Rupert, prince and count palatine of the Rhine and duke of Cumberland (1619–1682), royalist army and naval officer, was born on 18 December 1619 NS, the son of Frederick V (1596–1632), elector palatine of the Rhine, and his wife, Elizabeth (1596–1662), the daughter of James VI and I of Great Britain. He was born in Prague, where his parents were in residence as the king and queen of Bohemia, and was baptized in the palace chapel on 31 March 1620 NS. The name given to him reflected the ambitions of his family, for the only elector palatine to be elected to the imperial crown of Germany had been a Rupert, two centuries before. In 1618 the Bohemian estates had invited the Calvinist elector to accept a crown normally reserved for the heir of the Austrian Habsburgs. Despite the opposition or inactivity of fellow protestants, many Lutheran rather than Calvinist, and including Elizabeth's cautious father, Frederick consented. Within a year, however, his supporters were defeated by the Habsburg forces at the battle of the White Mountain (November 1620), and in the confusion of the family's flight from Prague the new baby was almost left behind. He was thrown into the boot of the departing coach at the last moment. Exile and early military career The Rhine palatinate, with its capital of Heidelberg, was one of the richest and most cultivated principalities within the empire, and its ruler—known then in England as the palsgrave—the prime elector of Germany. The loss of the Bohemian throne was followed by the military conquest of the Rhine electorate by the allies of the Habsburgs. The exiled palatines, among the earliest victims of what was to become known as the Thirty Years' War, found sanctuary in The Hague, at the court of the prince of Orange, Frederick Henry. There Rupert was brought up with his many siblings. His eldest brother drowned in 1629, his father died three years later, and Rupert found himself second in line to his brother, the new elector, Charles Lewis. These tragic events aroused sympathy for Elizabeth, the celebrated ‘queen of Hearts’ of the English court before her marriage, still styled queen of Bohemia by protestant Europe; her household remained at the centre of much diplomatic and occasional military activity thereafter. Frederick, even in less tragic circumstances, had been a chilly, morose, and ungracious man, often an embarrassment to his courtiers, but his wife was, like her father, clever, vivacious, spendthrift, and a reckless, untiring hunter. The children shared these differing characteristics in varying proportions. To them their mother was an adored but distant figure. She had fourteen children—several died in childhood—and housed them for a time at Leiden, three days' journey from The Hague. She viewed them dispassionately, showing greater concern for her even more numerous pet monkeys and dogs. The children were brought up in a harsh atmosphere of family illnesses and deaths, political crises, looming poverty, and continual disappointment. The family was dependent on the generosity not only of the house of Orange but also of the English government—Elizabeth's brother Charles I provided a pension of £20,000 a year. The wealthy and eccentric Sir William Craven, a follower of the queen who aspired to be a soldier and courtier, subsidized them on occasion. Despite these handicaps and the stiff formality of the court the children contrived to enjoy themselves. They were talented and boisterous, none more so than Rupert. Even his mother remarked on Rupert's angelic appearance, so much at variance with his wayward conduct. Badly behaved, headstrong, and impetuous, he acquired the family nickname Robert le diable (Robert the devil). He may have inherited his ungovernable temper from his maternal grandfather. But he was an infant prodigy: at an early age he had mastered all the major European languages, and had precociously developed musical and artistic tastes. He and his sister Louise learned from the Utrecht painter Gerrit van Honthorst, who lived in the household and portrayed the family members frequently. A good mathematician as well as linguist, Rupert was keenly interested in all things military. It was said that among his tutors in these years was the leading English soldier Sir Jacob Astley, also of the household. At the age of eighteen Rupert was over 6 feet tall, and according to his sister was blessed with a double portion of good health and physical stamina. As well as money, Charles I offered hospitality to Charles Lewis and Rupert. They arrived in England in 1636 and were fêted everywhere, visiting Oxford for a student play, receiving honorary MAs, and having their portraits painted by Van Dyck. Of practical help to recover their patrimony they received only vague promises of English aid, and the advice to have ‘a little patience’ (Bromley, 297). Rupert in particular, apparently suppressing his natural moroseness better than his brother, was much admired. As well as being tall and strong, he was handsome and athletic, an excellent tennis player, and an accomplished dancer. He dressed well, even fashionably. Charles Lewis, a cautious young man, deplored the energetic way his younger brother played tennis, which made him sweat. It confirmed the view that whatever Rupert did he did to extremes. Many vied to gain Rupert's attention and win his support. A plan to mount an expedition to Madagascar, as yet uncolonized, was mooted, which would have the advantage of providing honourable employment for the prince. Thomas Howard, earl of Arundel, who had led an embassy to Vienna to plead the palatines' cause, acted as patron. Rupert was enthusiastic, but his mother was more realistic: she termed it his ‘romance of Madagascar’, and quashed the plan (CSP dom., 1636–7, 559). It was strongly felt he should marry, and a wealthy Huguenot noblewoman, heir of the duc de Rohan, France's leading protestant nobleman, was suggested. But Rupert spurned this match. He was also targeted by Charles's queen, Henrietta Maria, as a likely convert to Roman Catholicism. The church was regaining territory and minds at this time, particularly in ruling circles, and Elizabeth feared that her son would succumb—a potential political blow of great consequence for such a high-profile protestant family. Later four of Rupert's siblings would embrace the old religion, so her fears were justified. She recalled him in the winter of 1636–7, perhaps for that reason. Rupert rejoined his brother in March 1637, but they stayed in England for only a further three months, before Elizabeth, advised by Archbishop Laud among others, found more suitable employment for both Rupert and Maurice, his next younger brother. She had no illusions but that they would have to carve out a career for themselves at the point of a sword. Even in his teens Rupert had gone campaigning with the prince of Orange's army. He had already met some of the leading British soldiers of fortune, such as George Goring, serving in the Netherlands. Now in the autumn of 1637 he showed his mettle at the siege of Breda. The following year with English volunteers, money, and ships the elector landed in north Germany, near Bremen, close to the Dutch border, in a move which it was hoped would bring pressure on the emperor. But he had omitted to co-ordinate his campaign with the Swedish or Dutch forces in the area, and his little army was soon overwhelmed by the imperialists, between Lemgo and Vlotho on the River Weser in October. Charles Lewis narrowly escaped but Rupert was captured. For almost three years, 1639–41, Rupert was held a prisoner in the castle at Linz, in Austria, on the Danube. At first he suffered hard usage but the visiting Archduke Leopold, the emperor's brother, befriended him and bettered his condition. His imperial guardians worked hard to persuade him to change sides, convert to Rome, and otherwise ease his captivity. His mother again feared for him: ‘I wish him rather dead then in his ennemies hands’ (Letters of Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia, 110). But, for a twenty-year-old, Rupert showed strength of character and was able to assure his mother of his steadfastness to the cause. Instead he set himself to study the theory of war, interested himself in gunnery—the start of a lifelong passion—took up the art of engraving, and acquired the rare white poodle Boye, given to him by the earl of Arundel. The diplomatic efforts of his uncle, Charles I, at Vienna eventually secured his release in October 1641, on the promise that he would not again take up arms against the empire. Rupert did not remain long with the family at The Hague. His thoughts turned again to England, no longer a haven of peace in war-torn Europe. It was rumoured early in 1642 that he might gain a command in the army to be raised by the Long Parliament to be sent to Ireland, where the rising of the Catholic Irish had broken out. In February he sailed to Dover but, meeting the queen about to depart for the Netherlands, was advised to journey back with her. The king no doubt thought that the presence of his hot-headed young nephew would harm his fragile political position. But with Henrietta Maria and her daughter, Mary, the bride of the stadholder's son, at The Hague, the recruitment of money, men, and armaments for a coming civil war in England proceeded apace. Rupert and his brother Maurice set sail, with a large entourage of British and foreign soldiers and military experts, for the north of England, and reached the king, who had raised his standard at Nottingham, in August. Cavalry commander: Edgehill and Brentford, 1642 Rupert was now unreservedly welcomed by the king and his supporters, working hard to build an army in the more favourable political climate of summer 1642. The Order of the Garter was conferred on him, and he was immediately commissioned by the king to command the cavalry. Henrietta Maria had warned her husband that the prince, despite the good impression he had made at Whitehall earlier, was ‘very young and self-willed’ (C. Oman, Elizabeth of Bohemia, 1938, 351). But Charles was a dynast, a believer in the importance of family ties, and shared to the full the contemporary association of high birth with natural authority, especially in military command, and with