Kitabı oku: «Battles of English History», sayfa 9

The ultimate political tendency of the invention of gunpowder was obvious. By rendering discipline more necessary for the efficiency of the soldier, it threw power into the hands of the state, which alone could maintain and organise bodies of trained men, as against individuals. By making infantry the one indispensable arm, it tended to make oppression less easy: the class which furnishes the fighting strength of a nation will in the long run have at least its full share of political power. It may be only a coincidence, but it is at any rate symbolical, that England, the country in which, thanks to the long-bow, infantry became earliest of paramount importance in war, is also the country in which aristocratic privileges in the strict sense of the word, as distinguished from aristocratic influences, were of least extent and soonest reduced to insignificance. It is also the country in which the nation as a whole earliest felt its strength, and taught its kings to respect the national will.

CHAPTER VIII
FLODDEN

The establishment of Scottish independence, in the teeth of English claims to supremacy, not unnaturally led to a feeling of opposition to England, and of consequent alliance with France, which on the whole worked disastrously for Scotland. Unfortunately also the policy of hostility gradually developed in the smaller people a feeling of bitter animosity towards their neighbours, which the English on their side hardly felt. On the borders mutual injuries stimulated personal hatred, but only rarely affected the relations of the two states. The English government had no motive for hostility to Scotland, no passion to indulge: it would at any time have been glad of firm peace with Scotland, but was apt to try to secure this by establishing its influence over Scotland, rather than by relations of equal friendliness. While the long contest with France lasted, England had obviously every motive for desiring to be free of a troublesome enemy in the north: but Scotland was ever hostile. Sometimes a Scottish army invaded England more or less in concert with the French, as when Nevil's Cross followed hard upon Crecy. Later, Scottish nobles and soldiers swarmed in the French armies: the defeat of Verneuil was a heavier blow to Scotland than to France.

Unfortunately for the success of the Scots in their many encounters with the English, Bannockburn had been too great a victory. The spearmen had on that day so decisively defeated the English mailed horsemen that the Scots seem always to have assumed that nothing could be more effective. Time after time the English archers inflicted crushing losses on the Scottish armies. Halidon Hill (1333), Nevil's Cross (1346), Homildon (1402) are the chief instances, but not the only ones, before the day of Flodden, the last great victory of the bow, and perhaps the most overwhelming defeat which a kingdom ever suffered.

From the accession of the house of Tudor, the English policy was directed, more systematically than ever, towards gaining over Scotland. The difficulty was obvious, that an alliance between the two countries must needs mean Scotland following in the wake of England, which was galling to Scottish pride, and distasteful to their hereditary hatred of the English. Henry VII. succeeded, with the help of Spain, in bringing Scotland for the time into his circle of allied powers, and in cementing that union, as he hoped, by the marriage of his eldest daughter Margaret to the young king of Scots. Personal ties, however, seldom count for much as against national interests and prejudices, or even against the passions of kings: as soon as ever Henry VIII. entangled himself in a war with France, his brother-in-law followed the traditional practice of his predecessors and attacked England. There were plenty of small grievances on both sides, which might be used as pretexts; but the only adequate reason for war was to be found in the Scottish king's own disposition. James IV., with the virtues of chivalry, carried to great lengths its fantastic follies, including total indifference to his own wife, and susceptibility to the fascinations of other women. Scottish chroniclers say that James was greatly influenced by a letter from the queen of France, sending him a turquoise ring and a sum of money, and begging him to take three steps on English ground for her sake: and whether this be true or not, it is in accordance with his character. The war was not altogether welcome to Scotland: some at least of the king's advisers thought the venture dangerous, or desired to maintain friendly relations with England. More than one attempt was made to work on James' well-known superstitiousness, the most daring being the midnight voice from the Cross at Edinburgh which Sir Walter Scott describes in Marmion. James had however gone too far to recede: he invaded England with an army which is said to have amounted to 100,000 men, and which certainly comprised every great noble in Scotland who was capable of bearing arms.

