THE SIEGE OF ATHLONE.[61]
Athlone--_Ford of the Moon_; so called, it is believed, from
its connection with some ceremony of Druidic mythology--stands on both
sides of the Shannon, in the counties of Westmeath and Roscommon;
that part of it on the eastern or Leinster side, being designated
Englishtown; and that on the western or Connaught side, Irishtown.
Its position is as nearly central as the formation of the island will
admit, and the country around it is rich in historic and traditional
reminiscences. It was the scene of many a stirring event during the
sway of the native kings and chieftains, nor has it lost in importance
since the era of the English invasion; for ages it marked the greatest
western limit of the "Pale," and it is still the strongest fortress
and most extensive military depot in the kingdom. At the period under
consideration, the two divisions of the town were of nearly equal
extent, and a portion of each was encompassed by a wall of considerable
strength, beyond which the suburbs extended for some distance into the
country. The portion of the English town within the wall, was little
more than half a mile in length, its greatest width being somewhat
over a furlong, and the Irish town was similar in every respect, but
extended a little farther towards the north and south on the river. In
the middle of the eastern wall stood the Dublin Gate, facing the main
street and market-place, and opposite to it a bridge of nine arches,
connecting the two sections, being the only line of communication
between them. The eastern end of this bridge abutted on the bank of
the river, but at the western end there was a drawbridge of about
thirty feet span, and beyond it, but a little northward, stood the
castle, or chief citadel, built in the reign of King John; enlarged
and strengthened in that of Elizabeth, who wished to make it the seat
of her Lords-Justices; and the town was incorporated in the reign of
James I. This castle commanded the whole extent of the bridge, in a
slanting direction, and, with adequate artillery, could render it
impregnable; but in the approaching siege, as in all others through
this war, the native army was deficient in this arm of the service, and
had for the defence of this castle, and two bastions that protected
the fords on the river, but six pieces of light artillery and two
mortars. The wall of the English town was in a dilapidated condition,
and incapable of any protracted resistance. On the approach of General
Douglas, about ten months before, its suburbs had been given to the
flames by its governor, Colonel Grace, and the houses within the wall
levelled and left in the same condition as when the siege had been
abandoned. The Dublin Gate and its barriers were of great strength,
but another which opened towards the north, had been breached by the
artillery of Douglas, had undergone but slight repairs since that
time, and was incapable of offering a day's resistance to the immense
siege-train of de Ginckle. The present governor, Colonel Fitzgerald,
in pursuance of the plan which had proved so successful in the former
siege, had determined on the destruction of this section of the town,
when, contrary to the general advice, St. Ruth resolved on holding
both sections, and issued his command to that effect, as Ginckle
was about to move from Mullingar; and for this important service,
Fitzgerald had but 400 garrisoned troops, and a regiment of cavalry,
which came to his aid on the same day that he received notice of the
general's resolution. His position was therefore most critical and
embarrassing.--To abandon the English town without a defence, would be
contrary to the orders of his superior, and subject him to the gravest
military punishment; to withdraw his cavalry from the protection of the
river was inadmissible, as it would uncover the town on the north and
south, in case they should be cut off by a flank movement of the enemy,
and compel him to surrender without a blow. His only course was then to
make the best defence at all points: to dispatch a part of his garrison
to retard the enemy's advance, and gain time for the arrival of the
main army, which was known to be approaching, and within a day's march
of the town.
Fortunately, the country stretching towards the enemy was well adapted
to defensive measures, being such that a small body of resolute men
could throw great impediments in the way of an army like de Ginckle's,
encumbered with baggage and artillery, and arrayed in all the panoply
of war. An extensive sweep of marsh and bog lay to the north, both
difficult and dangerous to infantry; to the south the country was
broken and irregular; and the road along which the enemy approached was
lined on either side with hedges and thickets, affording convenient
shelter at almost every step of the way.--Such was the country through
which the English army had to march, and determined to seize on every
advantage that could, even for a moment, retard it; the governor
dispatched about two hundred foot dragoons and grenadiers of his
garrison on their perilous adventure.
Ginckle left his encampment at sunrise on the morning of the 19th,
and throwing out detachments towards Ballinahown and Killinure, where
the Rapparees were reported to be troublesome, he took up his line
of march. At Bealin, about a mile from his camp, his advance-guard
received a warm salute from the ambushed Irish pickets, and, falling
back on the main body, caused some confusion; when, throwing out
detachments to clear the brush on his right and left, he approached
slowly and warily towards the town. The Irish Guards now disputed the
ground with the most obstinate valor; every hedge and thicket became
the scene of assault and defence; when they yielded a position to
the overwhelming force of their assailants, it was but to renew the
strife with still greater desperation at another; the nearer the enemy
approached to the town the more deadly the conflict became; many, both
assailants and assailed, lay dead by the wayside, and it was well on
to noon, when, forced from their last intrenchment outside the wall,
the latter retired within their fortifications, and the English army
appeared before Athlone.
