Ginckle's expedition across the Shannon, and his surprise of the Irish
cavalry camp, successful as it had been, altered the position in no way.
Several days passed, and then, after a council of war, it was determined
to recross the bridge of boats, which remained undisturbed, to the Clare
side, and try to force a way across Thomond Bridge. On the 22nd of
September, all the cavalry of the army, ten regiments of infantry, and
fourteen pieces of cannon made the passage without molestation, and
marched towards the bridge, which was defended upon the Clare side by two
strong towers. As the British advanced guard of infantry approached the
bridge, it was charged by a body of Irish horse, broken, and driven back.
A strong body of cavalry rode up to support the infantry; the Irish horse
were reinforced, and a hot fight continued until, at about four o'clock
in the afternoon, the whole force of British infantry came up, and the
Irish retired upon the infantry posted in the works which covered the
bridge. Near the gate were high grounds cut up by gravel pits. The Irish
infantry were posted here, as well as in the forts; and the English, as
they advanced, were assailed with a very heavy fire from these positions,
and also from the guns on the town walls.
In spite of the heavy loss they were suffering, the English pressed on
with the greatest gallantry. Success was now almost a necessity, for, if
defeated, but few of them would ever have been able to recross the river.
Foot by foot they fought their way, pressed on past the outworks, and
pushed back the Irish infantry, till the latter were gathered round the
head of the bridge.
The Irish generals had thought that Ginckle's movement was but a
repetition of the previous raid, and the force that had been sent over to
guard the head of the bridge was altogether insufficient to withstand the
determined attack by Ginckle's force. Reinforcements were now sent across
the bridge, but this only added to the confusion. Pressed back by the
weight and power of the English attack, the Irish were beginning to
retire across the bridge, when they met the reinforcements making their
way over.
The bridge was of great length, but extremely narrow, and a complete
block took place. The English had pierced their way through the
struggling mass at the head of the bridge, and pressed on the rear of the
mass of fugitives, literally hewing their way through them, and the
pressure became so great that the regiments crossing were carried back.
The head of the British column was pushed forward by those behind, and
could only advance by slaying those in front of them and throwing their
bodies over the bridge; for the mass were wedged so tightly that movement
had now become impossible, while the Irish, as they retreated, formed
ramparts of the slain and impeded the advance of the enemy.
While the struggle on the bridge was at its fiercest, the French officer
who commanded at the drawbridge across the arch nearest to the city,
fearing that the British would press in at the rear of the Irish, and
that he might not then be able to raise the drawbridge, ordered this to
be done at once--thereby cutting off the retreat of the soldiers still on
the bridge. These jumped over the parapet into the river, and strove to
reach the city wall by swimming. Some did so, but great numbers were
drowned. This incident greatly increased the standing feud between the
Irish and French, the former declaring that the latter not only never
fought themselves, but were ready, at the first alarm, to sacrifice their
allies in order to secure their own safety.
The success of Ginckle's second raid had been complete, in so far that he
had inflicted great slaughter upon the Irish infantry, and had gained a
moral victory; but he was no nearer capturing the town. An attack across
the long narrow bridge was not even to be thought of; and he again
retired across the river.
The Irish were disheartened. Sarsfield, though a dashing cavalry
commander, appeared wholly incapable of handling large bodies of men.
Ginckle had twice given him a great opportunity, but on neither occasion
had he made the slightest effort to utilize it.
On the first occasion, surprise and uncertainty might excuse inaction on
the part of the army in Limerick, but there was no such excuse the second
time. Their force outside the town gate was but a small one; it was
certain that the English could not push across the bridge; and, as
Ginckle had taken the best part of his army across, Sarsfield could have
issued out with his whole force on the Limerick side, crushed the British
force remaining there, and captured the camp and all its stores--in which
case Ginckle's position would have been desperate. But not a movement was
made to seize an opportunity which would have been patent to any military
commander possessing genius and energy; nor, until it was too late, was
any attempt made to reinforce the detachment which, on the other side of
the bridge, was withstanding the attack of a vastly superior force.
Ginckle, relying upon the moral effect of the blow he had just struck,
renewed his negotiations. Some of the Irish leaders had already received
bribes. Others were genuinely anxious that the war should cease, now that
William was ready to grant terms which would secure the ends for which
they had been fighting. Others, again, were animated by hostility to the
French, and the fear that, if the expected reinforcements arrived and the
English were driven out, Ireland would become a mere appanage of France.
Sarsfield himself was, no doubt, swayed by his dislike to being again
superseded in the command by the arrival of another French general. He
was, too, influenced by the fear that the peace party might prevail, and
that Clifford's act of treachery might be repeated, and the enemy be
admitted into the city without any terms being arranged.
The French officers, eager to return home, made no attempt to stem the
course of events; and, on the evening of the day after the battle on the
Clare side, the drums of the besieged beat a parley, and Generals
Sarsfield and Waughup went out and had a conference with Ginckle. A
cessation of arms was concluded for the night; and in the morning the
truce was extended for three days, to allow the cavalry, who were now
encamped near Ennis, to be communicated with.
