King Charles was fully conscious of the perilous position in which he would be placed if York fell, and Yorkshire passed into the hands of the enemy; he therefore instructed Prince Rupert to march to the relief of York, using the following impressive language:—“I command and conjure you, by the duty and affection which I know you bear me, that, all new enterprise laid aside, you immediately march, according to your first intention, with all your force to the relief of York; but if that be either lost, or have freed themselves from the besiegers, or that, for want of powder, you cannot undertake that work, that you immediately march with your whole strength to Worcester, to assist me and my army, without which, or your having relieved York by beating the Scots, all the successes you may afterwards have, most infallibly will be useless unto me.”

Gathering up forces as he advanced, Rupert marched to the succour of the city, and occupied Knaresborough and Boroughbridge on the evening of the 30th of June. On the following morning the Parliamentarians drew up on Hessay Moor, to arrest Rupert’s advance. Outgeneraling his adversaries, the Prince marched to Poppleton Ferry, halted his army, and entered York with 200 Cavaliers. That night a council of war was held, and Rupert resolved to give battle to the enemy. The Marquis of Newcastle endeavoured to dissuade the Prince from this step, and begged him to await the arrival of a reinforcement of 5,000 men, expected in the course of a few days. Rupert is accused of behaving with discourtesy towards Newcastle, and for this there can be no defence. There was, however, good reason for fighting, and at once. Certainly the Prince could not be expected to put a great value on Newcastle’s advice. Rupert had achieved many successes, and had relieved York by a masterly movement; on the other hand, Newcastle had not achieved any remarkable success, and had allowed himself to be besieged in York without fighting a battle. If he could hold Leslie in check, surely he might have attempted to raise the blockade of York before Manchester arrived with reinforcements. Had Rupert waited for reinforcements, would the Parliamentarians have accepted battle, or retired to some stronger position? Rupert was in a favourable position, with a tried army, almost as strong as that of the enemy, and if he did not at once give battle as favourable an opportunity might not again occur. Having relieved York, was he to retire and leave the enemy in Yorkshire to again besiege the city, or capture the various royal strongholds? Two nearly equal armies were opposed on Yorkshire soil, would one army leave the other in possession? would the Parliamentarians compel the Cavaliers to fight? or would the two armies move away in different directions, seeking other fields and other foes? Rupert and the Parliamentarian leaders knew that they were there to fight. The King’s affairs absolutely demanded a victory, and the blame that attaches to Rupert is that he forgot the general in acting the part of a captain of horse, and so lost a battle that it was within his capabilities to have won, as the conduct of his army abundantly proved.

The morning of the 2nd of July beheld Rupert’s army in motion; but the enemy were marching upon Tadcaster, not expecting an engagement. A threatening movement of Rupert’s cavalry was promptly checked, and both armies began to form for battle under the Earls of Leven and Manchester and Lord Fairfax on the one hand; and Rupert, Goring, Lucas, and Sir John Urrie on the other. Some time elapsed before the various divisions reached the field, and stood opposed in order of battle.

The Parliamentarians occupied a gentle eminence covered by a crop of rye, beaten down by horse and foot. The regiments of Scotch and English were intermixed, that the grace or blame of victory or defeat might be equally shared. The centre consisted of serried masses of pikemen and musketeers, commanded by Leven and the elder Fairfax; Sir Thomas Fairfax led the right wing, consisting of his Yorkshire cavalry, supported by three regiments of Scottish horse, and outflanked by the village of Marston. The left wing, extending to Tockwith village, was commanded by Manchester and Cromwell. Their field word was “God with us!” Before them was the open moor, held by the King’s men, but the furze and broken ground was calculated to retard their charges. Between the two armies extended a ditch and hedge, soon to be immortalised as the scene of some heavy fighting and dreadful slaughter.

Some uncertainty exists as to the disposition of the Royalists, the various accounts of the battle being very contradictory, but it may be assumed that the centre was commanded by Goring, Sir Charles Lucas, and General Porter; Newcastle heading his own regiment of white-coated pikemen. Rupert carried his huge red-cross banner, emblazoned with the arms of the Palatinate, on the left wing; and Sir John Urrie commanded the right. Grant seems disposed to support the statement of Rushworth, that Rupert led the right wing, and Sir Charles Lucas the left.

