I was in the first army at York, as I have already noted, and, I must confess, had the least diversion there that ever I found in an army in my life.  For when I was in Germany with the King of Sweden, we used to see the king with the general officers every morning on horseback viewing his men, his artillery, his horses, and always something going forward.  Here we saw nothing but courtiers and clergymen, bishops and parsons, as busy as if the direction of the war had been in them.  The king was seldom seen among us, and never without some of them always about him.

Those few of us that had seen the wars, and would have made a short end of this for him, began to be very uneasy; and particularly a certain nobleman took the freedom to tell the king that the clergy would certainly ruin the expedition.  The case was this:  he would have had the king have immediately marched into Scotland, and put the matter to the trial of a battle; and he urged it every day.  And the king finding his reasons very good, would often be of his opinion; but next morning he would be of another mind.

This gentleman was a man of conduct enough, and of unquestioned courage, and afterwards lost his life for the king.  He saw we had an army of young stout fellows numerous enough; and though they had not yet seen much service, he was for bringing them to action, that the Scots might not have time to strengthen themselves, nor they have time by idleness and sotting, the bane of soldiers, to make themselves unfit for anything.

I was one morning in company with this gentleman; and as he was a warm man, and eager in his discourse, “A pox of these priests,” says he, “’tis for them the king has raised this army, and put his friends to a vast charge; and now we are come, they won’t let us fight.”

But I was afterwards convinced the clergy saw further into the matter than we did.  They saw the Scots had a better army than we had—­bold and ready, commanded by brave officers—­and they foresaw that if we fought we should be beaten, and if beaten, they were undone.  And ’twas very true, we had all been ruined if we had engaged.

It is true when we came to the pacification which followed, I confess I was of the same mind the gentleman had been of; for we had better have fought and been beaten than have made so dishonourable a treaty without striking a stroke.  This pacification seems to me to have laid the scheme of all the blood and confusion which followed in the Civil War.  For whatever the king and his friends might pretend to do by talking big, the Scots saw he was to be bullied into anything, and that when it came to the push the courtiers never cared to bring it to blows.

I have little or nothing to say as to action in this mock expedition.  The king was persuaded at last to march to Berwick; and, as I have said already, a party of horse went out to learn news of the Scots, and as soon as they saw them, ran away from them bravely.