Micah Clarke

  Chapter XXVIII. Of the Fight in Wells Cathedral

  I am fairly tied to the chariot-wheels of history now, my dear children,and must follow on with name and place and date, whether my tale sufferby it or no. With such a drama as this afoot it were impertinent tospeak of myself, save in so far as I saw or heard what may make theseold scenes more vivid to you. It is no pleasant matter for me to dwellupon, yet, convinced as I am that there is no such thing as chanceeither in the great or the little things of this world, I am very surethat the sacrifices of these brave men were not thrown away, and thattheir strivings were not as profitless as might at first sight appear.If the perfidious race of Stuart is not now seated upon the throne, andif religion in England is still a thing of free growth, we may, to mythinking, thank these Somerset yokels for it, who first showed how smalla thing would shake the throne of an unpopular monarch. Monmouth'sarmy was but the vanguard of that which marched throe years later intoLondon, when James and his cruel ministers were flying as outcasts overthe face of the earth.

  On the night of June 27, or rather early in the morning of June 28, wereached the town of Frome, very wet and miserable, for the rain had comeon again, and all the roads were quagmires. From this next day we pushedon once more to Wells, where we spent the night and the whole of thenext day, to give the men time to get their clothes dry, and to recoverthemselves after their privations.

  In the forenoon a parade of our Wiltshire regiment was held in theCathedral Close, when Monmouth praised it, as it well deserved, for thesoldierly progress made in so short a time.

  As we returned to our quarters after dismissing our men we came upon agreat throng of the rough Bagworthy and Oare miners, who were assembledin the open space in front of the Cathedral, listening to one of theirown number, who was addressing them from a cart. The wild and frenziedgestures of the man showed us that he was one of those extreme sectarieswhose religion runs perilously near to madness. The hums and groanswhich rose from the crowd proved, however, that his fiery words werewell suited to his hearers, so we halted on the verge of the multitudeand hearkened to his address. A red-bearded, fierce-faced man he was,with tangled shaggy hair tumbling over his gleaming eyes, and a hoarsevoice which resounded over the whole square.

  'What shall we not do for the Lord?' he cried; 'what shall we not do forthe Holy of Holies? Why is it that His hand is heavy upon us? Why is itthat we have not freed this land, even as Judith freed Bethulia? Behold,we have looked for peace but no good came, and for a time of health, andbehold trouble! Why is this, I say? Truly, brothers, it is because wehave slighted the Lord, because we have not been wholehearted towardsHim. Lo! we have praised Him with our breath, but in our deeds we havebeen cold towards Him. Ye know well that Prelacy is an accursed thing--ahissing and an abomination in the eyes of the Almighty! Yet what havewe, His servants, wrought for Him in this matter? Have we not seenPrelatist churches, churches of form and of show, where the creature isconfounded with the Creator--have we not seen them, I say, and have wenot forborne to sweep them away, and so lent our sanction to them? Thereis the sin of a lukewarm and back-sliding generation! There is the causewhy the Lord should look coldly upon His people! Lo! at Shepton and atFrome we have left such churches behind us. At Glastonbury, too, we havespared those wicked walls which were reared by idolatrous hands of old.Woe unto ye, if, after having put your hands to God's plough, ye turnback from the work! See there!' he howled, facing round to the beautifulCathedral, 'what means this great heap of stones? Is it not an altar ofBaal? Is it not built for man-worship rather than God-worship? Is it notthere that the man Ken, tricked out in his foolish rochet and baubles,may preach his soulless and lying doctrines, which are but the old dishof Popery served up under a new cover? And shall we suffer this thing?Shall we, the chosen children of the Great One, allow this plague-spotto remain? Can we expect the Almighty to help us when we will notstretch out a hand to help Him? We have left the other temples ofPrelacy behind us. Shall we leave this one, too, my brothers?'

  'No, no!' yelled the crowd, tossing and swaying.

  'Shall we pluck it down, then, until no one stone is left upon another?'

  'Yes, yes!' they shouted.

