IV. A PILGRIMAGE TO NASEBY.

I spent the anniversary of Naseby fight on the sloping upland where the sword of Cromwell decisively sealed the doom of the ancient Monarchy. Naseby village stands high in central England, about a mile to the rear of the spot where the forces of King and Parliament met in death-grapple. The hamlet has been transformed out of all semblance to its former self. The old windmill has disappeared. The curious copper ball from Boulogne on the steeple has been replaced by a new spire. With one or two exceptions, all the old thatched cottages have given place to modern houses. The stocks have vanished, only the stump of the market-cross remains. The only attempt to commemorate the battle which made Naseby famous is a memorial obelisk, erected some seventy years ago, about a mile from the battlefield. As it is now obscured by trees, it serves no purpose sare that of affording in its hollow interior a commodious hive for swarms of bees, which have stored it with honey for ten years past. In the village one of the oldest buildings is the vast tithing-barn; but it was not built until after the Restoration.

At the rear of a farmhouse, opposite the church and near the inn, there is still standing a part of one the houses where Rupert's rear-guard were quartered on the eve of the famous fight. They were supping here, sitting at a heavy table-long prized as one of the relics of the fight, and now carefully preserved at Holmby House when Ireton's troopers burst in upon them even as they sat at meat, and terminated abruptly their

evening meal. The spacious fireplace, from which you can look up into the sky, is still in use-the rafters of the roof are as rough and rude as they were two centuries since; but alas! the place that knows them now will soon know them no more. The present tenant, who asked disdainfully, "What use was it?" has determined to improve it out of existence. In a few months the last relic of the skirmish that brought on Naseby fight will have given place to a brand-new building, replete with modern conveniences no doubt; but it is the old story of Aladdin's lamp.

The people of Naseby have never prided themselves much upon their association with the epoch-making battle. No one seemed to remember that June 14th was the anniversary of the fateful fight, and it is noted as an extraordinary omission that the parish register of the year 1645 contained no entry of the occurrence which will bring pilgrims to Naseby to the end of time. Local traditions about the place are rare, and relics are rarer still. Fifty years ago bullets were common; to-day they are seldom found. A ploughboy occasionally turns one up in the furrow, so white with chalk deposit that it might be mistaken for a marble; but there are probably not more than a score to be found in the parish. The ploughboy's tariff for bullets is ninepence each-the price paid by the village publican, who sells them to collectors for as much more as he can get. The publican has two treasures which he will not sell a fragment of chain shot, a lump of lead with iron imbedded in the centre, and a silver groat of Philip and Mary. At Clipstone Mr. Haddon, whose father once farmed part of Naseby field, has the rusted remains of a two-edged sword; the tenant of Millhill ploughed up a gold ring, which he incontinently sold for a sovereign to a Harborough jeweller; but of other relics there is but small trace.

Of local traditions there is small store, although, from the extreme longevity of the villagers, the reverse might have been expected: for, after all, the space of three lives would cover the 246 years that have elapsed since Roundhead and Cavalier met in death-grapple on the slopes of Broadmoor. A few there are, but very few. Mr. Albert Pell, who lives at Hazelbeach, near by, kindly copied out for me the following statements by the Rev. John N. Simpkinson, now a rector in Norfolk :

In the summer 1865 I rode over from Brington (of which I was the rector) to Naseby, and while I was examining the field, I fell in with an old labourer of more than eighty years of age, who showed me various spots where the battle had been hottest, as was evident by bullets and fragments of weapons, which are still turned up occasionally by the plough.

He told also an anecdote of the battle day which he had heard from his grandfather when sitting on his knee as a little boy, and which that grandfather had similarly heard from the person to whom the incident happened just 220 years before.

The story was this: The subject of the incident, being then a child of about four years old, was standing at his cottage door on the morning of the battle, when Cromwell's troopers came riding through the village. The cottage was on the south side of the churchyard in a narrow part of the village, a high wall at that time separating the churchyard from the road. The little boy seeing the horses ran across the road in front of them, as children will, and the foremost

trooper, fearing that the child would certainly be killed, stooped from his saddle, caught the boy by the nape of his neck, and flung him over the wall on his right. The child fell happily on soft ground in the churchyard, with no injury done to him, and lived to tell the story as above.