Ginckle, who, finding that St. Ruth's army had not yet arrived,
determined to press his advantage, immediately set to work in the
construction of batteries, and had soon two at work outside the walls
of the English town: one of three guns to the north of it, over against
a bastion, on the western side of the river, and another of five guns
to the south, and both played fiercely all day without cessation. At
six in the evening another of nine eighteen-pounders was opened against
the northern gate, and all worked steadily until noon on the following
day. It was then found that the last one had effected a breach of its
own width, practicable for the passage of infantry, when the fire of
the two first was turned on the interior of the town, a council of war
was held, and it was determined to assault it in force that evening.
The Governor, anticipating the result, and seeing that section of the
town no longer tenable, resolved on the destruction of the bridge,
as the only means of protracting the siege. For this purpose, after
withdrawing his artillery, he detailed a part of his force, while the
rest were stationed behind the breach to check the assault, and gain
time for the accomplishment of this work, which was now a matter of
vital importance.
The order of assault was soon arranged by the British generals, and
was to be substantially as follows:--Five hundred grenadiers, with
triple the usual number of officers, and a corps of sappers and miners,
were to be arrayed in two divisions to support each other and lead the
advance. The first, after effecting an entrance into the town, was
to turn to the right, while the other was to follow close upon its
footsteps, and, at the same time, file to the left. That which took
the right was to be supported by 2,000 picked men, under the command
of Brigadier Stuart and Prince Frederick, and the other by an equal
number under Colonel Brewer and the Count of Nassau. The first column
was to make its way to the bridge, and, seizing it, cut off the retreat
of the besieged; or, failing in that, to seek cover in the nearest
walls and await the support of the other division, which was to gain
the Dublin Gate, and throw it open to the army outside. Then all were
to push forward and seize on the bridge and fords, if successful, to
assail the Irish town immediately, and if not, to cover themselves
with intrenchments along the river.--All preliminaries were to be
completed at five o'clock; the moment for assault was to be announced
by the firing of one signal-gun; the grenadiers, in the mean time, were
placed under cover to the northward of the town; and the whole movement
was under the direction of Major-General Mackey and Brigadier-General
Vittenhoff.
It was now the evening of the second day: the army of St. Ruth had not
yet appeared in view; its delay was unaccountable; for he had received
timely notice of Ginckle's approach. The cannon from without poured
an incessant storm of ball and bomb into the town, and the defenders
behind their torn ramparts calmly bided their time, but knew not the
moment of assault. The fate of the Irish cause was in their hands, and
their determination rose with the importance of their trust. Their
Governor having done all that a brave and intrepid soldier could do,
committed the rest to the bravery of his soldiers, and the gallant old
Colonel Grace, who now served as a volunteer, took his stand beside
them, and in his presence no man dare turn his back on an enemy.
At five o'clock the fire of the northern battery suddenly ceased, and
the peal of a single gun immediately announced the moment of action.
The report had scarcely died away, when it was echoed by a cheer from
the British grenadiers, as, springing from their ambush, they rushed
headlong towards the breach. A French officer of Cambon's regiment
first mounted it, waved his sword, and pointed onward, when the Irish
soldiers rose from their cover, levelled their muskets on the advancing
foe, and in a moment the gallant Frenchman and many of his immediate
followers were numbered with the dead. Still they pressed on, and
hundreds of them thronged the breach, when a second volley, more deadly
than the first, swept through their ranks, and the defenders stepped
forward and stood to confront the whole force of the assailants.
The conflict now became desperate, but the result could not be long
doubtful; overwhelmed by numbers, they were borne through the breach,
and the enemy gaining the open space inside the wall, commenced filing
to the right and left in pursuance of their purpose. The way to the
right was narrow and tortuous, and, though pressed on by the weight of
2,250 men, their way was disputed foot by foot, and dearly purchased in
that direction. But that to the left being less obstructed, the result
was terribly ruinous to the defenders. At the end of an hour one-half
of them lay dying and trampled among the _débris_, and still the rest
stood and fought as resolutely as ever. At length the gate was gained,
the assailants thronged by thousands into the market-place, and the
strife was transferred to the street leading down from it to the river.
Another hour passed on, and the defenders were borne back towards the
bridge; its destruction was not yet completed; and to win it on the one
side and maintain it on the other, became the work of life and death.
The assailants rushed on in their fury, but were steadily resisted,
and even for awhile repelled, their overwhelming numbers defeating the
very object of their assault. At length the arch was sprung, the word
was given to retire; the defenders rushed along the bridge; some of
them succeeded in crossing it, but their assailants pressing closely on
them, many were borne over the battlements, to rise no more. Further
persistence was now in vain; the work was done; the arch had given way,
and sunk beneath the waters of the river; and the enemy retired under
an effective fire opened on them from the opposite side; the bridge was
rendered impassable.
