THE SIEGE OF LIMERICK.
The city of Limerick, at the time of William's invasion, consisted, as
it does at the present time, of three distinct divisions, or towns.
One of these was on the right bank of the Shannon, in the County
Clare; one on the left bank, in the County Limerick; and the third on
King's Island, which is formed by the branching of the river about
a mile above the city. The part on King's Island was known as the
Englishtown; that on the Limerick side was designated the Irishtown,
and two bridges connected that on the Island with the other two
sections,--one bridge leading to each.[41] Holding a commanding position
between the most fertile portions of two loyal provinces, and standing
at the head of ship navigation, the military advantages of this city
could scarcely be overrated; but the well-known loyalty of the people,
the great difficulties that beset the king, and the exhausted state
of his exchequer, through every phase of this war, had caused it to
be neglected; and its defences were not at all in keeping with its
strategic importance. It had, according to the Duke of Berwick, on his
arrival there after the Battle of the Boyne, "no other fortification
than a wall without ramparts, and a few miserable towers without
ditches." But the month that had since elapsed had not been wasted;
the old walls had been strengthened, and such new works devised as
were allowed by the means at the disposal of the generals. The troops
worked with a will corresponding to the exigency, the people shared
their means cheerfully with them; and the gallant defence made during
the preceding war against the arms of General Ireton, imparted hope
and courage as the crisis drew near. The cursory view of this period
to which these pages are limited, will not admit of a more minute
detail of the disposition which had been made to meet the impending
contest, than the following imperfect summary: A covered way had been
constructed round the wall, to protect the soldiers in passing from
point to point; St. John's Gate--the principal one of the city--which
opened towards the south-east, had been strengthened on the outer side
by a redoubt and some angular palisades filled with earth, and on the
inner side by a fort called "The Black Battery;" a bastion had been
erected near the bridge connecting the English and Irish town; and an
earthen fort constructed on King's Island, the guns of which flanked
the counterscarp, and raked the eastern front of the wall as far as
the main gate. A tower on the southern angle of the wall mounted three
guns; the redoubt opposite St. John's Gate mounted two; there were two
on the bastion near the bridge, and the fort on King's Island, probably
mounted two more.[42] Eight thousand infantry manned those works; some
regiments of dragoons occupied the island; the rest of the cavalry
were disposed on the Clare side of the river, some below the city, at
Annabeg, and some in the direction of O'Brien's Bridge, above it,--the
branch of the river that separated the towns was easily fordable, and
there were many fords on the main channel between that and Kilaloe.
When the Prince of Orange reviewed his army at Finglass, before his
departure from Dublin, it was 40,000 strong; and after his junction
with Douglas at Caherconlish, it is estimated, on good authority, as
"38,000 effective men."[43] The disparity in numbers between it and
the Jacobite army was very great; but in resources, appointments, and
artillery, it was still greater, and such as to leave little doubt of
William's success.
On the 8th of August, this army appeared within view of the city,
on the eastern side, while de Lausun, who had, during the interval,
occupied the position already indicated, on the western side, decamped,
and marched his command to Galway, whence he shortly after sailed for
France. On the 9th, William approached the city slowly and cautiously,
bearing the Irish outposts before him, and took up his position between
St. John's Gate and King's Island, within cannon range of the wall. His
lines were soon extended to the right and left; the latter position
being occupied by the Danes, who are said to have expressed great
satisfaction at the sight of an old Danish fort that had escaped the
changes of seven centuries, and reminded them at once of the sway of
their ancestors over the island--and, mayhap, of the king by whose
valor their power had been eventually overthrown.
Tyrconnell was still commander-in-chief of the Irish army, but the
military conduct of affairs within the city mainly devolved on
Sarsfield and the Duke of Berwick; and as William sat down before
their walls, the latter requested Tyrconnell to place the cavalry at
his disposal, and that he would cross the Shannon, make a circuit of
the country in William's rear, destroy his magazines and supplies
up to Dublin, and so reduce him to the necessity of decamping. In
referring to this proposition in his Memoirs, the Duke says: "As
all the towns in the country were open, and without defence, I was
morally certain of succeeding in my enterprise; and as to getting
back, which was objected, the knowledge I had of the country had
already suggested to me by what means it might be effected. I had no
doubt of making my way into the North, and returning to our quarters
by Sligo." But Tyrconnell, fearing to part with all his cavalry at
such a critical moment, represented to him that it would leave the
river between Limerick and Kilaloe exposed, and as they were the only
protection against a flank movement of the enemy in that direction, he
discountenanced the adventure.