natural ability. Rupert's closeness to the king would ensure his loyalty. Despite his years he was a fully trained professional soldier, well known and respected by the many British and foreign volunteers who now flocked from the Netherlands and Germany to the royal banner. If the cavaliers around the king viewed Rupert as a great catch—in the same way that their opponents delighted in the appointment of a great aristocrat, Robert Devereux, earl of Essex, to command their forces—his mother and his elder brother were dismayed. Charles Lewis was in London and, ever cautious, had remained on good terms with the Long Parliament. It controlled, along with all the king's other revenues and expenditure, the subsidy to the elector's family. Advised by their correspondent in London, the MP Sir Thomas Roe (‘honest fat Tom’ to the queen of Bohemia), they issued a declaration deploring the conduct of Rupert and Maurice, and expressing their wish to reconcile both sides. Thereafter the elector would give tacit support to the Long Parliament, continue to receive his pension, and occasionally be viewed as the Stuarts' reversionary interest if the main line should fail or be politically proscribed. Whatever the view of his family and his opponents, Rupert's appointment had an electrifying effect on the morale of his supporters. Richly attired—the prince was ‘always very sparkish in his dress’ (Scott, Rupert, 74)—and superbly mounted on a charger, he cut an impressive figure. As Sir Philip Warwick, the herald and an eyewitness, put it: ‘Of so great virtue is the personall courage and example of one great commander … he put that spirit into the King's Army that all men seemed resolv'd’ (P. Warwick, Memoires of the Reigne of King Charles I, 1701, 226–8). In the pike-and-musket era the individual general led from the front and his pay reflected his value: 300 times that of the common soldier. His headquarters was small (Rupert had only sixteen staff officers, with fifty-two horses at their disposal), and the line of command was simple and direct. Such primitive arrangements meant that the army commander had also to be a military entrepreneur, constantly bargaining for scarce supplies and pacifying—or harshly disciplining—his men. But a favoured prince like Rupert or his brother could also enjoy wide powers of patronage: of appointing and promoting their own nominees, commissioning regiments, creating semi-independent satrapies, and making deals with civilian authorities. Rupert was in a special position from the beginning. Charles's favour to his nephew extended to the powers conferred by his command of the horse. Rupert was to obey the lord-general of the army, Robert Bertie, earl of Lindsey, and orders from the council of war which the king had created, but also ‘to advise as you shall think fit’ (Scott, Rupert, 61). The most active, youthful, and talented of the king's followers flocked to take service with their most glamorous and independent leader. Another young gifted soldier, of Anglo-Irish background, Henry Wilmot, was appointed his second-in-command. Within a few weeks the cavalry arm was 2500 strong, in an army of 12,500, and remained thereafter the hard core of the royalists' fighting machine. Rupert's reputation, already high, was further raised when he fell on a reconnoitring party of roundhead horse near Worcester, and destroyed it. The morale of Essex's army dropped correspondingly. Before the first set-piece battle of the war, Edgehill, 23 October 1642, he quarrelled with Lindsey over the elderly peer's plan of attack. Lindsey had been trained many years before in the Dutch school, while Rupert had the latest ideas drawn from Swedish practice. The lord-general resigned, preferring to fight on foot alongside his men. Rupert's innovations extended to the method of engagement for the cavalry. He ordered the horse to charge ‘as close as was possible, keeping their Ranks with Sword in Hand’ (R. Bulstrode, Memoirs and Reflections upon the Reign and Government of King Charles the 1St, 1721, 81), rather than halt to discharge their pistols. His cavalry, although not heavily armoured (Rupert's own regiment, seven troops strong at Edgehill, was one of cuirassiers), would rely henceforth on shock tactics, a reversion to the past in modern form. This plan worked, for both wings, sweeping down the slopes of Edgehill, scattered their opponents, plundered the baggage train, and captured Essex's guns and even his coach. But neither could be brought back to help the hard-pressed foot in the centre of the field, which suffered great losses. The battle ended inconclusively, although the king's men were at the end of the day between Essex and his London base, and Rupert may well have advocated a rapid march on the capital, to be overruled by wiser—or more cautious—politicians in council. But it showed that the king had a war-winning element in his cavalry, described by one eyewitness as ‘the greatest pillar’ of his army (Davies, 43). Nevertheless, Essex's much-mauled forces got back in time to block—with the massive reinforcement provided by the London trained bands—the great west road to London at Turnham Green on 13 November 1642. While the king received ambassadors for peace from parliament, Rupert had broken through and destroyed the regiment guarding the Thames at Brentford. The supposed treachery of this action, its bloodiness, and the general terror inspired by Rupert, help to explain Londoners' determined resistance. Already press and pulpit in the capital were ringing with denunciations of the prince. Printed propaganda, on the scale now displayed, was new and unfamiliar in England, and all the more effective for that reason. Rupert was a convenient hate figure for the popular press, which enthusiastically depicted him throughout the war as ‘Prince Robber’, a German mercenary, a callous freebooter, and a betrayer of the protestant cause. The campaigns of 1643 The royal army withdrew to Oxford, which became for almost four years the king's capital. The cavalry was dispersed around the Berkshire and Oxfordshire villages: Rupert chose Abingdon as his headquarters, while taking quarters himself in St John's College, Oxford, at least for a time. The king had set up a council of war, of his leading advisers and military men, which accompanied him on campaign but otherwise met frequently at Christ Church. Both Rupert and Maurice were members of it. Rupert attended most meetings when he was with the king at Oxford or in the main army—twenty-four of the fifty-two with recorded membership. He was, however, often distant with his own forces until November 1644 when he was made supreme commander, and tensions would mount when decisions made in council conflicted with his own wishes. From the start he did not like or trust his deputy, Henry Wilmot. Nor did his uncle, devoted though he was to Rupert's interests, always take the advice offered either by the prince or council. Beset by clamorous lobbyists, agents of foreign powers, and offers of help from various quarters, the king often relied on differing small and secret groups of advisers, or his own or his wife's judgement alone, the resulting action on occasion carried out clandestinely by his household servants. In the first winter of the war, while a ring of defensive garrisons and strongholds was created round Oxford, Rupert worked tirelessly at mundane tasks. He turned out to be not only a brilliant cavalry leader, but also hard-working, abstemious, and a meticulous organizer with an eye for detail. He exercised the horse, expanded their quarters, and probed the enemy positions in Buckinghamshire and Berkshire. To the west there was a solid block of hostile territory based on the parliamentarian control of the county towns, especially the second city of the realm, Bristol. But Sir Ralph Hopton, a follower of the queen of Bohemia in his youth, was building up a strong force for the king in Cornwall, which would prove the roundhead hegemony of the west country vulnerable. In the north William Cavendish, earl of Newcastle, was putting together a powerful alliance for the king, and in February Queen Henrietta Maria herself, with much needed supplies from the continent, landed in Yorkshire. Even the allegiance of London to the parliamentarian cause seemed doubtful at this time, and the king promoted several ‘fine designs’ to exploit this. Only shortage of arms and munitions at Oxford, until the queen's train arrived in May 1643, prevented bolder strategies being pursued. The initiative until then was taken by Rupert and the horse. There was almost a personal duel with the most active general on the other side, Sir William Waller, to take towns and territory. Maurice was sent to the west to contain his activities. Rupert's main task was to clear the lines between Newcastle's advancing forces, or at least the queen's little army with its abundant supplies, and Oxford. He first rescued a parlous situation in the west midlands by raising the siege of Lichfield, then sacked Birmingham. He raided into parliamentarian quarters in Buckinghamshire, an incursion that failed of its purpose—the capture of an enemy convoy of money—but had an important result, the death of the opposing commander, John Hampden. He met the queen at Stratford upon Avon later in June, and accompanied her to a meeting with the king on the battlefield of Edgehill on 13 July 1643. Oxford's armouries were now more adequately stocked. Waller's army was finally routed at Roundway Down on the same day. Hopton's Cornish foot had fought its way out of Cornwall and linked with elements of the Oxford horse under Prince Maurice and William Seymour, Lord Hertford, the nominal commander in the west, to score this decisive victory. It paved the way for an outright attack on Bristol and Gloucester, all the easier because Essex, despite his success in capturing Reading, was immobilized in the Thames valley by sickness and discontent in his army. Rupert called up the main force of infantry from Oxford, placed the Cornish under Hopton and his brother on the south side of Bristol, and began a ferocious assault on 26 July. His stormtroopers used firepikes to terrify the defenders, and a breach was made on the northern line. The city was vulnerable, with a long and