On August 22, 1513, the Scots crossed the border. The king seems to have had no definite purpose beyond gratifying his taste for knight-errantry. Norham Castle surrendered a week later, and there was no English army as yet ready to dispute his further advance: he might have penetrated far into England if he had chosen. Instead of this he occupied himself in taking Wark and other small castles, "enterprises worthy of a border chieftain," as a Scottish historian contemptuously remarks, and in devastating the country, to his own speedy detriment. Unless all the chroniclers were in a conspiracy to calumniate him, James was guilty of a far worse folly, quite in keeping with his character as a knight-errant, but absolutely unpardonable in a king and a general conducting a great war. After taking Ford Castle, he fell deeply in love with Lady Heron of Ford, and loitered day after day near Ford for her sake, until it was too late to advance. Meanwhile his army was suffering, provisions were failing, and the season was rainy. The army melted away by desertion to something like a third of its original strength: the numbers that fought at Flodden seem to be ascertained with tolerable certainty at not much over 30,000 on each side. The spirit of chivalry prevented the nobles leaving their king in the field, whatever the common soldiers might do: they stayed with James without influencing his conduct, and shared his fate.

Meanwhile the earl of Surrey, who had been entrusted with the defence of England during the king's absence in France, had gathered an army, which would have been largely overmatched at first if James had not wasted his opportunities. Surrey knew the man he had to deal with, and as soon as he felt himself strong enough, sent to the Scottish king a formal challenge to fight a battle on a given day, Friday, September 9. Of course the crowned knight-errant accepted the challenge, and thereby precluded himself from fighting earlier, as would have been to his obvious advantage. The aged earl of Angus, the famous Archibald Bell-the-Cat, who had played a great part in Scottish history for the last half-century, is said to have vainly implored the king not to accept: the only answer he could get was, "Angus, if you are afraid, you can go home." After such an insult, the old man could but go; but two of his sons remained to die with the king.

On September 7, Surrey reached Wooler, a few miles from the Scottish camp: on the previous day James moved from the low ground near Ford, and took up his position on Flodden Edge. The lower course of the Tweed, where it forms the boundary between England and Scotland, is towards the north-east. About ten miles from its mouth, a mile or two above Norham, the Till falls into it on the English side, nearly at right angles. Flodden Edge is a high ridge a mile or more in length, running east and west, nearly south of the mouth of the Till, and about five miles off; its easternmost end almost reaches the Till, just above Ford. The descent is abrupt on the south to the wide plain of Millfield, stretching along the Till nearly to Wooler. On the north the slope is more gradual, and is broken by a hollow rising to another lower ridge, beyond which the descent is continued to Brankston. Flodden Edge was an excellent position in which to await attack, at any rate from the south, but an impossible one for long occupation, being badly supplied with water, though not quite destitute of it. Local ingenuity, anxious to gratify the lovers of poetry, and devoid of military insight, points out a scanty spring on Flodden Edge as the "Sybil's Well" beside which the wounded Marmion was laid to die. As will be seen from the details of the battle, it is simply impossible that any Englishman should have come there, still more impossible that Marmion should have left Clare there under charge of his squires. Sir Walter Scott is not however in any way answerable for this mistake: in a note he expressly says that Sybil's well must be situated somewhere behind the English right. The well was of course the creature of his own imagination; and from the shape of the ground no spot in that quarter could have given the dying Marmion a view of the whole battle-field.

Surrey, on arriving at Wooler, and discovering where the Scots were, tried to play once more on James' weakness: he sent him a letter reproaching him for having quitted the level ground, and challenging him to come down on the appointed day and fight on the Millfield. This time however James refused even to hear the herald; either he was visited by a stray gleam of common sense, or his nobles prevented the purport of the message from reaching him. Surrey was not at all the man to attack a formidable position if he could manœuvre his enemy out of it. Accordingly on September 8 he crossed the Till at Wooler and marched down its right bank, but far enough from the river to be concealed from the Scots by the high ground east of it. Halting for the night on Barmoor, he continued his march next morning, and recrossed the Till with his vanguard and artillery at Twizel Bridge close to its mouth, the rest of his army crossing by fords higher up the stream. Surrey was now between the Scots and their country: James must fight, and his promise was given to fight on that day.

James was ignorant or careless of every duty of a general. He did not know that Surrey had moved until the English were seen in the far distance crossing Twizel Bridge. The only precaution he had taken was to plant some cannon to command the bridge (if there was one then) or the ford on his right, leading across the Till to Ford.

