had approached cautiously, and, favoured by the unvigilant carelessness of the royalists, came one night into their close vicinity. Early in the morning, under cover of a thick fog, he crossed the Ettrick, and appeared to their astonishment in the encampment on the Haugh. Notwithstanding their surprise, the soldiers formed hastily into a compact body; and Montrose, being informed of the danger, flew to the rescue at the head of a body of horse, but the odds were too great, the troops were surrounded and cut to pieces. In vain they begged quarter. Sir David consented, but the ministers raised a fierce shout of indignation, denounced the sparing of a single malignant as a sin, and the whole body was massacred. The historians of the covenanters themselves, inform us that they slew all the women and children found on the Haugh, and a few days afterwards drowned forty more, who had been saved by the country people, by throwing them over the bridge into the Avon, near Linlithgow. On the 23rd the Scottish parliament sanctioned these atrocities perpetrated under the name of religion, and ordered that "the Irische prisoners takin at and after Philiphaughe, in all the prissons of the kingdom, should be execut without any assaye or processe, conforme to the trettey betwixt both kingdoms." Turner, in his memoirs, confirms these statements of Balfour, Thurloe, and others, adding that, of the garrison of Dunavertie, three hundred men, who surrendered the next year to Sir David Leslie, at the king's mercy, "they put to the sword everie mother's son, except one young man, Machoul," whose life he begged. Of the noblemen and gentlemen who escaped with Montrose and got back to the Highlands, many were taken, and almost all of them were executed. The brilliant meteor of Montrose's chivalric career was burnt out, and he retired to the continent.
Before receiving this disastrous news, Charles resolved to make another effort to form a junction with Montrose. He retraced his steps through Wales, and advanced to the relief of Chester, which was invested by the parliamentarians. He reached that place on the 22nd of September, and posted the bulk of his cavalry on Rowton Heath, near the city, under Sir Marmaduke Langdale, himself being able to get into the city with a small body of troopers. But the next morning his cavalry at Rowton Heath was attacked by Poyntz, the parliamentary general, who had been carefully following on the king's heels, and now, having his little army penned betwixt his troops and those of the parliamentary besiegers, a simultaneous attack was made on the royalists from both sides. More than six hundred of Charles's troopers were cut to pieces, one thousand more obtained quarter, and the rest were dispersed on all sides. The king escaped out of the city and fled to Denbigh with the remnant of his cavalry. By this blow the only port which had been left open for his expected succours from Ireland, was closed. Still the news of Montrose's defeat at Philiphaugh had not reached him, and lord Digby advised the king to allow him to make the attempt to reach him with the seventeen hundred cavalry still remaining. Charles accepted the offer, but before Digby left, it was agreed that the king should get into his castle of Newark, as the securest place for him to abide the result. Having seen his majesty safely there, Digby set out northward. At Doncaster he defeated a parliamentary force, but was a few days after defeated himself by another at Sherborne. Notwithstanding this, with the remainder of his horse he pushed forward, entered Scotland, and reached Dumfries, but finding Montrose already defeated, he returned to the borders, and at Carlisle disbanded the troop. Sir Marmaduke Langdale and the officers retired to the Isle of Man, the men got home as they could, and Digby passed over to Ireland, to the marquis of Ormond. But the greatest loss which Digby had made during this expedition, was that of his portfolio with his baggage, at Sherborne. In this, as in the king's at Naseby, the most unfortunate discoveries were made of his own proceedings, and of his master's affairs. There was a revelation of plottings and agents in sundry counties for bringing foreign forces to put down the parliament. Goffe was in Holland promoting a scheme for the marriage of the prince of Wales to the daughter of the prince of Orange, and for forces to be furnished in consequence. There were letters of the queen to Ireland, arranging to bring over ten thousand men, and of lord Jermyn—who was living at Paris with the queen in such intimacy, as to occasion much scandal—to Digby himself, regarding probable assistance from the king of Denmark, the duke of Lorraine, and the prince of Courland, and of money from the pope. But perhaps the most mischievous was a letter from Digby, written a few days before, letting out how much the marquis of Ormond was secretly in the king's interest, though appearing to act otherwise. These disclosures were precisely such as must wonderfully strengthen the parliament with the public, and sink still lower the king.
The unfortunate monarch was every day becoming more completely involved in the toils of his enemies, and reduced to deeper humiliation. A most humbling proof of how thoroughly he had fallen was given him at Newark, by his own nephews and courtiers. Prince Rupert, whom Charles had ordered to quit the kingdom, instead of obeying, made his appearance at Belvoir Castle, only ten miles from Newark, and was evidently bent on forcing his way to the royal presence. Charles, indignant at his audacity sent him peremptory orders to keep away. But Rupert, paying no attention to the royal command, instantly set out for Newark, and Sir Richard Willis, the governor of Newark Castle, lord Gerrard, and others of the king's officers, went out with a hundred horse to escort him in. This was a proof of the insubordination of his immediate attendants that was very significant to Charles, and they presently marched into his presence, followed by a numerous body in arms, Rupert saying he was come to give a true account of his surrender of Bristol, and to demand a justification. The king, who had always been taught, and especially by his foolish father, that the presence of royalty was almost as sacred as that of the divinity, was almost speechless with chagrin and rage at this conduct. Rupert and Maurice remained and sapped with him, and would not relieve him of their presence till he had reluctantly signed an acknowledgement that Rupert was guiltless of treason, but not of indiscretion. There was, undoubtedly, much room for the prince's vindication, and the zeal with which he had always served his uncle, though destitute of discretion, demanded a revocation of the king's hasty condemnation; yet the manner of seeking it was itself an additional offence. But the mortification of Charles
