops, but they were powerless to advance in the face of that deadly shower of bullets, and the position was becoming critical in the extreme, when relief came, and that not a moment too soon. Cromwell, making a wide sweep, gained the open moor, found room for a charge, and bore down upon the enemy’s right with a tremendous and fatal force. A short but desperate conflict ensued as Cromwell carried his Ironsides through the sorely buffeted and shattered squadrons of the royal horse. Pressing on, he stormed the battery and put the gunners to the sword. A moment’s breathing space was allowed the horses, and then the musketeers, who held Manchester’s advance in check with their forks planted in the ditch-bank, maintaining a steady and destructive fire, became the object of attack. These brave soldiers did not attempt to meet the charge, but retreated in close order, with presented pikes, and although they suffered severely from the fury of the enemy, they endeavoured to check the successive charges by the repeated fire of their muskets.

There was no braver man in the field than Sir Thomas Fairfax, but he suffered a sad defeat on that memorable July evening. The ground occupied by his troops was broken and intersected by a number of lanes; not difficult to defend, but preventing united action when the moment for the advance arrived. Nevertheless he struggled forward, wasting his strength by a succession of weak charges, but unable to find room for a general attack. The fiery Rupert was opposed to him, and swept his ranks by a cruel and incessant fire of musketry, until little hope for the Parliament remained in this part of the field. For a time the impending ruin was averted by Cromwell, who charged the Prince’s infantry, and afforded Fairfax an opportunity of re-forming his torn and wearied forces; but in the midst of the struggling advance of the over-mastered Parliamentarians Rupert delivered his grand charge, and storming over and through every obstacle, filled this part of the field with a wild rout of unhappy fugitives, amongst whom the keen rapiers of his gay Cavaliers wrought terrible havoc. The brother of Sir Thomas Fairfax was mortally wounded, but the good knight clung desperately to the ground with 500 of his own horse and a regiment of lancers, to be wounded and fairly borne off the field by the impetuous Rupert. Here the Prince took a deadly and fatal revenge on the Scotch cavalry, put them to headlong flight, and bore on in stormy pursuit, while the royal infantry was exposed to the attacks of Manchester’s foot and Cromwell’s victorious Ironsides. Had Rupert succoured his centre at this stage of the battle he must have compelled the Parliamentarians to yield to him the victory.

Nobly the royal foot met the deadly storm of battle; exerting such heroic courage that they fairly pushed back the Parliamentarian advance, and the King’s prospects were yet promising, maugre the terrible handling received from Cromwell. That gallant soldier held his cavalry well in hand, albeit their ranks were somewhat thinned by shot and steel; and they now wrested the victory from the rashly impetuous Rupert. The Marquis of Newcastle’s incomparable regiment of Northumbrians perished here. They were known as “lambs,” or “white-coats,” from the colour of their doublets, and resisted Cromwell to the last. Again and again he charged them, but they returned blow for blow, and, disdaining all offers of quarter, perished almost to a man, the few that were saved owing their lives rather to the magnanimity of their enemies than to any exertions of their own to escape the slaughter. They fell in their proper battle-order, and presented a ghastly spectacle as they lay upon the field in rank and file, their white coats cruelly slashed with many a crimson stain. The remainder of the royal foot were now taken in the rear by the Ironsides, and sustained a bloody and ruinous defeat. Before their ruin was consummated the Prince returned, and a fierce conflict ensued. Rupert had counted the victory as already won, and rage and mortification added to the fury of the last sanguinary and stubborn conflict. Cromwell was wounded in the neck, and his charge was all but abortive, when Leslie came up and retrieved the mishap by a terrible onslaught that sent Rupert’s over-mastered warriors in wild confusion from the field. The infantry now surrendered, and Cromwell captured all the cannon, baggage, &c., of the royal army, which was pursued almost to the gates of York.

At a late hour throngs of wounded men and fugitives from the field appeared before Micklegate-Bar, but the soldiers of the garrison were alone admitted into the city, and the confusion that ensued was of the most deplorable and painful character.

Cromwell remained on the field, anxious and alert, fearful that the impetuous Rupert might rally some remains of his army, and, by a sudden onslaught under cover of night, wrest from his shattered army the victory so hardly won by dint of heavy fighting.