When William had made the necessary disposition of his forces, he sent
a regular summons to the governor--de Boïsselau--for the surrender
of the city, but to this a polite answer was returned through his
secretary, to the effect, that he could not comply with the demand;
that he was there to defend the city for King James; and that he was
resolved to do it, in such a manner as to win the respect of his
master, the Prince of Orange. William lost no time in putting this
resolution to the test, and had soon made all the dispositions for a
regular siege. His main body rested nearly opposite to St. John's Gate,
with the Danish troops well extended, encircling the city round on
the south and south-west; and his right towards King's Island, with a
division opposite to the bridge that connected it with the Irish town.
Batteries were soon constructed, bearing on those different points,
and, establishing his headquarters in Ireton's tower, which commanded a
view of the entire front, he opened a fierce and incessant cannonade.
The spirited reply of the besieged soon convinced him that they had set
their minds on defending their city to the last extremity, and that the
siege would be protracted and desperate. The batteries on King's Island
were particularly troublesome; the guns there being so well served,
that they did great execution on his right and centre, and after a
short time, the former was compelled to withdraw from the river, and
the latter to shift ground and heighten its defences. Finding, after
a bombardment of two days, that he had inflicted no serious damage,
William relaxed his fire on the wall, directed his mortars against the
interior of the town, and dispatched orders to Clonmel to hasten up his
battering train and pontoons, which had been conveyed by the fleet to
Waterford, and were now on their way to his camp.
This intelligence being communicated to the governor by a French
officer who had deserted from William, Sarsfield conceived the bold
design of intercepting the convoy, destroying the train, and compelling
the abandonment of the siege. With this intent, he opened the matter
to the deputy; but the latter, being in continual fear of disasters,
discountenanced the project, as he had that of Berwick. But Sarsfield,
insisting with great earnestness, Tyrconnell at last yielded his
assent, and placed eight hundred horse dragoons at his command. From
those he selected five hundred men, and having secured the service
of some Rapparee guides, to whom all the by-ways of the country were
known, he held them in reserve until night would favor his departure
without the knowledge of the enemy. The exploit was both difficult and
dangerous:--over thirty miles of country, traversed by innumerable
small rivers, lay before him; two branches of the Slieve-Phelim
mountains stretched across his route; and in order to avoid suspicion,
and keep the enemy unapprised of his absence, it was necessary to shun
the highways and traverse the least frequented parts of the country.
The enemy's scouts were thrown out for several miles to the east; his
cavalry were foraging in all directions through the day; and the least
inadvertence would cause the failure of the undertaking, and cut him
off from the city, or perhaps entail the destruction of his entire
command.
Darkness had settled over camp and city as Sarsfield crossed the
Thomond Bridge, and followed his Rapparee guides into the open country
beyond. For some time he pursued his course northward, in order to
avoid the road by the river, the cavalry of William being extended
as far as O'Brien's Bridge; but when distance removed apprehension,
he wheeled eastward at Fahy, urged his command to greater speed,
and crossed the bridge of Kilaloe towards midnight. He then struck
southward through Newport and Murruo, crossed the Dead River and its
tributaries, and as morning dawned, ambushed in the mountain district,
about two miles north of the route from Clonmel to Limerick. Here he
threw forward his scouts in the direction of Clonmel, to watch the
convoy and give timely notice of its approach; but the day passed on,
and the night was somewhat advanced, when the lumbering train at last
appeared, and halted at a short distance from the place of ambush. The
men were now within seven miles of their own camp; the little chapel
of Ballyneety, which stood near the roadside, offered a pleasant
resting-place; and being in no apprehension of danger, they resolved to
bivouac there for the night, and reach the camp early on the following
morning. Having made their arrangements and lit their fires, they
betook themselves to rest, and were soon wrapped in slumber around
and within the walls of the ruin, when the Rapparees, who had watched
them throughout the day, taking note of their numbers and disposition,
repaired to the general and informed him that the hour had come, and
the word was "Sarsfield." The assault that followed was a complete
surprise to the enemy, who offered but an ineffectual resistance. In a
few minutes over sixty of them were slain, the rest put to flight, and
Sarsfield turned his attention to the main object of the expedition.