  'Now, at once?'

  'Yes, yes!'

  'Then to work!' he cried, and springing from the cart he rushed towardsthe Cathedral, with the whole mob of wild fanatics at his heels. Somecrowded in, shouting and yelling, through the open doors, while othersswarmed up the pillars and pedestals of the front, hacking at thesculptured ornaments, and tugging at the grey old images which filledevery niche.

  'This must be stopped,' said Saxon curtly. 'We cannot afford to insultand estray the whole Church of England to please a few hot-headedranters. The pillage of this Cathedral would do our cause more harm thana pitched battle lost. Do you bring up your company, Sir Gervas, and weshall do what we can to hold them in check until they come.'

  'Hi, Masterton!' cried the Baronet, spying one of his under-officersamong the crowd who were looking on, neither assisting nor opposing therioters. 'Do you hasten to the quarters, and tell Barker to bring up thecompany with their matches burning. I may be of use here.'

  'Ha, here is Buyse!' cried Saxon joyously, as the huge German ploughedhis way through the crowd. 'And Lord Grey, too! We must save theCathedral, my lord! They would sack and burn it.'

  'This way, gentlemen,' cried an old grey-haired man, running out towardsus with hands outspread, and a bunch of keys clanking at his girdle. 'Ohhasten, gentlemen, if ye can indeed prevail over these lawless men! Theyhave pulled down Saint Peter, and they will have Paul down too unlesshelp comes. There will not be an apostle left. The east window isbroken. They have brought a hogshead of beer, and are broaching itupon the high altar. Oh, alas, alas! That such things should be in aChristian land!' He sobbed aloud and stamped about in a very frenzy ofgrief.

  'It is the verger, sirs,' said one of the townsfolk. 'He hath grown greyin the Cathedral.'

  'This way to the vestry door, my lords and gentlemen,' cried the oldman, pushing a way strenuously through the crowd. 'Now, lack-a-day, thesainted Paul hath gone too!'

  As he spoke a splintering crash from inside the Cathedral announced somefresh outrage on the part of the zealots. Our guide hastened on withrenewed speed, until he came to a low oaken door heavily arched, whichhe unlocked with much rasping of wards and creaking of hinges. Throughthis we sidled as best we might, and hurried after the old man down astone-flagged corridor, which led through a wicket into the Cathedralclose by the high altar.

  The great building was full of the rioters, who were rushing hither andthither, destroying and breaking everything which they could lay theirhands on. A good number of these were genuine zealots, the followers ofthe preacher whom we had listened to outside. Others, however, were onthe face of them mere rogues and thieves, such as gather round everyarmy upon the march. While the former were tearing down images from thewalls, or hurling the books of common prayer through the stained-glasswindows, the others were rooting up the massive brass candlesticks,and carrying away everything which promised to be of value. One raggedfellow was in the pulpit, tearing off the crimson velvet and hurling itdown among the crowd. Another had upset the reading-desk, and was busilyengaged in wrenching off the brazen fastenings. In the centre ofthe side aisle a small group had a rope round the neck of Mark theEvangelist, and were dragging lustily upon it, until, even as weentered, the statue, after tottering for a few moments, came crashingdown upon the marble floor. The shouts which greeted every freshoutrage, with the splintering of woodwork, the smashing of windows, andthe clatter of falling masonry, made up a most deafening uproar, whichwas increased by the droning of the organ, until some of the rioterssilenced it by slitting up the bellows.

  What more immediately concerned ourselves was the scene which was beingenacted just in front of us at the high altar. A barrel of beer had beenplaced upon it, and a dozen ruffians gathered round it, one of whom withmany ribald jests had climbed up, and was engaged in knocking in t
hetop of the cask with a hatchet. As we entered he had just succeeded inbroaching it, and the brown mead was foaming over, while the mob withroars of laughter were passing up their dippers and pannikins. TheGerman soldier rapped out a rough jagged oath at this spectacle, andshouldering his way through the roisterers he sprang upon the altar.The ringleader was bending over his cask, black-jack in hand, when thesoldier's iron grip fell upon his collar, and in a moment his heels wereflapping in the air, and his head three feet deep in the cask, while thebeer splashed and foamed in every direction. With a mighty heave Buysepicked up the barrel with the half-drowned miner inside, and hurled itclattering down the broad marble steps which led from the body of thechurch. At the same time, with the aid of a dozen of our men who hadfollowed us into the Cathedral, we drove back the fellow's comrades, andthrust them out beyond the rails which divided the choir from the nave.