When staying in the Naseby country I received a letter from a friend, in which he said :—

Let me tell you an incident which has always reminded me of the comparative newness of the world as we know it. My old grandmother, who died five years since, aged ninetysix, was born when her mother was forty-five. My granny told me that her grandmother told her she had seen an old housekeeper at Woolatton (Lord Middleton's) who saw Cromwell at Woolatton after the fight at Naseby. She followed him cautiously upstairs, and he threw himself, armour and all, down by the bedside and prayed.

Skeletons, with bones of horses and men, are occasionally disinterred.

There was a curious story that Thorold Rogers used to tell, to the effect that as the two armies stood in array over against each other, a hunting party, with the hounds in full cry, swept across the plain between Roundhead and Cavalier, which led to much moralising on the part of keen partisans that men could be so indifferent to such momentous issues as were then waiting for decision. I could find no confirmation of this story, although it may have been true for all that. Local tradition tells of women coming out to watch the battle from Naseby and suffering thereby, and also of the herds of cows which were driven out of the way of the contending armies. Their herdsmen looked on with eager curiosity, minding the cows, which had to be milked whichever side won, while Cromwell and Rupert delivered their charges, and the centres under Charles and Fairfax fought with pike and sword and clubbed firelock. Charles had been hunting the stag at Daventry, in leisurely disarray, little dreaming that "Ironsides," as Cromwell was then called quite distinct from his men, was riding hard from the astern Counties to join the New Model.

There is a charming ghost story told in the local histories about the royal visit to Daventry that ought to be true if it is not. "Two hours after the King had retired to rest," writes Rastell in his History of Southwell," some of his attendants hearing an uncommon noise in his chamber, went into it, and found his Majestie sitting up in bed and much agitated, but nothing which could have produced the noise they fancied they heard. The King in a trembling voice, inquired after the cause of their alarm, and told them how much he had been agitated in a dream by thinking he saw the apparition of Lord Strafford, who, after upbraiding him with unkindness, told him he was come to return him good for evil, and that he advised him by no means to fight the Parliamentary army that was at that time quartered at Northampton, for it was one whom the King could never conquer by arms. Prince Rupert, in whom courage was the predominant quality, rated the King out of his apprehensions the next day; and a resolution was taken to meet the enemie. The next night, however, the apparition appeared to him a second time, but with looks of anger, assuring him that would be the last advice he should be permitted to give him, but that if he kept his resolution of fighting he was undone." The King remained a day in a state of inactivity, and finally determined to march off northward. He took up his quarters at Lubbenham, near Market Harborough, on the eve of the battle, intending to march northward on the morrow. Ireton's troopers, by surprising the Royalist rear-guard at Naseby, led the King to hurry on to Market Harborough, where

Rupert's counsels led to a decision to fight next dayStrafford's ghost notwithstanding. The result justified the King's forebodings. "He was often heard to say that he wished he had taken the warning, and not fought at Naseby; the meaning of which nobody knew but those to whom he told this appearance at Daintree, and they were afterwards all told to conceal it."

On the morning of June 14th Sir Thomas Fairfax, who was then a comparatively young man, being several years junior to Cromwell, rose at three o'clock and put his troops in motion. They had lain the night before at Guilsborough, a pretty village on the top of a hill almost due south of Naseby, and being advised by their excellent scoutmaster-general that the King was falling back on Market Harborough, Sir Thomas wished to compel him to a speedy action. In the early morning of that Saturday in June, when the dew was still heavy upon the grass, and the air was tremulous with the song of larks, the army of the Commonwealth marched down Guilsborough Hill and up the Naseby slope, reaching the village about five. There they breakfasted, as all armies would do under the same circumstances; but after breakfast, presumably while they were still in doubt as to whether the King would turn back to meet them or would pursue his march northward, they had a sermon. Who preached tradition sayeth not. Whether it was Hugh Peters, or the worthy Sprigge, or whether it was not a chaplain, but an officer, or even Cromwell himself, is not recorded. Only the text has come down to us, and a text worthy of the occasion; it was taken from Joshua the twenty-second chapter and the twenty-second verse, "The Lord God of gods, the Lord God of gods, he knoweth, and Israel he shall know; if it be in rebellion, or if in transgression against the Lord, save us not this day." Seldom was more solemn appeal ever made to the Lord of Hosts, seldom have more earnest men more boldly invoked the ordeal of battle as a test of the justice of their cause. When, at the close of the service, great bodies of the enemy's horse were discerned coming over the hill from Harborough, they rejoiced with exceeding joy. The set time had arrived, and the Lord was about to make bare His arm to minister judgment among the peoples.