The cannon, eight in number, were loaded to the muzzles and buried
deep in the earth: around and over those were pressed the ammunition
and ball: over them were laid the chests, wagons, and carriages: the
tin boats were next destroyed and placed on top: a train was then
laid, and the troop-horses, and all that was portable, were secured
and started in advance: and last of all, Sarsfield, with his own hand,
lit the train and retired. Then followed that terrible explosion,
which is said to have shaken the earth for fifteen miles around, and
startled the Prince of Orange in his camp. But, notwithstanding the
precautions taken by Sarsfield, his movements had not been unobserved.
An Irish Williamite, named Manus O'Brien, had met the detachment on
its way towards Kilaloe, and divining that it was on some expedition
of importance, hastened to the English camp, and requested an audience
of the Prince. He succeeded after considerable delay, and communicated
his intelligence; but the Prince, though suspecting at once the design
of Sarsfield, looked on it as futile, and took no further notice at
the time; yet, as the night waned, he sent out Sir John Lanier, with
five hundred horse, to meet the convoy, and ordered the fords of the
river to be well guarded to intercept the Irish troops on their return.
The delay of O'Brien was providential. Lanier had got within a short
distance of the place when he heard the explosion, and pressed on with
the hope of intercepting the enemy, but only reached the ground as
Sarsfield retired. Warned by the appearance of Lanier that it would be
dangerous to return as he had come, he changed his course, passed to
the east of the Keeper mountains, and holding his way through Upper
and Lower Ormond, he, on the following evening, reached the town of
Banagher,[44] a distance of more than forty miles, where he halted to
recruit his men, and returned through Galway and Clare without the loss
of a man.[45]
This event roused the spirits of the besieged army, and mainly
contributed to its final success. It also raised the fame of Sarsfield
among the officers of rank, and left him without a rival in the
affection of the soldiers. Known before only as a dashing leader of
dragoons, he was from that day forward the idol of the populace, and
through every change, or good or ill, his name has been a household
word with his countrymen in every clime. Nor were the fame of this
exploit and the successful defence of Athlone long in reaching King
James; they were the first good tidings he had received since his
departure, and they gave him assurance to press his suit at the French
court. In due time Sarsfield was promoted to the rank of Major-General,
and eventually created Earl of Lucan, Viscount of Tully, and Baron of
Rosberry.
By this feat, which happened towards the morning of the 13th, William's
operations were greatly impeded; but ever provident, he was still
the master, and, not like his rival, the slave of circumstances. At
the end of another week, the loss was supplied by a train still more
formidable than that destroyed, nor did their loss cause the cessation
of hostilities for a single day.
Two of the guns found among the _débris_ at Ballyneety were still
fit for use, and with these, his mortars, and field-train, he
continued the bombardment, and by the 17th, he had pushed his lines of
circumvallation close to the walls of the city. Nor were the besieged
less active or determined in their resistance; every foot of the ground
was dearly purchased, and no day went by without a sortie of the most
desperate character. One of these, which occurred between the 17th and
20th, was of so novel a character as to demand a passing notice. As
William's lines approached close to the walls, the fire from within was
so fierce as to compel the soldiers to lie close within their trenches
during the night. Those opposite the sally-port, between the bridge
and St. John's Gate, were occupied by two regiments: the Blue Dutch
and the British, between whom no very friendly feelings existed. The
Irish, to whom this was known, taking advantage of the darkness, made
a lodgement in one of the traverses, and threw in a stealthy fire on
the Dutch. The latter seeing no enemy, and observing the British by the
flash of the muskets, believed the fire came from them, and answered
it by a deadly volley. This was immediately returned, and the two
regiments commenced a murderous fire on each other, while the Irish,
as occasion offered, directed a volley at each of them. After several
had fallen victims to their own stupidity, the real cause was detected
by one of the English generals, and troops were brought up to correct
the evil, and chastise the authors of it; but these seeing the place
getting too hot for them, rushed from their ambush and reached the
city with little loss. The affray between the British and Dutch was
not easily reconciled. The confusion of languages baffled, for some
time, all attempts at explanation, and hostilities continued until both
regiments were placed under arrest, and fresh troops stationed in the
trenches. The blunder created great mirth among the Irish soldiers, but
the besiegers redoubled their vigilance, and surprise was thenceforth
a matter of impossibility. The most serious engagement that occurred
after this, took place about the 22d, and was forced by the besieged
for the purpose of destroying William's heavy guns before they could be
got into position. Issuing out in force, at mid-day, they assailed the
enemy's centre with such vigor that they drove it from the trenches;
the Prince, who was present, retreated towards his quarters; but
falling in his hurry, he had scarcely arisen when a cannonball tore up
the very spot on which he had fallen, and after receiving a serious
contusion from a fragment of a rock, splintered by the shot, he was
carried to Ireton's Tower, nor did he appear again until the final
assault. But the sortie ended in the repulse of the besieged, and the
guns were rescued and placed in position.