undulating defensive line, thinly manned. While the marshy conditions on the south side, and a shortage of adequate scaling ladders, frustrated the Cornish attack, the parliamentarian governor had no option but to surrender. Rupert had been foremost in the taking of a regional capital, second only to London, and a major port for overseas supplies. Rupert had earlier pressed the king for independent command for his brother Maurice, and was irked that the latter had been subordinated to Hertford in the recent campaign. When the peer claimed the right to appoint the governor of Bristol (he nominated Hopton), the prince objected. With the merger of the two armies Maurice would lose status, reverting to the command of his own regiment only. The solution was to make Rupert himself governor, with Hopton his deputy, and remove Hertford to Oxford. The prince took over a strong regiment of foot, his bluecoats, to add to the Bristol garrison. Maurice was therefore released to follow up the capture of Bristol with the conquest of most of Dorset and Devon. In the consolidation and expansion of royalist territory that marked the success of the king at this stage of the war the city of Gloucester presented a major obstacle. Rupert was probably not the main influence on the decision to besiege it; lengthy sieges were a matter for the infantry and artillery. But the prince and the horse were blamed in some quarters for failing to stop Essex, with a new army recruited in London, marching to its relief across the Cotswolds, good cavalry country. The siege was raised on 5 September 1643. Rupert was successful, by a lightning attack on some of Essex's horse, in delaying their homeward journey. The royal forces were able to take up a strong position at Newbury, through which Essex had to pass. At the battle that followed (20 September 1643) his tired and straitened army fought at a disadvantage, extricating itself with difficulty to regain the London road. The City trained bands of foot played an important role in standing firm against the fierce onslaught of Rupert's cavalry. Despite the setback at Gloucester, and the indecisive nature of the battle of Newbury, the cavaliers remained strong and confident, not least in their mounted arm. While Hopton advanced through Hampshire, Newcastle moved on Hull, and Maurice was ordered to besiege Plymouth, Rupert was commissioned on 28 October to take command of forces to be raised in the counties of the eastern association, the heartland of the opposition. This was an ambitious objective, and it soon came to a halt. Rupert was repulsed before Aylesbury, where George Digby, the king's secretary of state, had promised that the governor was ready to open the gates to him. The blood of Rupert's men left in the snow, in January 1644, was a warning not to trust all of the secretary's many projects. The royalists were forced on the defensive. The entry of the Scots into the war, on the side of parliament, Newcastle's defeat by the Yorkshire forces under Ferdinando Fairfax, Lord Fairfax, at Winceby, and Maurice's failure before Plymouth darkened the prospects for the king in early 1644. Newark and Marston Moor, 1644 Charles continued to place his faith in Rupert. When an assembly of the king's supporters among MPs, a counter-parliament to that at Westminster, was summoned in the new year, Charles raised his nephew to the English peerage as earl of Holderness and duke of Cumberland, on 24 January 1644. There is no evidence that Rupert sat in the upper house that met at Oxford in the weeks following, but his new title allowed London propagandists to open a fresh line of attack on the prince as ‘duke of Plunderland’. Instead he was posted to Wales, vital to royalist recruitment. On 5 February he was appointed president of Wales, a title which had lapsed with the abolition of the council in the marches of Wales before the civil war. His post cut across the existing command structure, was bitterly resented by the generals on the spot, and does not appear to have been fully implemented. But the king assured his nephew that ‘I meane not to trust you by halfes’ (Day, 4). Based at Shrewsbury for most of March–May 1644, the prince revived royalist fortunes in a crucial area. He inspected garrisons and fortresses from north Wales to Ashby-de-la-Zouch, aiding John Byron, Lord Byron, at Chester, replacing local worthies with professional soldiers, and raising military taxation. The increasing pressure on royalist territory north of the Trent had resulted in a threat to Newark, one of the key points in their control of the region. Rupert was ordered to relieve the town on 12 March 1644. With what scratch units he could gather from surrounding garrisons and by means of forced marches (the last one at night) he surprised and divided the besieging force under the veteran Scottish soldier Sir John Meldrum. In the mêlée that followed he was surrounded by enemy horsemen and nearly killed. But Meldrum surrendered on humiliating terms, even abandoning all his guns. Newark survived as a royal stronghold for another two years. The king himself congratulated Rupert on this spectacular feat of arms; it was, he declared, ‘no less than the saving of all the north’ (Warburton, 2.397). Supplies that had previously been diverted to other theatres of war were now made available to the prince, whose success was the one bright spot in the encircling gloom. He persuaded the king and the high command to field a mainly cavalry force for the summer's campaign and remain on the defensive in the south with the foot in strengthened garrisons. But no sooner had he returned to Shrewsbury than this plan was reversed, and Essex and Waller were able to invade Oxford-controlled areas, and threaten the royal capital itself. The contradictions apparent in the official responses to the prince's activities and advice at this stage of the war reflected his strengths and weaknesses, and those of the high command. The royalist council of war was an uneasy mixture of soldiers and politicians: it was quickly divided into factions, and the perennial scarcity of military resources led to fierce competition. For his part, Rupert made a unique contribution of discord to this dismal scene. His virtues—courage and daring, great energy, and drive, especially in the field, combined with good organizational powers and a meticulous grasp of detail—were not effective in the council chamber. Clarendon's verdict is well known: ‘The prince was rough and passionate, and loved not debate; liked what was proposed as he liked the persons who proposed it’ (Clarendon, Hist. rebellion, 3.443). He was ‘so great an enemy’ (ibid.) to the two most influential in council, George Digby (an erstwhile follower, now alienated) and Sir John Colepeper, that deadlock resulted. Ignorant of British politics and personalities, he could not win over those of a contrary view. He blamed any shortcomings in the execution of his plans on personal deficiencies or political hostility. His later naval career was marked by the same impatience with officialdom and rival commanders or subordinates. Rupert had now to turn his attention to the north. The Scottish advance had penned Newcastle into the city of York, and the northern horse under George Goring, Lord Goring, had been worsted by Lord Fairfax and his son Sir Thomas at Selby. The king's chief supporter in Lancashire, James Stanley, earl of Derby, pleaded with Rupert to rescue his wife, besieged in Lathom House, but as he crossed the Mersey Rupert heard strong rumours that some courtiers and generals at Oxford were plotting against him. Some, it was said, were indifferent whether the prince or the Scots prevailed that summer. For a few days it was uncertain whether—in his anger and frustration—he would continue his march or resign his commission. In the end he pressed on with his mission, but no doubt was ready to back any scheme that would topple his known enemies at court. Lancashire royalism, quelled since the beginning of the war, was revived by the triumphant progress of the prince's army in May 1644. Fighting on foot at the head of his troops he stormed Bolton and put many to the sword. He captured Liverpool, weakly defended, and relieved Lathom. With Derby's assistance he recruited his army, especially the foot. He was now in a better position to achieve his objectives. But what were these? He received an important letter that the king and some of his councillors had jointly penned on 14 June, urging him in uncompromising terms to relieve York: ‘if York be lost I shall esteem my crown little less’. To avert this calamity the prince must, furthermore, ‘beat the rebels' army of both kingdoms, which are before it’ (Warburton, 2.437–9). The king had just, with difficulty, eluded the clutches of Essex and Waller, and his letter was panicky and confused. But it was, however interpreted, a direct command of a kind that he had never sent his nephew before. Rupert crossed the Pennines at the head of 7000 horse, after Goring's men had joined him, and as many foot. Skilfully avoiding the much larger number of English and Scottish forces that had maintained a close siege for ten weeks, he crossed the Ouse north of York and entered the city on 1 July. The besiegers hurriedly decamped westwards and Rupert—no doubt mindful of the king's letter—followed. Late on 2 July the allied generals turned on their pursuers. The garrison of York scarcely had time to join Rupert on the field of Marston Moor when the battle began. In the course of two hours of a thundery summer evening the biggest and bloodiest encounter of the civil war was fought, with the outcome so uncertain that most of the generals on both sides had abandoned the stricken field by the end. Goring had swept all before him, on one wing. But Oliver Cromwell, christened Old Ironsides by Rupert, had controlled the parliamentarian left wing, and eventually borne back the opposing cavalry, which had stood for a long time ‘like an iron wall’ (P. Young, Marston Moor, 1970, 129). Despite severe casualties, including his favourite bitch, Boye, most of Rupert's men escaped, the prince hiding for a time, it was said, in a beanfield; but Newcastle's foot was taken or killed to a man. It was a prime disaster for the royalist cause: York surrendered within two weeks, and the north was lost. Captain-general, 1644–1645 Yet the first consequences of Marston Moor were not as unfavourable to Rupert or the royal cause as the king had predicted. The prince brought his still substantial body of cavalry to bolster a shaky position in the south, though not in time to assist the main army at the second battle of Newbury (27 October 1644). There the king, faced by the combined strength of three armies, had been fortunate to survive but had extricated himself, his army, and his guns with great skill. The summer's campaign had not been fruitless; the infantry of Essex's army had been cornered in Cornwall and forced to surrender en bloc. At the same time Rupert's enemies, Wilmot and Henry Percy, Lord Percy, blamed by the prince, probably unfairly, for withholding supplies of arms, had been dismissed the service. The part that he himself played in this coup, unpopular with the officers of the ‘old horse’ regiments (the first twenty raised), is unclear. He consented, however, to the replacement of Wilmot with Goring. This cleared the way for the king to promote his nephew to supreme command. Under the nominal suzerainty of the fifteen-year-old prince of Wales, Rupert was appointed captain-general of all forces in England and Wales, on 7 November (confirmed on 30 November) 1644. Patrick Ruthven, Lord Forth, the previous commander-in-chief, was old and deaf, and a younger man was needed. The king had created a separate council for the war in the west, also nominally under the prince of Wales, which removed from Oxford and the main army several politicians and soldiers unfriendly to Rupert, including Hyde, Colepeper, and Hopton. Nevertheless Rupert's promotion, described by Hyde sourly as ‘no popular change’, was controversial (Clarendon, Hist. rebellion, 3.443). It reinforced the charge of nepotism at court. ‘The malice of some to the prince’ in the summer seemed to be justified by his loss of the north; his brother's failure to take the small port of Lyme was added to the charge against the palatines (Carte, 1.58–60). And it was, typically, accompanied by dissension, for the new captain-general was initially denied the command of the guards, the small, socially exclusive, body of cavalry closest to the king. The prince resented this omission. Rupert also suspected, with reason, that the creation of a separate command structure for the west, involving Goring, the hero of Marston Moor, under the aegis of the new council at Bristol, was to act as ‘a counterpoise’ to the Oxford army. In the winter months Rupert worked hard to rebuild the royalist war effort after the setbacks of the summer. There was much to do. The exorbitant demands of the royalists had provoked an armed response in some areas, such as the Clubmen in the Welsh borders. Desertion from existing units was rife, and even some of Rupert's own regiment of horse were reported ‘straggling’ in Somerset. He had local as well as national authority in several key areas. He was governor of Bristol and president of Wales, and his brother Maurice was made lieutenant-general in Wales and the marches. With characteristic energy, determination, and ruthlessness Rupert repeated his round of inspections of garrisons, fortifications, and centres of arms production, supplying deficiencies and conscripting thousands to replace the runaways. He promoted his own followers, often young career soldiers, rough but effective and with few local ties, in place of any remaining civilian officials or gentry commanders who had proved incompetent. Some were popular and successful, such as William Legge, governor of Oxford; others harsh and unacceptable, like Charles Gerard in south Wales. Viewing Charles's inflated entourage as redundant (and hostile to himself), he asked Legge to ‘desire the King to bring as few scullions and beefeaters with him’ on the coming campaign (Warburton, 3.73). Naseby, the fall of Bristol, and court martial, 1645 In April 1645 the king conferred on his nephew the honorific title of master of the horse, and at last (after a six-month delay) gave him command of the guards. Unimportant in themselves, these actions seemed to confirm a trend. ‘All is governed by P. Rupert, who grows a great courtier … Certainly the Lord Digby loves him not’, reported an agent at Oxford (Carte, 1.90). In refashioning the crown's military machine, and removing some of his rivals, the prince made enemies. The chief of these was the secretary, still close to the king at Oxford and in the field. Both in effect headed rival parties, which supplied each with damaging information about the other. When at last the army was ready for the summer campaign, in May, and about to face its biggest test, the New Model Army just created under the able command of Sir Thomas Fairfax, the counsels of the king were bitterly divided. It is probable that Rupert, intent on marching to the relief of Chester and possibly regaining the north (and the reputation dented at Marston Moor), did not want immediately to challenge the larger parliamentarian force. Goring's western army, and Gerard's force in south Wales, were still distant. While the royalist cavalry continued to be (at over half the total) the dominant element in the main army, Rupert commanded only 9000 men against Fairfax's force of 14,500. But the two sides collided in Northamptonshire just north of the village of Naseby, and battle was joined the next day, 14 June 1645. Rupert took the initiative by advancing his whole force across the broad moor that separated the two armies. He fought with the right wing of horse and, as in so many earlier encounters, his massed ranks, in close order, broke through their opponents' lines, in this case General Henry Ireton's horse, but only after intense hand-to-hand fighting. On the other wing the remnants of the northern horse, whole regiments reduced to the size of troops, and discontented with their continued absence from home, were no match for Cromwell's cavalry, which had greater discipline, higher morale, and weight of numbers on its side. The well-led and veteran royalist foot in the centre fought valiantly but in the end were borne down by the combined infantry and cavalry of the New Model. Most were captured, the rest killed. The king was willing to lead a final charge, but was dissuaded; his coach and secret papers were taken. Rupert's men fled to Bristol, Charles and his court to south Wales. Recriminations followed, eagerly embraced by the two parties that divided the high command. While the king, with Digby in attendance, vainly attempted to recruit a new army in Wales, Rupert was, for the first time in his civil war career, inactive, even defeatist. He was no doubt disillusioned by the publication of the king's secret correspondence with Irish parties and foreign powers. He had seen the quality of the New Model at first hand: once it had defeated Goring's army (10 July 1645) no other royalist force could withstand it. Bristol, the city he governed, was an empty shell, devastated by plague and economic catastrophe. He spent his time, it was said, dallying with the young and beautiful Mary Stuart, duchess of Richmond, the wife of his best friend at court. He wrote to her husband James to remonstrate with the king, that he ‘hath no way left to preserve his posterity, kingdom and nobility, but by a treaty’ (Warburton, 3.149). This was an entirely reasonable assessment, reflecting the view of many of the king's leading supporters, whose estates were being wasted by the prolonging of the war. It was also the view of a soldier of fortune who saw no point in continuing an unprofitable struggle, and wished to fight another day. The king rejected the advice proffered, and Digby was able to exploit the first doubts his sovereign now had about the loyalty of his nephew. The secretary blamed Rupert for abusing the supreme power he had gained. The crown, he wrote, had been ‘absolutely given away’ to him (BL, Add. MS 33596, fols. 9–12). Rumour-mongers at Oxford, London, and the queen's court at Paris feverishly speculated that Rupert was plotting with his elder brother, the elector palatine—prominent in the capital as an ally of the Long Parliament—the replacement of the senior line of the Stuarts with the German branch. These fears seemed confirmed when, on the assault of Bristol by the New Model, Rupert surrendered the city on 10 September. ‘Clad in scarlet, very richly laid in silver lace, and mounted upon a very gallant black Barbary horse’, he was shown every respect by Fairfax and Cromwell, and reciprocated this feeling. He saw what a formidable fighting force parliament had created, and told his captors he would persuade the king to ‘a happy peace’ (Scott, Rupert, 182–3). For his part, however, Charles, believing that Rupert had been capable of saving Bristol, was outraged by his nephew's action. Prompted by the secretary he saw an international conspiracy to betray his cause. He dismissed Rupert; and his followers, Maurice, Legge, Gerard, and the rest of the prince's nominees, were either cashiered or resigned in sympathy. The king ordered his nephews to depart the realm. But the drama was not over. Gathering some 200 followers the two princes sought justice and satisfaction from the king at Newark. Digby fled to the north, in the hope of joining James Graham, marquess of Montrose, hitherto successful in Scotland. A court martial at Newark, hastily constituted, cleared Rupert of treason but not of ‘indiscretion’, and in a famous scene the aggrieved former generals confronted Charles and gave vent to their pent-up rage, but went away empty-handed. For them the war was over. When, by December, no proof of any conspiracy was produced, the king was reconciled to his nephew at Oxford, through the good offices of Legge. Rupert, however, heartily disapproved of the king's negotiations with the Scottish covenanters, and opposed his secret journey to the Scottish army. He and Maurice took advantage of the terms for the surrender of Oxford to Fairfax (20 June 1646) to slip out of England. Rupert sailed to France; his brother returned to the Netherlands. The most important chapter of his life was ended. Since his first arrival in England in August 1642 Rupert had occupied the