Part 7 (2/2)
But this cult of the Prince indulged in by the soldiery and some of the younger n.o.bility, rather aggravated than healed the prevailing dissensions. It was indeed impossible for a boy of Rupert's age and pa.s.sionate 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]
{76} 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 una.s.suming, that he contrived to remain on good terms with all parties. Best known to his contemporaries as ”Honest Will”, he s.h.i.+nes 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 {77} 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 n.o.bility. 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 friends.h.i.+p slowly, and only with the approval, asked and received, of the King.[76] But his friends.h.i.+p, once {78} 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 a.s.surances 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 {79} 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 hards.h.i.+ps, 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 pa.s.sed 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 {80} 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 Suss.e.x 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 sc.r.a.ps 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]
With the Cavaliers the dog was of course as popular as with the Puritans he was the reverse. It was reported, by {81} their enemies, that the Royalists, after their capture of Birmingham, pa.s.sed the night in ”drinking healths upon their knees,--yea, healths to Prince Rupert's dog!”[85] Finally, when poor Boye had fallen on the field of battle, the death of Prince Rupert's ”witch” was recorded with exultation in the Parliamentary journals: ”Here also was slain that accursed cur, which is here mentioned, by the way, because the Prince's dog has been so much spoken of, and was valued by his master more than creatures of more worth.”[86] Having said so much of Rupert's friends, it may be well to say a word of his princ.i.p.al enemies. Chief among these was George, Lord Digby, the eldest son of the Earl of Bristol. He was a man of great personal beauty, brilliant talents, and unrivalled powers of fascination. But he was unfortunately afflicted with a ”volatile and unquiet spirit”, and an over-active imagination. His natural charms and great plausibility won him the love and confidence of the King; but his unparalleled conceit and his insatiable love of meddling made him an object of detestation to the Palatine Prince.[87] As Secretary of State, Digby necessarily came into contact with Rupert, and the result was disastrous. No doubt there was much of personal jealousy mingled with Rupert's more reasonable objections to Digby; but the fact remains that Rupert understood war, and that Digby did not; that Rupert's schemes were reasonable and usually practicable, and that Digby's were wild and fantastic to a degree. Rupert resented Digby's interference and incompetence; Digby resented Rupert's off-hand manners and undisguised contempt of himself. Both were equally self-confident, and equally intolerant of rivalry. England was not large enough to contain the two, and Digby, by his superior powers of intrigue, carried the day.
{82}
With Lord Percy, in whose charge were all the stores of arms and ammunition, Rupert was not on much better terms than with Lord Digby.
Powder, bullets, carts and horses proved fruitful sources of dissension. Rupert accused Percy of delaying his supplies, and Percy resented Rupert's staying of his carts.[88] In proof of his own blamelessness Percy appealed to the testimony of others. ”My Lord Jermyn knows this was the truth, and no kind of fault in me.... Give me leave to tell you, sir, I cannot believe them, your real servants, that do give you jealousies of those that do not deserve them.”[89] At other times Percy professed a great deal of devotion to Rupert, but always with a touch of sarcasm in his manner. His letters consequently offended the Prince, and Percy treated his indignation lightly: ”Though you seemed not to be pleased that I should hope for the taking of Bristol before it was done, which fault I confess I do not understand, I hope you will give me leave to congratulate you now with the rest....
Your best friends do wish that, when the power is put absolutely into your hands, you will so far comply with the King's affairs as to do that which may content many and displease fewest.”[90] Such phrases were not calculated to soothe, and the breach widened steadily until, in the autumn of 1644, Percy found himself so deeply involved in the disgrace of Wilmot that he sought refuge with the Queen in France.
With Lord Goring and Lord Wilmot, Rupert was likewise at daggers drawn.
Both these men had been his comrades in the Dutch army, and Goring especially had been on intimate terms with the Palatines at the Hague.
Indeed it seems likely that he had carried on a very flouris.h.i.+ng flirtation with the Princess Louise; and a beautifully drawn picture letter which she addressed to him, is still extant. Distinguished, like Digby, for his personal beauty and {83} fascinating manners, Goring was also justly celebrated for his brilliant courage. Yet it was no wonder that Rupert did not share his sister's friends.h.i.+p for him, since the man was as false and treacherous as he was brave and plausible. He had promoted and betrayed the Army Plot of 1641; he had received the charge of Portsmouth from the Parliament, held it for the King, and then surrendered it without a struggle. Yet no breath of suspicion ever sullied his courage, and his personal attractions and undoubted ability won him trust and confidence again and again. Rupert admired him for his talents, hated him for his vices, and feared him for his ”master-wit”, which made him a dangerous rival for the King's favour. Goring, on his part, heartily reciprocated the Prince's aversion; kept out of his command as far as possible, disobeyed his orders as often as he could, and amused himself by writing to his enemy in terms of pa.s.sionate devotion. ”I will hasard eight thousand lives rather than leave anything undone that may conduce to his Majesty's service or to your Highness's satisfaction; being joyed of nothing so much in this world as of the a.s.surance of your favour, and that it will not be in the power of the devil to lessen your goodness to me, or to alter the quality I have of being your Highness's most humble, faithful, and obedient servant.”[91]
Wilmot, Lieutenant-General of the Horse, was a less fascinating but a less unprincipled person than Goring. That is to say that, while Goring would betray any friend, or violate any promise, ”out of humour or for wit's sake,” Wilmot would not do either, except ”for some great benefit or convenience to himself.”[92] He is described by Clarendon as ”a man of a haughty and ambitious nature, of a pleasant wit, and an ill understanding.”[93] Like Goring, he drank hard, {84} but not, like Goring, to the neglect of his military duties. With the dissolute wits of the army he was exceedingly popular, but Rupert, always so temperate himself, had no sympathy with the failings of Wilmot. As early as November 1642 he had conceived ”an irreconcilable prejudice”[94]
against his lieutenant-general. Possibly the seed of this prejudice had been sown at Edgehill, where Wilmot refused to make a second charge, saying: ”We have won the day; let us live to enjoy the fruits thereof.”[95] And justly or unjustly, the combined hatred of Rupert, Digby, and Goring accomplished Wilmot's overthrow in 1644.
[1] Warburton. Vol. I. pp. 460-462.
[2] Lansdowne MSS. 817.
[3] Warburton. I. p. 462.
[4] Rupert Transcripts. Instruction to the Prince. 1642.
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