THE SURRENDER OF DROGHEDA AND DUBLIN--THE FIRST SIEGE OF ATHLONE.
After the departure of King James from Dublin, Colonel Simon Loutrell,
then military governor, in pursuance of the royal order, released all
the prisoners, and, assembling the principal Protestant inhabitants,
surrendered the government of the city into their hands. Those
parties having constituted a provisional governor until the arrival
of the Prince of Orange, Loutrell withdrew the Irish garrison from
the city, and marched to Leixlip, where he was joined by Tyrconnell
and De Lausun, and took up the route for Limerick. In the mean time,
the French troops had been partially disbanded. One half of them,
under De la Hoquette, had marched towards Cork to avail themselves of
transportation to France; and the other, under Brigadier De Surlaube,
brought up the rear of the Irish army, and followed De Lausun to
Limerick.
Berwick, who had remained for some days with a body of cavalry between
Drogheda and Dublin, to retard the immediate advance of the enemy on
the capital, soon after took up his march for the general rendezvous,
whither he had been preceded by the other division leaders, and in a
short time an army was assembled there exceeding by some thousands the
force that participated in the Battle of the Boyne. This, according to
the estimate of the Duke of Berwick, consisted of 4,000 cavalry, still
in good condition, and 16,000 infantry, of which only one half were
armed with muskets.
De Lausun, who had become quite disgusted with the condition of affairs
to which he had so largely contributed since his arrival, now lost
no opportunity of effecting his recall, by representing the Jacobite
cause as hopeless. Arriving at Limerick, he at once pronounced the
place untenable; commented on the forlorn condition of the troops;
the dilapidated state of its defences; ridiculed the idea of holding
it against the army of the Prince of Orange; and in the excess of
irony, declared that "his master could take it with roast-apples."
Sarsfield and Berwick thought differently. It was their principal
depot of provisions and military stores; one of the few ports of
entry that now remained in their possession, and being moreover the
key to the defences of the river, its loss would be soon followed
by the total subjugation of the island. They accordingly set their
minds on holding it to the last extremity, and being joined in this
resolution by the governor, De Boïsselau, they at once set about
strengthening its fortifications. De Lausun, finding that his motives
were understood, and that he no longer possessed the confidence or
respect of the Irish leaders, withdrew his men, military chest, and
artillery from the city, and encamped within view of it, on the Clare
side of the river, where he remained an inactive spectator of the
events that succeeded. But whatever were the motives of De Lausun,
the strait to which the city was at this time reduced could hardly be
underrated. The provisions of the garrison were quite inadequate to the
maintenance of such a force for any considerable time; its ammunition
was nearly exhausted, and there were only nine guns, and those of
inferior calibre, on its walls. The late reverse had opened up all the
country to the east of the Shannon to the arms of William, and on the
southern side, round to Cork, there was hardly a fortress capable of
offering a day's resistance. The forts of Kilkenny and Clonmel, in the
interior, which had been dismantled during the war of the Confederacy,
had been neglected during this, and could hardly retard his march from
the seaboard longer than to comply with the forms of capitulation.
Commerce, which had been hitherto carried on briskly between this
city and France, ceased as the risks increased; the shipment of
military stores was suspended; and operations in the field had become
utterly impracticable. The treasury, too, was empty. The sum of 50,000
pistoles which the king left with Tyrconnell, was soon expended; the
troops had become clamorous for pay, and private contributions were
no longer to be obtained. The king's Catholic subjects throughout the
eastern counties, were beset by the soldiers of William, and the king
once departed, the entire Protestant population transferred their
allegiance. Still every motive of pride and interest impelled the Irish
leaders to more determined resistance, for there was now no alternative
between success and total ruin. They had indicated the Shannon as the
proper base of operations during the earlier stages of the war, and
now that they were driven to it as a necessity, its defence became
doubly imperative. Should they now fail to defend it successfully,
their former importunities would be looked on as the effect of a weak
and vacillating spirit, and the king would be more than justified in
having rejected their counsel. All these considerations stirred them to
renewed action, and the work of preparation was carried on with vigor.
In consequence of their straitened means, one of their first measures
was a reduction of the garrison. All the cavalry, and 8,000 infantry
were retained for the defence; a few regiments were distributed at the
different forts along the river up to Lanesborough, and the rest were
sent to live on the country, subject to immediate service when called
on.