 
"And why stands Scotland idly now,
Dark Flodden! on thy airy brow,
Since England gains the pass the while,
And struggles through the deep defile?
What checks the fiery soul of James?
Why sits that champion of the dames
Inactive on his steed,
And sees, between him and his land,
Between him and Tweed's southern strand,
His host Lord Surrey lead?
What 'vails the vain knight-errant's brand?
– O, Douglas, for thy leading wand!
Fierce Randolph, for thy speed!
O for one hour of Wallace wight,
Or well-skill'd Bruce, to rule the fight,
And cry – 'Saint Andrew and our right!'
Another sight had seen that morn,
From Fate's dark book a leaf been torn,
And Flodden had been Bannockbourne! —
The precious hour has pass'd in vain,
And England's host has gain'd the plain;
Wheeling their march, and circling still,
Around the base of Flodden hill."
 

The censure is just, but not quite accurately placed. By the time James was aware of Surrey's manœuvre it was probably too late to attack him with his army half across the river, as Wallace had done with fatal effect at Cambuskenneth. James' first and unpardonable fault was in neglecting to watch Surrey's movements; his second was the usual halting between two opinions of a weak man. When he saw Surrey's whole army advancing towards him, he could neither be content to remain in his position, sufficiently formidable if not so strong as on the reverse aspect, nor resolve boldly to push on so as to encounter Surrey as soon as possible, with the angle of the Tweed and Till to enclose him fatally if defeated. Suddenly taking it into his head that the Brankston ridge in front either was a better position for himself, or would be a convenient one for the English, he ordered his camp to be fired, that the south wind might blow the smoke towards Surrey and conceal his movements, and descended from Flodden Edge. It did not occur to James that the smoke would prevent his seeing the English, which was much more important: they were steadily on the march and knew where they were going. It could have been no surprise to Surrey on reaching Brankston to see the Scots on the near ridge in front, though it was an obvious advantage to him that they had not yet had time to get fully into order.

The English army formed its line of battle on tolerably level ground, facing south, the Scots being on higher ground. Both armies were drawn up in the same manner, in four divisions, with a reserve of horsemen in rear of the centre. On the English right was Sir Edmund Howard, Surrey's younger son; next to him his brother the Admiral, next to him Surrey, and on the left Sir Edward Stanley, while Lord Dacre commanded the horsemen in reserve. Nothing is expressly said about it, but no doubt all the divisions were composed as usual of archers and spearmen combined. On the Scottish side the earls of Huntly and Home faced Sir Edmund Howard, Huntly with the Gordons of the north-eastern Highlands, Home with the borderers. Opposite to the Admiral were Crawford and Montrose, opposite Surrey was the king. On the Scottish right the earls of Lennox and Argyle had with them a mass of wild Highlanders. The earl of Bothwell was in reserve behind the centre.

The battle began about four p.m. with a cannonade. The English guns were well served and did great execution; the Scots were less skilful, and probably at a disadvantage from their hasty move. At any rate the artillery duel, as it would be called now-a-days, was so greatly in favour of the English that the Scots hastened to come to close quarters. On their left the borderers with their long spears charged home with such determination that they broke Sir Edmund Howard's line. The white lion banner of the Howards was trampled in the dust, part of the English right wing fled: it was only by the prompt support of Dacre's horsemen that defeat on this wing was averted. In the right centre the Admiral had a severe struggle with Crawford and Montrose, but ultimately prevailed, both the earls being slain. On the left the English success was much more decided: the wild clansmen, unable to bear the clothyard arrows, broke their ranks and dashed at the enemy, who beat them off with great slaughter. Meanwhile James in person had engaged Surrey, and being presently supported by the reserve under Bothwell pressed him hard. The day however was virtually decided: the success on the Scottish left was now more than neutralised, for Huntly had fled apparently before Dacre's first charge, and Home, isolated from the rest of the army, did not venture to renew the conflict, but drew off, watched and held in check by Dacre. The Admiral, after defeating Crawford, took James in flank: Stanley still more fatally attacked him on the right rear. The time for exhibiting the best side of knight-errantry had come: James, with a splendid courage which has more than half redeemed his credit, refused to yield. Forming themselves into the national circle, the Scots held their ground to the last.