This was the last sally from the garrison. The siege was now pressed
with terrible energy by the besiegers, and the besieged, no less
determined, addressed themselves to resist the final assault which now
appeared imminent. By the 24th, William's entire artillery had been
brought to bear on every vulnerable point within range, while his lines
of circumvallation drew closer and closer to the walls. Six batteries
lay along his entire front, disposed, according to his historian,
in the following manner: The first, of eight eighteen-pounders,
bore against the southern angle of the wall, opposite to the Danish
quarters; the second, of eight twenty-fours, against St. John's Gate
and the Black Battery which stood within the city behind it; the third,
of twelve field-pieces, against the sally-port which opened near
the bridge; and the fourth and fifth, of four heavy guns each--the
former against the bridge itself, and the latter against the bastion
which stood near it on the left--while behind them a floor had been
constructed for a battery of four mortars, which poured a stream of
red-hot shot and shell on every prominent object beyond the wall.
Day and night, the fire from all was sustained with unabated vigor,
until the 27th, when the outer works, before St. John's Gate, were
demolished, and a breach, two hundred yards in width, was effected in
the wall, opening up the very heart of the city, when William slackened
his fire and again summoned it to surrender.[46]
The besieged were now hard pressed;--the trenches of the besiegers
were within two toises[47] of the palisades in front of the breach, and
overlooked them, so that they had but to step over to find themselves
on the level and unobstructed area around the city gate. The Irish fort
on King's Island, which until now had thrown a slanting fire across
the enemy's right, was dismantled and its guns removed to the Black
Battery to defend the breach; the wall, along its whole front, was
rendered untenable to the musketeers; and the cavalry were withdrawn
across the river, for the guns bearing on the bridge threatened the
destruction of their only line of communication. Still, the English
town itself was impregnable, being situated on low ground, which could
be easily inundated by a flood-gate on the main channel of the river;
the English cavalry, too, had been withdrawn from the island, and the
whole fury of their guns concentrated on the Irish town. Such was the
condition of the garrison when de Boïsselau received the second summon
from the Prince of Orange, and, believing that further resistance was
useless, he consulted the Irish generals and advised them to accept an
accommodation. But he was opposed by the general voice. The soldiers
were unanimous for resistance to the last; the citizens appealed
against a surrender; the women declared that they would rather be
torn piecemeal by the artillery than be subject to the barbarities
of William's soldiers. The general voice prevailed, and de Boïsselau
withdrawing from the city, declined further responsibility.
The herald was accordingly dismissed with an indignant refusal to the
Prince's message, when the bombardment was again renewed, and active
preparations were made for storming the city. For this purpose William
selected 10,000 men from the different regiments, and formed them into
supporting columns, under leaders of approved valor and experience.
Five hundred British grenadiers were to lead the assault; the Dutch
and Danish troops were to follow, and be sustained by the Huguenots in
turn, while the Brandenburgers, English and Enniskilleners, were to
bring up the rear. Biding these preparations, the artillery was to keep
up its fire along the whole line, and when it ceased, three guns, fired
in rapid succession, was to put all in motion, and be the signal of
assault.
