Rupert, Prince Palatine

by Eva Scott

Thus condemned by Statesmen, distrusted by the old-fashioned officers, and disliked by the nobility, the Princes became the acknowledged leaders of the military faction. They soon had a devoted following; a following of which every member was a very gallant soldier, though doubtless many of them were also dissolute and reckless. Even Clarendon was forced to confess that Maurice, "living with the soldiers sociably and familiarly, and going with them upon all parties and actions,"[[58]] had made himself exceedingly popular amongst them. Rupert they adored; and the account of him handed down to Sir Edward Southcote by his father differs widely from the description of Clarendon. "My father," wrote Sir Edward, "still went with the King's army, being very ambitious to get into Prince Rupert's favour, being, he was, the greatest hero, as well as the greatest beau, whom all the leading men strove to imitate, as well in his dress as in his bravery... The Prince was always very sparkish in his dress, and one day, on a very cold morning, he tied a very fine lace handkerchief, which he took out of his coat pocket, about his neck. This appeared so becoming that all his mimics got laced pocket-handkerchiefs and made the same use of them; which was the origin of wearing lace cravats, and continued till of late years."[[59]] There was in fact a general eagerness to serve directly under the hero Prince. "I must confess, I have neither desire nor affection to wait upon any other general," wrote Sir Arthur Aston.[[60]] "'Tis not advance of title I covet, but your commission,"[[61]] protested another officer. Such letters indeed are numberless; and that of Louis Dyves, half-brother to Lord Digby himself, may serve as an example of all:—"Amongst the many discourses which I receive daily of the ill-success and unhappy conduct of his Majesty's affairs here, since the light and comfort of your presence was removed from us, there is none that affects me more than to live in a place where I am rendered incapable to do you service. Which, I take God to witness, hath been the chief bent of my harte from the first hour I had the honour to serve under your command; and I shall never deem myself happy until I be restored again to the same condition. If your Highness therefore shall be pleased to command my attendance, I will break through all difficulties, and come to you. And it shall be my humble sute unto His Majesty to give me leave to go where I know I shall be best able to serve him, which can be nowhere so well as under your command. If I may but understand of your gratious acceptance of the fervent desire I have to sacrifice my life at your feet, there shall no man with more cheerfulness of harte, be ready to expose it more frankly, than your Highness's most humble, most faithful servant, Louis Dyves. There is no man can make a truer character of my harte toward you, than the bearer, Mr. Legge."[[62]]

In a strain of jesting familiarity, wrote the young Lord Grandison: "and, by this light, you shall be unprinced, if you believe me not the most humble of your servants."[[63]] And the gallant George Lisle carried his devotion to such a pitch as to sign himself always, "your Highness's most faithful affectionate servant, and obedient sonne."[[64]]

But this cult of the Prince indulged in by the soldiery and some of the younger nobility, rather aggravated than healed the prevailing dissensions. It was indeed impossible for a boy of Rupert's age and passionate temper to throw oil on the troubled waters. He loved and hated with equal vehemence, and "liked what was proposed as he liked the persons who proposed it."[[65]] Such was his detestation of Digby and Culpepper that he never could refrain from contradicting all that they said. Wilmot he treated in like manner, and we read: "Whilst Prince Rupert was present... all that Wilmot said or proposed was enough slighted and contradicted," but that during the Prince's long absence in the North, he, Wilmot, "became marvellously elated."[[66]] Goring the Prince loved no better, and that general complained loudly that he, "denied all his requests out of hand."[[67]] And Lord Percy was also distinguished with a particular hatred.

To the objects of his affection, Rupert was, on the contrary, only too compliant; a failing most strongly, and most unfortunately, exhibited in his dealings with his brother Maurice. The younger Prince had none of his brother's ability, was ignorant of English manners and customs, "showed a great aversion from considering them," and "understood very little of the war except to fight very stoutly when there was occasion."[[68]] Yet Rupert "took it greatly to heart"[[69]] that Maurice held no higher command than that of lieutenant-general to Lord Hertford. Accordingly, he persuaded the King that Maurice ought to be made general in the West, and, the promotion being conceded, Maurice did considerable harm to the cause by his blundering and want of discipline. But, says Professor Gardiner, "Maurice was Rupert's brother, and not to be called to account!"[[70]]

Yet, his favouritism admitted, it must be confessed that Rupert's friends were generally well-chosen. Chief among them was Colonel William Legge, a man so faithful, so unselfish, and so unassuming, that he contrived to remain on good terms with all parties. Best known to his contemporaries as "Honest Will", he shines forth, amidst the intriguing courtiers of Oxford, a bright example of disinterestedness. In spite of his intimacy with Rupert, he contrived to remain for long on friendly terms with Lord Digby, though, as he told the latter, "I often found this a hard matter to hold between you."[[71]] To Legge, Rupert was wont to pour out the indignation of his soul in hastily scribbled letters, and "Will" pacified both the Prince and his enemies, as best he could, "conceiving it," he said, "a matter of advantage to my master's service to have a good intelligence between persons so eminently employed in his affairs."[[72]] At the same time he never hesitated to express his opinion in "plain language", and from him the fiery Prince seems to have accepted both counsel and reproof, without resentment. Even Clarendon could find nothing worse to say of Will Legge than that he was somewhat diffident of his own judgment.[[73]] And the King charged the Prince of Wales, in his last message, "to be sure to take care of Honest Will Legge, for he was the faithfullest servant that ever any Prince had." Which charge Charles II fulfilled at the Restoration.[[74]]

