The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  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 invincible Ironclads 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?

  * * *

  CHAPTER XXIX.

  HOW THE BATTLE OF WORCESTER WAS LOST BY THE KING.

  Cromwell was 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.

  * * *

  CHAPTER XXX.

  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 enter the 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.