On the day after the Battle of the Boyne, General Mellioneire, with
8,000 men, and a battering train, approached the town of Drogheda,
still held by a Jacobite garrison of 1,300 men. The place was
immediately summoned to surrender at sight, or expect no quarter. This
was the order of the Prince of Orange, and that he meant to carry it
out to the letter, there could hardly be a doubt. The history of this
old town had furnished more than one instance of similar cruelty in his
predecessors, and there was nothing in the antecedents of William to
leave room for a doubt in favor of his greater humanity. The commandant
of the garrison, however, interpreted the message literally, and so
accepted it. The Irish army had disappeared; there was no hope of
succor; and successful resistance to such a force, supported as it
would be, if necessary, by William's entire army, was impossible. All
these considerations, duly weighed, determined the conduct of the
governor, and the garrison was accordingly surrendered. This removed
the last enemy from William's rear, and at once opened the way to
the capital. But to the great surprise and vexation of its expectant
inhabitants, he drew up his army on the ground he had won, and took a
respite of several days' duration.
On the withdrawal of the Jacobite authorities from Dublin, a scene
of riot and plunder took place there which threatened the safety of
the city. The Protestant mob, in defiance of all legal restraint, had
commenced to plunder the houses of the Catholic gentry. Among them,
the house of General Sarsfield became an object for special violence,
and was rifled and totally demolished. The infuriated populace fled
to the suburbs, and threatened to burn the city. Fitzgerald, the
governor, did all that he could to protect life and property, but the
riot increased in violence, and the greatest consternation prevailed
among "the better sort." In this emergency, a messenger was dispatched
to William's camp for a force sufficient to suppress these outrages,
but he turned a deaf ear to the entreaty, and continued unmoved in his
present quarters. He is accordingly much censured by the contemporary
writers of his own party, for this neglect of what they considered the
primary duty of a king who had taken them under his special protection.
But, all things considered, the Prince was not so much to blame in this
connection. The troops by whom he was surrounded, when from under his
own eye, were entirely uncontrollable. They had given proof of this
before Carrickfergus. There the presence of Schomberg was insufficient
to check their excesses, and now, had they entered the city of Dublin
during this tumult, they would but add fuel to the flame; and in this
light the conduct of the Prince might be looked on rather as an act of
forbearance than otherwise. But the truth is, that William, at that
moment, was disturbed by graver considerations than the safety of his
good citizens of Dublin. His spies at the French court, and his friends
in England, kept him duly apprised of all that transpired abroad
touching his interests. Immediately after the surrender of Drogheda,
he had received intelligence of the situation of affairs, both on the
continent and in England, since his departure, and that intelligence
was not very assuring. The career of Luxembourg; the defeat of Admiral
Torrington, and the preparations of de Seignelay, had wrought a change
in the sentiment of the English people, and his presence among them had
become a matter of pressing necessity. His fleet of transports, which
accompanied him along the coast, was now moored at Drogheda; his army
was encamped there, and his ordnance and military stores were still
at hand, and he remained there but to watch the current of events,
undecided whether to re-embark at once for England, and leave Ireland
to its fate, or to risk his hold on England, by advancing into the
country to renew a campaign but just inaugurated.--A few days, however,
decided his course.
King James tells us that his principal object in leaving Ireland
at this juncture, was to obtain a force from the French king to
make a landing in England. He also adds that he had assurances from
his friends in England, that any respectable force thrown into the
country at that time would wrest it from the dominion of William.
But his flight from his only remaining kingdom at such a juncture,
so displeased King Louis, that he utterly denied him his presence
for several days; and when at last he succeeded in obtaining an
interview through the mediation of the queen, he found that de Lausun's
misrepresentations had so completely closed the ear of the king to his
appeals, that he not only denied his request, but that he had resolved
on recalling the force already sent to Ireland.
William was duly apprised of all this, and it allayed his apprehensions
for the safety of England; so, after a few days' delay, he struck
tents, turned his steps southward, and encamping his army at Finglass,
entered the capital.
The Parliament which assembled to meet him, presented a marked contrast
to that of the preceding years of this war. The latter was earnestly
intent on securing the liberty of the country and the religious freedom
of all the denominations, and on having them secured by constitutional
enactments; while the total extirpation of the Catholic faith, and the
immediate confiscation of the estates of those still in arms for their
rightful sovereign, alone could satisfy the former. William adopted a
half-way measure, and one which was more likely to subserve his own
interests. The confiscation of course became necessary, not only to
satisfy his new subjects of Ireland, but also to reward his Dutch and
foreign mercenaries; and it accordingly received his sanction. But the
extermination of the people did not suit his views. The population of
the country was already greatly reduced; and besides, 'tis said that
William was opposed to persecution for conscience' sake. However, it
became necessary, if possible, to detach the people from their leaders.
