The next day a messenger was sent to Shrewsbury, to desire that Captain Winget, who was taken prisoner before Worcester, might be exchanged for one of the others; but what return wee shall have is not yet knowne.
It is conceived there was about 80 killed and 45 wounded on both sides, but which side lost most I cannot say; onely we ought to give God thanks that during the space of five hours bickering, no more blood should be shed. This is the truth of our proceedings. At my next opportunity I shall send to you. Fare well.
John Norcroft.
We learn also from the following extract from a Puritan tract, entitled “The Burning Bush not consumed,” that in the Autumn of the year 1645, that is, about half-a-year before the capture of the town and castle, a detachment from the garrison of Shrewsbury [at that time in the hands of the rebels] made an attempt on Bridgnorth, which partially succeeded:—“About the 12th. inst., (i. e. 12th. Sept., 1645) we received certain intelligence by letters from Shrewsbury, that the valiant and victorious forces of that brave and most active garrison, having intelligence in what posture the enemy lay at Bridgenorth, they suddenly and silently marched thither, and undiscovered fell upon the sentinels, soone surprized them, carried the town itself, and then fell upon the enemy, drove them into the Castle, slew some of them, and tooke some prisoners that the enemy had of theirs, tooke about 180 horse, and some good pillage; all which they safely brought away, and returned triumphantly to Shrewsbury againe.” (Part iv, p. 268.)
It is, however, the final siege and capture of Bridgnorth that is the matter of chief interest to us, and fortunately we have a very detailed account of what then took place.[60] The Parliamentary Committee of Shrewsbury, after the surrender of the garrison of High Ercall, despatched a party of horse and foot against Bridgnorth. But these being delayed longer than was anticipated, on account of the length of the march, and the fatigue which they had suffered in consequence, the inhabitants received notice of their design, and had time to make some preparations against the attack. Nevertheless the day following, i. e. March 31, 1646, they were summoned to surrender. Colonel Billingsley, who commanded the town, made no reply to the summons, and Colonel Howard, who held the Castle, sent a peremptory answer of defiance. On this the Parliamentary forces formed themselves into three divisions, and determined to storm the town. The cavalry approached the North Gate by the Broseley Road; that part of it, lying between the present Turnpike Gate and the Innage Lane, being then a very deep and narrow defile, in some places 80 feet deep. At this point they suffered severely; for the King’s troops, taking advantage of the nature of the ground, killed many of them, not only by shot, but by rolling down large stones upon them from the summit of the rock. A body of infantry, however, made their approach by a path considerably to the left of this, most probably by the fields adjoining the old Rope Walk, and from thence by Love Lane they advanced against Saint Leonard’s Church Yard. Into this they easily forced an entrance, as it was only slightly fenced by palisades. There a sharp encounter ensued between them and a body of the King’s troops, and before the fight was done many were left companions of the dead, on whose graves they had so fiercely fought. Among these was the gallant Colonel Billingsley, the leader of the Royalists. The sword which he used on the occasion, is now in the possession of a descendant of the family, in the parish of Astley Abbots, by whom it is preserved with all the reverent care, which is due to so valuable an heirloom. It had often been drawn by this brave cavalier in the cause of his rightful sovereign, and it did its last service in one of the consecrated enclosures of that church, which he, as well as other noble soldiers of his time, felt it both his duty, and one of the privileges of his birthright, to defend. He lies buried in the Church Yard of Astley Abbots, his native parish; but the parish of Saint Leonard has reaped a benefit from its Church Yard having been the scene of the last gallant action which he performed; for it was partly at least on this account, that a connection of Colonel Billingsley founded and endowed the Hospital for ten poor widows, which stands on the south side of Saint Leonard’s Church. The inscription over the gate bears witness to this. It is as follows.—
“Anno Domini, MDCLXXXVII.
These Almes Houses, for ten poor Widdows of this upper Town, were Built and Endowed by Francis Palmer, late Rector of Sandy, in the County of Bedford, who had an affection to this Place, his Mother being buried in this Church, and was Sister to Colonel Francis Billingsley, late of Abbots Astley, slain in this Church Yard, in the Service of King Charles ye first.”
But it is time to return to the narrative of the siege. The infantry of the Parliamentary forces having succeeded in the encounter with the King’s troops in the Church Yard, immediately opened the North Gate, and gave admittance to the cavalry; and before this combined body of horse and foot, the Royalists were compelled to retreat into the Castle. On their way they were annoyed by the inhabitants of the town, who hurled stones and other missiles on them, from the stalls and piazzas which lined the High Street. It is evident that a bad feeling had sprung up between them, from what cause is not exactly known. I have seen documents which clearly prove that some Roundheads had been for a time in the town, secretly plotting against the cause of the King; and these very likely stirred up ill will between the soldiers and the inhabitants, which, as other documents clearly prove, was aggravated by the rude license which soldiers under such circumstances often give themselves.[61] Whitelock states ([p. 206]) that the town had refused to bring in a month’s provisions for the troops, which had been expected, and this was a wrong which no doubt deepened the feeling of resentment already existing. To this, some suppose is to be attributed the destruction of the town by fire, which the King’s troops effected after getting into the Castle. This act on their part, however, may have been, one, simply of self defence; for they very probably thought, that if the enemy obtained possession of the town as it stood, it would give them great advantage in carrying on the siege of the Castle, and of this advantage they were determined to deprive them. They therefore at once set fire to the town. The first house that caught fire was one in Listley Street, which stood near the northern postern of the Castle, and from this it spread till it reached the middle of High Street; there it was extinguished by the exertions of the Parliamentary troops. The garrison of the Castle made a second attempt on Easter Tuesday, and completely succeeded. Unhappily for the ancient Church of St. Leonard’s, the rebel army had converted it into a powder magazine—for in the rude time of war but little respect is paid to the consecrated houses of God, provided they can be turned to any advantage; and they who scrupled not to make Worcester Cathedral a stable for their cavalry horses, would not hesitate to turn the Parish Church of St. Leonard’s into an ammunition store. But it proved fatal to the building; for the Governor of the Castle, Sir Lewis Kirke, hearing of the circumstance, caused a cannon to be mounted on a round tower on the North East side of the Castle, and from thence bombarded the Church, and set fire to it. The wind being high, the flames quickly spread to the adjoining College and Almshouses, and at last consumed all that remained of the High Town.[62] The soldiers belonging to the army of the Parliament endeavoured to arrest the progress of the fire, but they were so galled by shots fired from the walls of the Castle, that they were obliged to give over the attempt; so that the flames spread in every direction without resistance, and soon accomplished the work of destruction. Thus was our ancient town laid in ruins: scarcely anything belonging to it was spared. Private houses and public offices—the receipt of custom and the hall of justice—the mart of merchandise and the sanctuary of God—alike had become a prey to the devouring element; and little or nothing was left but bare walls, blackened and defaced by fire. The misery of the inhabitants is described as having been most severe. Rich and poor alike (for it was one of those visitations which levels all distinctions) were left houseless, and sought shelter where they could, in the fields around the town, in thickets, and under rocks: all their household property destroyed, and their life itself in jeopardy. Many a wretched invalid, wholly unfit to be moved, would be hurried from his bed to escape the flames—those at least who had any to care for them; while some, no doubt, in the confusion and alarm would be forgotten, and left to die a more awful death than they had looked for—their own bed becoming their funeral pile. He surely brings on himself a fearful responsibility who heedlessly evokes the spirit of war, and without an imperative necessity draws the sword to do its dreadful work.