History has few parallels for the bravery and devotion of the gallant
men who performed this act of self-immolation. Two hundred of them
strewed the way from the breach to the bridge; but not a prisoner was
taken, nor a color, to grace the enemy's triumph. This happened on the
20th of June. On the 22d a French lieutenant-colonel was found wounded
and dying under the bridge; and, three days after, a pair of colors was
found in the same place, under a heap of the slain, for which Ginckle
gave the finder a reward of five guineas. Nor was it a defence without
a purpose,--for valor is generally estimated by the end attained:--it
saved the Irish town from the immediate grasp of the enemy, and was a
fitting inauguration to a siege which, for heroic daring and unbending
fortitude, has few examples in the history of warfare. They had done
their work at the sacrifice of their lives; the siege was now about
to be renewed between more equally matched forces; for, just as they
had retired across the drawbridge, on the western side, St. Ruth's
army appeared beyond the town, and he took speedy measures to stop
the progress of the enemy.--Wauchop was placed in the command of the
castle; d'Usson and de Tessé were installed as joint commandants of the
town, and Fitzgerald retired to his former position in the army, as
colonel of his few remaining veterans.
Ginckle having thus gained the English town, removed all his artillery
within the walls, and a train of eleven guns and three mortars having
arrived in the mean time, he spent all the succeeding night in the
erection of batteries. By the next morning he had five of them in full
play against the Irish town and its defences:--two above the bridge,
two below it--and one of five twenty-four pounders and six mortars at
the foot of the bridge over against the eastern wall of the citadel.
He next sent orders to hasten up his pontoons, which were on their way
from Mullingar, and, warned by the desperate resistance he had just
met, he took his precautions accordingly, and sent a requisition to
Dublin for additional reinforcements.
Nor was St. Ruth now idle on his part. Encamping his army in a good
position about two miles from the town, he garrisoned the castle with
fresh troops, threw up lines of intrenchment along the river, and
at once opened on the works of the enemy. His guns were few and of
inferior calibre, but they were worked with a spirit and vigor that
soon caused Ginckle to shift two of his batteries from the river, while
the fire from the castle swept the bridge and rendered any approach
along it impracticable.
Ginckle soon saw that to silence the guns of the castle was a work of
the first necessity, and to this end all his heavy guns and mortars
were at once directed. The labor of the gunners on both sides now
became incessant. Night brought no respite to the toils and dangers
of the day. The weather was extremely hot; an unusual drought had
prevailed, rendering the fascines as dry as tinder; and their continual
ignition made the work of the soldiers more harassing. The skies were
clear, and the evening twilight almost ushered in the dawn, while
the glare of the batteries lit up the intrenchments and rendered the
assailants and assailed continually visible to each other, while the
fire of Ginckle's mortars, being directed on the houses beyond the
castle, added perpetual conflagration to the other horrors of the
scene. After a short time, a mill which stood in the middle of the
river, to the north of the bridge, and into which the Irish had thrown
a detachment of sixty-four men to keep up a fire on the broken arch,
attracted the fire of the enemy. The passage which connected it with
the bridge was soon broken down, and the building itself taking fire,
the whole detachment--with two exceptions--perished in the flames.
The wall of the castle crumbled bit by bit, a rent became discernible
in the eastern wall, and gradually widening, the greater part of
the front gave way, strewing the passage to the bridge, choking up
the sally-port, and exposing the interior to the great guns of the
besiegers.
Such was the condition of the besieged on the morning of the 26th, and
all that day the bombardment continued with increased fury. Towards
evening the bastion opposite the ford was beaten down so as to be
passable to horse and foot, and the battery which protected it was
completely silenced; the castle was deemed no longer tenable, and
Ginckle contemplated an assault in force on the following morning.
Preparatory to this, he resolved to try once more the passage of the
river, in order to create a diversion on the Irish rear while putting
his design in execution; and, having lately received information that
a ford had been discovered to the north of Lanesborough, which might
be easily crossed in the face of the small garrison stationed there,
had dispatched a strong force to that place, with orders to approach
it in the night, and having captured the town, to make a demonstration
on the enemy's left, while he himself, with the main body, would storm
the bridge and fords on their front. But the design was communicated
to General Wauchop, and he immediately sent a regiment of cavalry to
the assistance of Colonel O'Reilly, who commanded there, with orders
to defend the place to the last extremity. The troops of Ginckle had
started on their expedition on the night of the 25th, under direction
of a guide, and, after making a wide detour to the north-east,
approached the ford with great caution on the night of the 26th; but,
arriving there, they found the opposite side strongly intrenched
and the Irish cavalry drawn up to oppose them. They, however, tried
to force their way through, but being routed with severe loss, they
returned, and reported that it would take the whole army to cross
there, so the project was finally abandoned. Nor was this his only
disappointment. The morning of the 27th broke over a scene as startling
as unexpected, for in its light he beheld that the Irish battery above
the bastion had been repaired and strengthened, and that the castle
which he expected to find abandoned had been put in a better state of
defence than before. An opening had been made in the western wall,
through which rocks and beams had been conveyed to the top of the
breach, and firmly imbedded there, while its one solitary tower, the
Connaught Tower, still commanded the broken arch, and displayed its
flag as proud and defiant as ever. He was therefore obliged to forego
his intention for that day, and direct his whole force to the total
destruction of the citadel before risking an assault on the bridge.