While their interests were identified, the success of his arms was
doubtful, and accordingly, a proclamation was prepared, subjecting the
leaders to all the penalty of rebels in arms, and offering an amnesty
to the artisan and laboring classes.
The following extract, from an impartial historian of the times, will
give a brief outline of the parliamentary proceedings of that period:
"His first measures after his arrival in the capital were highly
impolitic, if not unjust. He promised, by a declaration, to pardon and
protect such of the lower sort as should in a limited time surrender
their arms; but he excepted the gentry, whom he resolved to abandon to
all the rigors of war and conquest. He issued a commission for seizing
all their estates and effects, though no court of judicature was open
to proceed against them. The commissioners executed their power with
the utmost rigor. They even ruined a country which they endeavored to
appropriate to themselves. Public misery, persecution, and confusion
prevailed everywhere. The king himself was either not sincere in
his offers of mercy to the vulgar, or he possessed no authority to
restrain the license of his army. His declaration was disregarded, his
protections slighted. Revenge, wantonness, and avarice induced men to
break through every form of decency and every tie of faith. Despair
animated the Irish to a renewal of hostilities, as submission produced
nothing but oppression and injustice."[38]
Those measures were at the same time sagacious and cruel, and such as
would have disunited any other people than those to whom they were
now applied. They exempted the men of no property, but marked out
all others for total ruin; and had there been no other principle at
issue than the individual merits of William and James, it is hard to
tell what their effect on the artisan and laboring classes might have
been. But the clan system was not yet entirely eradicated from the
minds of the people. Most of the private soldiery in the Irish army
were men attached to their leaders by all the memories and ties which
that system engenders, and the wrongs of those leaders were resented
as their own individual wrongs. It is true that this system was dying
out; but this war, which was waged for the maintenance of a common
faith, served also to revive the ties of kindred and of clan, and it
is probable, that had James succeeded in re-establishing his power in
England, the feudal system of Ireland would have been revived in many,
if not all, its forms. Therefore, in leaving the men of estate no
choice between ruin and success, William utterly failed in his object
of detaching the people from their leaders. On the contrary, they clung
to them with greater fidelity than ever; and drawn back behind the
Shannon, as their last line of defence, they submitted their cause to
the arbitrament of the sword, and set the enemy at defiance.
After a short stay in Dublin, William determined to press the real
object of his mission. He reviewed his army at Finglass, and mapped out
his plan of operations. His own command, and that of Duke Schomberg
at the Boyne, were to proceed along the coast, and after subjecting
the eastern counties to his sway, turn westward for the reduction of
Limerick. In the mean time, General Douglas, who now commanded that
part of the army which had been hitherto led by Count Schomberg,[39] was
to proceed westward from Dublin, capture the fortress of Athlone, and
then join the main army at Limerick.
The march of Douglas across the country was marked by the most
revolting excesses, and scarce had he lost sight of the capital, when
the people's eyes were opened to the sort of amnesty intended for them.
Depending on the proclamation of William, those to whom it was extended
at first remained in their homes, but found that its provisions were
disregarded both by the general and his soldiers. The Protestant
population fared no better than the Catholics, the houses of all were
indiscriminately plundered and given to the flames, and themselves
mercilessly slain, without regard to sex or condition. His march could
be tracked by the cries of his victims through the day, and at night
by the light of the burnings. In this manner he advanced through the
most fertile and populous districts, spreading death and desolation as
he went. A report of these barbarities spread through the country, and
roused the spirit of revenge. The Rapparees inflicted some losses on
his outposts, but there was no organized force then east of the Shannon
capable of offering effectual resistance.
Athlone was at this time garrisoned by a Jacobite force of 800 men,
under the command of Colonel Richard Grace, a veteran of the last civil
war. The life of this soldier was a stormy and eventful one. He seems
to have been one of those who, like Bayard, stand out from time to time
among men, as an example of fidelity and heroism. A colonel in 1645,
and a colonel still, he had spent the interval in war--France, Spain,
and Ireland being each in turn the field of his adventures. Twice,
in youth, he had successfully defended Athlone against the arms of
Cromwell, and again he stood there, in his eightieth year, as vigorous
and agile as any of his command, to defend its walls against the
assaults of this sanguinary general.
Douglas advanced with all the assurance of certain success, and
appeared before the town on the 11th of July. He was, however,
surprised to find that the part of it east of the river had been given
to the flames, its walls demolished, the bridge broken down, and
the castle on the western side in a formidable state of defence. He
halted before the walls, and immediately sent in a herald to demand a
surrender. The governor, roused to indignation by the atrocities of
Douglas, flashed his pistol in the face of the herald, and, pointing to
a red flag which he had hoisted, said: "These are my terms; these only
will I give or take." The herald departed, and the governor retired to
animate his soldiers for the impending contest.
