As he spoke, firing was heard in the distance, and looking in the direction of the sound, Charles perceived that several of the skirmishers had been shot down, while the riderless horses were careering wildly over the field.
A stronger party was instantly sent on to clear the hedges. But this was no easy task. General Middleton was right. The new recruits understood this kind of fighting. Excellent marksmen, and well posted, they gave their enemies a vast deal of trouble. Driven from one spot, they quickly took up another position, and even while retreating managed to do considerable execution. Their officers knew every inch of ground, and where to place them. Advantage was taken of every lane and defile, and the enemy's progress towards Powick was very considerably checked.
Among the officers who commanded these gallant little bands, which were scattered about the coppices and orchards in order to distract the enemy, and if possible throw him into confusion, were Colonel Lane, Captain Hornyold, and Sir Rowland Berkeley of Cotheridge. Sir Rowland rode a piebald horse, and the peculiarityof his steed caused him to be remarked by Colonel Goff. In Sir Rowland's corps were Lieutenant Vosper and Corporal Trubshaw, both of whom displayed great courage. Half of this brave little corps were cut down; but the rest—and Vosper and Trubshaw were among them—reached Powick Bridge, and were then posted with Captain Woolfe in a water-mill on the banks of the Teme.
HOW CROMWELL CONSTRUCTED A BRIDGE OF BOATS ACROSS THE SEVERN.
Charlesand his council were still watching with great interest the desultory fighting previously described, and expressing surprise and admiration at the courage and pertinacity displayed by the recruits, when their attention was suddenly called to a circumstance that materially tended to increase the king's anxiety.
About a mile below the city, on the left bank of the river, is a woody acclivity called Bunn's Hill. It is a fine grassy slope, and the land beyond the summit has a park-like appearance, being ornamented with fine timber and coppices. The high road to Bath, which passes over Bunn's Hill, is distant about half a mile from the Severn. The hill itself slopes towards the river, and there is more rough wood on that side than on the summit. After passing the top, and getting on to the level, the slope towards the Severn becomes somewhat more precipitous, until a place is reached, now called "The Ketch"—about half a mile beyond the summit of the hill. For some distance the bank is then a nearly perpendicular marl rock, some thirty or forty feet in height. Bunn's Hill is not quite half a mile from the confluence of the Teme and the Severn. The appearance of Bunn's Hill was somewhat wilder when Charles gazed at it from the cathedral tower than it is at the present day, but its general features are unchanged.
While looking towards the woody slopes we have just described, the king perceived a large body of soldiers, amounting perhaps to a thousand, issue from a coppice that had hitherto screened them from view. They had with them pontoon-carriages and some cannon, and descending to the banks of the river, selected a favourable spot for their purpose, and immediately began to construct a bridge of boats.
The sight of this operation, which was carried on most expeditiously, greatly excited Charles.
"This must be stopped," he exclaimed. "If yonder pontoon bridge should be completed, Cromwell will cross the river and outflank Montgomery. We ought to have foreseen it."
Then calling to Pitscottie, who stepped towards him instantly, he added, "Haste to your regiment, colonel. Fortunately, it is not far from the spot you have to reach. That bridge of boats must not be completed, or if it should be finished before you arrive, it must be destroyed."
"It shall be done, my liege, if I sacrifice all my men in executing your majesty's order," replied Pitscottie. "Trust me, Cromwell shall never set foot on the west bank of the Severn."
With that Pitscottie disappeared.
In an inconceivably short space of time he was seen crossing the river in one of the large flat-bottomed boats we have before mentioned. His charger and his guard of Highlanders were with him. On reaching the bank, he quickly disembarked, and mounting his steed, galloped off towards his camp, his swift-footed men almost keeping up with him.
Not entirely satisfied with Pitscottie's ability to execute the order given him, Charles was about to send Colonel Legge with a detachment of men to Bunn's Hill to interrupt the pontoniers, but the Duke of Hamilton dissuaded him from the design, saying that the forces round the city must on no account be diminished.
"Rather let a general attack be made upon the enemy on Perry Wood, sire," said Hamilton. "We shall thus most effectually divert Cromwell from his designs on Powick. He cannot be everywhere."
The Earl of Derby coincided with the duke in opinion, but Charles, who had noticed that Fleetwood and Ingoldsby were driving the recruits before them, and drawing near to Powick, became very impatient, and cried out:
"Not till I have conferred with Montgomery and Keith—not till I have seen yon bridge of boats destroyed—must the general attack be made. If Montgomery is forced to retreat, we shall be hemmed in. On my return, we will attack Cromwell's intrenchments on Perry Wood, as proposed, and I will lead the assault in person. To-day will decide our fate. To you, my good Lord Rothes, and to you, brave Sir William Hamilton, a word at parting, as I may not see you again till all is over. To no better hands than yours could the maintenance of the Castle Hill be confided. Hold it to the last. Those who can be spared may accompany me to Powick. The rest must repair to their posts, and hold themselves in readiness for the signal of attack."
Attended by the Duke of Buckingham, the Earl of Derby, Lord Wilmot, and one or two others who eagerly availed themselves of his permission to accompany him, Charles then quitted the summit of the tower.
Hastily descending the circular stone staircase, he passed out of the cathedral. In another moment he was joined by his attendants, and the whole party proceeded quickly to the quay andembarked in one of the flat-bottomed boats we have previously mentioned. Their horses were brought over in a similar conveyance, under the charge of Careless; and in a third boat came half a dozen musketeers of the guard, who did not even dismount as they were ferried across the river. No time was lost in the disembarkation, and in a few minutes more the king and his attendants were speeding towards Powick, followed by the musketeers.
As they rode on, the continuous rattle of musketry was heard in the direction of Bunn's Hill, and they all concluded that Pitscottie was now actively engaged in checking the attempt of the Republican corps to cross the river at this point by means of the bridge of boats.
Such was the king's opinion—such the opinion of the Earl of Derby—but in reality, before the Scottish leader could bring up his regiment, the bridge of boats was completed.
