On Saturday, the 14th, in the afternoon, the lines of the new-modelled army were drawn across certain fallow fields in front of the village of Naseby, whose trim hedges, numerous trees, and solitary windmill are quaintly depicted in an old wood engraving inserted in Sprigg's history of the battle; whilst in the open country, in front of the Parliament troops, the King's forces were stretched out in full array. As at Marston Moor, so now at Naseby, victory at first seemed to wait upon Prince Rupert; but he, ever hot-headed, lost his advantage by pursuing the enemy too far, and came back to find the tide of battle turned against him. There had been, during his absence, desperate charges amidst the furze of the rabbit warren, and the swords and pistols of the Ironsides had proved too much for the well-mounted cavaliers.[542] This engagement proved decisive beyond question, and its place in the history of the Civil Wars is most conspicuous, resembling in this respect the locality where the battle was fought. As Dr. Arnold observes: "On some of the highest table land in England, the streams falling on one side into the Atlantic, on the other into the German Ocean; far away too from any town, Market Harborough the nearest, into which the cavaliers were chased late in the long summer's evening."
Naseby.
1645.
Fast as a horse could gallop, the news was carried up to London, and there for days the talk ran on the standards, the field pieces, the much powder and shot, and the royal coach and baggage, with cabinets and letters, which had been seized by the conquerors.[543] The surrender of Leicester to the Parliament resulted from this victory, and as a further consequence came the second relief of Taunton.[544] That town was held on behalf of the Parliament by Robert Blake—the man who said, when the enemy strove to starve him out, that he had not eaten his boots yet, and who had shewn throughout the siege a patience which was equalled only by his courage. The remembrance continued fresh amongst the Taunton people of the Puritan minister's sermon, preached in the grand old church of St. Mary, on the words, "I am the Lord, I change not: therefore ye sons of Jacob are not consumed;"—and of the shouts of "deliverance!" "deliverance!" which rang through the edifice before the sermon was finished, and which echoed from street to street as Welden's squadron of horse dashed through the east gate to the market-place;—nor could any forget the pause which followed in the church after the tidings had been heard, when all the congregation knelt down and thanked God for their deliverance. And now, again, the faith of the inhabitants was rewarded by the arrival of most timely succour; for the battle of Naseby set Fairfax free to turn his forces southward, and to scatter the forces of Goring, who had been such a pest to the county of Somerset. Not only was Taunton effectually delivered; but Bristol, Bridgewater, Ilchester, and Langport fell into the hands of the Parliament.
Sufferings of the Clergy.
As the war proceeded, and as blustering Cavaliers galloped over the country, singing ribald songs and plundering their neighbours; and as Roundheads, equally stern and demure, marched up and down, singing psalms and sacking the houses of Royalist malignants, it necessarily happened that the clergy were great sufferers in the confusion, for they were required to take a side, wherever the soldiers of either army came. Those who went not up "to the help of the Lord, to the help of the Lord against the mighty," fell under a Puritan malediction, very much like that which was imprecated on Meroz. On the other hand, such as held back from fighting the battle of their King, were treated by Royalists as rebellious scoundrels. Between the two, little peace fell to the lot of country ministers where the torch of war happened to be kindled. And, indeed, such were the issues at stake, and so inextricably were religious questions interwoven with political ones, that it seemed next to impossible for any man whose views were not hemmed in by the boundaries of his own little parish, not to take part in the far-spreading and momentous strife.
1645.
The Puritan who espoused the side of Parliament laid himself open to the violence of Royalists. They would attack his house, break open his chests and cupboards, take away his little stock of plate, cut the curtains from his bed, and steal his linen, even to the pillow-cases. Patience, under such circumstances, became a sign of holy confessorship, and it was told long afterwards with admiration—akin to that of a Catholic repeating the legend of a saint—how a good man so treated, exclaimed with Job, "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord."[545] If a clergyman or chaplain happened to be discovered as a refugee in any castle or in any camp, he would of course be seized as a prisoner of war; and a story is told of one such, who was sentenced to be hanged unless he would ask pardon of the King; which, if he did, he should have not only his life, but a good church-living; whereupon, conscious of his integrity in the part he had taken, the stout-hearted man replied—"To ask pardon, when I am not conscious of any offence, were but the part of a fool, and to betray my conscience in hope of preferment, were but the part of a knave; and if I had neither hope of heaven, nor fear of hell, I would rather die an honest man, than live a fool or knave." It was hard to crush or to ensnare any one who was made of this kind of mettle; and this person, whose name was Balsom, after being delivered from the halter, went on preaching to the Royalist garrison, declaring—"While I have a tongue to speak and people to hear, I will not hold my peace."[546]
Sufferings of the Clergy.