Meanwhile the Irish generals had made the best disposition of their
force to meet the impending event. The bulk of their infantry was
divided into four columns: two drawn back on each side of the breach,
so that each of the opposite columns could meet promptly in front or
rear of the assailing parties; the musketeers were posted in every
available position on the wall, and the guns of the Black Battery were
loaded with grape to rake the breach as they entered. Farther back,
near the square of the city, a body was held in reserve to support
the battery, and to give succor wherever it became necessary, while
Brigadier Talbot, with five hundred of the Guards, was posted on the
right, to guard against any surprise from the enemy in that quarter.
The streets were filled with citizens armed with every available
weapon, and with groups of women, the sad spectators of the approaching
conflict.
It was three o'clock in the afternoon when the fire of the enemy's
cannon ceased along the whole line, and the assaulting columns, in
their varicolored uniforms of buff, blue, and scarlet, moved down
to the intrenchments as gayly as if on parade, and halted. The fire
within the town also ceased, and an ominous silence settled over the
scene, the combatants on each side, standing with bated breath, and as
motionless as statues. An unusual drought prevailed,--not a drop of
rain had fallen for three weeks;[48] the weather was intensely hot, and
the sun threw a flood of unobstructed light upon dome and spire, while
the river glided away through its autumnal foliage, as placid as if
peace had returned and war should revisit it no more. Some time passed
on, and suspense was becoming painful, when the signal: one! two!
three! pealed forth. The British grenadiers were over the palisades in
a twinkling, hurling their destructive missiles, and followed by the
Dutch Guards, while the cannon rang out again along the whole front,
excepting the point of assault. So quick was the movement, that the
Irish troops, though awaiting it, were actually taken by surprise,
and the grenadiers had reached the breach before they met with any
opposition. Here, they were checked by a shower of grape that did great
execution; still they pressed on with a headlong impulse, mounted the
breach, and passed the first line of guards drawn up to oppose them.
But they were destined to go no farther; another storm of grape tore
through their ranks, the Irish Guards closed in on them, front and
rear, cutting them off from their supports, and assailing them with
such fury that in a short time they were nearly all slain, only four
or five escaping out of this gallant body, which was reckoned the
flower of the English army. The Dutch Guards pressed boldly on, and
under the eye of their Prince, performed prodigies of valor; several
times they bore back the defenders from the breach, and were as often
repulsed through it; but being continually reinforced from the other
divisions outside, the Irish troops were gradually forced back into
the city, where they divided right and left, still disputing every
inch of the way. William now threw forward a Brandenburg regiment to
storm the Black Battery, and, filling up the breach with his remaining
columns, prepared to enter the city. While this conflict raged along
the widening expanse inside, the fire of the enemy's batteries was
unabated; the soldiers were driven from the parapets; the populace
from the house-tops; the city was on fire in several places, and "it
seemed," says an eye-witness, "as if the heavens were rent, and the
smoke that arose from the town reached, in one continued cloud, to the
top of a mountain six miles off."
The whole storming force was now engaged within the breach, and
the way was literally strewn with its dead and wounded; but the
besieged, despite the most heroic resistance, were gradually borne
back by the heavy masses continually hurled on them, inspiring
redoubled energy with every accession. The Brandenburg regiment had
captured the battery, and, having seized the guns, were turning
them against its defenders, who were retreating from it in apparent
consternation. William, who now stood at Ireton's Tower, looked on in
proud anticipation of success; the city seemed completely within his
grasp, and pushing forward his last reserve, he viewed exultantly the
engagement which was to complete his triumph.
It was now near seven o'clock; the sun was sinking behind the western
headlands, and still the battle raged with unabated fury. Throughout
the long hours of this sanguinary conflict, the populace, men and
women, stood by in painful suspense, watching the tide of fortune as
it stood or swayed before them, and now it became manifest that every
effort of valor was exhausted, and the doom of their city at last was
sealed. Oppressed by odds, their brave defenders were giving way, and
the battery, the last obstruction to the advancing foe, was in the
possession of the Brandenburgers. A wild cry of despair rung up from
all; their last hope was gone: at this moment a terrific explosion
shook the city to its centre; a dark cloud overspread the combatants,
and clearing away, it was seen that the mine beneath the battery had
been sprung, and the whole Brandenburg regiment had been blown to atoms!