HOW CROMWELL THREW A FLYING BRIDGE OVER THE TEME.
Thefirst person to cross over was no other than Cromwell himself. Under the Lord General's personal superintendence the pontoon bridge had been constructed with the utmost rapidity, and, strange to say, almost without opposition. He crossed the river on foot, at the head of the column of men we have described, and at once prepared for action, for he saw Pitscottie advancing with his regiment of Highlanders to attack him. With the promptitude which he ever displayed, the Lord General took up an excellent position, and after a sharp conflict, during which he was reinforced by a detachment of horse, he drove back the Highlanders with great slaughter.
Pitscottie retreated towards Pitmarston, and satisfied with routing him, Cromwell marched towards the Teme, his object being to throw a flying bridge across that river, so as to allow reinforcements to be sent to Fleetwood and Ingoldsby during their attack upon Montgomery at Powick.
When this important manœuvre was accomplished, he felt he should be master on the west side of the river, since a quick and uninterrupted communication could be kept up with his generals. His progress, however, towards the Teme was not unopposed, but, on the contrary, was seriously obstructed by the Royalist infantry. He had to pass through a meadow, the hedges ofwhich were lined with soldiers, who fired on his men as they marched on. But these obstacles were removed by the troopers, and the Teme being reached, a flying bridge across it was speedily constructed. Thus Cromwell's able plan was accomplished, and he inwardly exulted at its success.
Without a moment's loss of time he sent Dighton, with a detachment, to Fleetwood, to acquaint that general with what had been done.
"Say to him," he added, "that the enemy is now compassed about, and bid him destroy them in the Lord's name."
Though he had no fear that the flying bridge across the Teme could be reached by the enemy, he left a sufficient guard for its protection, and then returned with the rest of his troops to the bridge of boats across the Severn.
The communication between the two bridges was now unobstructed, the enemy having been completely driven off. Cromwell, however, posted a battalion on the west bank of the Severn to defend this important pass.
Before crossing the river, he awaited Dighton's return. This active messenger brought him very satisfactory intelligence.
Fleetwood and Ingoldsby had reached the village of Powick, and were preparing to attack Montgomery's brigade. Lambert was bringing up his regiment to reinforce them, so that their success appeared certain.
"It is rumoured that Charles Stuart himself, with the Duke of Buckingham, the Earl of Derby, and some others of the malignant leaders, are with General Montgomery," observed Dighton. "From what I could learn they have only just arrived, and will not tarry long."
"They may tarry long enough to see Montgomery driven from the bridge," rejoined Cromwell, with a grim smile. "But no—I do Montgomery wrong. He is brave, and will hold his post as long as it can be held. Colonel George Keith, also, is a good soldier. Mark me, Dighton. Charles Stuart will hurry back to the city as soon as he has given his orders. I will find him employment there."
As he spoke, sharp firing was heard in the direction of Powick Bridge.
"Ha! the attack has commenced," cried Cromwell, to whose ears the sound was music. "Would I were with them. Yet they do not need me. I have no better general than my son-in-law Fleetwood, unless it be Lambert, and he is with him. Together they are resistless."
After listening for a few minutes to the rattle of musketry, which was now mingled with the sound of heavier guns, Cromwell raised his hands, as if invoking a blessing, and exclaimed aloud, so that all might hear:
"The Lord of Hosts go with them, and give them a glorious victory!"
He then crossed the pontoon bridge, and mounting his charger which was in readiness for him, rode up the pleasant slopes of Bunn's Hill, ever and anon turning to look at the conflict going on at Powick Bridge.
Halting for a short time at Red Hill, he gave his final instructions to Lilburn and Lord Grey of Groby, both of whom were arrayed for battle, and then rode on to Perry Wood.
On arriving there, he gave instant orders that the largest guns in the battery should open fire on Fort Royal—preparatory to storming the fort.
The order was instantly obeyed. The engineers on the fort at once replied to the cannonade, and what would now be called an "artillery duel" commenced. The outposts of the royal army were likewise fired upon from other points, but no general attack was made on either side.
THE FIGHT OF POWICK BRIDGE.
Meanwhile, a desperate conflict took place between the contending forces at Powick Bridge—hundreds of lives being sacrificed for the possession of this all-important pass.
The grey old bridge still stands, and if the stones could speak, they would have a terrible tale to relate. The situation of the old bridge is singularly peaceful and quiet. At the time of which we treat, there were no habitations near it except a water-mill, and two or three cottages, the village of Powick being about three parts of a mile distant. The bridge is strongly built, and narrow, with angular openings like those of Upton Bridge.
OLD BRIDGE AT POWICK.
OLD BRIDGE AT POWICK.
Peaceful as is the spot, it had already been the scene of a bloody conflict between the Parliamentarians and Royalists, in 1642, when Prince Rupert posted himself near a hawthorn-bush on the brow of a bank adjoining Wykefield, and dashed upon the Earl of Essex. But things were now destined to be changed. In front of the bridge, on the road to Powick village, Montgomery's infantry was posted, in ranks, five deep—the men being armed with pikes and carabines.
Attacked by Fleetwood's dragoons, they sustained the onset firmly, killing numbers of men and horses, but on the second charge their ranks were broken, and they were driven across the narrowbridge with great slaughter—many of them jumping into the river to avoid the merciless dragoons who were hewing them down. Deeply dyed with blood, the Teme was almost choked with the bodies of the slain. But it was on the further side of the bridge, at Wykefield, just mentioned as the scene of Rupert's victory nine years before, that the severest part of the contest took place.
On Wykefield, as three or four meadows hereabouts are designated, Montgomery's main body was drawn up, and when the confusion caused by the retreat of the advanced guard could be set right, a fierce attack was made on the Parliamentarians, and so energetic was it that the latter were driven back, and it seemed as if possession of the bridge would be regained by the Royalists. But the success was fleeting.
Another troop of horse came on—the bridge was cleared—Ingoldsby's regiment passed over—and the fight became general on the meadows, and soon extended as far as Rupert's hawthorn-bush.