 
"But yet, though thick the shafts as snow,
Though charging knights like whirlwinds go,
Though bill-men ply the ghastly blow,
Unbroken was the ring;
The stubborn spear-men still made good
Their dark impenetrable wood,
Each stepping where his comrade stood,
The instant that he fell.
No thought was there of dastard flight;
Link'd in the serried phalanx tight,
Groom fought like noble, squire like knight,
As fearlessly and well;
Till utter darkness closed her wing
O'er their thin host and wounded king.
Then skilful Surrey's sage commands
Led back from strife his shatter'd bands;
And from the charge they drew,
As mountain waves, from wasted lands,
Swept back to ocean blue.
Then did their loss his foemen know;
Their king, their lords, their mightiest low,
They melted from the field as snow,
When streams are swoln and south winds blow,
Dissolves in silent dew.
Tweed's echoes heard the ceaseless plash,
While many a broken band,
Disorder'd, through her currents dash,
To gain the Scottish land;
To town and tower, to down and dale,
To tell red Flodden's dismal tale,
And raise the universal wail.
Tradition, legend, tune and song,
Shall many an age that wail prolong:
Still from the sire the son shall hear
Of the stern strife and carnage drear,
Of Flodden's fatal field,
Where shiver'd was fair Scotland's spear
And broken was her shield!"
 

The Scottish loss in men was heavy, about 10,000 men, and the English paid for the victory with a loss of perhaps half the amount. But the rank of the Scots who fell made it a blow to the kingdom which perhaps has no equal in history. The king, his natural son the archbishop of St. Andrew's, twelve earls, or nearly every man of the highest rank below royalty, many other lords and chiefs of clans, all perished: there is scarcely a family of distinction in Scotland but had a member killed at Flodden. The last victory of the long-bow was even more complete than its first great triumph at Crecy. For to the bow is fairly to be attributed alike the defeat of the fierce rush of the Highlanders which proved so formidable on other occasions, and the last destruction wrought upon the nobles around their king.

CHAPTER IX
THE GREAT CIVIL WAR

Civil wars are not all of the same type. Sometimes the division is geographical, as in the great war between the northern and southern states of the American Union; sometimes the people throughout the country are separated into opposing ranks. Of course in neither case is the line likely to be drawn quite sharply: there were partisans of the north in the Confederate States: the preponderant feeling in some districts at least of a country divided against itself is sure to be strongly on one side or the other. The great English civil war of the seventeenth century is an instance of the latter type, though not in its most clearly marked form. There were large regions which were very decidedly royalist, others almost as distinctly parliamentarian; but certainly there was something of royalist feeling everywhere, and probably anti-royalist feeling also. These facts determine to so large an extent the nature and course of the war that it cannot be understood without keeping them in mind. They give a political reason for conduct on both sides, which from the purely military point of view must be regarded as mistaken. No competent general in an ordinary war will fritter away his forces in holding a number of small posts: he will only occupy those which are of importance to his operations in the field, well knowing that victory will give him possession of the rest. In the English civil war both parties acted on the principle that it was worth while to hold posts in districts where the enemy predominated, as means of keeping alive the spirit of their own partisans in those regions: and both sides deemed it well worth while to capture such posts, at the cost of greatly weakening their armies in the field. Nor can it be doubted that in the main they were right under the circumstances, though possibly there were instances in which acting in this manner was mistaken. In civil war it is emphatically true that until every spark is extinguished there is always a risk of the fire breaking out afresh.

The merits of the quarrel between Charles I. and his Parliament need not be discussed. Given that the question had once been raised whether the king was to be in the last resort master, or be bound to defer to the distinct wish of his people, a solution was only to be obtained by the king, or the representatives of the nation, definitely giving way. The ancient traditions of self-government made it certain that the Parliament would not yield except to armed force: the character and convictions of Charles I. made it equally certain not only that he would not yield, but that the conflict would be precipitated, rather than postponed, by his action.

England had not followed the example of the continental nations, which during the sixteenth century formed standing armies. Just before the civil war, there were no troops at all in England: in fact it was the necessity for putting down the Irish rebellion that brought about the final breach, as the Parliament would not trust the king with uncontrolled authority over the forces to be levied, and Charles would not bate an inch of his ancient prerogative. Hence it was of importance in the beginning of the war that the best raw material for an army was mainly on the king's side. Most of the gentry were royalist; and they, with their gamekeepers, grooms, etc., were naturally better skilled in the use of firearms, and (what was even more important) were more accustomed to riding than the rest of the population. The strong supporters of the Parliament were mostly found in the towns, merchants and shopkeepers, men ignorant of warlike pursuits, and little suited or inclined to incur in their own persons the hardships of war. England as a nation had engaged in no land warfare within living memory, except Buckingham's ill-conducted expedition to the Isle of Rhé. Many Englishmen however had seen service on the continent, in the earlier stages of the Thirty Years' War or in the last years of the Dutch War of Independence; and those who served under Maurice or Frederick Henry of Nassau, still more under the great Gustavus,⁵⁰ learned in a good school. Thus there was a fair supply of officers possessing some experience, though few of them exhibited any great military skill, again mostly on the king's side; and the royalist soldiers, having already some useful knowledge, were fairly soon converted into adequate troops. The parliamentary recruits were largely drawn in the first instance from the lowest classes of the towns; and though, thanks to natural courage and stubbornness, the infantry proved always a match for the royalists, their cavalry, an arm which was in that age of primary importance, and obviously required much more time for training, proved themselves defective. A remedy was presently found: we are told that Oliver Cromwell, then only a captain, after seeing in the first battle the panic rout of most of the parliamentary horse, observed to his cousin Hampden, that they must have men of another stamp to match with these men of honour. He set to work to bring into the ranks the stern Puritan yeomen of the eastern counties, and to inspire them with a spirit of strict discipline. This took time, and for many months after the war began the king had on the whole the advantage; but no enemy ever got the better of Cromwell's Ironsides, and from the date at which cavalry animated by his ideas came into the field in any numbers, the preponderance went over decisively to the Parliament.