To the five batteries already at work two more were now added, and an
incessant storm of shot and shell was directed all day on the castle
and the houses beyond it. Three times during the siege the town had
been set on fire; the population had fled to the suburbs, and nothing
having life remained within the walls but the gunners behind their
crumbling earth-works, and the soldiers laboring to check the flames
extending in all directions.
St. Ruth, believing that the tower could not long withstand the
terrible fire brought to bear on it, set to work in the erection of
earth-works to answer the same end, and for this purpose he conveyed
some guns outside the town, and erected two batteries--one to the north
and the other to the south--both bearing across the eastern angles
of the bridge. Their fire soon drove the English gunners from their
batteries, and during the cessation of their fire two intrenchments
were thrown up on a high ground to the right and left of the castle.
The fire from these dislodged the English musketeers from the walls
near the river, and from this forward the contest became a duel of
artillery. Ginckle's heavy missiles still bore down all obstructions;
the ingenious traverse and change of position were unavailing; nothing
could withstand the heavy guns of the besiegers but the Connaught
Tower, and that, though crumbling bit by bit, still sent its shot with
the same precision as before. In this manner the conflict raged during
the whole of the 27th. The bombs of the enemy became exhausted, but
this brought no respite to the besieged. Immense blocks of stone, even
more destructive than shell, were hurled into the Irish intrenchments,
crushing their fascines to atoms, and breaking down all barriers.
Towards evening a body of the besiegers, moving behind an improvised
breastwork, stormed the bridge, gained possession of the broken arch,
and secured themselves behind a strong breastwork. The defence was
stubborn, and cost both sides dearly; "for," says the English annalist,
"what we gained here was inch by inch, as it were, the enemy sticking
very close to it, though great numbers of them were slain by our guns,
and the service cost us a great store of ammunition." But ammunition
was of small account with Ginckle. One hundred wagon-loads of shot and
shell reached the camp that evening; thirteen squadron of wagon-horses
were sent to Dublin for more, and two batteries were added to the seven
that had been at work since the morning of the 25th. One of these was
on a hill outside the wall, which commanded the western end of the
bridge, and the other in a meadow to the south of it, which raked the
passage leading from the Irish town to the castle. Under cover of these
nine batteries the English reached the last broken arch, and secured
themselves by a breastwork overlooking that of the Irish on the other
side. Here the grenadiers of both armies now stood firing their muskets
and hurling their grenades across the narrow space that separated them.
At length the fascines of the Irish breastwork took fire, the whole was
soon a sheet of flame, its defenders were forced to retire, and on the
night of the 27th the English remained masters of the last broken arch
of the bridge.
The situation of the besieged was now most desperate. The town
seemed all but in the possession of the enemy. The bastion opposite
the southern ford, about fifty yards from the bridge, was levelled,
and practicable to infantry and cavalry. The ford itself was easily
passable, for the river was unusually low for the season. The town
was a heap of smouldering ruins, and the castle,--with the single
exception of the Connaught Tower--was beaten down to the level of the
besiegers' guns. Beams had been extended across the last broken arch
of the bridge, the planking was partially set, while the fire of their
forty-seven guns was fierce and active as ever. Still the Irish relaxed
neither in courage nor intrepidity. Though but one gun alone sent an
occasional response to the incessant roar of nine batteries, sweeping
every foot of their intrenchments, "they worked like horses, checking
the fire within the town; carrying fascines to fill their trenches;"
and exhibited a courage and endurance "such as was never excelled by
man." Such was the situation on both sides through the night of the
27th:--the one in the face of inevitable death trying to reconstruct
their shattered defences, and the other in exultation preparing to
force the river at sunrise the next morning.
The night passed on, and the morning rose bright and clear above the
river. The besieged seemed to have exhausted all the means of defence.