  Our inroad had the effect of checking the riot, but it simply did so byturning the fury of the zealots from the walls and windows to ourselves.Images, stone-work, and wood-carvings were all abandoned, and the wholeswarm came rushing up with a hoarse buzz of rage, all discipline andorder completely lost in their religious frenzy. 'Smite the Prelatists!'they howled. 'Down with the friends of Antichrist! Cut them off even atthe horns of the altar! Down with them!' On either side they massed, awild, half-demented crowd, some with arms and some without, but filledto a man with the very spirit of murder.

  'This is a civil war within a civil war,' said Lord Grey, with a quietsmile. 'We had best draw, gentlemen, and defend the gap in the rails, ifwe may hold it good until help arrives.' He flashed out his rapier ashe spoke, and took his stand on the top of the steps, with Saxon and SirGervas upon one side of him, Buyse, Reuben, and myself upon the other.There was only room for six to wield their weapons with effect, so ourscanty band of followers scattered themselves along the line of therails, which were luckily so high and strong as to make an escaladodifficult in the face of any opposition.

  The riot had now changed into open mutiny among these marshmen andminers. Pikes, scythes, and knives glimmered through the dim light,while their wild cries re-echoed from the high arched roof like thehowling of a pack of wolves. 'Go forward, my brothers,' cried thefanatic preacher, who had been the cause of the outbreak--'go forwardagainst them! What though they be in high places! There is One whois higher than they. Shall we shrink from His work because of a nakedsword? Shall we suffer the Prelatist altar to be preserved by these sonsof Amalek? On, on! In the name of the Lord!'

  'In the name of the Lord!' cried the crowd, with a sort of hissing gasp,like one who is about to plunge into an icy bath. 'In the name of theLord!' From either side they came on, gathering speed and volume, untilat last with a wild cry they surged right down upon our sword-points.

  I can say nothing of what took place to right or left of me during theruffle, for indeed there were so many pressing upon us, and the fightwas so hot, that it was all that each of us could do to hold our own.The very number of our assailants was in our favour, by hampering theirsword-arms. One burly miner cut fiercely at me with his scythe, butmissing me he swung half round with the force of the blow, and I passedmy sword through his body before he could recover himself. It was thefirst time that I had ever slain a man in anger, my dear children, andI shall never forget his white startled face as he looked over hisshoulder at me ere he fell. Another closed in with me before I could getmy weapon disengaged, but I struck him out with my left hand, and thenbrought the flat of my sword upon his head, laying him senselessupon the pavement. God knows, I did not wish to take the lives of themisguided and ignorant zealots, but our own were at stake. A marshman,looking more like a shaggy wild beast than a human being, darted undermy weapon and caught me round the knees, while another brought a flaildown upon my head-piece, from which it glanced on to my shoulder. Athird thrust at me with a pike, and pricked me on the thigh, but I shorehis weapon in two with one blow, and split his head with the next. Theman with the flail gave back at sight of this, and a kick freed me fromthe unarmed ape-like creature at my feet, so that I found myself clearof my assailants, and none the worse for my encounter, save for a touchon the leg and some stiffness of the neck and shoulder.

