The Works of Thomas Carlyle/Volume 6/Letter 65
Let the following hasty Letter, of the same date with that more deliberate one to Lenthall, followed by another as hasty, terminate the Preston Business. Letters of hot Haste, of Hue-and-Cry; two remaining out of many such, written ‘to all the Countries,‘ in that posture of affairs;—the fruit of which we shall soon see. Colonels ‘Cholmely, White, Hatcher, Rhodes,‘ Country Colonels of more or less celebrity, need not detain us at present.
FOR THE HONOURABLE THE COMMITTEE AT YORK: THESE
“Gentlemen,”—We have quite tired our horses in pursuit of the Enemy: we have killed, taken and disabled all their Foot; and left them only some Horse, with whom the Duke is fled into Delamere Forest, having neither Foot nor Dragooners. They have taken Five-hundred of them,—I mean the Country Forces “have,” as they send me word this day.
They[1] are so tired, and in such confusion, that if my Horse could but trot after them, I could take them all. But we are so weary, we can scarce be able to do more than walk after them. I beseech you therefore, let Sir Henry Cholmely, Sir Edward Rhodes, Colonel Hatcher, and Colonel White, and all the Countries about you, be sent to, to rise with you and follow them. For they are the miserablest party that ever was: I durst engage myself, with Five-hundred fresh Horse, and Five-hundred nimble Foot, to destroy them all. My Horse are miserably beaten out;—and I have Ten-thousand of them Prisoners.
We have killed we know not what; but a very great number; having done execution upon them above thirty miles together,—besides what we killed in the Two great Fights, the one at Preston, the other at Warrington “or Winwick Pass.” The Enemy was Twenty-four-thousand horse and foot; whereof Eighteen-thousand foot and Six-thousand horse: and our number about Six-thousand foot and Three-thousand horse at the utmost.
This is a glorious Day:—God help England to answer His mercies!—I have no more; but beseech you in all your parts to gather into bodies, and pursue. I rest, your most humble servant,
“P.S.” The greatest part, by far, of the Nobility of Scotland are with Duke Hamilton.[2]