Here once more his cause found unexpected sympathy. It was shown that the feelings of personal devotion and loyalty, which had bound the vassals to their princes in earlier centuries, was not yet extinct in England. The elevation of the royal standard cannot be regarded as barren of results when, even among those who had hitherto sided with the Parliament, men were found who could not bear to stay at home when the royal standard was displayed in the field[352]. Some joined the King because they had always heard from their ancestors that they must ever hold to the crown: others thought it unfair to abandon in his distress the prince whose bread they had eaten. Some too appeared in the field who did not unconditionally share the King’s sentiments; but the attitude of Parliament was still more offensive to them, and as it would have been counted as cowardice not to take part in the war when all the world was rushing to arms, they joined the King. To the majority his cause appeared by far the better, now that he had conceded so much and all to no purpose. Many a young lawyer threw away his long robe in order to fight for the good cause. Some regarded it as holy, and thought that whoever lost his life in defending it might be deemed a martyr.
Through the influence of these sentiments an army assembled in Shropshire around the King, which according to the notion of that age was worthy of the name—2000 cavalry, 1500 dragoons, and 6000 foot soldiers: and new reinforcements were expected daily. A great assistance was A.D. 1642. promised by the munitions of war collected at Chester, which had originally been destined for Ireland, but now fell into the King’s hands. More money came in than was expected, and the soldiery were well paid. Some commanders of great military merit joined the King, such as Jacob Astley, reputed one of the best major-generals in Europe; and Ruthven of Ettrick, who had learned the art of war in Germany, and had won new renown by his defence of Edinburgh against the Scots,—a man of fire and devotion, and a thorough soldier. Prince Rupert of the Palatinate, true to his word, had already made his appearance at Nottingham by his uncle’s side, as soon as the war broke out, for which he had offered his aid: he had come over with the Queen’s assistance, together with his brother Edward. He brought with him several specimens of military apparatus, in order to introduce into England, where they were as yet unknown, the improvements in war material which had been made in Germany. Especially he trained the cavalry in the tactics then adopted in Germany. He made many a daring raid through the country in order to encourage the royalists, harry the rebels, seize their stores and divert them to the King’s service. His troopers learned the art of war by practising it.
The first successful feat of arms fell to Rupert’s lot. He had occupied Worcester, but abandoned it again as untenable. His horsemen and officers were bivouacking near the place, and many had dismounted and were taking their ease on the grass, when the van of the hostile army was seen approaching. In a moment they had resumed their arms and mounted their horses; and with a sudden impetuous onset the squadrons of Rupert, who was himself surrounded by the boldest officers, charged the Parliamentary horse and instantly broke them[353]—a success of no trifling importance, as it gave the King’s troops confidence in themselves and in their leaders.
The King, who thus enjoyed the scarcely expected pleasure of seeing his enemies prisoners before him, now felt that he might A.D. 1642. venture to advance towards the capital. It is scarcely credible that they should have confidently expected to be in London within a short time. We even catch the voices of some who believed it without wishing it: they were again afraid of the unrestrained domination of the men who had now most influence with the King. The latter expected to be obliged to fight on the way, but did not doubt that he should win the victory, and find it all the easier to conquer London, where his partisans would rise in his favour.
Essex in fact could not let the King advance on London, where continued preparations were going on, but where things were not yet in a condition to withstand an attack: the King too could not venture, while Essex followed him, to advance so far as to place himself between two hostile armies. When he reached Edgcot on the borders of Warwickshire, he adopted the advice of the Prince, who now commanded the rear, on which most depended, that he should take up a strong position opposite the Parliamentary army, and attack it before it grew too strong.
On Sunday October 23, the King for the first time saw from the height of Edgehill his enemies drawn up before him in full order of battle. It was not till the afternoon that the two armies came within range. How the people assembled for worship in the neighbouring parishes must have trembled when they heard the thunder of cannon from those heights!
In English warfare the different arms were not yet so well combined in action as in Germany. First the cavalry measured their strength. The Parliamentarians fired their carbines and pistols at a badly judged distance, and at this moment were charged by the Royalists, who put them to flight at the first shock. It was not a fight, says one report, but a massacre, and then a headlong pursuit in which the victors could not be controlled by their officers: among other booty,—for they were above all things eager for booty and intent on it,—the carriage of the Earl of Essex fell into their hands.
But while the Royal cavalry were thus engaged, the Parliamentary infantry had gained the upper hand. The regiments raised in London under Essex and Hollis fought A.D. 1642. splendidly: they consisted mainly of young men who had taken part in the tumults in the city, and had since been drilled by German corporals and had learned to shoot[354]. These troops, with the horsemen, of whom several troops had stood their ground, now endangered the King himself: the forces around him gave way or suffered very severe loss. Lord Lindsay, who held the rank of Commander-in-chief, but through the influence of Prince Rupert had been deprived of his proper command, led his regiment forward, pike in hand, and was mortally wounded. In the struggle the great standard fell once into the enemy’s hand, but was rescued again: the bullets rained in the immediate neighbourhood of the King. Charles I did not give way to fear: in the midst of the firing he was heard to call out the watchword of the day, ‘For God and the King’: his position however was one of great danger, when at last the cavalry returned from the pursuit, and restored the balance of arms[355].
Next day both armies remained a mile apart without engaging. The victory remained undecided, but this gave the Royalists, who were the weaker, great confidence. Prince Rupert is said to have proposed to press on with his cavalry to Westminster and disperse the Parliament. The rejection of the scheme is ascribed to Lord Bristol. Essex retreated to Northampton and thence to London. The King occupied Banbury, and then moved to Oxford, where he was received with triumph.
Soon afterwards we find him again in the field, to make the attempt on London once before decided on. On November 4 he was at Reading, on the 10th at Colebrook: he contented himself with disarming the inhabitants who were hostile to him, without doing them any other injury, so far as it depended on him: for he held that he was their lawful King and they his subjects. On the other side also this feeling had again spread: even among the troops doubts had been A.D. 1642. raised whether they could rightfully fight against the King. This opinion was however neither widely enough spread to take much effect, nor strong enough to make way against other contrary influences. We are informed that the attack made by Rupert on Brentford, at a time when it was thought that a cessation of hostilities might be looked for, did serious injury to his cause. The London regiments lay there, and were fearfully handled by the Welsh in the royal army, who had their failure at Edgehill to atone for[356], and this rekindled the popular hatred against the Cavaliers. Fabulous tales were told of the cruelty of Prince Rupert and his followers, which filled men’s minds with horror. Parliament declared the attack to be one of those acts of treachery which were to be expected of the King. Thus it was decided to offer the most strenuous resistance to him. The Parliamentary army, reinforced by the militia, assembled on Turnham Green in battle array: Essex went from regiment to regiment, and was greeted with military familiarity as ‘Old Robin’: the short addresses of Skippon to his men made an equally good impression. Their superiority was so decided that the King, with the handful of troops left to him, might think himself lucky to get back to Oxford without disaster.