Consternation seized on the besiegers; even the besieged, though
expecting the event, were for a moment astonished, and each stood
as it were paralyzed and watching each other in amazement. But the
advantage was not lost; the men braced themselves again for the
contest, the women rushed forward, calling on the men to follow, and
with one impulse threw themselves in front of the enemy. The effect was
electric; all caught the inspiration; generals, soldiers, citizens;
all, with one desperate effort, hurled themselves on the masses of
William, and bore them back bodily through the breach. In the mean
time Brigadier Talbot, anticipating the result, led his men round the
outside of the wall, and attacking the rear of the assaulting force
with great spirit, put it into inextricable confusion; panic-stricken,
they fled precipitately from the city, pursued to their camp by the
victorious Irish--and Limerick was saved.
The loss of William in this day's action was 2,000 men and one hundred
and fifty-eight officers killed, and his casualties through the
preceding eighteen days are estimated at 3,000 more. The loss of the
besieged is nowhere definitely stated; but in the final assault they
lost four hundred killed and wounded,--a small number for so great a
result. But, as if to give a mournful grandeur to the event, many of
the noble daughters of the city lay side by side in death with the men
whose sterner natures they had animated to victory!
After the battle, William sent an ensign into the town for leave
to bury his dead; this being refused, he dismounted his batteries,
withdrew his army, and prepared to retreat, for he could no longer
continue the siege, as matters of a pressing nature demanded his
presence in England, and should the news of this defeat precede him the
consequences might be serious. His Irish adherents entreated him not
to leave them with the conquest of the country uncompleted, and the
leaders of his foreign army besought him to the same effect: but he
turned a deaf ear to their entreaties. A deputation of the soldiers,
both native and foreign, headed by the ecclesiastics, waited on him,
and promised still greater efforts if he remained among them; but his
resolution was unchanged. Annoyed by their importunities and chagrined
by defeat, he gave vent to that exclamation which English historians
have industriously suppressed: "Yes," said he; "if I had this handful
of men who defend the place against you, and that you were all within
it, I would take it in spite of you!"[49]--A censure so caustic, and a
eulogium so grand, render comment unnecessary.
Before retreating he set fire to his hospital, in which there were
many invalids; but the Irish soldiers issued from the city, suppressed
the flames, and saved the wretched victims. It is hard to credit, even
on the authority of historians distinguished for wide research and
cautious investigation, an act of such cold-blooded atrocity; and yet
his conduct, during his retreat, was of a character that would seem to
corroborate it.[50] "The curse of Cromwell" was repeated, the peasantry
were murdered, their lands laid waste, and their homes given to the
flames; so that the fertile district between Limerick and Clonmel was
a scene of death and desolation. Committing the command of the army to
the Count de Solmes, with Ginkle as second in command, he proceeded
under escort to Waterford, whence, accompanied by Prince George of
Denmark, and the Dukes of Ormond and Wurtemberg, he sailed for England.
Though the theme of many a glowing eulogy, William's campaign in
Ireland was not such as to exalt his name, either as a statesman or a
soldier. The victory of the Boyne, had he taken that advantage of it
which a great military mind would not have failed to take, might have
led to the total suppression of the war within a month; and his short
sojourn among the Irish representatives of that day, marked only by
pusillanimity and cruelty, shows him entirely devoid of statesmanship.
If, without dividing his army, after his first success, he had turned
aside from the capital, and pressed the rear of the retiring army,
he could have gained some of the passes of the Shannon, or perhaps
have anticipated the enemy at Limerick, and ended the war without
another blow. The truth is, his career, in this connection, was a very
inglorious one. His doubt and hesitation after the Boyne were scarce
less remarkable than those of Schomberg, which he so severely censured.
Through indecision and delay, he gave his enemy time to recuperate
for that memorable siege which checked his career, jeopardized his
chance of eventual success, and sent him back to his newly acquired
kingdom, to be humiliated before his Parliament; divested of nearly all
popularity, and humbled before his courtiers by an aspiring subject.