On receipt of this answer, Douglas lost no time, but, erecting
his batteries over against the castle, opened a heavy cannonade.
The garrison replied with a spirit and vigor that astonished the
besiegers: their guns were dismounted, their works demolished, and
several of their men and their best gunner were killed. Again and
again they trimmed their works and renewed the enfilade, but with a
like result--the castle was impregnable to direct operations. Seeing
this, Douglas ordered a detachment of 3,000, horse and foot, to force
a passage of the river at Lanesborough, about ten or twelve miles to
the north of the town, at the head of Lough Ree. On their arrival
there they found the ford intrenched on the opposite side, and a
strong body of troops drawn up to receive them; and after a vigorous
attempt to force a passage, they were repulsed with considerable
loss, and the project was abandoned. On their return they were beset
at every point by those desultory bands that traversed the country,
and harassed up to the camp, losing many men and horses on their way.
The unsoldierlike conduct of Douglas now began to have its effect. He
had marched as if to certain victory, devastating every thing in his
path, and making no preparation for a sustained siege. Owing to his
sanguinary character, the people, both Catholic and Protestant, now
shunned his camp; his provisions and provender were soon consumed, and
he had to send out foraging parties daily, to levy on the surrounding
country. But these were ambushed at every available point by the
Rapparees, who also burned and destroyed in their turn; so that his
subsistence soon became precarious, and his situation more like one
besieged than one besieging. In this critical condition, he determined
to force a passage across the river at a ford below the town; but in
this he was also foiled; for the governor, apprised of his intention,
had it protected by strong earthworks, and the project was abandoned
as desperate. For seven days the siege continued with unabated vigor
on the part of the besiegers, but with a like result; every succeeding
day rendered success more hopeless. It was now reported that General
Sarsfield was advancing from Limerick with a strong force to raise the
siege. Whether this report was true or false, the narratives of the
times do not affirm; but Douglas accepted it as true, and shaped his
conduct accordingly. Not deeming it prudent to remain any longer before
the town, he decamped on the night of the 26th, abandoning his heavy
baggage, and avoiding the highways, lest he might encounter the enemy
on his way.
The condition of the Protestant population was now worse than
before. Hitherto they had received ample protection, nothing more
being required of them than to remain peaceable subjects. But on the
appearance of this army they had declared for the Prince of Orange, and
having forfeited their former claim, they believed that retaliatory
measures would be instituted when the army of Douglas was withdrawn.
They had experience enough to convince them of their folly, and to
satisfy them that they were safer at the mercy of the rudest of their
countrymen, than as the camp-followers of a general who had already
violated all the rules of civilized warfare. But their fears outran
their discretion; many of them followed the retreating army, and
received the treatment which characterized the foreign soldiery of
William throughout this war; while others, adopting the wiser course,
remained in the town, and received the accustomed protection.
Douglas could not have taken a worse route than that which he now
selected. The country through which he passed was studded with woods
and thickets. Innumerable rivers traversed it on all hands, and immense
tracts of bog extended across his line of march, rendering continual
deviations from the direct course imperative. He was beset on all hands
by marauding parties of the Rapparees, who took bloody reprisals, with
that total recklessness of life which had now become characteristic
of these homeless wanderers. He had lost four hundred men at Athlone.
Several skirmishes are related in which he lost from fifty to two
hundred; and though his entire loss cannot now be definitely stated,
it could not have fallen short of 1,000 men. Followed and beset on
all hands, both by day and by night, after a most harassing march of
fourteen days he formed a junction with the Prince of Orange, who had
reached Caherconlish on his way to Limerick.
The Prince and his general had very different results to compare.
The march of the former had been one of uninterrupted success.
Kilkenny, Waterford, Duncannon, Clonmel, and all the intermediate
places, had surrendered in succession, without even a check to mar
the conquest of the Boyne, while that of Douglas had been one of
continual disaster,--showing the only reverses that the Prince's
arms had sustained since his arrival in the country. But if their
military exploits were dissimilar, their catalogues of crime closely
assimilated; for the same wanton outrages marked the footsteps of the
Prince and his general. As William advanced from Dublin, he threw out
detachments on all sides that plundered and laid waste the country, and
slaughtered the defenceless inhabitants. Roused by the excesses of his
soldiers, the people set upon them wherever they were found in detached
bodies; and, neither giving nor asking quarter, no day went by without
its tale of wanton aggression on the one side, and deadly revenge on
the other.[40]