Though, as has been said, there was hardly a spot in England where both parties had not adherents, yet roughly speaking a line drawn from Hull to Weymouth would divide England into a larger royalist half, and a smaller parliamentarian half, as things were just after the war had begun. The Parliament had its headquarters in London: the eastern counties, using that term very widely, were strongly on its side: and though the royalists were fairly numerous in Kent, Surrey and Hants, yet they were there so far overmatched by their opponents that the authority of Parliament was recognised. The king, whose headquarters after the first movements of the war were fixed in Oxford, was preponderant in the north (except Lancashire), in Wales (except Pembrokeshire) and the border counties, and in Cornwall, while the other south-western counties were more equally divided.

Charles I. finally set up his standard at Nottingham late in August 1642, whence he moved westwards to Chester, and when he had gathered sufficient forces marched on London. The earl of Essex, commanding the parliamentary army, had gone to Worcester to meet the king, and the first skirmish of the war took place at Powick bridge, just south of that city, on the very ground where nine years later was fought the last battle, the "crowning mercy" as Cromwell called it, which extinguished Charles II.'s last hopes of being restored by the aid of the Scots. It is a proof of the real inexperience of both sides that Charles and Essex moved towards London a few miles apart without either apparently being fully aware what the other was doing. On October 23 the king, who had the start, but had now come into hostile country, and therefore could not advance safely without beating off Essex, turned and fought at Edgehill on the southern edge of Warwickshire. The battle still further illustrated the rawness of both armies. The royalists gave away an advantage by coming down a fairly steep slope to meet their assailants: prince Rupert with the main body of their cavalry, after defeating the parliamentary horse opposed to him, pursued them headlong far away from the field, and then took to plundering Essex's baggage. The smaller body on the other wing were even more reckless, for they drove off only part of the cavalry opposed to them, leaving two small regiments untouched, in one of which was Cromwell's troop. How far this was due to want of discipline among the men, how far to lack of judgment in their commanders, it is difficult to tell; but the result was most disastrous to the king's cause. The infantry on both sides fought bravely, but two or three of Essex's regiments had been broken by the flying horsemen, and the king would have won a considerable victory but for the vigorous and effective way in which the few hundred cavalry that had escaped attack co-operated with the infantry. The clumsy, ill-made, slow-firing muskets of the seventeenth century were not very formidable to cavalry, and a charge pressed home in earnest had a very good chance against a mixed body of musketeers and pikemen, unless the latter were fresh and in good order. When prince Rupert at length returned to the field, Essex's infantry had got on the whole the best of it, though the royalists were hardly defeated: it was too late to begin again, and the battle remained drawn. The king's one chance of finishing the war at a blow was lost.