Some lay close in the cover of their trenches, and others drawn up
behind the western wall of the castle, waiting for the approaching
conflict. The enemy alone were at work. The planking was nearly
completed across the last broken arch of the bridge. The fire from
their right and left traversed its western end between their workmen
and the besieged, and their grenadiers were advanced along the bridge
waiting for the expected signal. At this moment a sudden commotion was
observable in the Irish quarters, and a simultaneous shout rent the
air, as eleven men, cased in armor, were seen to clear their trenches,
and bear directly for the bridge. A silence still as death fell over
the besiegers and besieged, and for a moment all seemed spellbound. In
another the noble fellows had reached the bridge, and "with a strength
and courage beyond what men were thought capable of," commenced to tear
away the planks and beams, and cast them into the river. The amazement
of the English soldiers soon gave way to the stern necessity of war. A
discharge of great and small guns swept the bridge, and the devoted men
passed forever from the earth! Undeterred by their fate, eleven more
sprang forward to complete the work! Another peal rang out as before,
a cloud of smoke enveloped them for a moment, and, clearing away, it
was found that their work was completely accomplished, that the bridge
was rendered impassable, and that two of the eleven had escaped within
their intrenchments.[62]
Ginckle, greatly chagrined by his disappointment, withdrew his
soldiers to their camp, called a council of war, and deliberated on
the alternatives of continuing the siege, or seeking a passage at some
other point of the river. The council continued far into the evening;
the questions were discussed in all their bearings, and another assault
was determined on for the morning of the 29th.
In the mean time it became necessary to gain possession of the broken
arch which had been lost in the last assault, and to silence the
battery on the Connaught Tower, or, which was the same, to destroy
the tower itself. This tower stood at the north-western angle of the
castle, and though it had cost more ball and ammunition than all the
rest of the defences together, it had never ceased for a moment to
annoy the enemy, even when all the earth-works had been silenced.
Against this tower all Ginckle's heavy guns were now directed. Towards
midnight its abutments gave way, and shortly after it fell forward in
one solid mass, and lay stretched athwart the ruins. While this was
going on, the utmost activity prevailed in the English camp. Pontoons
were put in order, a close gallery was constructed of sufficient length
to span the arch and protect the workmen inside it, while a company
of Danish soldiers had examined the river, and established another
ford practicable for twenty soldiers abreast, about thirty yards to
the south of the other. Three hundred yards to the south of this had
been selected for the bridge of pontoons, and the banks at both places
levelled for a proper distance. The assault was to be made in three
places:--at the bridge: across the newly-discovered ford: and over the
pontoons, outside the town. It was furthermore resolved that every
regiment should have the honor of participating in the movement, and
the selection of the men for this purpose was confided to Major-General
Mackey, who made the following disposition:--From every regiment he
selected forty-three grenadiers, eighty-three private soldiers, three
captains, five lieutenants, two ensigns, and seven sergeants--a force
not less than 8,000 men in all. These he arranged in three divisions,
and stationed them outside the eastern wall, "in great secrecy," until
the proper time to show themselves. The way from the gate to the river
was cleared of all obstructions, and ladders were placed against the
walls, near the river, which were pierced for musketry, in order to
annoy the enemy while the assailants were crossing it. The bridge was
to be the first point of assault, and on its success those at the ford
and over the pontoons were dependent. Three thousand men were to cross
at the bridge, 3,000 more over the pontoons, and 2,000, composed of
horse and foot, were to attempt the ford. The assault was to take place
at sunrise, until which time all should be conducted with the utmost
"secrecy and circumspection." The soldiers were to carry fifteen rounds
to a man, to have each a green bough in his hat, as at the Boyne; they
were rewarded in advance by the distribution of large sums of money,
and the word of the night was--"Kilkenny."
But, notwithstanding all the precautions of secrecy observed in the
English camp, St. Ruth received timely information of the design, and
had taken active measures to counteract it. When morning broke over
the Irish town, Ginckle was both surprised and mortified to see that
all his movements were anticipated. The drawbridge had been secured by
a heavy breastwork, a new battery had been constructed opposite the
ford, and another in a meadow outside of the town, commanding the point
selected for laying his pontoons, and reinforcements from the Irish
camp had been stationed at convenient positions to dispute the town, in
case he succeeded in forcing the passage of the river. He was further
disconcerted at finding that General Mackey's arrangements were not
all up to time. The men stood to their arms at the appointed hour: the
musketeers lined the walls along the river; the gallery was ready to be
pushed over the bridge; but the pontoons, which should have been laid
overnight, were found insufficient to span the river, and it became
necessary to repair some old ones to supply the deficiency. As this had
now to be done in the face of the enemy's fire, it became necessary to
construct a battery to dislodge them, while the work of repairing and
laying the boats was carried forward, and it was doubtful whether he
should have any timely co-operation from that quarter. Still, as all
the other movements were dependent on the result at the bridge, Ginckle
determined to persevere, and at the appointed time the grenadiers and
soldiers moved forward under the protection of their covered gallery.
