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.”
[60] These particulars I have collected partly from the Blakeway Papers, and partly from the puritan tract of “The Burning Bush not consumed.”
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.