TYRCONNEL, Sarsfield, Berwick, De Lauzun, and their forces immediately

evacuated Dublin and its neighborhood, and, practically, gave up all of

Leinster to the enemy, while they retired on the Shannon and heavily

garrisoned Athlone, Limerick, and Galway—the latter a most important

seaport at that time. The flight of James demoralized Tyrconnel, who was

aging fast, and further discontented Lauzun, but Sarsfield and Berwick

remained steadfast, and were determined not to give up Ireland without a

bitter and bloody struggle. Most of the officers agreed with them. If

they had lost a king, their country still remained, and they would

defend it to the last.

William’s first attempt was made against Athlone, which is the most

central fortified place in Ireland, situated masterfully on the river

Shannon, the commerce of which it commands for many miles. The garrison

was commanded by an aged veteran of the Confederate war, Colonel Richard

Grace, to whom fear was unknown. General Douglas, with 12,000 men and a

fine battering train, including several mortars, was detached from the

Williamite army at Dublin to attack the town. He appeared before it on

July 17, and sent an offensive message for immediate surrender to the

governor. Colonel Grace discharged a pistol over the head of the

startled envoy, and said: “That is my answer!” The siege began when the

messenger returned. Athlone, divided by the Shannon, is partly in

Westmeath and partly in Roscommon. The latter portion alone was

defensible. Colonel Grace abandoned the Leinster side, called

“Englishtown,” after leveling the works. He also destroyed the bridge,

thus confining himself to “Irishtown,” where still stands the strong

castle. Douglas bombarded it furiously. Grace responded fiercely and

honors were about even, when news arrived in the English camp that

Sarsfield, at the head of a powerful Irish force, was en route from

Limerick to raise the siege. For seven days the English general rained

balls and bombshells on Athlone, but, on the seventh day, the

indomitable Grace hung out a red flag on the castle, to indicate that

the fight was to be to a finish, and that quarter would be neither taken

nor given. The English doubled their efforts to subdue the place, but

made no impression. Finally Douglas, in abject fear of Sarsfield, raised

the siege and left the town amid the cheers of the defenders of the

Connaught side. The garrison and people gave Governor Grace an ovation,

which, indeed, no warrior, young or old, better deserved.

King William reserved for himself, as he thought, the honor and pleasure

of capturing Limerick, which, in the days of Ireton, had won celebrity

by the obstinacy of its defence. Toward the end of July, 1690, he

marched from the capital, at the head of his main army, toward that

fortress. He was joined by the defeated Douglas, with his depleted

division, at Caherconlish, within a short distance of Limerick, on the

8th of August. This junction brought his force up to 38,000 men, not to

speak of a siege train and other warlike appliances. The Irish force

consisted of 10,000 infantry within the city, and 4,000 horse, encamped

on the Clare side of the Shannon. There was, as at Athlone, an Irishtown

and Englishtown—the former situated on the Limerick side of the stream,

and the latter on an island, called King’s Island, formed by the two

branches of the great river. In addition to an infantry force, some

regiments of Irish dragoons, intended to fight either on foot or

horseback, occupied Englishtown. The defences were in a wretched

condition. Lauzun, who seems to have been the wet blanket of the period,

declared that “King Louis could take them with roasted apples.”

Tyrconnel and he were for surrendering the city “on terms,” but

Sarsfield, ably seconded by the brave and youthful Duke of Berwick—the

best of the Stuarts—made fierce protest. De Boisseleau, a French officer

of engineers, who sympathized with the Irish people, became their ally,

and agreed to reconstruct the works, with the aid of the soldiery and

the citizens. De Lauzun, eager to return to the delights of Paris,

abandoned the city and marched with his French contingent to Galway. It

would appear, from contemporaneous accounts, that his troops were not

all native Frenchmen. Many were Swiss and German—a kind of Foreign

Legion in the French service. Louvois, the elder, at that time Louis’s

Minister of War, detested Lauzun—King James’s appointee—and would not

give him a corps of choice troops. The Swiss and Germans were courageous

soldiers, but their hearts were not in the cause they were engaged in,

and many of them deserted to the Williamites after the battle of the

Boyne. Lauzun remained in Galway until he heard of King William’s

unsuccessful attempt on Limerick, when he and his forces sailed for

France, the old Duke of Tyrconnel accompanying them. The Duke, on

reaching Paris, made charges of insubordination and general misconduct

against Lauzun, who, thereby, lost the favor of the French monarch. His

downfall followed, and, in after years, he was one of the unfortunates

doomed to captivity in the Bastile. He deserves no sympathy, as his

whole conduct in Ireland made him more than suspected of having been a

traitor.