After great danger and difficulty it was forced over the English
breastwork, where the grenadiers stood face to face to dispute the
possession of the bridge, and the strife of the 28th was repeated over
again, with greater desperation on both sides. While this was going on
at the bridge, the fire of the English batteries swept the whole Irish
line, and under the diversion Mackey made desperate efforts to complete
the line of pontoons; but, despite of all, he was driven from the work,
and forced to abide the result at the bridge. All now depended upon
this: and the soldiers on both sides looked on with feelings wrought
to the highest pitch of excitement. The Irish grenadiers suffered
dreadfully, for the enemy's breastwork completely overlooked that on
the other side, and their grenades wrought terrible destruction in
their trenches. Four hours passed on, and still this encounter raged
without cessation. The gallery was forced forward, as it were, inch by
inch; the arch was spanned, and the work, as before, had nearly reached
completion, when the fascines on the English side caught fire. The
soldiers made great efforts to extinguish it, but in vain; the whole
was soon a sheet of flame; and being no longer tenable, they abandoned
their position and retreated across the bridge: the Irish grenadiers
advanced and completed the destruction of the gallery and defences; and
the bridge was again impassable. The failure of this assault at the
bridge caused the abandonment of those at the other two points, and the
English soldiers were withdrawn to their camp, none remaining but the
usual guards, and the cannoneers behind their intrenchments. The firing
of the cannon ceased for the first time since the siege had opened, and
silence brooded over the scene of desolation.
St. Ruth was now elated with success, and enthusiastic in praise of
the soldiers, who had displayed such stubborn valor in the defence
of their old town. It was now, throughout its whole extent, a mass
of smouldering ruins, over which the soldiers made their way with
difficulty and danger, and the intrenchments along the river had been
levelled and reconstructed so often that the earth around them had been
rendered as dry as powder. He therefore issued orders to have a road
opened from end to end behind the batteries next the river, in order to
facilitate the deploying of troops from one point to another; to have
the western wall completely razed, the houses within them levelled, so
that the enemy should have no shelter if they should succeed in passing
the river; and the area behind the castle cleared, so that his raw
levies should be drilled there and trained to perform garrison duty. He
next withdrew most of the trained soldiers from the works, and supplied
their place with three regiments of recruits; and, expressing his
belief that the enemy would retire without risking another engagement,
marched his army back to camp, and gave a banquet, 'tis said, to which
he invited all the ladies and gentlemen of the surrounding district.
Ginckle was greatly mortified at the failure of this last grand
movement. It was made in force; each of the divisions had fulfilled
its part of the programme. All the resources at his command had
been brought to support it, and yet a signal failure at all points,
and a serious loss of men, had been the consequence; and, as he had
determined beforehand that on its result his advance or retreat
should depend, he immediately called a council of war, to signify
his intention to retire, and try some other point of the river,
or open a defensive campaign on the ground already traversed. All
the propositions submitted at the previous council were taken up
and discussed: the continual failure of his plans; the spirit and
endurance of the enemy; the impossibility of remaining any longer in
a district stripped of forage and provender for several miles around.
The expenditure of ammunition, too, had already outrun his most
extravagant calculations. Bomb and ball had accomplished all that could
be effected, for both town and citadel were now reduced, and still the
enemy, so far from abandoning the place, had recently renewed their
defences, and should the river be crossed, were ready to offer battle
amid the ruins. Should he again attempt the passage, and succeed in
crossing, success was to be purchased, but at a great sacrifice. Should
he cross and not succeed, the total destruction of his army was more
than probable. Should he attempt to cross above or below this place, he
uncovered the capital, and the enemy would not fail to profit by the
advantage. The disadvantages of taking the defensive at the beginning
of the campaign, and the disgrace of retiring in the face of the foe
whom the soldiers had hitherto been taught to despise, would have a
ruinous effect on the spirit of his troops, raise that of the enemy,
and exert a powerful influence on the action of the French monarch.
Having canvassed the subject in all its bearings, he was himself in
favor of trying another ford above or below their present position,
where less difficulties were to be encountered, and submitted the
whole subject to the deliberation of the council. The debate was
long and earnest, and the majority supported the decision of the
General-in-Chief. The minority were against retiring, and they were
the ablest and most prominent of the generals:--Mackey and Wurtemberg,
Ruvigney and Tettau, urged another assault, and offered themselves to
head the soldiers in person, and be the first to cross the river. The
deliberation was long, and the matter remained undecided, when the
opinion of the majority was changed by one of those fortuitous events
which seem throughout this war to arise continually in favor of the
invader. Two officers who had deserted from the Irish army were at
this juncture brought before the council, and proffered most important
information. They represented the feeling of security that prevailed
in the Irish camp; the prevalent belief that the enemy would retire
and abandon the siege; the substitution of untrained soldiers in the
trenches; and the withdrawal of the veterans. They told of the bad
feeling existing between St. Ruth, the deputy, and general officers;
the scarcity of ammunition; and of all things that could give weight
to the views of the minority. The opposing opinions were at once
reconciled, and a plan of action was forthwith adopted.
It was now determined to take the town by surprise; and the better
to conceal the design, it was concerted to make a feint of retiring
and raising the siege. Guns were to be dismounted; tents struck;
the baggage placed on wagons in sight of the enemy; and the general
appearance to be that of an army about to retire from its encampment.
