Waller's stay in Bristol was of the shortest, only long enough to rest
his wearied men and their jaded horses. The "Night Owl" was not the
bird to relish being engaged in a beleaguered city, which he anticipated
Bristol would soon be. The field, not the fortress, was his congenial
sphere of action; and though sadly dispirited, his army all gone, he had
not yet yielded to despair. He would recruit another, if it cost him
his whole fortune. So "To horse!" and off again without delay--
Hesselrig along with him.
London was his destination, and to reach it, with such feeble escort, a
dangerous enterprise. For it was but continuing his retreat through a
country swarming with the triumphant enemy. With a skill worthy of
Cyrus he made it good, however; going round by Gloucester, Warwick, and
Newport Pagnell, at length arriving safe in the metropolis.
But what of the citizens of Bristol he left behind? If they had been
despondent on seeing the shattered Cuirassiers re-enter their city not
long after these left, they saw another sight which filled them with
dismay. Also a body of horsemen approaching the place; not a skeleton
of a regiment in retreat, but the vanguard of a victorious army--that
which had won the day at Roundway Down. For as the defeated one had
suffered utter annihilation, the western shires, now overrun by the
Royalists, were completely at their mercy. The only Parliamentarian
forces that remained there were the garrisons of Gloucester and Bristol,
and it was but a question as to which should be first assaulted.
The former had already experienced something of a siege, and, thanks to
its gallant Governor, successfully resisted it; while its bigger sister,
farther down the Severn, only knew what it was to be threatened. But
the Bristolians also knew their city to be better game--a richer and
more tempting prize--and that they might expect the plunderers at any
moment. So when they beheld the Light Horse of Wilmot and Byron
scouring the country outside, and up to their very gates, they had
little doubt of their being the precursors of a larger and heavier
force--an army on the march to assail them.
Soon it appeared in formidable array, and leaguer all round. For there
was more than one army left free to enfilade them. First came up the
conquering host of Hertford and Maurice, fresh from the field of
Lansdown. Then, on the Oxford side, appeared Rupert with his
freebooters, fire-handed from the burning of Birmingham, and red-wristed
from the slaughter at Chalgrove; where, by the treachery of the infamous
Urrey, they had let out the life-blood of England's purest patriot.
In a very revel of Satanic delight they drew around the doomed city, as
eagles preparing to stoop at prey, or rather as vultures on quarry
already killed. For it had neither strength of fortification, nor
defending force sufficient to resist them. As already said, Waller
going west had almost stripped it of its defenders, numbers of whom were
now lying dead on the downs of Wiltshire, as the Royalist leaders well
knew. So there was no question as between siege and assault, Rupert,
soon as arrived on the ground, determining to storm.
And storm it was, commenced the next morning at earliest hour.
Successful on the Gloucester side, where Rupert himself attacked, and
the traitor Langrish, with the timid Fiennes, defended. After all his
boasting, the lawyer-soldier let the enemy in, almost without striking a
blow. Nor did they pass over his dead body either. He survived the sad
day, but never more to be trusted with sword in the cause of a
struggling people.
Very different was the defence on the southern side, and of different
stuff the defenders. There Sir Richard Walwyn with his Foresters, and
Birch with his Bridgemen, held the ramparts against Hertford and
Maurice, not only foiling the attack, but beating them off. In that
quarter had been blows enough, with blood flowing in rivers. The
Cornish men were cut down by scores, among them some of their best
leaders, as Slanning and Trevannion. Alas! all in vain. Alike to no
purpose proved the gallantry of the soldier knight and the stanch
courage of the merchant-soldier! Unavailable their deeds of valour; for
while they were fighting the foe in their front--in the act of putting
him to rout--behind they heard a trumpet sounding signals for parley!
And turning, beheld a white flag, waving from a staff, within the city's
walls! Saw and heard all this with amazement. On their side the
assailants were repulsed, and Bristol still safe. Why then this show of
surrender? Could it be treason?
Birch believed it was, though not on the part of Fiennes. He was but
vacillating and frightened, Langrish playing the traitor, as the events
proved, ending in capitulation. But while Sir Richard and his troopers
were still in doubt about the purport of the signals, they saw an
aide-de-camp galloping towards them--the same who brought the despatch
to Montserrat House at the breaking up of the ball. A verbal message he
carried now--command for them to cease fighting.
"And why?" demanded the astonished knight, other voices asking the same,
as much in anger as astonishment. "For what reason should we cease
fighting? We're on the eve of victory!"
"I know not the reason, Colonel Walwyn," responded the aide-de-camp,
evidently ashamed of the part he was constrained to play; "only that
they've beaten us on the Gloucester side, and got into the works. The
Governor asked for an armistice, which Prince Rupert has granted."
"Oh! you have Rupert round there, have you? I thought as much. This is
Langrish's doing. Gentlemen," he observed to the officers now gathering
around him, "we may guess how 'twill end--in a base, traitorous
surrender. Possibly to be delivered over to the tender mercies of this
princely freebooter. Are you ready to risk it with me, and cut our way
out?"
"Ready--yes!" responded Eustace Trevor, and the men of the Forester
troop, loudest of all their sergeant.
"We, too!" cried the Bridgemen, Birch giving them the cue; while others
here and there echoed the daring resolve.
But the majority were silent, and shrank back. It was too hopeless, too
desperate, running the gauntlet against countless odds. With the whole
garrison agreeing to it, there might have been a chance. But they knew
this would be divided, in view of the treason hinted at.
While they were still in debate as to what should be done, another
mounted messenger came galloping up with news which quickened their
deliberation, bringing it almost instantly to a close. The enemy had
offered honourable terms, and Fiennes had accepted them. It was no
longer a question of surrender, but a _fait accompli_.
"What are the conditions?" every one eagerly asked.
To get answer: "No prisoners to be taken, no plundering. Soldiers, and
all who have borne arms against the King, left free to march out and
away. Citizens the same, if they wish it. Three days to be allowed the
disaffected for clearing out of the city, and removal of household
effects." After that--ay, and before it, as the wise ones believed--it
would be "'ware the pillager!"
On its face the bond was fair and reasonable enough, and many were
rather surprised at its leniency. Certainly, to one unacquainted with
the circumstances, such conditions of surrender might seem more than
generous. But knowing the motives, all idea of generosity is at once
eliminated. Around to Rupert had come the report of repulse on the
southern side--Slanning killed, Trevannion, too; with slaughter all
along the Cornish line, and a likelihood of utter rout there. Besides,
two or three scores of distinguished prisoners inside Bristol had to be
considered; these no longer on parole, but jailed, and still held as
hostages. With, these _guages_ against any attempt at cruel extortion,
none could be safely made; and the keys of Bristol were handed over to
Prince Rupert by Nathaniel Fiennes in a quiet, consenting, almost
amicable way, as might the seals of office from a going-out mayor to his
successor.
How the son of the Elector Palatinate honoured the trust, and kept faith
with his word, is matter of history. He did neither one nor the other;
instead, disregarded both, basely, infamously. Soon as his followers
were well inside the gates, as had been predicted, there was pillage
unrestrained; insult and outrage to every one they encountered on the
streets, women not excepted. This was the way of the Cavaliers--the
self-proclaimed _gentlemen_ of England.