General Lambert further stated in his despatch, that Charles was accompanied by the most experienced leaders in the Scottish army — by the crafty and cautious Colonel Lesley, who had so long baffled Cromwell himself — by Generals Montgomery, Middleton, Massey, and Dalyell, and by the valiant Colonel Pitscottie, with his Highland regiment. Besides these, there were several English and Scotch nobles, the Dukes of Buckingham and Hamilton, the Earls of Rothes, Lauderdale, Carnworth, and Cleveland; Lords Spyne, Sinclair, and Wilmot; Sir John Douglas, Sir Alexander Forbes, and others.
While scanning this imposing list, and reflecting that the royal forces numbered at least eleven thousand men, Colonel James asked himself how he could possibly hold out against them with a garrison of only five hundred? He was ill supplied with cannon and ammunition, and the fortifications were ruinous. Moreover, the citizens were hostile, and so far from lending him aid, were ready to rise in favour of the king. He should have to contend against foes within as well as enemies without. His position seemed desperate, and though as brave a man as need be, he was filled with misgiving.
Before proceeding, it may be proper to ascertain how far the old city was capable of defence. Five years previously it had stood a lengthened siege, but the circumstances then were wholly different, for the citizens were arrayed against the besiegers, and fought obstinately. The walls were much damaged at that time, and had only been partially repaired, consequently the towers and bastions were in a dilapidated state. Outside the walls, on the south-east, there was a strong detached fort of recent construction. The castle, which in days of yore rose proudly on the south side of the cathedral, completely commanding the navigation of the Severn, had long since been pulled down, the only vestiges of it left being some fragments of the donjon. The mound on which the mighty fabric once stood could have been easily fortified, if time had permitted, and would have formed an important work. The city, which was of great antiquity, had four gates, each flanked with towers. The strongest resembled a barbican, and commanded the quay and the ancient stone bridge across the river. On the north was the Foregate, “a fair piece of work,” as it is described by old Leland, and not far from it was St. Martin’s-gate. On the south was Sidbury-gate, giving access to the London-road. The Sidbury-gate was covered by the modern detached fort to which reference has already been made. Deep dykes, supplied by the Severn, strengthened the defences on the east and south-east, but the suburbs constituted a danger, since the habitations would afford shelter to an enemy. Thus it will be seen that the city was not in a condition to stand a siege, and the commandant might well despair of holding out, even for a few days, against the royal forces.
No city can be more charmingly situated than Worcester on the banks of England’s noblest river, in the midst of fair and fertile plains, abounding in orchards and hop-gardens, and in full view of the lovely Malvern Hills; but in the middle of the seventeenth century it was eminently picturesque, as well as beautiful. It was then full of ancient timber houses, with quaintly carved gables and open balconies, from the midst of which rose the massive roof and tower of the venerable cathedral, and the lofty spire of St. Andrew’s Church. The old walls, grey and ruinous as they were, the fortified gates, the sculptured crosses, and the antique stone bridge, with its many-pointed arches, contributed to its beauty. The noble episcopal palace, the group of old buildings near the cathedral, and the ruins on the castle hill — all formed a striking picture when seen from St. John’s on the opposite side of the river.
“The wealth of Worcester standeth most by drapery,” quoth old Leland, who wrote in Henry VIII.’s time, and the place had long been noted for its broadcloths and gloves. But many of the wealthiest drapers, glovers, and hop-merchants had been ruined by the heavy fines inflicted upon them by the grasping Parliamentarians, and the city had scarcely yet regained its former prosperity.
Almost simultaneously with the arrival of General Lambert’s despatch, a letter was brought by a secret messenger to Mr. Thomas Lysons, then mayor of Worcester, and an avowed Royalist. It came from Captain Fanshawe, the king’s secretary, and gave a very different version of the affair at Warrington from that furnished by Lambert.
According to Fanshawe, his majesty had displayed great personal courage on the occasion. He found the enemy, consisting of about seven thousand men, united under Lambert and Harrison, in possession of the bridge across the Mersey, which they had partly broken down, and he immediately attacked them with his advanced troops. His impetuosity proved irresistible. A passage being forced, the whole army followed, and the enemy retreated in great disorder, and with heavy losses. During the night, upwards of three thousand of the “rebellious rogues,” as Fanshawe styled them, disbanded. The Parliamentary generals did not venture to attack the king again, but allowed him to continue his march towards Worcester without further interruption. The faithful citizens might, therefore, prepare to welcome their sovereign, who would soon be with them.
The mayor immediately called a public meeting in the Guildhall, and read Captain Fanshawe’s letter to the assemblage. Great was the enthusiasm excited by it. The hall resounded with cries of “Long live Charles II.!” The joyful intelligence quickly spread throughout the city, and crowds collected in the High-street, shouting “Down with the Commonwealth! Up with the Crown!” The concourse was dispersed by Colonel James and a troop of horse, but in the conflict several persons were wounded, and some killed. The mayor and the sheriff, Mr. James Bridges, were seized, and detained as hostages for the good behaviour of the citizens — the commandant threatening to hang them both if any further disturbance occurred. Luckily for the two gentlemen, the city remained tranquil throughout the night, for most assuredly the commandant would have been as good as his word.