highest military offices the king could bestow; he had given life to the war effort in all parts of the realm; and he had campaigned unceasingly throughout the seasons, in which, the journal of his marches reveals, he had ridden 5750 miles. His reward, for the moment, was exile and penury. Rupert was well received at the French court and its appendage, the household of Henrietta Maria at St Germain, to which the prince of Wales had now fled. King Charles had written to his wife to welcome him, in August 1646: ‘for albeit his passions may sometimes make him mistake, yet I am confident of his honest constancy and courage, having at last behaved himself very well’ (J. Bruce, ed., Charles I in 1646, CS, 63, 1856, 58). The French queen regent and Cardinal Mazarin appointed him a maréchal de champ and commander of the English in French service. In this role he joined the French marshal Gassion, on the north-east frontier, where he faced a strong Spanish force which included Lord Goring and many English. The skirmishing on the border was inconclusive, but during one episode the prince was shot in the head, a wound which troubled him later. He returned to St Germain in September 1647. The little court of the exiled Prince Charles was wracked by quarrels. In the misery, poverty, and enforced leisure of their defeated state the cavaliers sought to settle old scores, blaming each other for the collapse of their cause. As well as the continuation of the disputes that had marked the later stages of the civil war, there was plenty of new combustible material. The leading participants circulated in manuscript or in print justifications of their actions, and the secret correspondence of the king and Digby, captured and now published by their enemies, contained startling revelations of double dealing and character assassination. While still at Oxford Rupert had challenged one of the peers of the council. He now required satisfaction from Digby, above all, but the guards at court intervened and stopped the duel. He did, however, meet and wound Lord Percy. Several other aggrieved cavaliers took part in a more general mêlée, though none was killed. Later the long-running dispute with Colepeper (now Lord Colepeper) flared up in the council, then at The Hague, over one of the prince's less reputable followers. Colepeper was physically assaulted by the man, whom he had described as ‘a shark’. Naval war, 1648–1653 The prospects for the young prince of Wales were transformed early in the summer of 1648. Widespread discontent at the lack of a political settlement following the royalist defeat had led to a reaction in favour of the imprisoned king, and a Scottish invasion on his behalf. Disturbances on the Kent coast spread to the fleet, and eleven vessels sailed to the Netherlands to join the prince. There he and Rupert went aboard, to the acclamation of the sailors. It seemed likely that the appearance of this part of the parliamentarian navy at the anchorages in the Thames might threaten London's trade, overawe the capital's mercantile élite, and persuade the rest of the fleet to join them. Much of the country was aflame, the New Model Army was preoccupied, and the Scots were on their march south. But the leadership of the revolted ships was divided over its objectives. The Scots wanted them to sail north to assist their invasion, and in any case Rupert and Maurice were politically unacceptable to them. Rupert advised a landfall on the Isle of Wight to rescue the king, who was at Carisbrooke Castle. He grew impatient at the unwillingness of Admiral William Batten, who had brought a first-rate ship of the line over to their side, to engage the enemy fleet. The forts that guarded the Downs, on which the ships depended, fell to parliamentarian sympathizers, and Rupert was forced to return to the Netherlands. The defeat of the Scots at Preston, the fall of Colchester, and the general collapse of the risings elsewhere in this second civil war confirmed their failure. Rupert still stood high with the young Charles, who had grown up before and during the civil war to admire his glamorous and courageous cousin, and that affection was reciprocated. The court shifted to The Hague and despite the attentions of the parliamentarian fleet Rupert worked hard to prepare what remained of the revolted squadron again for the sea. He had taken an interest in naval affairs since the Madagascar project of 1636, and command at sea—where the captain ‘fought’ the ship and a trained seaman/master ‘sailed’ it—was commonly given to soldiers. He never overcame, however, his proneness to seasickness. No money was available and he had to use strong-arm methods to put down mutinies, holding one ringleader over the side of the ship until he got his way. He bargained with merchants, raised credit on his mother's jewels, and improvised as best he could, in the same energetic way as he had prepared for the campaigns of the civil war. He had the advantage that he had been granted the same extensive command as then. He and his brother, however, were still excluded from participation in any future Scottish alliance (Rupert was friendly to Montrose, not the presbyterian leadership). Instead Ireland was thought to offer better prospects. There James Butler, marquess of Ormond, was struggling to defend royal interests against several warring parties. In January 1649 Rupert and Maurice sailed with eight ships to Kinsale, intent chiefly on maintaining themselves by commerce raiding. In this they were so successful that marine insurance rates in London increased by 400 per cent. They were incapable of aiding Ormond in Dublin, however, and the conquest of much of Ireland by Cromwell's army after August, especially the city of Cork's change of allegiance, made their position precarious. They managed to evade Robert Blake's fleet and set sail for Portugal, whose king, like most crowned heads, had expressed sympathy for the royal cause on the execution of Charles I. They arrived at the mouth of the Tagus in November 1649. At first the little fleet was well received by the king in Lisbon. Rupert was able to sell prize goods and buy supplies locally. But the arrival of Blake's powerful flotilla and a diplomatic representative from the new English Commonwealth changed attitudes: the Lisbon government feared for its overseas trade. A strongly worded declaration by the prince against parliament provoked the English envoy to describe Rupert as ‘this Vagabond Jerman, a Prince of Fortune … his Principality meere piracye … cudgelled out of England from his trade of plundering’ (Gardiner, 18). He was prevented by Blake from leaving the Tagus on more than one occasion but eventually eluded him and made for the Mediterranean in September 1650. Without a base on the Atlantic or Mediterranean coasts, a regular source of income, or even much accreditation in the form of letters of marque from a recognized power, Rupert's sea adventures thereafter were construed by most nations and their merchants as ‘mere piracy’. His ships preyed on English merchantmen in Spanish ports, and on Spanish ships as those of a country allied to the English Commonwealth. Even governments hostile to the new republic feared reprisals, as the Portuguese had done, if they harboured a pirate presence, for the Rump was strengthening the navy and exerting its power. Many of its new admirals were highly competent and experienced, veterans of the New Model Army. Faced with such difficulties one of Rupert's captains lamented: ‘We plough the sea for a subsistence, and, being destitute of a port, we take the confines of the Mediterranean Sea for our harbour; poverty and despair being companions, and revenge our guide’ (Warburton, 3.313). ‘Robert le diable’ was a suitable leader of such an expedition. For twenty months the flotilla, harried by Blake's powerful squadron, scoured the shipping lanes for prizes to sustain its activities. In November 1650 at Cartagena it was able, by selling or pawning some of its valuable bronze cannon, to refit one or two ships and replace others. It called at Malaga in the new year and bought stores at Toulon on credit in May 1651, debts outstanding years later. Rupert wanted to sail to the West Indies, where some royalists were still active and the pickings might be greater, but his crews preferred to remain close to the Azores for much of 1651. There his flagship was lost. Rupert then sailed south to pillage the west African coast. In a daring raid he rescued his close associate Robert Holmes from almost certain death, and was struck by an arrow, which he cut out of his chest himself. At last in summer 1652 he was able to cross the Atlantic, with only four ships, and prepare to attack shipping there. But the last royalist enclave, Barbados, had been extinguished and in a hurricane near the Virgin Islands, which lasted four days (13–16 September), he lost most of the fleet and his brother Maurice. In a family wracked by quarrels of all kinds Rupert's devotion and closeness to the younger brother, who had shared all dangers at his side for ten years, was remarkable, and Maurice's death was a devastating blow. Over a decade later Rupert was still seeking news of him. Only two ships returned to France in March 1653. Since first setting out from the Netherlands in 1649 Rupert had sailed 15,000 miles in 1500 days, and taken thirty-one prizes. He came back ill and exhausted: he lay sick at Nantes for some time before rejoining the court at Paris. It was a tribute to his expert seamanship (and endurance of seasickness), extraordinary stamina, and physical fitness that he had survived, when so many of his shipmates had succumbed to the perils of long sea voyages. To frequent storms at sea, rotting victuals, stagnant drinking water, scurvy and other common diseases of the sailing ship era, were added the acute dangers of a piratical career, constant fighting, mutinous crews, and fear of capture. Ironically, having avoided these obvious hazards, he nearly lost his life in the calmer waters of the Seine in June; he went for a swim and almost drowned. Exile and wanderings, 1653–1660 Rupert's reception at court was all that could be desired, at first. Lean, dark, and weather-beaten, he cut an exotic and intriguing figure, for among his