The soldiers selected for the last assault were to be withdrawn from
view, and held in readiness outside the wall until the appointed
hour. At the usual time of changing guard, which was six o'clock in
the morning, the men who were to cross at the ford were to move down
as if to relieve their comrades, when at an appointed signal, which
was the ringing of the church bell, they were to cross and storm the
opposite intrenchments. These being carried, they were to move to the
right and left, to assist the other divisions which were to follow in
quick succession, and pass over the bridge and pontoons simultaneously.
Every thing seemed opportune for the attempt; every part of the plan
was observed to the letter; and to create the proper ardor among the
soldiers, still larger rewards were distributed than on the former
occasion.
All through the evening the cannonade along the English lines seemed to
relax its wonted spirit; farther on it ceased altogether, and it was
observed that some of the guns were being limbered and removed from
the river towards the camp. The _ruse_ immediately had the desired
effect. The Irish soldiers, believing that the enemy had actually
commenced to retire, came gradually out of their trenches, and ventured
down towards the river. The English soldiers, too, seemed to relax
in discipline, and came down to meet them. Jest and repartee were
bandied across the stream; the soldiers of Ginckle twitting those of
St. Ruth on their miserable "penny a day," and the latter reminding
the former that they had given "bad penny-worths" for the money which
their general had lately distributed among them. So they beguiled the
time; with the closest secrecy and circumspection on the one side,
and a feeling of security and a total unconsciousness of approaching
danger on the other. As the night wore on both parties retired from the
river, and sought repose in the trenches, and a deep silence settled
over the scene, only broken at intervals by the occasional challenge
of the sentries as they met each other in their measured round. Nor
was it in the unconsciousness of the Irish soldiers alone that fortune
seemed to favor the besiegers. The orders which St. Ruth had lately
given, on withdrawing his army from the town, had not been carried
out. The houses were still the same shapeless ruins he had left them;
the western wall was still entire; but a roadway had been cleared
behind the intrenchments on the river, and all the defensive works to
the rear of it had been defaced and levelled. This neglect was the
consequence of a disagreement between St. Ruth and General d'Usson--the
former wishing to have all obstructions removed, so as to give battle
on the ruins of the town if the batteries on the river were carried;
and the latter wishing to preserve the walls as a line of defence, in
the event of such a conjuncture. It therefore happened that the work
"went by default," or that the bad parts of it were executed and the
more necessary totally neglected. However this be, a want of concord
was manifest among the leaders; and when to these untoward events it
is added, that d'Usson was absent from the camp, that three untrained
regiments manned the defences, and that a scarcity of ammunition
prevailed along the lines, the whole train of circumstances pointed to
a manifest destiny, and--the reader may anticipate an evil one.
It was yet the gray dawn of morning; the same supineness prevailed
along the Irish lines, and the same cautious preparations went on in
the camp of the enemy, when Colonel Cormac O'Neil entered the quarters
of General Maxwell. He came to demand a supply of bullets for his
men; for, being on duty overnight, he observed certain signs on the
opposite side that led him to believe that another assault might be
soon expected, and wished to take the necessary precautions. Maxwell
was at first incredulous, and answering the demand by one of those
Scotch apothegms, so prevalent at the time,--"If he wanted to shoot
lavrocks," O'Neil retired moody and discontented. As the morning
advanced, however, that general himself saw reasons to convince him
that the colonel's suspicions were well founded;--he observed that
the bridge of pontoons had not been removed, that the batteries there
and at the ford showed signs of having been recently repaired and
strengthened, and that the guards along the whole line had been doubled
through the night. He immediately communicated this intelligence to
St. Ruth, and requested that a division of veteran troops should be
immediately sent into the town; but the herald soon returned with the
insulting reply that "if he was afraid, another general officer would
be sent to take his place." So the morning passed on; the plans of the
enemy were matured, and they awaited but the appointed hour to put them
in execution.
At six o'clock the tattoo in the English camp announced the hour of
changing guard, and the soldiers marched down leisurely, as if to
their accustomed duty. In six minutes after the church-bell rang out
its signal, the artillery opened along the whole line, and under its
shelter the assailants dashed forward and entered the river. A body of
sixty grenadiers, cased in armor, and moving twenty abreast, led the
advance. They were headed by Captain Sandys, a soldier of great daring
and intrepidity, and were closely followed by a strong supporting
column of cavalry commanded by General Talmash and Colonel Gustavus
Hamilton, and by 2,000 chosen infantry troops under the direction of
Mackey, Tettau, La Mellioneire, and the Prince of Hesse. Simultaneous
with this assault, which took place at the ford, other movements were
directed towards the pontoons and the town-bridge, and the whole scene
was again alive with military ardor and intrepidity. There never was a
more complete surprise. The movement was so sudden and unexpected that
the assailants had nearly gained the opposite bank before the alarm was
sounded in the Irish quarters, or the soldiers who were lying asleep
in the trenches could be aroused to a consciousness of their danger.