Next to Legge among Rupert's friends we must count the grave and melancholy Duke of Richmond. As a Stuart he was Rupert's cousin, and him the Prince excepted from his general dislike of the English nobility. Like Legge, Richmond was free from all self-seeking, honourable, upright, irreproachable, both in public and in private life. His personal devotion to the King, who had brought him up, was intense, and, at the end of the tragedy, he volunteered with Southampton and Lindsey, to die in the stead of his sovereign. Like the King, he was deeply religious, a faithful son of the Church. He was courteous to all, gentle and reserved, but "of a great and haughty spirit."[[75]] At the beginning of the troubles he had been almost the only man of the first rank who had unswervingly opposed the popular party; and he valued his fidelity at the rate it was worth. He gave his friendship slowly, and only with the approval, asked and received, of the King.[[76]] But his friendship, once given, was absolute and unalterable. He had in his character a Stuart strain of sensitiveness, amounting to morbidness. Thus, when gently warned by the King against too much correspondence with the treacherous Lady Carlisle, he considered his own loyalty impugned, and for weeks held aloof from the Committee of Secret Affairs. Hyde, commissioned by the distressed King to reason with the Duke, speedily discovered the true source of trouble to be Richmond's jealousy of his master's affection for Ashburnham. The King retorted by taking exception to Richmond's secretary, and it was long ere the hurt feelings of both King and Duke could be soothed. Yet, in spite of his own supersensitiveness, Richmond was a peacemaker. His letters to Rupert, long, involved and incoherent, are full of soothing expressions and assurances that all will go well. He also was struggling, and struggling vainly, to keep the peace between Rupert and Digby. But, though he watched over his cousin's interests with affectionate care, he was too honest and simple-minded to cope successfully with Oxford intrigues.

Among Rupert's other friends was Sir Charles Lucas, who, said his sister, "loved virtue, endeavoured merit, practised justice, and spoke truth; was constantly loyal, and truly valiant."[[77]] Also, in high favour with the Prince was Sir Marmaduke Langdale, "a person of great courage and prudence",[[78]] a good scholar, and a good soldier; though Clarendon found him "a very inconvenient man to live with."[[79]] Less estimable was the hot-blooded Charles Gerrard, who, though as valiant a soldier as any of the others, reflected too many of Rupert's own faults; was rash, hot-tempered, and addicted to "hating on a sudden, without knowing why."[[80]] And besides these there were others too numerous to mention, valued by the Prince for their soldierly qualities, or for the frankness of their dispositions. But in the list of Rupert's friends, there is one more who must not be forgotten: one who was his inseparable companion for nearly six years, who shared his captivity in Austria, followed him to England, ate with him, slept with him, accompanied him to Council and to Church, shared all his dangers and hardships, and never left his side, till he fell, with many gallant Cavaliers, on the field of Marston Moor;—this was the Prince's white dog, Boye. This dog attained great fame in England, and Rupert's fondness for it was the subject of good-natured jesting among the Cavaliers, and of bitter invective from the Puritans. A satirical pamphlet, preserved in the Bodleian library, describes the dog's habits, and the mutual affection subsisting between him and his master! From it we learn that Boye was always present at Council, that he was wont to sit on the table by the Prince, and that frequent kisses and embraces passed between them. On the principle of "Love me, love my dog," the King also extended his favour to Boye: "For he himself never sups or dines, but continually he feeds him. And with what think you? Even with sides of capons, and such Christian-like morsels ... It is thought the King will make him Serjeant-Major-General Boye. But truly the King's affection to him is so extraordinary that some at court envy him. I heard a Gentleman-Usher swear that it was a shame the dog should sit in the King's chair, as he always does; and a great Lord was seriously of opinion that it was not well he should converse so much with the King's children, lest he taught them to swear." Boye repaid the King's affection warmly: "Next to his master, he loves the King and the King's children, and cares very little for any others." We are told further, in a paragraph evidently aimed at Rupert, that the dog, "in exercises of religion, carries himself most popishly and cathedrally. He is very seldom at any conscionable sermons, but as for public prayers, he seldom or never misses them.... But, above all, as soon as their Church Minstrel begins his arbitrary jig, he is as attentive as one of us private Christians are at St. Antholin's."[[81]] Boye is generally supposed to have been a poodle, and certainly he is so represented in the caricatures preserved of him. But he must have been in truth a remarkable one, for Lady Sussex relates in one of her letters, that when Rupert shot five bucks, "his dog Boye pulled them down."[[82]] To this "divill dog" were attributed supernatural powers of going invisible, of foretelling events, and of magically protecting his master from harm. "The Roundheads fancied he was the Devil, and took it very ill that he should set himself against them!" says Sir Edward Southcote.[[83]] Many of the Puritans did, in truth, imagine him to be Rupert's evil spirit, and it was reported that the dog fed on human flesh. Cleveland refers to their general fear of Boye in his "Rupertismus":—

"They fear the giblets of his train, they fear,
"Even his dog, that four-legged Cavalier,
"He that devours the scraps that Lunsford makes,
"Whose pictures feeds upon a child in stakes,
"'Gainst whom they have these articles in souse,—
"First that he barks against the sense o' th' House,
"Resolved 'delinquent,' to the Tower straight,
"Either to the Lyons, or the Bishop's gate.

* * * * * * * *

"Thirdly he smells intelligence, that's better,
"And cheaper too, than Pym's, by his own letter;
"Lastly he is a devil without doubt,
"For when he would lie down he wheels about,
"Makes circles, and is couchant in a ring,
"And therefore, score up one, for conjuring!"[[84]]