household were ‘richly-liveried Blackamoors’, parrots and monkeys, and—a fashionable appendage—a small negro boy (Warburton, 3.425). Although his old enemy, Lord Percy, was a dominant figure, his cousin the king, Hyde, and even the queen mother were friendly. In part the welcome of the impoverished court was inspired by the hope that the prize money he had brought—it was thought to be worth £14,000—would relieve their wants. His follower Sir Edward Herbert, despite his unsuitability for the post, was made lord keeper, and Rupert was restored to his old position of master of the horse. But the pirate treasure proved illusory, and tempers worsened. The prince had returned with only one ship and a captured prize, and both were rotten. The cannon he brought were of value, but had been pledged to bankers and the unpaid sailors. A huge quarrel ensued, which involved the king and Hyde, Mazarin and the French government, the prince and his creditors. The outcome was that neither Charles II nor Rupert benefited, for Mazarin claimed the right to sell the guns and did so at a low price. The sailors were paid but the rest of the prince's creditors were not. The political position of the prince was not strong enough to overcome these disputes at the exiled court. His much reduced faction included such weak or disreputable creatures as Herbert, Robert Holmes, and Charles, Lord Gerard, and it was only loosely attached to the influential Louvre group around the queen mother, which would not exert itself to save him. He had the good sense not to back the wildest schemes designed to overthrow Hyde, but nevertheless found no way back to the good graces of the king. He left the court in June 1654 when it was also preparing to leave Paris for Germany. Followed by a small entourage, which included Holmes and Gerard, he was thereafter friendless, a wanderer exiled from a court itself in penurious exile. The European situation had changed since the end of the Thirty Years' War. The treaty of Munster, 1648, had restored Rupert's elder brother, Charles Lewis, to the lower Palatinate and the electoral title, if not to the rest of his ancient domains. Rupert no doubt hoped that, travelling to Heidelberg and Vienna as a prince of the empire, he might recover some part of his inheritance. The emperor, it was said, owed him 30,000 rix dollars under the terms of the treaty, and his brother a part of the electoral territory. But Charles Lewis faced many problems, including marriage difficulties, and more pressing obligations in his ruined lands. He soon quarrelled with both his mother, perennially bankrupt, and his brother over their legacies. Despite visits to Heidelberg Rupert was refused any recompense; claims to money owed were matched by demands for return of goods allegedly taken. The prince had only the consolation of knowing that he, rather than, as before, his elder brother, was the favourite of his mother. Rupert was equally denied compensation at the court of the emperor. He had fewer opportunities for employment even as a soldier of fortune, his enemies' former description of him. The main conflict in Germany was over, and as a prisoner of the emperor twenty years before he had given a pledge not to take up arms against him. Little is known of his activities in these years. He may have treated with Modena for a general's place in 1655, and was later in negotiations with the king of Hungary for a similar purpose. But neither of these came to anything, and even Cromwell's spies in Germany could not trace his movements for much of the time. The only fighting he saw was apparently on the Baltic coast of Germany, when he had command of an imperial expedition into Swedish Pomerania in the winter of 1659–60. The Restoration With the triumphant return to England of his cousin Charles II in May 1660, Rupert's prospects potentially improved. Despite the quarrel of 1654 he had kept in touch with the new king, and he had a good friend at court in the person of William Legge, the most respected of his followers and newly appointed lieutenant-general of the ordnance. But Rupert arrived late, no doubt uncertain of his reception. Not until 29 September did Pepys note: ‘I hear Prince Robt. is come to Court; but welcome to nobody’ (Pepys, 1.255). Clearly if he was to take his place in the new regime there were problems to overcome. One was the position of his mother, Elizabeth of Bohemia, already refused permission to come to England from The Hague. Another was to find a suitable job and a means of subsistence, given his failure so far to gain his inheritance. Charles immediately provided him with an annual pension of £4000 (later increased to £6000), and in the following year consented to send him on a diplomatic mission to Vienna, as a cover for Rupert's hope of entering imperial service as a general of horse in the war against the Turks. From April to November 1661 the prince moved around European capitals but the deal—if that is what it was—fell through. Rupert's mission accomplished something, however. Subsidized by his mother's old courtier Lord Craven he negotiated terms for her return to England. He was able to speak for the new British regime at the imperial court. He inspected the latest fortifications and recruited engineers to assist such works at home. He even found time and funds to send back a quantity of Hungarian and Rhenish wine for the royal household. What success he had was due in part to the support of the new king and the chancellor Hyde, now earl of Clarendon, obtained, probably, by Legge. The queen of Bohemia died in London in February 1662. As it was Rupert, not the Elector Charles Lewis, who inherited her collection of jewels worth £4500, a complete breach with his elder brother duly followed. Relations with the king and his brother, James, duke of York, remained uneasy. Rupert had been accused of taking the part of James against Charles on occasion during the exile. Though the royal brothers were passionate about ships and seafaring and no doubt admired their cousin's knowledge and experience of naval affairs, Rupert in his middle age was a difficult man to like. He had the sardonic, even embittered, air of an ageing dandy and was thought to be more saturnine, severe, and short-tempered than ever. Nevertheless, on his return from Vienna he began to rise at court. In 1662 he became a privy councillor, and the following year a governor of the mines royal. He helped to gain royal patronage for a new company to trade with the west coast of Africa, the Company of Royal Adventurers of England Trading into Africa (commonly called the Royal African Company). His hopes of profits in Guinea gold and slaves were mixed with resentment at native hostility and Dutch dominance. It was natural that when a fleet was prepared to make good English claims there he was chosen admiral. He was furious when this appointment was cancelled, but his right-hand-man, Robert Holmes, went instead; the disturbances that ensued contributed to the outbreak of the Second Anglo-Dutch War in 1665. The Second and Third Anglo-Dutch wars, 1665–1667 and 1672–1674 Rupert no doubt expected that he would play a leading role in the new war, although in October 1664, while inspecting one of his warships at Portsmouth, a block of the mainyard rigging had fallen on his head. The blow reopened the old wound in his skull made years before by a pistol shot in France. He was forced to retire for six months while doctors scarified his scalp. In January 1665 Pepys noted that Rupert had a hole in his periwig, to relieve pressure on his head. This, and the pain the prince was enduring, gave rise to rumours that he was suffering from syphilis. But, physically strong as ever, he made a partial recovery, and was ready for action shortly after war was declared in March 1665. Rupert, James, duke of York, and Edward Montagu, earl of Sandwich, shared the command of the navy this year. The Restoration government had built on the solid foundations of sea power created in the interregnum, and Britain now had a sizeable battle fleet. The Dutch had been worsted in the first war, and had learned from their mistakes. They met the new tactics of line abreast with equal discipline and seamanship, if inferior gunnery. On 3 June 1665 they lost seventeen ships at the battle of Lowestoft, and would have lost more had the British high command not given up the chase. In a bloody encounter Rupert and James had had lucky escapes and the king decided to recall them both. Rupert rejected the king's request, in July, to share command with Sandwich. In the following June, however, Rupert was happy to co-operate with George Monck, duke of Albemarle, another distinguished soldier turned sailor. The Dutch position this year was strengthened by their alliance with France, and it was the belief that a French squadron was sailing from Toulon to join the main Dutch fleet in the channel that prompted the two admirals to detach Rupert and twenty ships to deal with it. Monck, in consequence, fought for three days (1–3 June 1666) against a more powerful force; messages to recall Rupert did not reach him; and it was not until he heard the gunfire of the battle itself that he sailed back. Arriving on the fourth day he was in the thick of the action, forced to change his flagship three times; in the end he turned a defeat into a draw, both sides suffering great losses. Any disadvantage was reversed at the battle on St James's day, 25 July, when Albemarle and Rupert won a narrow victory. It was while Rupert was admiral that the new ‘fighting instructions’ were issued, which gave authority and permanence to line abreast tactics. His hand can be detected too in the careful preparations for Robert Holmes's attack on North Holland's coastal towns and shipping (‘Holmes's bonfire’) in August. Although he was still viewed warily by the royal brothers, Rupert's success at sea gave him greater stature at home. With the support of James for a time he acted as the patron of several former cavalier sea-officers, matching Sandwich's promotion of old Cromwellians. Aggression on the high seas and the seizure of rival trading stations (the capture of New Amsterdam, renamed New York, at the start of the war, is wrongly attributed to Holmes) also had an impact on