Charles advanced as far as Brentford, but the troops drawn out for the defence of London were too strong to be attacked, and he withdrew to Oxford, and entered on useless negotiations for peace. When active hostilities were resumed in the spring of 1643, all went favourably for the king. John Hampden, one of the most important leaders in the House of Commons, was killed in a skirmish: a series of successes in the field gave the whole south-west, with the important exception of Plymouth, into royalist hands: a victory at Atherton Moor drove Fairfax into Hull, and made the king master of all the rest of Yorkshire. Had Charles boldly marched on London, it is possible that the citizens in their dismay would have submitted. But Charles was hardly the man to take an audacious resolve; and it would have been audacious, even if no stronger word be applicable, to advance on London with his own immediate forces. His right wing, so to speak, was tied to the west by Plymouth, the garrison of which, if left unbesieged, would soon have revived the partisans of Parliament in the west. His left wing was still more closely fettered by the necessity of observing Hull. Moreover behind the king lay Gloucester, well garrisoned, and interrupting at a vital point, the lowest bridge on the Severn, free communication between the royalists of the south and west. Ordinary military judgment pointed out the capture of Gloucester as the most useful enterprise he could attempt, while waiting for the co-operation of Hopton from the west, of Newcastle from the north. The Parliament realised the supreme importance of Gloucester, and Essex, with an army consisting largely of the London train-bands, marched to relieve the place. Charles was obliged to raise the siege, and on his return to Oxford fought with Essex the bloody and indecisive battle of Newbury. The tide of royalist success had been stemmed, but no more. The outlook for the parliamentary cause seemed so gloomy that Pym, their greatest statesman, negotiated with his dying breath, at the price of important concessions to the Presbyterian spirit, for the assistance of the Scots for the next campaign. Things however were in reality less black than they seemed: in the eastern counties not only had their cause completely triumphed, but an army was being organised which was to turn the scale in the next year. This army was commanded by the earl of Manchester, under whom was Cromwell at the head of the cavalry, which was the specially important arm. In it the ideas which Cromwell had been the first to act on were definitely carried out. To quote the description of it sent to London by an admiring correspondent of a newspaper – "Neither is his army so formidable in number as exact in discipline; and that they might be all of one mind in religion as of resolution in the field, with a severe eye he hath looked into the manners of all those who are his officers, and cashiered those whom he found to be in any way irregular in their lives or disaffected to the cause. This brave army is our violets and primroses, the first-fruits of the spring, which the Parliament sends forth this year, for the growth of our religion, and the re-implanting of this kingdom in the garden of peace and truth."

Early in 1644 a Scottish army crossed the Tweed, and gradually pushed Newcastle back, till in April, when Fairfax was able to unite with them, they were strong enough to shut him up in York. Two or three weeks earlier Waller had won a victory at Cheriton in Hampshire, which finally assured the south-east to the Parliament, and which, though on a small scale, is an interesting prelude to Marston Moor, as exhibiting superiority of discipline passed over to the parliamentary side. Two or three weeks later Manchester's army came up to help in the siege of York. Newcastle was clearly doomed, unless assistance reached him. Months before, prince Rupert had been despatched by Charles with a small body of men to raise an army in the Severn region, and he was now, in accordance with his own earnest wish, ordered to relieve York. Making his way up through Lancashire, he ultimately crossed the Pennine hills from Skipton into the valley of the Wharfe. The governing committee of the Parliament had been anxious that the armies of Manchester and Fairfax should be sent into Lancashire to encounter Rupert, who had spent more than a month in taking various small places. Rupert was acting on the plan largely followed throughout the war; but on this occasion at least it was very mistaken policy. The capture of Newcastle's army in York would have been ill compensated by advantages tenfold greater than Rupert obtained in Lancashire; and York was very nearly lost. The generals were wiser than their government: they refused to raise the siege while a chance remained of capturing the city. If Rupert appeared they would fight him; and then, as they wrote to the committee, "if it please God to give us the victory, all Lancashire and Yorkshire will fall to us." At the same time they were well aware that in that case they would have to raise the siege, and they therefore pressed it vigorously, all the more so after intercepting a letter from Newcastle begging Rupert to make haste, as he could only hold out a few days longer. But for the folly of Crawford,⁵¹ third in command under Manchester, who exploded a mine without waiting for the co-operation of the Scots or of Fairfax, so that his own assault being unsupported was repulsed, York would in fact have been taken; but Crawford's failure gave the besieged just respite enough. On June 30 the generals heard that Rupert was at Knaresborough, only twelve miles off; the next morning therefore they raised the siege and marched towards him. Rupert however made a circuit northwards, crossing the Ure at Boroughbridge, and came down the left bank of the Ouse to join Newcastle, protected by the river from any possibility of the parliamentary forces intercepting him or taking him in flank. The fiery prince, who had in his pocket a letter from the king which he averred to be positive orders⁵² to fight the rebels, and who was Newcastle's superior officer, insisted on marching at once after the enemy. It cannot for a moment be maintained that he was wrong; though he was slightly inferior in numbers, his enemies might very reasonably be assumed to be hampered, as in fact they were, by difficulties arising from divided command, and from divergence of views as to the most important object to be attained.