Bradford and Gloucester were Puritan towns, beleaguered by what they looked upon as prelatical armies; and the incidents connected with the siege of each serve at once to bring out some curious features in the memorable strife, and to shew the declining condition of the Parliament, at the time when the Westminster Assembly held its first sittings. Bradford had suffered assault so early as December, 1642. The Royalists, who were encamped at Bowling Hill, had selected Sunday morning, as the Puritans were attending church, to plant their guns against the steeple; but a snowfall, the bursting of a cannon, and other misadventures on the part of the besiegers, for a time saved the besieged. The following midsummer, the church, which was still the prize in dispute, endured "many a shake," whilst the people hung up wool-packs by the side of the building, only to see, however, almost immediately afterwards, the ropes cut down by the shots of the enemy.[353]
On Lord's-day morning, the Royalists beat drums for a parley, and spent all the day in removing their guns "into the mouth of the town," the inhabitants being so reduced that they had little ammunition, and for their matches were compelled to use "untwisted cords dipped in oil." About sunset the parley ended, when a shot killed three men who were sitting on a bench; and during all night the valley shone with the flash of artillery. When resistance became useless, the vanquished thought that the Earl of Newcastle, who commanded the King's troops, would shew them no mercy; but he gave them quarter, on the ground, as was superstitiously rumoured, that an apparition on a Sunday night had pulled the clothes from off his bed several times, crying in tones of lamentation, "Pity poor Bradford." "A young Puritan gentleman," reported as having attempted to break through the enemy's lines, became famous in after days as David Clarkson, the Nonconformist divine.[354]
1643, August.
Siege of Gloucester.
The siege of Gloucester was commenced on August the 10th, 1643. The Parliamentary committee, believing that the metropolis would not be safe if Gloucester were taken, sent a strong force for its relief, under the Earl of Essex, for the better furtherance of the service, and required all persons "dwelling within the lines of communication" immediately to shut up their shops, and to keep them closed till the beleaguered should be delivered. The King, sitting down about a quarter of a mile distant from the old cathedral city, despatched two heralds to demand surrender. They returned to the royal camp with two men, lean and pale, of "bald visages," and in such strange garb and carriage—according to Clarendon[355]—that the merriest were made sad, and yet even the grave were provoked to laughter. These poor Puritan envoys, whom the Royalist historian saw with jaundiced eyes, manifested not a little bravery and firmness, when they delivered a message from their fellow-townsmen in these memorable words—"We do keep this city according to our oath and allegiance, to and for the use of his Majesty and his royal posterity; and do accordingly conceive ourselves wholly bound to obey the commands of his Majesty, signified by both Houses of Parliament; and are resolved, by God's help, to keep this city accordingly."[356]
1643, September.
The Gloucester men, made of this sturdy mettle, forthwith set to work and raised entrenchments; and the Gloucester women seem to have caught the spirit of their husbands and fathers, for matrons and maids wrought all the afternoon in the little mead, fetching in turf to repair the works, whilst the soldiers, on the other side, cut off the pipes which supplied the city conduits, and diverted the waters which drove the mills. On Sunday, which seems to have been with the Royalists a favourite day for such work, the engineers planted pieces of ordnance on a battery at Gawdy Green, and thence plied their shots; but breaches were no sooner made in the fortifications than they were mended, through the untiring energy and courage of the inhabitants, who employed wool-sacks in repairing the damage done. From day to day for three whole weeks, some incident occurred to alarm or encourage the people, till, on Sunday, September the 3rd, when they were at church, news came that the besiegers had planted a store of cannon-baskets at the east gate, and that it was supposed they intended there to spring a mine. The Puritan preacher hearing this, dismissed his audience without any sermon, when the men, equally prepared to pray or fight, immediately began to line the houses over the east gate, and to make a strong breastwork across the street.
The renowned William Chillingworth, we may observe in passing, "was in Charles's camp, engaged in bringing his classical knowledge to bear upon the contrivance of engines ("after the manner of the Roman testudines cum pluteis.") They ran upon cart wheels, we are told, with a musket-proof covering to conceal the assailants, who shot through holes; and these machines—which were odd things for a clergyman to make—were also furnished with a protection to rest on the breastworks, and so to form a complete bridge over the ditch into the city. The employment of a divine in military matters was then by no means a peculiar circumstance; for it is a little curious that his antagonist, Francis Cheynell, Fellow of Merton College, Oxford, accompanied the Earl of Essex into Cornwall, where he shewed a soldierly courage, and where it was said his commands were as readily obeyed as the general's own.[357]
After much suffering by the citizens of Gloucester, the siege was raised by the Earl of Essex, on the 5th of September.