next morning a Forlorn of horse and foot was drawn out. And at Langridge Chapel our horse’ came upon Sir Marmaduke; ‘drawn up very formidably. One Major Poundall’ (Pownel, you pudding-head!) ‘and myself commanded the Forlorn of foot. And here being drawn up by the Moorside (a mere scantling of us, as yet, not half the number we should have been), the General’ Cromwell ‘comes to us, orders us To march. We not having half of our men come up, desired a little patience; he gives out the word, “March!”’—not having any patience, he, at this moment! And so the Battle of Preston, the first day of it, is begun. Here is the General’s own Report of the business at night. Poor Langdale did not know at first, and poor Hamilton did not know all day, that it was Cromwell who was now upon them.[1] Sir Marmaduke complains bitterly that he was not supported; that they did not even send him powder,—marched away the body of their force as if this matter had been nothing; ‘merely some flying party, Ashton and the Lancashire Presbyterians.’ Cromwell writes in haste, late at night.
FOR THE HONOURABLE COMMITTEE OF LANCASHIRE SITTING AT MANCHESTER
(I DESIRE THE COMMANDER OF THE FORCES THERE TO OPEN THIS LETTER, IF IT COME NOT TO THEIR HANDS)
Gentlemen,—It hath pleased God, this day, to show His great power by making the Army successful against the common Enemy.
We lay last night at Mr. Sherburn’s of Stonyhurst, nine miles from Preston, which was within three miles of the Scots quarters. We advanced betimes next morning towards Preston, with a desire to engage the Enemy; and by that time our
- ↑ Sir Marmaduke’s Letter.