  Looking round I found that my comrades had also beaten off those whowere opposed to them. Saxon was holding his bloody rapier in his lefthand, while the blood was trickling from a slight wound upon his right.Two miners lay across each other in front of him, but at the feet ofSir Gervas Jerome no fewer than four bodies were piled together. He hadplucked out his snuff-box as I glanced at him, and was offering it witha bow and a flourish to Lord Grey, as unconcernedly as though he wereback once more in his London coffee-house. Buyse leaned upon his longbroadsword, and looked gloomily at a headless trunk in front of him,which I recognised from the dress as being that of the preacher. As toReuben, he was unhurt himself, but in sore distress over my own triflingscar, though I assured the faithful lad that it was a less thing thanmany a tear from branch or thorn which we had had when blackberryingtogether.

  The fanatics, though driven back, were not men to be content with asingle repulse. They had lost ten of their number, including theirleader, without being able to break our line, but the failure onlyserved to increase their fury. For a minute or so they gathered pantingin the aisle. Then with a mad yell they dashed in once more, and made adesperate effort to cut a way through to the altar. It was a fiercer andmore prolonged struggle than before. One of our followers was stabbed tothe heart over the rails, and fell without a groan. Another was stunnedby a mass of masonry hurled at him by a giant cragsman. Reuben wasfelled by a club, and would have been dragged out and hacked to pieceshad I not stood over him and beaten off his assailants. Sir Gervas wasborne off his legs by the rush, but lay like a wounded wildcat, strikingout furiously at everything which came within his reach. Buyse andSaxon, back to back, stood firm amidst the seething, rushing crowd,cutting down every man within sweep of their swords. Yet in such astruggle numbers must in the end prevail, and I confess that I for onehad begun to have fears for the upshot of our contest, when the heavytramp of disciplined feet rang through the Cathedral, and the Baronet'smusqueteers came at a quick run up the central aisle. The fanatics didnot await their charge, but darted off over benches and pews, followedby our allies, who were furious on seeing their beloved Captain upon theground. There was a wild minute or two, with confused shuffling of feet,stabs, groans, and the clatter of musket butts on the marble floor. Ofthe rioters some were slain, but the greater part threw down their armsand were arrested at the command of Lord Grey, while a strong guard wasplaced at the gates to prevent any fresh outburst of sectarian fury.

  When at last the Cathedral was cleared and order restored, we had timeto look around us and to reckon our own injuries. In all my wanderings,and the many wars in which I afterwards fought--wars compared to whichthis affair of Monmouth's was but the merest skirmish--I have never seena stranger or more impressive scene. In the dim, solemn light the pileof bodies in front of the rails, with their twisted limbs and white-setfaces, had a most sad and ghost-like aspect. The evening light, shiningthrough one of the few unbroken stained-glass windows, cast greatsplotches of vivid crimson and of sickly green upon the heap ofmotionless figures. A few wounded men sat about in the front pews or layupon the steps moaning for water. Of our own small company not one hadescaped unscathed. Three of our followers had been slain outright, whilea fourth was lying stunned from a blow. Buyse and Sir Gervas were muchbruised. Saxon was cut on the right arm. Reuben had been felled by abludgeon stroke, and would certainly have been slain but for the finetemper of Sir Jacob Clancing's breastplate, which had turned a fiercepike-thrust. As to myself it is scarce worth the mention, but my headsang for some hours like a good wife's kettle, and my boot was full ofblood, which may have been a blessing in disguise, for Sneckson, ourHavant barber, was ever dinning into my ears how much the better Ishould be for a phlebotomy.

  In the meantime all the troops had assembled and the mutiny
been swiftlystamped out. There were doubtless many among the Puritans who had nolove for the Prelatists, but none save the most crack-brained fanaticscould fail to see that the sacking of the Cathedral would set thewhole Church of England in arms, and ruin the cause for which they werefighting. As it was, much damage had been done; for whilst the gangwithin had been smashing all which they could lay their hands upon,others outside had chipped off cornices and gargoyles, and had evendragged the lead covering from the roof and hurled it down in greatsheets to their companions beneath. This last led to some profit, forthe army had no great store of ammunition, so the lead was gathered upby Monmouth's orders and recast into bullets. The prisoners were heldin custody for a time, but it was deemed unwise to punish them, so thatthey were finally pardoned and dismissed from the army.