domestic politics, with Clarendon losing ground to courtiers and soldiers promoting the war. Among the chancellor's leading critics were some of Rupert's favourites, such as Holmes (knighted that year), Sir Frescheville Holles, and Sir Edward Spragge. Rupert's head wound still troubled him, and to relieve the pressure on his brain he was twice trepanned by the king's doctors in February 1667. The improved method of trephining was employed and, according to Pepys, who gave a graphic description of it, the patient felt no pain. With the main fleet laid up that year he had time to convalesce, passing the time making improvements to the medical forceps used for his scalp dressing. But when in June the Dutch sailed up the Medway and destroyed or captured part of the fleet moored there, including the flagship the Royal Charles, the king sent for Rupert to report on and repair the defences that had proved so ineffective. He had gained popularity with his criticisms of naval administration after the 1666 campaign, and he avoided blame for the Medway disaster. Charles II's alliance with France led to the Third Anglo-Dutch War in 1672. As with the earlier conflict it was heralded by the aggressive actions of Sir Robert Holmes, in this case, along with Spragge, an unprovoked (and unsuccessful) attack on the Smyrna convoy. When Sandwich was killed at Solebay on 28 May 1672 and James was forced to retire under the terms of the Test Act of 1673, Rupert was appointed first lord of the Admiralty on 9 July (remaining until 14 May 1679) and given command of the combined Anglo-French fleet at sea. He showed his usual boldness by sailing across the shoals at the mouth of the Thames to break the Dutch blockade. But in two indecisive engagements with De Ruyter in May and June, off the Dutch coast, few ships were lost on either side, and Rupert was criticized for poor communications with his subordinates and with his French allies. He had certainly failed to clear the narrow seas with his more numerous, bigger, and newer first rates, and it was increasingly unlikely that the large invasion force assembled in England for a Dutch invasion would be able to join the French armies occupying most of the United Provinces. Already Rupert had quarrelled with the duc de Schomberg, the French-nominated general of these forces, despite the fact that the latter was a native of the Palatinate. Relations with the French reached their nadir at the battle of the Texel, on 11 August. Rupert, with the red squadron in the centre, grappled with De Ruyter, but the heaviest fighting involved Spragge and the blue. Although again no big ships were lost, Spragge was drowned and the Dutch forced the allies to retire. Rupert was furious with this unsatisfactory result and made his criticisms public; a vituperative pamphlet war ensued. He blamed factionalism at court for the inadequate provisioning of the fleet, and the king's too detailed orders for the frustration of his plans. It was rumoured that he caned some of the officials involved: Pepys had always feared him. He attacked the French admiral d'Estrees for not engaging the enemy, and the conveniently dead Spragge for disobedience. Public opinion was aroused against the French, and Rupert became, for once, a popular hero. The king was obliged to make peace with the Dutch in 1674. But among the sailors Rupert had lost respect, and he was compared unfavourably with the duke of York. ‘Country’ politics The war and the ensuing controversy marked a shift in Rupert's politics. He began to be known for his ‘zeal for the Reformed Protestant Religion’ (J. Davies, Gentlemen and Tarpaulins, 1991, 165), and his anti-French stance. His agent, Holmes, and the duke of York's secretaries, like their masters, had had a constantly shifting, sometimes antagonistic, working relationship, a rivalry reflected in their choice of officers. James's conversion to Catholicism and his marriage to an Italian princess were no more approved of by Rupert than Charles II. He was angered by the promotion of Spragge (no longer his but the duke's protégé) and the non-selection of Holmes. The growing power of Louis XIV in Europe must have alarmed him; his sister Sophia, a favourite, was married to the protestant elector of Hanover, and her son—the future George I—was a possible future successor to the British throne. Rupert, along with public opinion, had in the 1660s identified the seapower of the Dutch as one of the obstacles to British overseas trade and the acquisition of colonies; the exploits of Holmes had demonstrated as much. Ten years later, as a member of the council for trade and plantations, he saw that France had become the main rival. The unpopularity of the French alliance, and the sterility of the Third Anglo-Dutch War, simply confirmed him in this view. In 1670 he accepted the governorship of the Hudson's Bay Company, which presented a challenge to the French monopoly of trade, mainly in prime beaver skins, in northern Canada. His secretary, Sir James Hayes, became secretary and a leading member of the company, and the prince invested money. One of the first ships to be built for the company was named the Prince Rupert, and the huge tract of territory around Hudson Bay was to be called Rupertsland. Maritime exploration interested him, and he kept the logbooks of some of the ships involved in his library. Among others on the board were Lord Craven, the old family friend, and Anthony Ashley Cooper, Lord Ashley, earl of Shaftesbury from 1672 and a prominent member of the privy council. He shared other business interests, such as in silver mining, with Rupert. He was linked with the prince in the patent for the development of a new type of iron cannon, and his family kept this connection into the 1690s. Rupert's close associate Legge had died in 1670 but he continued to work with his successor at the Ordnance office on a number of projects. In this endeavour the prince was also in competition with France. When Shaftesbury was dismissed from office in 1673 Rupert supported him, and was angered by the king's hostile attitude to parliament. Increasingly he was identified with anti-popish sentiment, encouraging ‘country party’ MPs to attack the earl of Danby, and advocating a French war to ambassadors and politicians in the late 1670s. In the exclusion crisis of 1679–81 he backed the publication of a protestant tract, acted as a bridge between some of the oppositionist peers and the king, opposed the sacking of Shaftesbury, and dined with him on his dismissal in 1681. It was widely rumoured that he visited Andrew Marvell in secret at this time. He suggested that, to secure the protestant succession, his nephew George should marry James's younger daughter, Anne. The virtuoso: art and science Politics occupied Rupert only some of the time. Apart from his naval career, nothing was more important and time-consuming than the development of his intellectual, artistic, and scientific interests. Something of a mathematical genius in his youth, he never lost his practical bent, the fascination with things mechanical, especially methods and weapons of war, and his belief in the need to experiment and observe. In this he was a man of his time, which was the age of the virtuosi. The catalogue of his library made in 1677, however, showed how far beyond the conventional educated gentleman's reading he had gone. It contained over 1000 volumes, in English, French, German, Dutch, and Italian; classical authors were in translation. Scientific textbooks and manuals—in mathematics, anatomy, the art of war, chemistry, and physics—were as strongly represented as editions of modern poets and playwrights, and the standard collections of maps and plates, chronicles and histories. Engravings of works by famous artists, including Van Dyck, and journals of exploration, were exceptional items. He was himself a competent artist. In his youth he had made etchings of some merit. In 1658 he experimented with the new process of mezzotint engraving and three years later he demonstrated it ‘with his owne hands’, for the benefit of the diarist John Evelyn (Evelyn, 3.274). If he was not the inventor, a matter still debated, he was the earliest practitioner in England. Fine examples of his prints survive. In 1664 Rupert was made, along with his royal cousins, an honorary founder member of the new Royal Society. Although he did not attend meetings—and the main objective for the society was social acceptance—he was a frequent contributor to its scientific discussions and experiments, through the president, Sir Robert Moray, himself an old foreign service, professional soldier. His research was wide-ranging. He submitted for testing a gunpowder eleven times stronger than normal; a novel water pump; an early machine gun; a perspective aid for artists; and improved sea charts and navigational instruments. His projected expedition to the Guinea coast in 1664 was to have been partly scientific in purpose. As described, he experimented in the dressing of his own head wound, and presented papers on the healing process, including the treatment of burns, to the Royal Society. John Locke was among those who took note of Rupert's experiments. One of the prince's major research interests was metallurgy. It was frequently noticed, not always approvingly, that, clad in a sooty apron, he directed work at furnaces and in laboratories he had set up at Chelsea and at Windsor, where he was governor of the castle. He had probably borrowed from France the new techniques employed there to make plate glass, which required high-temperature furnaces. Chelsea residents complained of the pollution caused by his ‘glass houses’, situated on the site of the present royal hospital. Some of the results were on a minor scale. He developed an alloy of iron and zinc (Prince's metal) used in the making of small ware, and experimented in the production of perfectly round lead shot. It is probable that the unbreakable tadpole-shaped bubbles of glass, well known then and later as Rupert's drops, were a product. John Evelyn mentioned them in 1661. But other of Rupert's experiments were major projects, involving established industries. He had always been passionate about gunnery and fortification—the geometry of war—and used his standing with the government and his direct line to the ordnance office, through his friendship with Legge and his successors, to begin experiments in the improvement of iron cannon. If by refining the casting and finishing process iron pieces could be made as strong and accurate as bronze there would be a considerable saving in expense. There was also the competition with France where similar, and secret, developments were taking place. Industrial spies were active in both countries and several of Rupert's technicians were foreign. In 1671 he was granted a patent to make the new guns. The new cannon required a higher standard of iron ore, involved much wastage, and needed careful boring. They were consequently up to three times more costly than the normal cast-iron ordnance. Some 550 were produced in the iron works of the Browne family in the Kentish Weald before 1676: they were distinctive, bearing the inscription ‘Rupert Inven.