Next day — Friday, the 22nd of August, 1651 — the scouts sent out by Colonel James reported that the first division of the royal army, commanded by the young king in person, was close upon Red Hill — already described as a woody eminence about a mile distant, on the south of the city.
Shortly afterwards, the enemy’s cavalry skirmishers could be distinguished on Perry Wood. Then the advanced guard appeared — the helmets and corslets of the cuirassiers glittering in the sunbeams. Thousands of loyal citizens, who were forbidden to mount the fortifications, climbed to the roofs of the houses, and to the tops of the churches, to obtain a glimpse of the royal army, and could not restrain their enthusiastic feeling when they beheld it.
Colonel James, who had been actively employed throughout the whole night in making the best defensive preparations in his power, had seen that all the engineers on the ramparts were at their posts, and he now proceeded to the detached fort near the Sidbury-gate.
Mounting to the summit, which bristled with cannon, he turned his spy-glass towards the brow of the hill opposite to him, and presently beheld a company of richly accoutred officers ride out of the wood that clothed the eminence, and proceed to reconnoitre the fortifications from various points. That the foremost of the troop was the young king himself he had no doubt, as well from the splendour of his accoutrements and the white plume in his hat, as from the deference paid him by his attendants. Evidently his majesty’s brilliant staff was composed of the general officers and nobles mentioned in General Lambert’s despatch. That they were planning the attack of the city was clear.
While watching the young monarch’s movements and gestures narrowly through his glass, Colonel James saw him sign to one of his aides-de-camps, a fine-looking young man, and remarkably well mounted, who instantly rode up at the summons.
Major Careless, the aide-de-camp in question, was as brave as he was handsome, though somewhat rash, and an especial favourite of the king. Having received his majesty’s orders, he promptly obeyed them. Accompanied only by a trumpeter bearing a flag of truce, he galloped down the hill, shaping his course towards the Sidbury-gate, and, within fifty yards of it, he halted, and the trumpeter blew a blast so loud that the old walls rang again.
A shower of bullets
from the battlements would have answered the summons, if Colonel James had not previously sent word that the flag of truce must be respected.
The men eyed the insolent Cavalier sternly, and one of them called out, “If thou hast any message for the commandant of the garrison, he will be found in yonder fort.”
Thereupon Careless moved off, glancing haughtily and contemptuously at the artillerymen on the ramparts as he rode along.
On reaching the fort, he descried Colonel James stationed near the edge of the parapets, and leaning upon his sword. Half a dozen musketeers in their steel caps, buff coats, and bandileers, were standing behind him.
“Are you the commandant?” he called out.
“Ay,” replied Colonel James. “What wouldst thou with me?”
“Thus much,” said Careless, in a loud authoritative voice: “In the name of his majesty, King Charles II., who is on yonder hill with his army, I require you to deliver up this his city of Worcester, which you unlawfully hold as deputy of a presumptuous and rebellious parliament. His majesty is willing to extend his clemency towards you, and if you at once throw open the gates, and lay down your arms — —”
“Hold!” interrupted the commandant, sternly. “I do not recognise the authority of him whom thou stylest king. The house of Jeroboam, who sinned, and who caused Israel to sin, has been cut off. I will not deny that the young man, Charles Stuart, hath been crowned in Scotland, but in England he hath no rule. His proclamation has been burnt by the common hangman in London, and a counter-proclamation published by the Parliament, declaring him, his aiders and abettors — of whom thou, thyself, art one — guilty of high treason against the State, and punishable by death. Shall I, an officer of the Commonwealth, and intrusted with the charge of this city, open its gates to a proclaimed traitor? Shall I command my men to lay down their arms to him? Not so. I utterly disregard thy king’s summons, and though he be backed by the whole Scottish host, yet will I not yield the city to him, but placing my trust in the Lord, will maintain it against him.”
“Provoke not the king by your obstinacy,” said Careless, losing patience. “If you force us to storm the fortifications, you can expect no quarter. We will put you all to the sword.”
Perfectly unmoved by the threat, Colonel James answered, in the religious jargon then habitually adopted by the Republican soldiers:
“The Lord of Hosts is with us. The God of Jacob is our refuge. I doubt not we shall have timely succour.”
“From whom?” demanded Careless, with a sneer.
“From the Lord General Cromwell, who is hastening hither with his legions.”
“The city will be ours, and thou and thy rebel horde will be destroyed ere that arch-traitor and parricide can arrive,” cried Careless, fiercely.
“Keep guard upon thy tongue, or I will not answer for thy safety,” said the commandant, checking the musketeers behind him, who were preparing to give fire. “Take back my answer to the king, thy master. I have nothing to add to it.”
“We will soon be with you,” shouted Careless.
And, shaking his hand menacingly at the soldiers, he rode off with his attendant.
While this interview took place, Charles remained on Perry Wood with his generals. He was not in the least surprised to learn from Careless that his gracious offer had been rejected by the commandant.
“Let the attack be made at once,” he cried. “I will lead it in person.”
“I admire your majesty’s spirit,” observed General Dalyell. “But I pray you not to run so much risk.”