  A parade of our whole force was held in the fields outside the town uponthe second day of our stay at Wells, the weather having at last becomewarm and sunny. The foot was then found to muster six regiments of ninehundred men, or five thousand four hundred in all. Of these fifteenhundred were musqueteers, two thousand were pikemen, and the rest werescythesmen or peasants with flails and hammers. A few bodies, such asour own or those from Taunton, might fairly lay claim to be soldiers,but the most of them were still labourers and craftsmen with weaponsin their hands. Yet, ill-armed and ill-drilled as they were, they werestill strong robust Englishmen, full of native courage and of religiouszeal. The light and fickle Monmouth began to take heart once more at thesight of their sturdy bearing, and at the sound of their hearty cheers.I heard him as I sat my horse beside his staff speak exultantly to thosearound him, and ask whether these fine fellows could possibly be beatenby mercenary half-hearted hirelings.

  'What say you, Wade!' he cried. 'Are we never to see a smile on that sadface of yours? Do you not see a woolsack in store for you as you lookupon these brave fellows?'

  'God forbid that I should say a word to damp your Majesty's ardour,' thelawyer answered; 'yet I cannot but remember that there was a time whenyour Majesty, at the head of these same hirelings, did drive men asbrave as these in headlong rout from Bothwell Bridge.'

  'True, true!' said the King, passing his hand over his forehead--afavourite motion when he was worried and annoyed. 'They were bold men,the western Covenanters, yet they could not stand against the rush ofour battalions. But they had had no training, whereas these can fight inline and fire a platoon as well as one would wish to see.'

  'If we hadna a gun nor a patronal among us,' said Ferguson, 'if we hadnasae muckle as a sword, but just oor ain honds, yet would the Lard gie usthe victory, if it seemed good in His a' seeing een.'

  'All battles are but chance work, your Majesty,' remarked Saxon, whosesword-arm was bound round with his kerchief. 'Some lucky turn, some slipor chance which none can foresee, is ever likely to turn the scale. Ihave lost when I have looked to win, and I have won when I have lookedto lose. It is an uncertain game, and one never knows the finish tillthe last card is played.'

  'Not till the stakes are drawn,' said Buyse, in his deep guttural voice.'There is many a leader that wins what you call the trick, and yet losesthe game.'

  'The trick being the battle and the game the campaign,' quoth the King,with a smile. 'Our German friend is a master of camp-fire metaphors. Butmethinks our poor horses are in a sorry state. What would cousin Williamover at The Hague, with his spruce guards, think of such a show asthis?'

  During this talk the long column of foot had tramped past, still bearingthe banners which they had brought with them to the wars, though muchthe worse for wind and weather. Monmouth's remarks had been drawn forthby the aspect of the ten troops of horse which followed. The chargershad been sadly worn by the continued work and constant rain, while theriders, having allowed their caps and fronts to get coated with rust,appeared to be in as bad a plight as their steeds. It was clear to theleast experienced of us that if we were to hold our own it was uponour foot that we must rely. On the tops of the low hills all round thefrequent shimmer of arms, glancing here and there when the sun's raysstruck upon them, showed how strong our enemies were in the very pointin which we were so weak. Yet in the main this Wells review was cheeringto us, as showing that the men kept in good heart, and that there was noill-feeling at the rough handling of the zealots upon the day before.

  The enemy's horse hovered about us during these days, but the foot hadbeen delayed through the heavy weather and the swollen streams. On thelast day of June we marched out of Wells, and made our way across flatsedgy plains and over the low Polden Hills to Bridgewater, where wefound some few recruits awaiting us. Here Monmouth had some thoughtsof making a stand, and even set to work raising earthworks, but it waspointed out to him that, even could he hold the town, there was not morethan a few days' provisions within it, while the country round had beenalready swept so bare that little more could be expected from it. Theworks were therefore abandoned, and, fairly driven to bay, without aloophole of escape left, we awaited the approach of the enemy.