Rupert’s position was excellent for the fighting of a defensive battle. To cross the ditch that lay between the armies was a serious undertaking for either army, but especially for the Parliamentarians, as Rupert had lined the hedge with musketeers, and had planted a battery on an eminence behind his centre, thus demanding a heavy sacrifice of life from the Parliamentarians before they could exchange blows with his centre, and, in the event of his assuming the offensive, the advance would be partially covered by the battery.

The combined armies consisted of about 46,000 men, and were of almost equal strength, the Parliamentarians having, probably, some little advantage in numbers. For several hours no hostile movement took place, with the exception of a few discharges of cannon, by one of the first shots of which the loyal Sir Gilbert Houghton lost his son. Apparently both parties were awed by the importance of the impending conflict, and reluctant to make the first movement, with all the difficulties attending the passage of the ditch and hedge.

The pleasant summer afternoon waned into evening, peaceful and calm. Seven o’clock approached: surely the bloody bout would be delayed until the morrow. Occasionally the cannon roared, and a few men fell; one of these unfortunates was young Walton, Cromwell’s nephew, who was severely wounded; and it is supposed that this brought about the Parliamentarian attack.

“It was now between six and seven, and Rupert, calling for provisions, dismounted, and began to eat his supper. A large number of his followers did the like. Newcastle strolled towards his coach to solace himself with a pipe. Before he had time to take a whiff, the battle had begun.”—Gardiner.

Manchester moved forward his infantry in heavy masses, with pikes and muskets ready for the deadly work, and attempted the passage of the ditch, while Cromwell’s magnificent cuirassiers swept forward to clear the same formidable obstacle, and engage the enemy’s right. Rupert hurried forward a large body of musketeers to meet Manchester’s attack, and at the same time swept their ranks by the deadly discharges of his field battery. Rupert’s musketeers being covered by the hedge, inflicted heavy loss upon the Parliamentarians, and Manchester vainly exerted himself to re-form their shattered ranks. Two cannons were hurried up, and the officers exposed themselves with the utmost devotion to encourage their troops, but they were powerless to advance in the face of that deadly shower of bullets, and the position was becoming critical in the extreme, when relief came, and that not a moment too soon. Cromwell, making a wide sweep, gained the open moor, found room for a charge, and bore down upon the enemy’s right with a tremendous and fatal force. A short but desperate conflict ensued as Cromwell carried his Ironsides through the sorely buffeted and shattered squadrons of the royal horse. Pressing on, he stormed the battery and put the gunners to the sword. A moment’s breathing space was allowed the horses, and then the musketeers, who held Manchester’s advance in check with their forks planted in the ditch-bank, maintaining a steady and destructive fire, became the object of attack. These brave soldiers did not attempt to meet the charge, but retreated in close order, with presented pikes, and although they suffered severely from the fury of the enemy, they endeavoured to check the successive charges by the repeated fire of their muskets.

There was no braver man in the field than Sir Thomas Fairfax, but he suffered a sad defeat on that memorable July evening. The ground occupied by his troops was broken and intersected by a number of lanes; not difficult to defend, but preventing united action when the moment for the advance arrived. Nevertheless he struggled forward, wasting his strength by a succession of weak charges, but unable to find room for a general attack. The fiery Rupert was opposed to him, and swept his ranks by a cruel and incessant fire of musketry, until little hope for the Parliament remained in this part of the field. For a time the impending ruin was averted by Cromwell, who charged the Prince’s infantry, and afforded Fairfax an opportunity of re-forming his torn and wearied forces; but in the midst of the struggling advance of the over-mastered Parliamentarians Rupert delivered his grand charge, and storming over and through every obstacle, filled this part of the field with a wild rout of unhappy fugitives, amongst whom the keen rapiers of his gay Cavaliers wrought terrible havoc. The brother of Sir Thomas Fairfax was mortally wounded, but the good knight clung desperately to the ground with 500 of his own horse and a regiment of lancers, to be wounded and fairly borne off the field by the impetuous Rupert. Here the Prince took a deadly and fatal revenge on the Scotch cavalry, put them to headlong flight, and bore on in stormy pursuit, while the royal infantry was exposed to the attacks of Manchester’s foot and Cromwell’s victorious Ironsides. Had Rupert succoured his centre at this stage of the battle he must have compelled the Parliamentarians to yield to him the victory.