Just below the bridge, on the left bank of the river, as we have previously mentioned, was a water-mill, and near it were two or three small cottages. The mill, which with its large wheel formed a picturesque object from the bridge, was occupied by a party of recruits, placed there by Montgomery. The party was commanded by Captain Woolfe, and amongst those with him, as we have already intimated, were Lieutenant Vosper and Corporal Trubshaw. These recruits were excellent marksmen, and being thus advantageously posted, did great execution upon the dragoons during the conflict on the bridge. Orders were given to dislodge them, but this was found impossible, owing to the continuous fire kept up by Captain Woolfe and his men. Nor would they have been driven out if the enemy had not set the mill on fire. The old structure was speedily in flames, and for a short time formed a striking object in the terrible picture. The blazing mill and some wooden outbuildings connected with it, which had likewise caught fire, were reflected on the river already dyed of a sanguinary hue, and filled with dying and dead.
While still burning, the mill was surrounded by dragoons, between whom, and the Royalist recruits, a desperate fight took place. With the fire at the back, and the enemy in front, no wonder the Royalists fought fiercely. Some few escaped—but the greater number were killed, or thrown back into the flames. Captain Woolfe and Vosper fought their way out, but poor Trubshaw was not so fortunate. His skull was split, and he staggered back into the fire.
Wykefield was now a complete field of battle, in which many marvellous acts of heroism were performed by the Royalists. Smallparties of Cavaliers might be seen scattered over the field engaged against fearful odds—but still fighting furiously, and in some cases overcoming their antagonists. With the remnant of his brave regiment of Highlanders, Pitscottie had joined the fight, and lent what aid he could. But despite their gallant efforts to maintain their ground, the Cavaliers were driven back almost as far as Rupert's hawthorn-bush. Still, the fight went on, though the ranks of the Royalists were much thinned, and their ammunition began to fail. On the other hand, the Parliamentarians were being constantly reinforced.
Considering the inequality of the contending forces—the Parliamentarians being now three to one—the duration of the fight at Powick was remarkable. The contest lasted for nearly two hours, and during this time the Royalists held their ground stoutly against their adversaries.
Montgomery was severely wounded, and could with difficulty sit his horse.
Keith, who had thrown himself into the thick of the fray, in the vain hope of turning the tide, had been taken prisoner. Finding all against him, Montgomery, at last, was compelled to order a retreat, and strove to prevent it from being converted into a total rout.
The advance of the victors was somewhat checked by the soldiers, who lined the hedges, and fired at the enemy from every sheltered spot.
A stand was made at Pitmarston, but it was brief and ineffectual. The rout of the Royalists was then complete, and all who could escape the enemy's sword fled to St. John's, where General Dalyell's brigade was quartered, and where it was thought that the victorious Parliamentarians would be stopped. But such was not the case.
Earlier in the day, alleging that he could not spare them, Dalyell refused to send a detachment of his men with Massey to Powick, and now after a short resistance, which only reflected disgrace upon him, he ordered his brigade to lay down their arms to Fleetwood.
Having thus carried everything before them on the western side of the river, Fleetwood and Ingoldsby prepared to cross the bridge, and enter the doomed city.
HOW THE BATTERY ON PERRY WOOD WAS TAKEN BY THE KING.
Theking was not present during any part of the disastrous conflict just described. On arriving at Powick Bridge with his attendants, he found Montgomery and Keith at their post, and confident of their ability to maintain it. No reinforcements had been sent, as yet, by Dalyell, but doubtless they would soon arrive, and Montgomery declared he did not require them.
Continuous firing having been for some time heard in the direction of the Severn, Montgomery, in obedience to his majesty's command, was about to detach a party of men to support Pitscottie, when a Highland soldier arrived in breathless haste bringing intelligence that his leader had been routed by the enemy. Charles could scarcely credit the news, but on ascertaining the full extent of the disaster, he felt the necessity of immediately returning to the city, and preparing against an attack on the south, which might now be expected.
He therefore rode back with his attendants, crossed the river at the palace-ferry, and at once proceeded to the Sidbury-gate, where he found the Duke of Hamilton. From the watch posted on the summit of the cathedral tower, the duke had already heard of Pitscottie's defeat and the construction of the flying bridge across the Teme. He did not for a moment attempt to disguise the perilous position in which his majesty would be placed if Montgomery should be worsted at Powick, and coincided with the king in opinion that the general attack should not be delayed, but advised that a visit should first be paid to Lesley, whom he had not as yet seen that morning.
Acting upon this counsel, Charles, attended by the Earl of Derby, Lord Wilmot, Careless, and a small escort, rode to the Blockhouse fields, where Lesley was stationed with his Scottish horse. He found him with the whole of his large force under arms, and apparently ready for action. But he could not help noticing that Lesley looked exceedingly grave, and not altogether free from uneasiness.
"Is this man really the traitor he is generally thought?" mentally ejaculated Charles. "I will try him. Colonel Lesley," he cried, as he rode up, "I am resolved to take yon battery on Perry Wood. Bid your men prepare for the attack. I shall lead them in person."
On receiving this command, Lesley immediately drew near the king, and said, in a low voice:
"I beseech you not to call upon them to make the attack, sire. They will not follow you."
"Not follow me!" exclaimed Charles, fiercely. "Lesley, you are a traitor!"
"I have already told you, sire," replied Lesley, in the same low voice, "that the men are not to be relied on. They will not fight with your Cavaliers."
"What will they do, then?" demanded Charles, sternly. "Will they utterly desert me in my hour of need? Will they deliver me to the enemy?"
"No, sire; but if, in obedience to your commands, I order them to attack yon battery, not one of them will stir."
Just then the roar of artillery was heard. The battery had opened fire on Fort Royal, and was immediately answered—as we have already described—by the Royalist engineers. The din was heightened by the smaller ordnance of the Blockhouse, which now began to operate—though with little effect—against Cromwell's intrenchments.
