Away up Great Hampton Street and Hockley Hill the jewellery factories were looted, and hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of gems and gold were carried off, while the Mint was entered, afterwards being burned because only copper coins were found there, and the pictures in the Art Gallery were wantonly slashed by sabres and bayonets.
The scenes on that memorable night were awful. Birmingham, one of the most wealthy cities in the kingdom, fell at last, after a most stubborn resistance, for just before day broke the overwhelming forces of Russia occupying the streets commenced to drive out the defenders, and shoot down those who turned to resist. From Bordesley to Handsworth, and from Smethwick to Aston, the city was in the hands of the enemy. The banks in New Street were broken open, and the gold stuffed into the pockets of the uncouth dwellers on the Don and the Volga, Chamberlain's Memorial was wrecked, and Queen's College occupied by infantry. Cossack officers established themselves in the Grand and Queen's Hotels, and their men were billeted at the Midland, Union, Conservative, and other Clubs, and at many minor hotels and buildings.
Before the dawn had spread, whole rows of shops were burning, their brilliant glare illuminating the streets that ran with blood. It was a fearful scene of death and desolation.
The majority of the citizens had fled, leaving everything in the hands of the enemy, who still continued their work of pillage. In the streets the bodies of 10,000 Russians and 3000 British lay unheeded, while no fewer than 9000 of the enemy's infantry had been wounded.
The headquarters of the Russian army had at last been established in a British city, for over the great Council House there now lazily flapped in the fresh morning breeze the great yellow-and-black flag of the Tsar Alexander.
And the Russian General, finding he had lost the enormous force of 61,000 men, spent the grey hours of dawn in nervous anxiousness, pacing the room in which he had installed himself, contemplating the frightful disaster, and undecided how next to act.
An incident illustrative of the fierceness of the fight outside the city was published in the Times several days later. It was an extract from a private letter written by Lieut. J. G. Morris of the 3rd Battalion of the York and Lancaster Regiment, and was as follows:—
"The sun that day was blazing and merciless. Throughout the morning our battalion had lost heavily in the valley, when suddenly at about twelve o'clock the enemy apparently received reinforcements, and we were then driven back upon Weatheroak by sheer force of numbers, and afterwards again fell further back towards our position on the high ground in Hagley Road.
"In this hasty retreat I found myself with a sergeant and eighteen men pursued by a large skirmishing party of Russians. All we could do was to fly before them. This we did, until at length, turning into Beech Lane, we found ourselves before a small, low-built ancient hostelry, the King's Head Inn, with a dilapidated and somewhat crude counterfeit presentment of King George II. outside. The place was unoccupied, and I decided immediately to enter it. I could count on every one of my men; therefore very soon we were inside, and had barricaded the little place. Scarcely had we accomplished this when the first shots rang out, and in a few moments the space outside where the cross-roads meet literally swarmed with Russians, who quickly extended, and, seeking cover at the junction of each of the five roads, commenced a terrific fusillade. The windows from which we fired were smashed, the woodwork splintered everywhere, and so thickly came the bullets that my men had to exercise the utmost caution in concealing themselves while firing.