It is easy to make out the ledge of the hill running east to west for about a mile upon which Sir Thomas Fairfax drew up his forces, and behind which, for about a hundred paces, they retreated, so that the enemy might not perceive in what form our battle was drawn, nor see any confusion therein." For there was confusion. Fairfax had thrown upon Cromwell, at the eleventh hour, the command of the cavalry, which was 6,000 strong-forming, indeed, a full half of the entire army. Cromwell appointed Ireton to the left wing with five regiments of horse, while he retained six regiments under his own command. The clock was pointing to eight when they began placing their line in a posture of defence, and it was two hours before all was ready. Meanwhile the enemy came on amain in passing good order, in numbers about equal to those of the New Model, but with 1,500 veteran officers skilled in the art of war to keep their troops in line. Maurice was there, and Rupert of the Rhine on the extreme right wing of the King's forces, stretching down to Sulby Hedge, which Cromwell had lined with dragoons to cover his left flank. Sulby Hedge still stands, marking the western border of the battlefield. Nor does it require much imagination to see once more the puffs of smoke that broke from under the May blossom as the dismounted troopers warned off the Cavaliers who ventured too near the boundary hedge. The King was in the centre with Lord Astley's foot, while Sir Marmaduke Langdale, with

the northern horse, formed the left wing. The baggage waggons, with the ladies of the King's train and the royal cabinet with the compromising letters of his most sacred Majesty, were dispersed in the rear on the summit of the northern slope behind Broadmoor, from whence bright eyes watched eagerly the preparations for the fray.

When Cromwell was placing his cavalry in position, perceiving the confusion of his new troops and the excellent order of the Royal advance, "So far from being dismayed at it, it was the rise and occasion of a most triumphant faith and joy in him, expecting that God would do great things by small means, and by the things that are not bring to nought the things that are." Such a faith, converting even disadvantage and weakness into sources of strength, was capable of doing much greater things than the mere pulverising of the Stuarts.

Pulverised they were, however, as all the world knows. Millhill farmhouse stands back from the ledge looking down upon the fields sloping to Naseby, where the Roundheads' train was left with sturdy guard, whose firelocks went off with precision when Prince Rupert, in a red montero, came riding up after he had broken through Ireton's troops and driven them backwards, still hotly resisting, as far as the church. Passing Millhill you have in front of you the fields where the Parliamentary centre of foot was drawn up under stout old Skippon, whose cheery speech to his troops reads much more real than the set orations usually put in the mouths of commanding officers. "Come, my boys, my brave boys, let us pray heartily, and fight heartily. I will run the same fortunes and hazards with you. Remember the cause is for God and for the defence of yourselves, your wives, and your children; come, my heroic, brave boys, pray heartily and fight heartily, and God will bless us.' To the left as far as Sulby Hedge stood Ireton with his cavalry. The right wing, where Cromwell fought, stood along the slope as far as the road to Sibbertoft. The plan on pages 71, 72, reduced from the original in Sprigge, exhibits the order of battle before the armies engaged, that is to say, just before ten o'clock.