"Can you hear this, and stand tamely by?" observed Charles, reproachfully, to Lesley.
"I cannot help it, my liege," was the Scottish leader's answer. "My men are mutinous and will not obey me. Look at them now, and you will be convinced that I speak the truth. But do not, I entreat you, compel me to put their disloyalty to the proof."
Charles cast his eye along the line nearest him, and the sullen and discontented aspect of the men fully confirmed Lesley's assertion.
The Earl of Derby had likewise taken a rapid survey of the regiment, and came to a like conclusion.
"A mutinous spirit evidently prevails among the men," he said to the king, "and may break out at once, if an attempt is made to force them into action. Leave Lesley to manage them. He can do it, if he will."
"'Tis the confounded Kirk committee that has been at work with them," cried Charles. "Lesley," he added, in a low significant tone to the Scottish leader, "you will gain nothing by deserting me; but much—very much—by standing firmly by me at this critical juncture."
"My liege," said Lesley, earnestly, "if you are in jeopardy, I will bring you aid. I cannot promise more."
Obliged to be content with this, Charles rode off with his attendants and escort, and regardless of the enemy's fire, which was now extending along the heights and increasing in fury, proceeded to visit his various outposts.
Very little impression was produced upon Fort Royal by the heavy cannonade directed against it from Perry Wood, nor was any immediate attempt made by the enemy to storm it.
Lilburn and Lord Grey of Groby gradually drew closer to the Royalist outposts, but seemed to be awaiting the Lord General's signal for the grand attack. And such, in reality, was the case. From the apparent inertness of the enemy it was erroneously supposed by the Royalists that most of the Parliamentary troops had been drawn to the other side of the Severn. Cromwell, however, had a motive for all he did, and if he delayed the attack, it was because he deemed the right moment for making it had not arrived.
Never was he more cheerful than he appeared to be throughout this trying day. Confident of victory, he yet kept a watchful look-out upon the enemy, and seemed surprised that the attack, which he expected the king to make upon him, should be so long delayed. For this attack, come when it might, he was fully prepared; but as evening began to draw on, and no movement was made by the royal forces, he grew impatient.
"Time will scarcely be allowed us for the work," he said to the officers with him, "yet will I not move till I have full assurance that Fleetwood and Ingoldsby are masters of St. John's, and ready to enter the city."
At this moment a messenger rode up bringing the intelligence he so eagerly desired.
Montgomery was utterly routed—Keith a prisoner—Dalyell had surrendered. Fleetwood and Ingoldsby were preparing to cross the bridge, and enter the city. Lambert was marching towards the bridge of boats, and would soon bring his regiment to Perry Wood. Such was the sum of the despatch. The messenger had to take a circuitous route, or it would have been delivered sooner.
Cromwell could not conceal his satisfaction.
"The Lord of Hosts is with us," he exclaimed. "His holy arm hath gotten us the victory. Nothing remains but to finish the work so well begun. On this day twelvemonth, at Dunbar, the word was, 'The Lord of Hosts.' So let it be to-day. The signal then was, 'We have no white about us.' The same signal shall serve now. Make this known throughout the regiments, and then prepare for action."
While issuing these orders, Cromwell had noticed a movement at the Sidbury-gate, and now fixing his field-glass upon the spot he perceived that the main body of the royal army, horse and foot, was coming forth from the gate, evidently for the purpose of attacking him. He was at no loss to discover that the host was commanded by the king in person, and that Charles was attended by several of his most distinguished nobles. Indeed, from a closer survey, he felt certain that the Dukes of Hamilton and Buckingham were with him.
It was a splendid sight to see that gallant host issue forth from the gate, and familiar as he was with such spectacles, Cromwell watched it for some minutes with great interest—noting the strength of each regiment, and making many shrewd observations to his own officers.
"Charles Stuart hath come forth in all his bravery," he said. "But he and all his host shall be utterly discomfited. Up, and smite them. Spare none of the malignants. As to their prince, take him not captive, but slay him without pity."
Many circumstances had conspired to prevent Charles from making the attack he had meditated upon the enemy until so late in the day. But when he learnt that Dalyell had surrendered he no longer hesitated, but marched forth as we have just described. He was accompanied by the Dukes of Buckingham and Hamilton, the Earl of Derby, Lord Wilmot, Sir Alexander Forbes, and several other distinguished personages, and had with him his best infantry and cavalry, and his bravest Cavaliers.
The command of the right wing was given to the Duke of Hamilton, that of the left to the Earl of Derby, with whom was Colonel Roscarrock, while he himself commanded the centre. Perry Wood was to be attacked on either side, while a charge was made on the battery.
The plan was executed with remarkable quickness and precision. No sooner were the men formed than a general charge was made on Perry Wood, each division taking its appointed course. Such was the impetuosity of the Cavaliers who formed the central body led by the king, that they drove back Cromwell's body-guard who rode down the hill to meet them, and rushing on with irresistible fury broke through the pickets, forced the intrenchments, and putting the artillerymen to the sword, actually obtained possession of the enemy's largest guns.
For a brief space Charles, who had led this wonderful charge—the most brilliant feat performed at the fight of Worcester—seemed master of the position. He was on the very spot just occupied by Cromwell himself, and had taken his guns. The valiant Cavaliers who attended their sovereign raised a shout of triumph, and struck the cannon with their swords.
With the king were Colonel Legge, Colonel Lane, Captain Giffard, Colonel Blague, Marmaduke Darcy, Wogan, and Careless. They had ridden close behind him, and had shared every danger he incurred. Colonel Legge, indeed, had saved the king's life. It was a singular sight to see the royal party on the top of the hill in the midst of the Parliamentarian forces. But their position seemed scarcely tenable, though Hamilton and Derby were pressing on, on either side, to their aid.
Nevertheless, Charles exulted in his brief triumph, and his exultation was shared by his companions. The hitherto invincibleIronclads had retreated before him, and were still in confusion and disorder, while both Hamilton and Derby, animated by the king's success, were driving all before them. Moreover, a most important result had been obtained by the capture of the guns. Fort Royal, which had suffered considerably from the ceaseless cannonade of the battery, was now left unmolested.