Nobly the royal foot met the deadly storm of battle; exerting such heroic courage that they fairly pushed back the Parliamentarian advance, and the King’s prospects were yet promising, maugre the terrible handling received from Cromwell. That gallant soldier held his cavalry well in hand, albeit their ranks were somewhat thinned by shot and steel; and they now wrested the victory from the rashly impetuous Rupert. The Marquis of Newcastle’s incomparable regiment of Northumbrians perished here. They were known as “lambs,” or “white-coats,” from the colour of their doublets, and resisted Cromwell to the last. Again and again he charged them, but they returned blow for blow, and, disdaining all offers of quarter, perished almost to a man, the few that were saved owing their lives rather to the magnanimity of their enemies than to any exertions of their own to escape the slaughter. They fell in their proper battle-order, and presented a ghastly spectacle as they lay upon the field in rank and file, their white coats cruelly slashed with many a crimson stain. The remainder of the royal foot were now taken in the rear by the Ironsides, and sustained a bloody and ruinous defeat. Before their ruin was consummated the Prince returned, and a fierce conflict ensued. Rupert had counted the victory as already won, and rage and mortification added to the fury of the last sanguinary and stubborn conflict. Cromwell was wounded in the neck, and his charge was all but abortive, when Leslie came up and retrieved the mishap by a terrible onslaught that sent Rupert’s over-mastered warriors in wild confusion from the field. The infantry now surrendered, and Cromwell captured all the cannon, baggage, &c., of the royal army, which was pursued almost to the gates of York.

At a late hour throngs of wounded men and fugitives from the field appeared before Micklegate-Bar, but the soldiers of the garrison were alone admitted into the city, and the confusion that ensued was of the most deplorable and painful character.

Cromwell remained on the field, anxious and alert, fearful that the impetuous Rupert might rally some remains of his army, and, by a sudden onslaught under cover of night, wrest from his shattered army the victory so hardly won by dint of heavy fighting.

The general loss was estimated at 7,000 men, Prince Rupert losing over 3,000 slain, and 3,000 prisoners, including many officers. The Parliamentarians captured forty-seven colours, twenty-five pieces of artillery, a number of carbines and pistols, 130 barrels of gunpowder, and 10,000 arms. Among their prisoners were Generals Sir Charles Lucas, Tilliard, and Porter, and Lord Goring’s son. Amongst the gallant gentlemen who laid down their lives for King Charles on Marston Moor were Lord Kerry, Sir Francis Dacres, Sir William Lampton, Sir Charles Slingsby, Sir William Wentworth, Sir Marmaduke Luddon, Sir Richard Gledhill, Colonel John Fenwick, Sir Richard Graham, and Captain John Baird. Sir Richard Gledhill, as a matter of fact, died in his own house an hour after he succeeded in gaining its shelter. He had received twenty-six wounds. Sir Charles Lucas was informed that he could select some of the slain for private interment, and in thus distinguishing one unfortunate Cavalier caused a bracelet of silky hair to be removed from his wrist, “as he knew an honourable lady who would thankfully receive it.” The Scots suffered severely, and the English lost Captains Micklethwaite and Pugh, and Sir Thomas Fairfax had to deplore the loss of his brother Charles, and of Major Fairfax.

No two accounts of the battle agree, and Cromwell, whose conduct conduced so largely to the winning of the battle, has been even accused of cowardice by one writer. Rapin says, “I shall not undertake to describe this battle, because in all the accounts I have seen I meet with so little order or clearness that I cannot expect to give a satisfactory idea of it to such of my readers as understand these matters.”

The Parliamentarians assumed a white badge to distinguish them from their opponents.

Prince Rupert would probably have won the battle had he acted as a commander-in-chief instead of leading a wing; but it was then customary for each of the three commanders to fight his own battle, with too little regard to the general issue, when there was no commander directing the operations of the divisions.

The King’s affairs never recovered from the results of this battle, and the royal cause undoubtedly received its death-blow on Marston Moor, when the last of the Yorkshire battles was fought.