On the 25th, the principal noblemen and officers from the cavalry camp
arrived, prisoners were exchanged, and hostages on both sides were given,
until the terms of a treaty of peace could be adjusted. On the 27th, the
Irish submitted their proposals to the English general, which were--that
"all past offences should be pardoned; that the Catholics of the counties
of Cork, Limerick, Kerry, Clare, Sligo, and Mayo be restored to the
estates which they held previous to the war; freedom of worship to be
allowed; Catholics to be capable of holding all employments, civil and
military; the Irish army to be kept on foot, and those who were willing
to serve to be received into the king's service; Catholics to be at
liberty to reside in all cities and towns, and to have all rights of
citizens; and that an act of parliament should be passed to confirm these
conditions."
These terms were agreed to, and were held to be applicable, not only to
the garrison of Limerick, but to the whole of Ireland. Ginckle at once
sent an express to Cork, to order the transports in that harbour to sail
round to the Shannon, for the purpose of taking on board such part of the
Irish army as might wish to be carried to France--this being one of the
stipulations of the treaty.
Sarsfield and most of his officers, and the priests, used their utmost
efforts to persuade the soldiers to enter the French service, in
preference to the English. Their exhortations were successful. Only about
two thousand Irish joined the British army, four thousand laid down their
arms and returned to their homes, and a considerable number deserted on
their march down to Cork. The rest were shipped in transports to France,
where they entered the service of that country. Two days after the treaty
was signed, the French fleet, with ten thousand men and a great abundance
of stores, arrived at the mouth of the Shannon.
The Irish negotiators of the treaty have been greatly and deservedly
blamed, inasmuch as, while they stipulated that the proprietors of the
neighbouring counties should retain their estates, they abandoned those
possessing property throughout the rest of Ireland to ruin and beggary.
There was no excuse for this. They knew that the French fleet had sailed,
and must have arrived in a few days, and that the English cause was
becoming so desperate that Ginckle would not have resisted any terms they
had laid down. This cruel and wholly unnecessary desertion of their
friends has thrown a slur upon the memory of Sarsfield and the other
leaders who conducted the negotiations.
The officers and men who entered the service of France had bitter reason
to repent their decision. Instead of being, as they expected, kept
together in regiments, they were for the most part broken up and
distributed throughout the French army. Louis was deeply enraged at the
surrender, just as the expedition he had made such efforts to send for
the conquest of Ireland was within a few hours' sail of its shores, and
he treated the whole of the Irish and French who returned from Ireland as
men who had acted the part of traitors.
As soon as the terms of capitulation were arranged, Captain Davenant
obtained papers of protection for all the men of his troop. He had formed
them up on parade, and had put the question, whether they wished to
return home or to enter the service of France.
"I myself, and your officers, intend to return home," he said. "Of
course, each of you is free to do as he chooses; but it appears to me a
most foolish thing to leave your country forever, and exile yourself in
the service of France, when you are free to return home. You know how
little French promises have been kept during this war, and how little
faith is to be placed on them in future."
The men were unanimous in their decision to return to their homes, and,
as soon as the protection papers were obtained, the troop disbanded, and
all returned to their homes and occupations in and around Bray.
It was a joyful meeting, when Captain Davenant and Walter returned to the
castle. Mrs. Davenant had always shared her husband's opinion, that the
chances of ultimate success were small, and of late even his mother had
given up hope, and both were delighted that their anxieties were at last
over, and husband and son restored to them in safety. There was an
immense deal to tell on both sides, for it was months since any letter
had passed between them.
"We have everything to be thankful for," Mrs. Davenant said, when the
stories on both sides had been told, "and it seems to me that it is, to
no slight extent, due to Walter that we have passed so well through the
last two troubled years. It was Jabez Whitefoot who first stood our
friend, and who saved the castle from being burned, and his goodwill was
earned by Walter's friendship with his son. Then Mr. Conyers stood
between us and the council, who would certainly have confiscated
everything, had it not been for him. And, although he always expressed
himself as greatly indebted to you also, he said that, so far as he
understood from his wife, it was to Walter's foresight and arrangement
that his wife and daughter owed their rescue.
"How was it that Walter was so forward in the matter, Fergus?"
"Walter was perhaps more particularly interested in the matter than I
was," Captain Davenant said, with a smile. "His thoughts were running in
that direction."
Walter coloured up, and Mrs. Davenant, who was looking at him with some
surprise, at her husband's words, broke into a laugh.
"You don't mean to say, Walter, that you have been falling in love, at
your age?"
"You forget, dear," Captain Davenant said, coming to Walter's rescue,
"that Walter is no longer a boy. Three years of campaigning have made a
man of him, and, I venture to think, an earnest and thoughtful one. He
is, it is true, only nineteen, but he has seen as much, and gone through
as much, as men double his age. He has, upon several occasions, evinced
an amount of coolness and judgment in danger which has earned him the
approbation even of General Sarsfield, a man not easily satisfied."
