THE LAST STAND MADE BY THE ROYALISTS.
Once more 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 great courage, 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.