At this critical juncture, when his fate hung in the balance, and when the Scottish horse might have helped him to victory, Charles looked anxiously down to the spot where Lesley was posted. He was still there with his troops. But they remained motionless, although their leader must have been aware of the king's success, and must have felt how important aid would be at that moment.
"Does he move?—is he coming?" cried Charles.
"No, sire," rejoined Legge, straining his eyes in the direction of the Scottish cavalry. "He does not stir. Curses on him for a traitor."
"Oh, that Montrose were alive and in his place!" ejaculated Charles, bitterly. "He would not have served me thus!"
"No, sire," observed Careless. "Montrose would have secured you the victory."
It may be that the battle of Worcester was lost by Charles, owing to Lesley's inaction or treachery. If the king's extraordinary success could have been at once followed up, victory might have ensued. Who shall say?
HOW THE BATTLE OF WORCESTER WAS LOST BY THE KING.
Cromwellwas somewhat disconcerted by the unlooked-for advantage gained by Charles, but he quickly brought his disordered troops to their ranks, and prepared to bring forward his reserves. Like Charles, he looked down to the Blockhouse fields to see what Lesley would do, but was speedily reassured by finding the Scottish horse remain motionless.
"The men of Sechem have dealt treacherously with Abimelech," he said, with a stern smile. "Had Lesley come to his master's aid in time, he might have given me some trouble."
Detaching troops on either side to prevent a junction between the three parties of Royalists, he himself made a determined attack on the king.
The onset was terrible, but Charles and his Cavaliers bore it firmly, and maintained their ground, giving abundant proofs of valour, and showing of what stout stuff they were made,since they could thus resist the attack of Cromwell's veteran troops.
The conflict lasted for a considerable time—much longer, indeed, than Cromwell expected—but when Lambert arrived with his troops it became too unequal, and the Cavaliers were forced to give way. Besides, their ammunition was completely exhausted, and they were obliged to fight with the butt-ends of their muskets. After a most obstinate but ineffectual resistance, they retreated in disorder towards the city.
No junction had taken place between the battalions under the Duke of Hamilton and the Earl of Derby, but neither of these leaders were more successful than the king, though both fought valiantly. The Duke of Hamilton routed a troop of horse, but in a subsequent encounter his horse was shot under him, and he himself was so severely wounded, that he had to be taken from the field, and was conveyed to the Commandery. Sir John Douglas was likewise mortally wounded, and Sir Alexander Forbes, disabled by a shot through both legs, was left in this lamentable condition in Perry Wood during the whole night. Next day he was discovered by the enemy and taken prisoner. Both the Earl of Derby and Roscarrock escaped unhurt, but the battalion commanded by the earl was routed after a gallant fight.
Overpowered on all sides, the Royalists, after sustaining fearful loss, were compelled to retreat into the city. Lesley, who had taken no part whatever in the fight, finding that the day had gone against the king, moved his regiment towards Barbourne Bridge, about a mile on the north of the city, and close to Pitchcroft.
No sooner did Cromwell's engineers regain possession of the great guns than they began to cannonade Fort Royal with redoubled fury. Under this tremendous fire a strong storming party was detached to take the fort, with orders from the Lord General to put all the troops within it to the sword unless they surrendered. The barbarous order was executed. The fort being carried by storm after an obstinate resistance, no quarter was given to its brave defenders. The guns of the fort were then turned upon the city, and being so close to it, caused terrible havoc, and drove all the artillerymen from the walls.
But we must now return to the king. So long as a chance was left him, Charles fought valiantly, and during the retreat, though he failed to rally his disordered troops, he turned several times to face the enemy.
While thus braving the foe for the last time he was left alone, none of his attendants being aware that he had stopped. From the richness of his accoutrements he was at once recognised, and fierce cries were raised:
"'Tis Charles Stuart!—'tis Jeroboam! The Lord has delivered him into our hands! Slay him—slay him!"
Several pistols were discharged at him, but though the bullets struck his armour, no injury was done him. Most luckily his horse was not hurt, but bore him swiftly and safely to the Sidbury-gate. He was hotly pursued by the Roundhead troopers, who would assuredly have cut him down, according to Cromwell's order, if they had come up with him.
On reaching the Sidbury-gate he found, to his dismay, that it was blocked up by an ammunition waggon, which had been overturned there either by accident or design. One of the oxen that had drawn the waggon was killed on the spot.
Without a moment's hesitation, the king threw himself from his horse, and contrived to creep past the waggon. As he entered Sidbury-street, Mr. William Bagnal, a staunch loyalist, who dwelt in that quarter, rode towards him, and, instantly dismounting, offered him his horse. The steed, thus opportunely provided for his majesty, was of infinite service to him in the day, as will be shown.
Once more on horseback, Charles rode up to the High-street, and found it full of soldiers, most of them belonging to the Scottish infantry. They had all a most dejected look, and on seeing him, many of them threw down their arms, to intimate their refusal to fight any longer. In vain he rode up and down their ranks, with his feathered hat in his hand, addressing them with a passionate eloquence that ought to have roused them.
"Stand to your arms!" he cried. "Fight like men, and we shall yet conquer. Follow me, and I will lead you to victory. Ours is the right cause, and truth and justice must prevail in the end. Follow your king!"
Finding, however, that they would not stir, he called out in accents of bitter reproach, "Recreants that you are to desert me thus. If you will not fight, turn your arms against me. I had rather you would shoot me than let me live to see the consequences of this fatal day."
He then rode slowly off towards the College Green, still hoping some might follow him, but none stirred.
HOW THE ENEMY ENTERED THE CITY, AND HOW THE KING QUITTED IT.
Meanwhile, a sharp conflict was taking place outside the Sidbury-gate between a party of flying Royalists and a troop of horse under Colonel Pride. The unlucky Royalists were unable to enterthe city owing to the obstacle before mentioned, and, after a short struggle, were slain to a man in front of the gate.