"I don't mean to hurt your feelings, Walter," Mrs. Davenant said; "but of
course, it is difficult for me, at first, to realize that while you have
been away you have changed from a boy into a man."
"I don't mind, mother dear," Walter said, "and you can laugh at me as
much as you like."
"And is there anything in what your father says?" Mrs. Davenant asked, as
she passed her hand fondly over Walter's head, as he sat on a low stool
beside her.
"Yes, mother," he answered manfully. "I am engaged to Claire Conyers. I
have her mother's consent, but what Mr. Conyers will think about it, I
don't know. He must know long before this, for Mrs. Conyers said that she
should tell him, as soon as he joined them in England."
Mrs. Davenant leaned over, and kissed her son.
"The Conyers are of good family," old Mrs. Davenant said, "although they
did come over with Cromwell. I do not think that is any objection to a
son of our house marrying into theirs."
Captain Davenant laughed.
"No objection at all, on our side, mother. Any objection is likely to be
on the other side, not on the ground of family, but on that of property.
Claire Conyers is one of the richest heiresses in Ireland, while Walter's
inheritance can scarcely be termed extensive."
Two months later, Captain Davenant received a letter from Mr. Conyers,
saying that he had arrived with his wife and daughter at Dublin on the
previous day, and should be glad to make his acquaintance, and that of
his son.
"My wife," he said, "has informed me of certain love passages, which have
taken place between Claire and your son, and I shall be glad to talk to
you concerning them."
Captain Davenant and Walter at once rode over to Dublin, the latter full
of delight, and yet with a considerable amount of trepidation as to the
interview between his father and Mr. Conyers. His mind was, however,
speedily put at rest, for upon entering, Mr. Conyers at once took him by
the hand, and said:
"I am glad, indeed, of the opportunity of thanking you, in person, for
the inestimable service you rendered to my wife and daughter. I find,
from my wife, that Claire has discovered a means of repaying you for your
service, and as her happiness is, she tells me, dependent on my giving my
consent to the plan, I tell you at once that I do so, very heartily. I
think you had better wait for a while, say two or three years, but we
need not settle that at present.
"Come here, Claire."
He placed the girl's hand in Walter's.
"Take her," he said, "and make her happy."
The next day, Mr. Conyers, with his wife and daughter, accompanied
Captain Davenant and Walter back to Davenant Castle, where they stayed
for some days.
The Whitefoots did not long remain neighbours of the Davenants. Old
Zephaniah had passed away, ere the peace was signed, and, soon after
Captain Davenant returned, Jabez called at the castle.
"We are going away," he said. "John has made up his mind to become a
trader, in London, and Hannah and I would be lonely without him, and,
moreover, we are both weary of our life here, and have far more than
enough money laid by for our needs, and for giving John the means of
entering some well-established firm, when the time shall come. As to the
lands here, they are ours now; but the next turn of the wheel might give
them back to you. Besides, we do not wish to be troubled with their care.
I therefore intend to revert to the offer which you made me, when the
Parliament restored the land to you. I have received a good offer for our
house and farm, and this I have accepted. The rest of the estates I hand
back to you, from whom they were taken by the sword. My wife wishes this,
as well as myself. John is eager that it should be so. He will be glad
that his friend should be heir to the estates of his ancestors."
"But we could not accept such a generous offer," Captain Davenant
exclaimed. "It is out of all reason."
"That I know not, friend Davenant; but I know that I, and my wife and
John, have so made up our minds, and we are of a race not given to
change. The land would but be an incumbrance and a trouble to us. John
would far rather make his path in life, as he chooses it, than live upon
the rents of ill-gotten lands. You will receive your own again, and all
parties will be satisfied."
Nothing could alter the resolution Jabez and his wife and son had taken,
and so the Davenant estates came back to their former possessors.
Three years after the conclusion of peace, Walter became Claire Conyers'
husband, and in time succeeded to the wide estates of Mr. Conyers, as
well as those of the Davenants. Godfrey Davenant, on attaining the age of
eighteen, obtained, through Colonel L'Estrange's interest, a commission
in the English army, fought under Marlborough in the fierce campaign in
Flanders, and fell at the battle of Oudenarde. Happily, during the
lifetime of Walter and Claire Davenant, there was never any renewal of
trouble in Ireland, and they lived to see their children and
grandchildren grow up around them, in peace and happiness.
John Whitefoot became, in time, one of the leading merchants of the city
of London, and spent the greater of the fortune he gained in trade in
works of charity and kindness. The friendship between him and Walter
Davenant remained unchanged to the end of their lives. They occasionally
paid each other visits, and, when a son of John Whitefoot married a
daughter of Walter Davenant, they felt that this was a fitting
termination of the old feud between the families.