“Risk, say you?” cried Charles, gaily. “Faith, Tom, you would have all the credit of the affair. But you shall not rob me of it. I mean to be first to enter yonder fort.”
Generals Middleton and Montgomery likewise attempted to dissuade him from his purpose, but ineffectually.
The general officers then rode off to give the necessary orders for the attack. Trumpets were sounded, and shortly afterwards the sides of the hill were covered with troops in rapid movement. Ere they got half-way down, the guns of the fort opened upon them, but did not check their progress. Presently the artillery of the Royalists returned the fire of the Republicans, and the king, who was at the head of the advanced guard, saw the cannon pointed.
His majesty being recognised, the commandant directed the musketeers on the ramparts to make him their mark; but he really seemed to bear a charmed life, for though an officer close beside him was hit by a round shot, and his own horse was killed under him, he himself was uninjured.
The leathern guns of the Royalists were worked so well, that three of the fort guns were speedily silenced, and Charles then ordered instant preparations to be made for the assault.
Scaling-ladders were placed against the walls. Several men were struck down while executing this perilous task, but no sooner was it accomplished than Charles caused the trumpet to be sounded, and sword in hand, mounted the nearest ladder.
A soldier, armed with a pike, strove to hurl him from the ladder, but the man was shot by Careless, who followed the king closely.
Again, while springing over the parapets, Charles was opposed by a musketeer, but he cut him down, and next moment the heroic young monarch was joined by Careless, and instantly afterwards by a dozen of his body-guard, and their number was quickly augmented.
Charles was now master of the fort, for the Republican soldiers, after an ineffectual resistance, were put to the sword.
In the struggle, Colonel James discharged a pistol at the king, but missed his mark, and in his turn was attacked by Careless.
“I told you we would soon be with you,” cried the Cavalier. “Yield, and I will spare thy life.”
“I would not accept life at thy hands,” rejoined the commandant. “Look to thyself!”
And beating down Careless’s point with his heavy blade, he stepped quickly backwards and disappeared. He had, in fact, dashed down a narrow staircase communicating with the lower chambers of the fort, and secured his retreat by pulling a trap-door over the entrance.
Meanwhile, Charles had torn down the flag of the Commonwealth, and replaced it by the royal standard. As soon as this signal of victory could be distinguished by his forces loud cheers were raised. Possession was immediately taken of the fort, but no prisoners were made, for Colonel James, and the few of his men left alive, had evacuated the lower chambers. They had fled, it appeared, by a covered way, and had entered the city through a postern near the Sidbury-gate.
SITE OF FORT ROYAL.
By-and-bye the general officers came to congratulate the king on his victory and express their admiration of his prowess, and it then became a question whether the siege should be continued — General Dalyell being of opinion that the city could be captured before night, if an immediate attack were made upon the fortifications; but Charles decided on waiting till the morrow.
“I have done enough for the day,” he said. “Since I am master of this fort, the city is at my disposal, and I can occupy it at my leisure.”
“Very true, my liege,” observed Dalyell. “But the garrison will take advantage of your forbearance to escape.”
“I will not molest them if they adopt that prudent course,” said the king, laughing. “They have ceased firing from the walls.”
“But the men are still at their posts.”
“If they give us any further trouble, we can turn these guns upon them. Hark ye, gentlemen. Henceforth this fort shall be known as Fort Royal.”
“A fitting designation, since your majesty has captured it,” said Dalyell.
“Let the tents be pitched,” said Charles. “The day’s work is over. We can take our rest after our long march. To-morrow we will enter the city in triumph.”
All happened precisely as Charles had foreseen. Not another shot was fired by the Republicans. The Royalists encamped quietly on the hill. But though no apprehensions were entertained of an attack, those within Fort Royal were kept on the alert throughout the night.
Colonel Jame
s, however, had other designs. Convinced by what had happened that the fortifications were no longer tenable, he decided on abandoning them. With the whole of his men, he quitted the city secretly at dead of night, taking the mayor and the sheriff with him as prisoners. Crossing the bridge over the Severn, he rode off in the direction of Gloucester.
The Royalists were aware of his retreat, but, in obedience to the king’s injunctions, did not seek to interrupt him.
* * *
CHAPTER II.
SHOWING HOW THE MAYOR OF WORCESTER AND THE SHERIFF WERE TAKEN TO UPTON-ON-SEVERN, AND HOW THEY GOT BACK AGAIN.
Fatigued by his long march of three hundred miles and upwards, Charles slept so soundly in his tent on Perry Wood, that neither the beating of the drum at daybreak, the challenging of the sentinels, nor any of the customary camp sounds, disturbed him. The men themselves answered very reluctantly to the reveillé. However, the fresh morning air soon revived them. A day of ease and enjoyment lay before them. No more toilsome marches, no more skirmishes, but rest — for that day, at least. Two-thirds of the infantry were without shoes, but being hardy Scots they did not count this an inconvenience. They all bemoaned the ragged and weather-stained condition of their uniforms, but they had heard that Worcester was famous for broadcloth, and the king had promised them better garments when they reached the city.
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 639