[it]’. The misreading of this as ‘Rupertinoe’ gave these cannon the name they were formerly known by. But the experiment eventually lapsed. In France it had been a failure, and in Britain it was found that in the end the patented guns were not appreciably better than the standard cheaper variety. The Browne family went bankrupt, and at his death Rupert was owed money he had invested in the project. Love and death Rupert never married, in the event rejecting the various overtures, some of political or diplomatic importance, suggested to him by his uncle and others. Nevertheless, he enjoyed several relationships with women. As a captive twenty-year-old at Linz he had the company of the daughter of the castle governor. He may have been in love with the duchess of Richmond during the civil-war years. Surviving letters seem to indicate a liaison with a French woman in 1653–4. His wandering life as a soldier and sailor, without a permanent home until his middle age, may have hindered a settled relationship, but after the Restoration he met Francesca (1645/6–1708), the daughter of an old follower, Henry Bard, Lord Bellamont. A son, Dudley Bard (b. 1667), followed his father's profession in arms and was killed at the siege of Buda in 1686. A purported marriage certificate, dated at Petersham, Surrey, 30 July 1664, has been located, but if such a contract existed it was never acknowledged by the prince. When the court was at Tunbridge Wells in summer 1668 Rupert met and was charmed by the diminutive young actress Margaret Hughes (d. 1719). She, the court gossips said, ‘brought down and greatly subdued his natural fierceness’ (Hamilton, 101). She was soon set up as his mistress, and a daughter, Ruperta, was born in 1673. The prince provided her with a magnificent riverside mansion at Hammersmith, and in his will he left the bulk of his personal property to ‘Mrs Hughes’ and her daughter. Rupert lived in his last years at his house in Spring Gardens, at the entrance to Whitehall. He also had lodgings in the palace itself, opposite those of the duke of York. As governor of Windsor Castle since 1668 he had rooms in the Round Tower, and it was Rupert, with his expertise in fortification, who supervised the repair and rebuilding of part of the castle, which was ruinous. He also, according to John Evelyn, reporting a visit in 1670, handsomely adorned his hall ‘with a furniture of Armes’—a patterned display of weapons and armour on the walls—which contrasted pleasingly with the softer tone of the tapestries and pictures in his bedroom (Evelyn, 3.560). Rupert was among the first to introduce this form of martial decoration into England. Rupert died in Spring Gardens on 29 November 1682, a few days after catching a chest infection at the theatre. For some time before he had found difficulty in walking because of an ulcerated leg. A post-mortem concluded that he had also suffered from kidney stones, a hard growth in the brain, a probable result of his head wound, and a ‘bone’ in his heart, no doubt some calcification of the tissue. He was buried in Henry VII's chapel in Westminster Abbey on 6 December. Lord Craven acted as executor of his will. Having received £6000 per annum from the king for twenty years, and frequent free gifts, as well as the profits of the offices he held, Rupert was well off and could provide for his dependants. The jewels he inherited from his mother, including the celebrated ‘great pearl necklace’, were bought by Nell Gwyn for £4500. Assessment Prince Rupert enjoyed a remarkably varied reputation during his long career. His closeness to both Charles I and his sons allowed him to demonstrate at an early age his great talents as a cavalry leader, and later as a naval commander. He embodied the transition from the age of the Renaissance prince, knowledgeable in many fields, to that of the modern ‘mathematical’ general or admiral, who understood the geometry of war. Royal birth was also, however, a handicap, in the jealousies it aroused. He was dogged by court and party faction during every stage of his career, and he was temperamentally incapable of overcoming it. He was too irascible, tactless, and impatient to be an effective politician, unjustly blaming subordinates for lack of support and the hostility of rival commanders for any failures. A poor judge of character, he was too influenced by disreputable followers, and alienated many who might have helped him. Since his death Rupert's name has been associated chiefly with the more positive aspects of his career. He is seen as a highly competent, courageous, and energetic soldier, who became an equally successful sailor. The terrifying effect of his thunderbolt charges has entered popular legend. His youth and good looks, well preserved in the early portraits of Van Dyck and Honthorst, have prettified the image. He is the subject of several historical novels, one of which is Margaret Irwin's The Stranger Prince. Ian Roy Sources E. Warburton, Memoirs of Prince Rupert and the cavaliers, 3 vols. (1849) · E. Scott, Rupert, prince palatine (1899) · E. Scott, The king in exile: the wanderings of Charles II from June 1646 to July 1654 (1905) · The letters of Elizabeth, queen of Bohemia, ed. L. M. Baker (1953) · G. Bromley, ed., A collection of original royal letters (1787) · Clarendon, Hist. rebellion · R. Scrope and T. Monkhouse, eds., State papers collected by Edward, earl of Clarendon, 3 vols. (1767–86) · The life of Edward, earl of Clarendon … written by himself, 2 vols. (1760) · W. A. Day, ed., The Pythouse papers (1879) · C. H. Firth, ed., ‘The journal of Prince Rupert's marches, 5 Sept 1642 to 4 July 1646’, EngHR, 13 (1898), 729–41 · DNB · R. von Liliencron and others, eds., Allgemeine deutsche Biographie, 56 vols. (Leipzig, 1875–1912) · L. C. O'Malley, ‘The whig prince: Prince Rupert and the court vs. country factions during the reign of Charles II’, Albion, 8 (1976), 333–50 · K. Dewhurst, ‘Prince Rupert as a scientist’, British Journal for the History of Science, 1 (1963), 365–73 · G. Martin, ‘Prince Rupert and the surgeons’, History Today, 40 (1990) · Evelyn, Diary, vol. 3 · Pepys, Diary · S. B. Bailey, Prince Rupert's patent guns (2000) · T. Birch, The history of the Royal Society of London, 4 vols. (1756–7) · J. R. Powell and E. K. Timings, eds., The Rupert and Monck letter book, 1666, Navy RS, 112 (1969) · J. G. Nichols and J. Bruce, eds., Wills from Doctors’ Commons, CS, old ser., 83 (1863) · A collection of original letters and papers, concerning the affairs of England from the year 1641 to 1660. Found among the duke of Ormonde's papers, ed. T. Carte, 2 vols. (1739) · R. Symonds, Diary of the marches of the royal army, ed. C. E. Long and I. Roy, Camden Society Reprints, 3 (1997) · CSP dom., 1636–82 · C. Petrie, ed., King Charles, Prince Rupert, and the civil war from original letters (1974) · J. Charnock, ed., Biographia navalis, 6 vols. (1794–8), vol. 1, pp. 124–35 · A. Hamilton, Memoirs of Count Grammont, ed. G. Goodwin (1908) · M. A. E. Green, Elizabeth, electress palatine and queen of Bohemia, rev. S. C. Lomas (1909) · The letters, speeches and declarations of King Charles II, ed. A. Bryant (1968) · Memoirs of the life and death of Prince Rupert (1683) · G. Davies, ‘The battle of Edgehill’, EngHR, 36 (1921), 30–45 · S. R. Gardiner, ed., ‘Prince Rupert at Lisbon’, Camden miscellany, X, CS, 3rd ser., 4 (1902) Archives BL, catalogue of library, Sloane MS 555 · BL, corresp., Add. MS 21506 · BL, household accounts, Add. MS 29767 · BL, letters and papers · BL, narratives towards a biography, Add. MSS 62084B, 62085A, 62085B · BL, official corresp. relating to civil war, Add. MSS 18980–18982 · BL, Pythouse papers, Add. MS 62083 · BL, voyage to West Indies, Add. MS 30307 · BL, Add. MS 62086 · Bodl. Oxf., draft orders and nautical memoranda · Bodl. Oxf., official corresp. [transcripts] · V&A NAL, royal letters | NA Scot., letters to first marquess of Montrose · Staffs. RO, Dartmouth papers, Legge letters, D (W) 1778 I · Suffolk RO, Bury St Edmunds, letters to Sir John Granville · Yale U., Beinecke L., letters to William Legge Likenesses M. J. van Miereveldt, oils, 1625, Royal Collection · A. Van Dyck, oils, 1631–2, Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum · G. Honthorst, oils, c.1632–1634, Louvre, Paris · A. Van Dyck, double portrait, oils, c.1635–1640 (with Prince Charles Lewis), Louvre, Paris · A. Van Dyck, portrait, c.1637, National Gallery, London · attrib. G. Honthorst, oils, c.1641, NPG · group portrait, oils, c.1642–1664 (after W. Dobson), Ashdown House, Oxfordshire · W. Dobson, group portrait, c.1644; at Ombersley Court in 1960s · W. Dobson, portrait, c.1644, repro. in P. Young, Marston Moor, 1644: the campaign and the battle (1970) · P. Lely, portrait, c.1665–1666, Royal Collection [see illus.] · P. Lely, portrait, c.1667 (Flagmen of Lowestoft), NMM · S. Cooper, miniature, c.1670, Buccleuch estates, Selkirk · P. Lely, oils, c.1670, Euston Hall, Suffolk; version, NPG · oils, c.1670, Knebworth House, Hertfordshire · J. M. Wright, oils, 1672, Magd. Oxf. · J. D'Agar, oils, c.1678, Corporation of New Windsor · J. Dwight, stoneware bust, c.1680, BM · F. Dieussart, bust (as young man), AM Oxf. · G. P. Harding, pen and wash drawing, NPG · G. Honthorst, portrait, Landesgalerie, Hanover · miniature (after P. Lely), NPG © Oxford University Press 2004–15