John C. O’Callaghan, the noted historian of the Williamite wars, in his

“Green Book,” written in refutation of Voltaire, Lord Macaulay, and

other libelers of the Irish nation, says that the Louvois, father and

son, who held in succession the portfolio of war in France, during the

time when James was struggling to regain his crown, were inimical to his

cause, and did all they could to thwart the friendly efforts of King

Louis in his behalf. Louvois, Sr., it is explained, wished the command

of the French troops sent to Ireland conferred upon his son; but James

preferred Lauzun. Thus originated the feud which, no doubt, led to the

utter ruin of the Stuart dynasty. The hostility of the Louvois also

explains the miserable quality of the arms, equipments, and clothing

sent by the French Government to Ireland. How fatal a choice James made

in preferring Lauzun has already appeared. By universal consent, De

Boisseleau was made military governor of Limerick. Berwick, in the

absence of Tyrconnel, was recognized as commander-in-chief, mainly

because of his kinship with the king, while the able and trusty

Sarsfield was second in command, and, as will be seen, did the lion’s

share of the fighting. King William, with his formidable army, arrived

within sight of Limerick and “sat down before it” on August 9, confining

his attentions mostly to the southern defences of Irishtown, which

appeared to offer the most favorable point of assault. Although he had

with him a powerful artillery, he did not hope to reduce the city

without a further supply of heavy ordnance. Before leaving the Irish

capital, he had ordered a great siege train to be put in readiness, so

that it might reach him about the time he would be ready to begin the

investment of Limerick. He knew, therefore, that it was near at hand.

But another soldier, even bolder than himself, knew also of the close

approach of the siege train from Dublin, and that it was escorted by a

strong cavalry force. This was Sarsfield, who, at the head of five

hundred chosen horse, left the camp on the Clare side of the river on

Sunday night, August 10, rode along the right bank toward Killaloe, and,

near that town, crossed into the County Tipperary by a deep and

dangerous ford, seldom used and never guarded. He chose it in preference

to the bridge at Killaloe, because the utmost secrecy had to be

preserved, so that the Williamites might have no information of his

design to intercept the train. His guide was a captain of irregular

horse—called Rapparees—and he bore the sobriquet of “Galloping O’Hogan.”