The ammunition waggon being removed, a regiment of infantry rushed in through the Sidbury-gate, and encountering no opposition, the men spread themselves through the lower streets of the city, and commenced plundering the houses.
The loyal city was now paying the penalty of its devotion to the king. Terror and confusion reigned everywhere. Doors were burst open, and the most horrible threats were answered by shrieks and cries for pity, but no pity was shown by the ferocious soldiery.
By this time Fort Royal had been stormed, as we have already related, and its guns being turned upon the city, the destruction caused in various parts by the shot heightened the terror of the inhabitants. Desperate fighting was going on in all quarters, and nothing was heard but the clash of steel, the sharp ring of musketry, and the roar of artillery, mingled with shouts and cries.
Fleetwood and Ingoldsby had now forced their way across the bridge, but their entrance into the city was furiously opposed by such forces as could be rallied by Lord Wilmot, Colonel Blague, Colonel Lane, and others, but the contest was too unequal, and could not be long sustained.
As both horse and foot were now continually pouring into the city on all sides, conflicts were taking place in almost every street. There was desperate fighting on the west as well as on the east. There was fighting on the quay—in Newport-street and Dolday—near All Saints' Church—and in Broad-street. There was no fighting near the Cross—for the Foregate, as already mentioned, had been walled up—and, indeed, the enemy chiefly entered the city from the Sidbury-gate, from Friars'-gate, and from the bridge. But there was a great deal of fighting in Friars'-street, Lich-street, and multitudes of armed citizens and artillerymen who had been driven from the walls were running about in different directions. Hundreds of these were killed, for quarter was given to none with arms in their hands, and the streets were full of dead bodies.
The Scottish infantry tamely surrendered, and were shut up in the cathedral. They had better have died valiantly, for they were afterwards sold as slaves to the plantations. But other Scottish regiments behaved with the greatest resolution, and if all had done equally well, the result of the day might have been different. Castle Hill, as we know, had been strongly fortified, and was held by the Earl of Rothes, Sir William Hamilton, and Colonel Drummond, with a party of brave and loyal Scots. The fortress was attacked by Lambert and Harrison, but was so obstinately defended that its leaders were able to capitulate on advantageous terms.
Having thus endeavoured to describe the frightful condition to which the city was reduced by the entrance of the enemy, we willnow return to Charles, whom we left proceeding in a most melancholy frame of mind, and wholly unattended, towards the College Green. So cast down was he at the moment that he scarcely took note of anything that was passing around him, when he was suddenly roused from his fit of despondency by seeing a large troop of horse issue from the college gates. It was a party of Cavaliers headed by the Earl of Derby, Lord Cleveland, Colonel Roscarrock, Colonel Wogan, and Careless, and on making this discovery he immediately rode up, and was welcomed with the greatest delight by the Earl of Derby, as well as by his faithful attendant Careless. The greatest uneasiness had been felt for his safety, and it was feared he might have fallen into the hands of the enemy. Nor were the Cavaliers composing the troop less delighted, and their enthusiasm quickly raised his drooping spirits. He put himself at their head, and, despite the entreaties of the Earl of Derby that he would seek safety in flight, he led them towards the Sidbury-gate.
But they had scarcely descended Lich-street when Colonel Pride's regiment of horse was seen advancing, and an instant onset upon it was made. As on all previous occasions, the first advantage was with the Cavaliers, but Pride and his men were not to be driven back. As soon as it was discovered that Charles was with the party, an attempt was made by Pride to capture him, and it would have been successful if Careless had not flown to his rescue.
The Cavaliers still made a desperate struggle, but it was evident they could not hold out long. Charles, who had been left for a few minutes in the rear after his rescue, was again about to place himself at their head, but Careless earnestly besought him to fly.
"The day is lost, my liege—utterly lost!" exclaimed this faithful attendant. "Save yourself, while there is yet time. We can hold out long enough to cover your escape. Fly, I entreat you."
"No. I cannot—will not—abandon my faithful followers," cried Charles.
"Your presence unnerves us, my liege," implored Careless. "See you not that the enemy is resolved to capture you, or slay you. Baulk his design by instant flight. We will prevent all pursuit till you are safe. Quit the city by St. Martin's-gate. 'Tis the only safe outlet. Ride on to Barbourne Bridge, where those of us who are left alive will join you when all is over here."
Charles yielded to these entreaties, though with the greatest reluctance, and Careless rushed to the front. Captain Woolfe and Vosper chanced to be near the king at the time, and he ordered them to follow him. Divining his intentions, they instantly obeyed.
On the way to St. Martin's-gate, he had to pass the ancient mansion which he had latterly made his private quarters, and wishingto enter it for a moment to take off the heaviest part of his armour, which might incommode him during his flight, and possess himself of some valuables he had left behind, he dismounted, and giving his steed to Vosper, entered the house.
His imprudence in doing so had well-nigh led to his capture. He did not imagine that his flight had been discovered by the enemy, but he was mistaken. Quick eyes had been upon him at the time. Colonel James, who had recovered from his wounds, was with the Parliamentarians, and seeing the king quit his adherents, guessed his purpose.
But for some minutes pursuit was impossible, owing to the obstinate resistance of the Cavaliers. At length, Colonel James, accompanied by a dozen dragoons, forced his way into New-street, and was galloping along it when he caught sight of Woolfe and Vosper with the king's horse. They instantly disappeared, but he had seen enough. He knew that Charles had made that old mansion his private quarters, and felt convinced he must be within it at the time.
Galloping up, he entered with half a dozen of his troopers, leaving the rest on guard outside. Luckily for Charles, his pursuers had neglected to secure a door that opened into the Corn Market. Before moving off, Woolfe and Vosper gave the alarm. The king had already divested himself of his armour, and was prepared for flight. At the very moment that Colonel James and his troopers entered, he passed out at the back.
