A.D. 1644.
The arrival of these tidings filled the King’s camp with joy: it seemed now as if everything would end fortunately. In London men went about with bowed heads: it was thought probable that Rupert would unite with the King for an attack on the united counties, on the possession of which the military operations on the side of the Parliament were mainly based. It was believed that Newcastle, even without Rupert, would be able to maintain himself in Yorkshire, and make head against the united generals, between whom no very good understanding prevailed.
Never in truth would it have been wiser to avoid a decisive battle than at that moment, looking at the relative positions of the two contending forces. But it was of the very nature of the Royalist enthusiasm to thirst for great battles. Prince Rupert in particular thought that nothing had been done so long as the enemy stood before him unconquered. He held that the King’s letter not only empowered, but instructed him to fight: in conjunction with the troops that were in York he thought himself strong enough to win a victory. The Marquis of Newcastle combated the proposal, but Rupert persisted: the Marquis would not, though he disliked it, appear to be overruled; he said that he had no other ambition than to be a loyal subject, and joined the Prince with his brave white-coats, and every man that could be spared from York.
The war had by this time assumed a terrible aspect. The Parliament declared the troops who had come over from Ireland to be traitors, and Essex had those who were taken prisoners executed. Thereupon Rupert hanged on the nearest trees an equal number of those who had fallen into his hands. Often if the Roundheads on one day obtained admission into a country house, on the next it was reduced to ruins by the Cavaliers. A horrible massacre had even now been impending over the Puritans at Bolton: one party wished to avenge, the other to continue it.
Thus all these feelings of hatred and revenge were added to the natural spirit of warfare—they must and would fight.
On July 2, 1644, the two armies met at Long Marston Moor. Each of them numbered about 20,000 men, every one A.D. 1644. of whom had chosen his side and knew what he was fighting for. The battle cry of the one side was ‘God and the King’; for they wished to maintain the ancient constitution under princes ruling by divine right: that of the other was ‘God with us’; for in them religious motives superseded all others, they would have no prince who imposed any restrictions in this respect. The engagement did not actually begin until 7 p.m. At first the battle seemed likely to have a similar result to most of the previous ones. The right wing of the Parliamentary army, led forward to the attack by Thomas Fairfax, was repulsed: then the Royalist cavalry under the command of Goring dashed with redoubled fury on the enemy’s centre, chiefly composed of Scots, and broke it after a vigorous resistance: old Alexander Lesley, who had striven in vain to rally his troops, at last himself took to flight. A very different result awaited the encounter on the left wing, which had some Scots in the reserve, but otherwise was entirely composed of Englishmen, the core of it being the cuirassiers raised by Cromwell in the united counties. ‘Is Cromwell here?’ asked Prince Rupert of a prisoner, for he already recognised him as his most dangerous opponent. Against this cavalry Rupert now led his own men—veterans, crowned with victory, whom no enemy had yet withstood, against newly-formed and untried troops. If we set aside the boastings and the apologies of the rival parties, we shall discern that this was the decisive moment of the war. The Royalists on this day had adopted a change of tactics; in order to give their cavalry more mobility for attacking the Scottish infantry, they had separated the regiments into squadrons, which may have been an advantage against infantry, but was injurious when they were opposed to a compact and coherent mass of horsemen[391]. The attack thus weakened encountered the fierce resistance of the newly-formed Parliamentary cavalry, whose success had a decisive A.D. 1644. effect over the whole battle-field. ‘We drove’, says Cromwell, ‘the entire cavalry of the Prince off the field; God made them as stubble before our sword. Then we attacked their regiments of foot with our cavalry, and overthrew all that we encountered.’ The slaughter was deadly, for Cromwell had forbidden quarter being given. Newcastle’s white-coats fell in their ranks as they stood. The King’s troops sustained an annihilating defeat. The Marquis of Newcastle would not appear before his party as a defeated man, to see the admiration which he had hitherto merited change into scorn or pity: he took ship the next day for Hamburg. The remains of the army gathered round Prince Rupert, who retreated into Lancashire. The capital of the Royalists, the ancient city of York, fell into the hands of the allied generals, who by their union became masters of the North of England. The Scots set forth to occupy Newcastle.
If the royal cause did not even yet seem to be utterly ruined it was because of the great success which Charles I had achieved in Cornwall. He still maintained his ground. On his return towards Oxford, Manchester and Waller met him at Newbury with a superior force: the King was in personal danger and had to quit the battle-field; just afterwards however he succeeded in relieving Deddington, which was besieged by the Parliamentary army.
In November Charles I returned to Oxford. Neither he himself nor his followers had lost courage. The loss of the North was to a certain extent compensated by the possession of the West. Others however thought it impossible that he should make head against the superior forces of Parliament, strengthened by their alliance with the Scots[392].
FOOTNOTES:
[370] So writes the King to Loudon (Burnet 190): ‘You expressed your readiness to hazard both life and fortune for the maintenance of our temporal power, and even in matters ecclesiastick, though you wished uniformity therein betwixt the two nations, yet you would not interest you in these differences further than should be with our knowledge and good liking.’ Words which more nearly determine the sense of the communication to Sabran.