Yet Rupert was in many respects well-fitted for his post. Distinguished by his dauntless courage and resolute nature, he was possessed also of a knowledge of war such as was not to be learnt in England. He was really the only professional soldier of high rank in the army, and he proved himself both a clever strategist, and a good leader of cavalry, though he did unfortunately lack the patience and discretion necessary to the making of a successful general. "That brave Prince and hopeful soldier, Rupert," wrote the gallant Sir Philip Warwick, "though a young man, had in martial affairs some experience, and a good skill, and was of such intrepid courage and activity, that,—clean contrary to former practice, when the King had great armies, but no commanders forward to fight,—[[5]] he ranged and disciplined that small body of men;—of so great virtue is the personal courage and example of one great commander. And indeed to do him right, he put that spirit into the King's army that all men seemed resolved, and had he been as cautious as he was a forward fighter, he had, most probably, been a very fortunate one. He showed a great and exemplary temperance, which fitted him to undergo the fatigues of a war, so as he deserved the character of a soldier. Il était toujours soldat! For he was never negligent by indulgence to his pleasures, or apt to lose his advantages."[[6]]
In truth Rupert's cheerfulness and brilliant courage inspired confidence in his own troops, and terror in those of the enemy. "There was no more consternation in the King's troops now. Every one grew assured. The most timorous was afraid to show fear under such a general, whose courage was increased by the esteem we had of him."[[7]] And throughout the war Rupert was the very life of the Royalist army; "adored by the hot-blooded young officers, as by the sturdy troopers, who cried, when they entered a fallen city: 'D—— us! The town is Prince Rupert's!'"[[8]]
The very first skirmish of the war established his reputation. The terrified Puritans spread abroad reports of the "incredible and unresistible courage of Prince Rupert,"[[9]] which grew and multiplied as the war proceeded, until Rupert, "exalted with the terror his name gave to the enemy,"[[10]] would not believe that any troops could withstand his charge. "The enemy is possest with so strange and senseless a feare as they will not believe any place tenable to which Your Highness will march,"[[11]] reported his officers. Nor was it wonderful that the Puritans deemed him something more than human. Conspicuous always by his dress and unusual height, ever foremost in the charge, utterly "prodigal of his person," he bore a charmed life. Twice pistols were fired in his face, without doing him the slightest harm. Once his horse was killed under him, but "he marched off on foot leisurely, without so much as mending his pace."[[12]] While guarding the retreat from Brentford he stood alone for hours, exposed to a heavy fire, and yet came off unscathed. "Nephew, I must conjure you not to hazard yourself so nedlessely,"[[13]] wrote his anxious uncle; but the King's anxiety was uncalled for, Rupert remained uninjured till the end of the war, though Maurice was wounded in almost every action in which he engaged.
The Austrians at Vlotho had called Rupert "shot free", and so he seemed now to Puritan and Cavalier.
"Sir, you're enchanted! Sir, you're doubly free
"From the great guns, and squibbing poetry,"[[14]]
declared a Royalist poet.
Rupert, moreover, seemed to be in all places at once. "This prince, like a perpetual motion.... was in a short time, heard of in many places at great distances,"[[15]] says the Parliamentary historian, May. And again: "The two young princes, and especially Prince Rupert, the elder brother, and most furious of the two, within a fortnight after his arrival commanded a small party.... Through divers parts of Warwickshire, Nottinghamshire, Leicestershire, Worcester and Cheshire did this young prince fly with those troops he had."[[16]] Nowhere did the adherents of the Parliament feel safe from his attack, and the magical rapidity of his movements enhanced the terror inspired by his prowess. Wrote his admirer, Cleveland:
"Your name can scare an atheist to his prayers,
"And cure the chincough better than the bears;
"Old Sybils charm toothache with you; the nurse
"Makes you still children; and the pondrous curse
"The clown salutes with is derived from you;
"'Now Rupert take thee, Rogue! How dost thou do?'"[[17]]
Yet Rupert, in spite of this reputation was neither ruffianly nor cruel. The News Letters called him "a loose wild gentleman",[[18]] and many accused him of hanging Roundheads at their own doors, and plundering villages wholesale;[[19]] but such rumours were libels. "Where are these men that will affirm it? In what country or town stood those houses betrayed by me, or by my sufferance, to that misery of rapine?" demanded the Prince, in answer to one of his accusers. "He will answer 'they' said it. But who 'they' were he knows not; in truth, nor I neither, nor no man else."[[20]] And said Sir Thomas Roe, who was not all inclined to approve the part Rupert had taken: "I cannot hear anything, credibly averred, which can be blamed by those who know the liberty of wars."[[21]] But the English did not know "the liberty of the wars," and they were naturally inclined to judge the young Prince harshly. Severe Rupert undoubtedly could be, if necessary. When the Puritans began a wholesale massacre of the King's Irish soldiers, the Prince promptly retaliated by executing an equal number of Puritan prisoners. But the stern act, coupled with the assurance that for the life of every Royalist that of a Roundhead should pay, effectually checked the barbarities of the Parliament. The nickname of "Prince Robber"[[22]] was certainly unjustly bestowed; yet the Royal Army had to be supported, and the only way to support it was by levying contributions on the country. "The Horse have not been paid, but live upon the country,"[[23]] wrote a Cavalier to his wife.
It is possible that Rupert was not over-scrupulous when the persons taxed happened to be Puritans, yet he always maintained what he considered a proper degree of discipline; and the frequent apologies of his officers prove that the Prince did not permit indiscriminate plunder. "Our men are not very governable, nor do I think they will be, unless some of them are hanged. They fall extremely to the old kind of plundering, which is neither for their good, nor for His Majesty's service,"[[24]] wrote Lord Wentworth. And, after a high-handed capture of some arms at Swanbourne, the same officer again apologised: "If your Highness think it too great a cruelty in us I hope you will pardon us. You shall consider that we could not have done otherwise."[[25]]