Not many persons were in the Corn Market at the time, and the few he encountered being staunch Royalists, would have protected him with their lives, rather than have betrayed him. Woolfe and Vosper were not in sight, but he learnt they had gone out by St. Martin's-gate.
Hurrying thither, he passed through the gate without interference—for the Parliamentarians had not yet placed a guard there—and in another instant was joined by his attendants, who brought him his horse.
Quickly mounting his steed, he galloped off in the direction of Barbourne Bridge. He was not pursued—false information being given to Colonel James, which led him to believe that the royal fugitive had not quitted the city.
After awhile Charles slackened his pace, but just then he heard the trampling of horse behind him, and fancying the enemy was on his track, was about to gallop on, when he discovered that his fancied pursuers were a small party of his own cavalry. He then faced about, and as the troop drew nearer, found that at its head were the Duke of Buckingham and the Earl of Lauderdale. A painful meeting took place between the king and the two nobles. They were seeking safety in flight, and were rejoiced to find that his majesty had escaped.
Soon afterwards, several small parties of Royalists overtook them—no other route being open to the fugitives. Charles, therefore, had no lack of attendants.
On reaching Barbourne Bridge, to his great surprise, he found Lesley and his regiment of horse.
"Soh! you are here," he cried, furiously. "I sought for you in vain in the city. Your men must be fresh since they have taken no part in the fight. Come back with me at once and help me to retrieve the fortune of the day."
"Sire," replied Lesley, calmly, "the contest from the first has been hopeless, and your troops are now annihilated. It would be madness to return. I have been waiting for you here."
"Waiting for me?" exclaimed Charles.
"Ay, waiting for you, sire. I knew you would come this way, since none other is open to you. I am ready to conduct you to Scotland."
"But I will not return thither to be the slave I have been," cried Charles. "I will rather die in England."
"Humour him, my liege—humour him. He may be of use now," observed Buckingham, in a low tone.
"Your majesty has now no option," remarked Lesley, coldly. "You must go back to Scotland. I will insure you a safe retreat. 'Tis for that purpose I have reserved my troops."
"Say you so?" cried Charles. "Then I must needs go with you. But I must wait here for my friends."
"Your majesty will have to wait long ere some of them join you," said Lesley.
"At least they have not deserted me," rejoined the king.
THE LAST STAND MADE BY THE ROYALISTS.
Oncemore we must enter the ill-fated city, which was now completely in the power of the enemy, though many a conflict was still going on within it. So inflamed with fury were the Cavaliers, that they fell upon the foot soldiers who had been plundering the houses, and were so much encumbered with booty that they could not defend themselves, and slew such numbers of them that Friars'-street was quite choked up with dead bodies. On neither side was quarter given.
"The hour of vengeance is come," shouted the fierce Cromwellians. "Slay the Amalekites. Destroy them utterly—so that they may never more rise against us."
"Down with the rebellious sectaries!" cried the Cavaliers. "Spare them not. Kill them as you would wild beasts."
Savage shouts like these were heard on all sides, proclaiming the deadly animosity of the combatants which could be satisfied with nothing but slaughter.
The last stand made by the Royalists was at the Guildhall, and a more gallant stand was never made, because success seemed out of the question.
A tolerably strong party of Cavaliers had been rallied by Careless, Sir Rowland Berkeley, Colonel Legge, Colonel Lane, and Captain Hornyold. They assembled, as we have said, in front of the Guildhall. With them were the Earl of Cleveland, Sir James Hamilton, Colonel Wogan, and some others. They were attacked on the left by Fleetwood, and on the right by Lambert, with whom was Cromwell in person. In the fierce conflict that ensued, many were slain, and many more taken prisoners, but all the leaders escaped, except Sir James Hamilton, who was severely wounded.
Finding the contest hopeless, and that they should soon be shut up within the city, without the possibility of escape, Careless and the others dashed down Pump-street, and made their way to St. Martin's-gate. Having thus got out of the city, they rode as quickly as they could to Barbourne Bridge, where they found the king.
Deprived of all its defenders, its bravest inhabitants slain, or made captive, the city was then delivered over to the rapacious and fanatical soldiery, who had obtained possession of it. On the frightful atrocities perpetrated during that night upon the wretched inhabitants by the barbarous hordes let loose upon them, we shall not dwell. Suffice it to say that the sack of Rome under the Constable de Bourbon scarcely exceeded the sack of Worcester in horror.
Imagination cannot conceive scenes more dreadful than actually occurred. No soldiers were ever more savage, more ruffianly, more merciless than the Parliamentary troops. Cromwell himself had left the city before the direst deeds were enacted, but he well knew what would happen. He did not expressly sanction pillage and rapine and all other atrocious acts, but he did not forbid them, and, at all events, did not punish the offenders.
On that night, at the very time when the diabolical atrocities we have hinted at, but cannot describe—when outrages the most frightful were being committed by his soldiery, without the slightest interference from his officers, the Lord General wrote in these terms to the Parliament:
"This hath been a very glorious mercy, and as stiff a contest for four or five hours as ever I have seen. Both your old forces and those new raised have behaved themselves with very greatcourage, and He that made them come out, made them willing to fight for you. The Lord God Almighty frame our hearts to real thankfulness for this, which is alone His doing."
The darkest part of the picture was carefully kept out of sight, and nothing dwelt upon but the "glorious mercy" vouchsafed him and his forces. Yet no mercy was shown by the conquerors, on that dreadful night—the worst they ever had to endure—to the miserable inhabitants of faithful Worcester.
THE CONSULTATION AT BARBOURNE BRIDGE, AND THE KING'S FLIGHT.
Weleft the king at Barbourne Bridge. By this time he had been joined by the Earl of Derby, the Earl of Lauderdale, the Lords Talbot and Wilmot, Colonel Roscarrock, Colonel Blague, Charles Giffard, and many other Cavaliers, and a consultation was held as to what course should be pursued. All were of opinion that the day was irretrievably lost, and this opinion was confirmed by the arrival of Careless and the others, who told how they had been worsted in the last desperate struggle at the Guildhall.