As the grenadiers began to ascend they were met by a few hasty and
ill-directed volleys from those on guard, which checked their progress
for a moment, but they were pressed on by the thousands in their rear,
and literally borne over the intrenchments, where they soon silenced
all opposition. Some of the Irish soldiers fled to the shelter of the
ruined houses, where they rallied and kept up an irregular fire on
the enemy thronging into the town; but most of them were taken, and,
being unarmed, were slaughtered where they stood. Having thus carried
the works on their front, the assailants immediately filed to the
right and left; some to aid in laying the pontoons, some in securing
the drawbridge, and still others to mask the castle and cut off the
retreat of its garrison. The road which had been opened by St. Ruth's
orders, was now of the greatest advantage to his enemy, who moved
quickly behind the intrenchments, cutting off the Irish soldiers; who,
having no batteries in the rear to check the pursuit, were surrounded,
overwhelmed, and cut down with little resistance. The bridge and
pontoons being soon made passable, thousands rushed into the town,
swearing as they stumbled over the ruins, and dealing death to their
disarmed prisoners. One battalion of veterans, led by Maxwell and some
Irish officers, made a stubborn resistance, and for a while checked the
pursuit; but, being surrounded and assailed on all sides, they were
slain, with the exception of the general and a few of the superior
officers, who were secured as prisoners.
On the first alarm, information was sent to St. Ruth that the enemy was
crossing the river; but he scouted the idea, and boasted that Ginckle
would not dare it after his late repulse, while he lay so near with
an army to succor it. Sarsfield, who was present at the time, replied
that the undertaking was not too great for English valor to attempt,
but still St. Ruth, either through real or affected disbelief, scorned
all remonstrance, and remained immovable. In a short time, however,
the fugitives from the town began to reach the camp; he was at last
convinced, and, with a seeming indifference, ordered Major-General
John Hamilton to take two brigades and drive the enemy again beyond
the river. The attempt was made, and the fight was renewed with such
determination that General Maxwell expressed his belief, to his
captors, that the town would be retaken. But after a desperate conflict
of an hour and a half amid the ruins, the enemy gained the western
wall; to dislodge them became impossible to an over-matched force; the
Irish soldiers retreated to their camp; and Athlone was lost.
The loss of life by which Ginckle gained possession of this town
is variously estimated. Twelve hundred would perhaps cover all the
casualties of the siege, but in addition to this he expended fifty
tons of gunpowder, 12,000 cannonball, 600 bombs, and innumerable tons
of stone, hurled from the mortars whenever the shell became exhausted.
The Irish army, during the same period, accepting the highest estimate,
suffered a diminution of 2,300 men, of whom 500 were slain, and 566
captured in the last surprise and assault. Its loss in officers was
very great--too great for specification. Among them were the French
adjutant-general, the two Colonels McGuinness, Colonels McMahon and
O'Gara, and the veteran Colonel Richard Grace, whose body was found
amid the slain under the western end of the bridge, where it had lain
since the assault of the previous morning,--and there could be no place
more appropriate for the fall of that patriot warrior. The booty taken
within the town is thus summed up by the English chaplain, Story: "A
good store of plunder among the ruins, and a great many dead men in the
castle, with about twenty barrels of powder, twelve hogsheads of meal,
some wheat, and a great many other things."
But Athlone was lost to the Irish army, and its last line of defence
was penetrated, not through lack of valor or capacity to maintain it,
but through a want of vigilance, totally inexcusable among the superior
officers, and a singular combination of pride and folly on the part of
the general, strangely comporting with the importance of the cause. Up
to this day, no city had ever been defended with more determined valor,
and never was eventual success more apparent than on the very hour that
it was captured "by the most complete surprise that ever was." The last
sun looked down on the Jacobite army exultant in spirit and confident
of success; the next saw it overreached by the enemy, outraged by its
general, robbed of victory, and humiliated by defeat. The world had
seldom witnessed such heroic sacrifice, such patient endurance, and
enthusiastic devotion as those displayed by the Irish soldiers of that
period; but the loss of this old town, through manifest neglect--a
tampering with fate, as it were, so culpable in a general--roused a
spirit of indignation in every breast, and denunciations loud and
bitter were uttered against St. Ruth, now as deeply penitent and as
lowly obsequious as he had lately been haughty and intolerant. But
little time was left for vain regrets or useless recrimination. The
presence of an enemy flushed with success, within two miles of their
camp, banished every other consideration for the moment, and, yielding
to the appeals of their generals, they prepared for the final contest.
All that day, and far into the night, they remained drawn up on the
site of their encampment, in momentary expectation of the enemy, and
determined to risk a battle. But as the night wore on and Ginckle
made no forward movement, they decamped and marched in good order to
Milton Pass, a small village about six miles to the north-west, on
a river which empties into the southern section of Lough Ree. There
they remained until ten o'clock next day, when the infantry took up
their march towards the south-west, and the cavalry, after remaining
some hours longer to protect their rear, took the same direction, and
disappeared from the sight of the enemy.