"Both sides, with mighty shouts, exprest a hearty desire of fighting," say the Parliamentary Commissioners, "having for our part recommended our cause to God's protection and received the word, which was, God our strength, theirs Queen Mary; our forlorne hopes began the play." These "forlorne hopes' were 300 musketeers, who were thrown out in advance of the main body--an advanced skirmishing line, in short, which fell back as the centre advanced. Both wings appear to have engaged at the same time, and the battle became general. Anything more unlike a modern battle could hardly be imagined. The cannon in the centre did small execution, the shot passing over the heads of the combatants. The moment the foot came within carbine range both sides fired one volley, and then, clubbing their muskets, went for each other as if gunpowder had not existed and the battle had to be decided by a hammerand-tongs mélée. In reality it was decided by the cavalry. The horse, under Cromwell, charged down the hill, breaking up Langdale's cavalry, which were charging up. The first divisions, so broken, found refuge with the reserve of foot, and rallied there, but the other were hopelessly scattered and driven from their foot a distance of a quarter of a mile to the rear. The method of a cavalry charge was very simple. The horse rode full gallop at each other, pistols were fired as soon as they came within range, and then the sword-play began. Cromwell was much hampered by furze bushes, whose descendants still give a golden livery to the slope

over which Langdale's troopers were driven in hopeless confusion, and by rabbit holes which rendered it difficult to advance in good order. "Nevertheless, not one body of the enemy's horse which they charged but they routed." While this was going on on the right, Ireton was having a bad time of it on the left. Sprigge gives a curiously detailed account of the action of the left wing, which for a time placed victory in jeopardy. "Upon the approach of the enemy's right wing of horse, our left wing drawing. down the brow of the hill to meet them, the enemy coming on fast, suddenly made stand, as if they had not expected us in so ready a posture; ours seeing them stand,. made a little stand also. Upon that the enemy advanced again, whereupon our left wing sounded a charge and fell upon them. The three right-hand divisions of our left. made the first onset, and those divisions of the enemyopposite to them received the charge, and the two lefthand divisions of the left wing did not advance equally ;. but being more backward, the opposite divisions of the enemy advanced upon them. Of the three right-hand divisions (before-mentioned) which advanced, the middlemost charged not home; the other two coming to a close: charge, routed the two opposite divisions of the enemy." Ireton, seeing the foot on his right hand sore pressed by the onslaught of the Royal infantry, charged to theirrelief. His horse was shot under him, while he himself,. run through the thigh with a pike, and into the face with a halbert, was made prisoner. Notwithstanding this. disaster, the horse on the right of his wing broke through. the first line, and part of the reserves. The other Royal reserves then coming up, the Roundheads were broken up, the tide turned, and Prince Rupert meanwhile having swept through the cavalry opposed to him, captured six pieces of the rebels' best cannon, and pursued the broken. regiments as far as Naseby village.

Meanwhile the infantry in the centre were pounding away at each other, the Parliamentarians on the whole: getting the worst of it. The whole of the Roundhead infantry, excepting Fairfax's own regiments, fell back under the onslaught of the Royalists, and were only saved. from a total overthrow by the Reserves,. who, however,. succeeded in driving back the enemy. Skippon was. dangerously wounded, and Lord Astley's regiment held its own "with incredible courage and resolution, although we attempted them in the flanks, front and rear." Then about two hours after the fight began the decisive stroke was delivered. Fairfax brought up his regiment of foot, Cromwell mustered all his cavalry, and they fell together with overwhelming force upon the gallant tertia. Nothing could stand before the combined onslaught, and the King's cause was lost, all his foot being at the mercy of the Parliamentarians. The King, with his life-guards and his reserve of horse, was strangely hindered from making a counter charge. His troops marched to the right, when the only chance of averting crushing defeat was a desperate charge to the left. The last chance was gone, Rupert, too late, came riding back, closely pursued by the broken remnants of Ireton's wing, and theRoyalists with their horse alone attempted to make onelast stand. Fairfax re-formed his whole line of battle; both horse, foot, and artillery advanced anew to the attack. Without waiting for the charge of Cromwell'stroopers, King Charles and his men broke and fled.. It was one by the clock. In three hours the fate of England had been decided.

Eight hundred of the Royalist dead lay in heaps upon. the hard-fought field, including, as Clarendon laments, 150 officers and gentlemen of "prime quality." All their foot were taken prisoners, to be marched to London, and afterwards sent for the most part on foreign service; all their