"More than half of this brave battalion are gone," exclaimed Careless. "The rest are dispersed, and will never be got together again. Such frightful havoc has been made among the citizens, who have been slain by hundreds by these ferocious Roundheads, that no more fighting men can be got together. All is lost! Your majesty's standard has been torn down everywhere, and replaced by the flag of the Commonwealth. From this spot you may see their hateful standard floating on the cathedral tower."
Overpowered by this ill news, Charles could make no reply.
"All we can now do for your majesty is to save you from these ravening wolves and regicides," cried the Earl of Derby, "and that, with Heaven's grace, we will do!"
"We will defend your majesty to the last," cried the Lords Talbot and Wilmot, and several others.
"Alas! how many are gone!" exclaimed Charles. "Brave Sir John Douglas dead—the Duke of Hamilton mortally wounded. Where is Lord Sinclair?—where are others of my Scottish peers?—where is Sir James Hamilton?—where is Sir Alexander Forbes?"
"Sir James Hamilton is killed, my liege," replied Careless. "Sir Alexander Forbes is badly hurt—perhaps dead. Several of theScottish nobles have been taken prisoners in the city. But think not of them—think of your own safety. What will you do?"
"Make all haste to London," replied the king. "By riding hard I shall arrive there before tidings of the battle can be received."
"A good plan," cried Lord Wilmot. "Your majesty has many staunch adherents in London."
"I like not the plan," cried the Duke of Buckingham. "If adopted, it will end in your majesty's destruction. The moment your defeat is known, your adherents will fall from you, and you will be at the mercy of your enemies."
Almost all the others concurred with the duke in opinion, and were strenuously opposed to the king's plan.
"Nay, then," he exclaimed, "there is nothing for it but Scotland. I will go thither."
"Your majesty has decided right," observed Lesley.
"His approval is enough to make me change my mind," observed Charles, withdrawing to a short distance with the Earl of Derby.
"Go not to London, my liege, I entreat you," said the earl. "'Tis the most perilous and rash scheme you could adopt. You will have dangers enough to encounter in whatever direction you proceed, but London is most dangerous of all. That you will be quickly pursued, and a heavy price set on your head, is certain, for Cromwell's victory will be shorn of half its splendour if you escape him. In England your chance is lost. It grieves me to say so, but I cannot hide the truth. You cannot get another army together. To Scotland, I see, you like not to return. The sole alternative, therefore, is an escape to France."
"That is what I desire," replied Charles. "But where can I embark?"
"At Bristol, my liege, it may be—but that must be for after consideration. Conceal yourself for a time, and no safer hiding-place can be found than Boscobel, where I myself took refuge."
At this moment Colonel Roscarrock came up.
"How say you, Roscarrock?" asked the king. "Think you I should be safe at Boscobel?"
"I am sure of it, my liege," replied the other. "Strange your majesty should put the question to me, seeing I was just about to counsel you to take refuge there."
"You have already described the house to me," observed Charles. "But can the occupants be trusted?"
"Perfectly," said the Earl of Derby. "Your majesty has no more faithful subjects than the Penderels of Boscobel. Charles Giffard is here. Will your majesty speak with him?"
"Not now," replied Charles. "I would not have it known that I am about to seek a place of concealment, and were I to conferwith Charles Giffard just now, my design would be suspected. We have only one traitor here—but I must guard against indiscretion. How far is it to Boscobel?"
"Some six-and-twenty miles, my liege," replied Roscarrock. "Your horse looks fresh, and will take you there in a few hours, if we are not interrupted. We must go by Kidderminster and Stourbridge towards Wolverhampton."
"Lord Talbot is well acquainted with the country, and will serve as guide," observed the Earl of Derby. "He has a servant with him, who knows the whole district, and will be very useful."
The king now signed to Careless, and taking him apart, informed him of his design, but bade him say nothing about it, except to Lord Talbot, Lord Wilmot, Colonel Lane, Charles Giffard, and a few others. Careless entirely approved of the plan, for he was terribly alarmed for the king's safety.
The word being now given that every one must shift for himself, Sir Rowland Berkeley, Captain Hornyold, and several other county gentlemen took leave of the king with such warm expressions of unwavering devotion and loyalty as greatly touched his majesty. Lesley, with his Scottish cavalry, took the direct road northward by Newport.
Escorted by some sixty Cavaliers, all well mounted and well armed, and accompanied by the Duke of Buckingham, the Earl of Derby, the Earl of Lauderdale, Lord Wilmot, Colonels Roscarrock, Lane, Blague, and Charles Giffard, and of course attended by Careless, the king started on his flight.
End of the First Book
WHITE LADIES.
HOW CROMWELL VISITED THE DYING DUKE OF HAMILTON AT THE COMMANDERY; AND WHAT PASSED BETWEEN THEM.
Onthe morn after the battle, there was weeping and wailing in Worcester, for those lying slaughtered in the houses and streets. Everywhere heart-rending scenes occurred, but they excited no pity in the breasts of the savage foe. Believing they had performed a work of righteous vengeance, the stern sectaries felt no compunction for what they had done. The city had been delivered to them. They had plundered the houses, slain all who opposed them, committed every possible atrocity, and were now searching for the malignants, who had sought refuge in cellars and other secret places. Many prisoners of importance were thus made. Among those placed under the custody of the marshal-general, and subsequently sent to the Tower, were the Earls of Cleveland, Rothes, and Kelly, with the Lords Sinclair and Grandison, General Massey, and the valiant Pitscottie. Some were too severely wounded to be moved. Sir James Hamilton, Sir Alexander Forbes, Sir John Douglas, and General Montgomery were dangerously hurt—while the Duke of Hamilton was lying at the Commandery, mortally wounded. Fanshawe, the king's private secretary, was captured, and treated with especial favour by Cromwell, who was desirous of winning him over, but he rejected the Lord General's overtures. The mayor and the sheriff were committed to custody and ordered to be tried at Chester. A vast number of other prisoners were made, whom it is needless to particularise.