Dawn found the adventurous force in the neighborhood of the picturesque

village of Silvermines, at the foot of the Keeper Mountain. In the deep

glen, which runs along its eastern base, Sarsfield concealed his party

all day of the 11th; but sent his scouts, under O’Hogan, southward

toward the County Limerick border, to locate the siege train. The

peasantry of the locality still point out the exact spot where the Irish

general awaited impatiently, and anxiously, news from the scouts. The

horses were kept saddled up, ready for immediate action, and, while they

grazed, the men held their bridle-reins. Pickets were posted behind the

crests of every vantage point, to prevent surprise, because the patrols

of King William’s army were ceaseless in their vigilance and might come

upon the bold raiders at any moment. The scouts returned at nightfall

and reported that the siege train and its escort had gone into camp near

the castle of Ballyneety, about two miles from the village of Cullen, in

the County Limerick, and twelve miles, by English measurement, in rear

of the Williamite army. Sarsfield immediately put his troops in motion,

and, after a laborious journey, reached the neighborhood of the rock and

ruined castle of Ballyneety some hours before daybreak. The convoy,

thinking itself secure, kept a careless look-out, and, besides,

Sarsfield, in some mysterious manner, secured the password, which

happened to be his own name. Tradition of the neighborhood says that, as

he approached the camp, the noise of the horses’ hoofs startled one of

the English sentinels, who, immediately, leveled his piece at the Irish

leader, and demanded the password. “Sarsfield is the word!” replied the

general, “and Sarsfield is the man!” Before the sentry could fire off

his musket, he was cloven down, and, at a fierce gallop, the Irish horse

fell upon the sleeping escort, nearly all of whom were sabred on the

spot. The captured cannon, charged with powder to their full extent,

were placed, muzzle downward, over a mine filled with the same

explosive, and the tin boats of a pontoon train, which was also bound

for William’s camp, were piled up near them. The Irish force, humanely

taking the English wounded with them, drew away to witness the result of

the coming explosion with greater security. Soon all was ready; the

train was ignited, and cannon and pontoons were blown into the sky. The

report was heard and the shock felt for twenty miles around, and

startled even the phlegmatic King William in his tent. He divined at

once, with military sagacity, what had taken place. There was no

mistaking it. Already, on the information of an Irish Williamite, named

Manus O’Brien, who had accidentally encountered Sarsfield’s cavalcade on

the Clare side, the king had sent Sir John Lanier, with five hundred

dragoons, to the rescue. Sarsfield eluded the latter and got back to his

camp, recrossing the Shannon much higher up than Killaloe, without the

loss of a man. When the news was confirmed to King William, by General

Lanier, he said, simply, “It was a bold movement. I did not think

Sarsfield capable of it.” Some authors affirm that Sarsfield himself

said to a wounded English officer, whom he had captured, “If this

enterprise had failed, I should have gone to France.” He was destined to

do other stout service for Ireland before he finally shed his life-blood

for the French lilies on a Belgian battlefield.

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CHAPTER VII

William’s Assault on Limerick Repulsed with Slaughter—Heroism of the

Irish Women—Irish Humanity to the English Wounded

WILLIAM was not discouraged by the loss of his siege material. He found

that two of the cannon captured by Sarsfield had failed to explode. Some

heavy pieces, with mortars, also reached him, within a few days, from

Waterford, and these, with the ordnance he had brought with him from

Dublin, made a formidable array of breach-producing engines. The siege,

accordingly, was vigorously pressed, as against the Irishtown and King’s

Island, but hardly any demonstration was made against the Clare section,

connected with Limerick by Thomond bridge, probably because of the loss

of the pontoon train.

The Irish soldiery and the citizens of Limerick, encouraged by De

Boisseleau, Berwick, and Sarsfield, had made considerable improvement in

the defences of Limerick before William came up, and, even after his

arrival, continued to repair the breaches made in the walls by his

cannon. Their batteries vigorously replied to those of the enemy,

although much inferior in number and weight of metal, and the

Williamites suffered quite heavy losses in officers and rank and file.

The Irish leaders had sent many non-combatants to the safer side of the

Shannon, but most of the women refused to leave and worked at the

earthworks like the men. Many of them were killed by the English fire

while so occupied.

At last, on the morning of August 27, the Williamite engineers declared

the breach in the neighborhood of St. John’s Gate and the Black Battery

on the south side of the town practicable. Some authorities say it was

twelve yards wide, and others, including Thomas Davis, one of Ireland’s

most accurate writers, six perches, which would make quite a difference.

Five hundred British grenadiers, drawn from the right flank companies of

the line regiments, as was then and for long afterward the custom,

constituted the forlorn hope. Their immediate reserves were a battalion

of the Blue Dutch Guards—the heroes of the Boyne—and the regiments of

Douglas, Stuart, Meath, Lisburn, and Brandenburg. The whole army stood

ready to support these picked troops. The signal, three cannon shots,

was given from Cromwell’s Fort, where William witnessed the operation,

at 3.30 P.M. Story tells us the day was torrid. The orders to the

stormers were to seize the Irish counterscarp—the exterior slope of the

ditch—and maintain it. The assault was delivered with great spirit, the

grenadiers leaping out of their trenches, advancing at a run, firing

their pieces and throwing their hand grenades among the Irish in the

works. The attack was fierce and sudden—almost in the nature of a

surprise—but the Irish met it boldly, for, says Chaplain Story, in his

thrilling narrative of the event, “they had their guns all ready and

discharged great and small shot on us as fast as ‘twas possible. Our men

were not behind them in either, so that, in less than two minutes, the

noise was so terrible that one would have thought the very skies ready

to rent in sunder. This was seconded with dust, smoke, and all the

terrors the art of man could invent to ruin and undo one another; and,

to make it more uneasie, the day itself was so excessive hot to the

bystanders, and much more, sure, in all respects to those upon action.

Captain Carlile, of my Lord Drogheda’s regiment, ran on with his

grenadiers to the counterscarp, and tho’ he received two wounds between

that and the trenches, yet he went forward and commanded his men to

throw in their grenades, but in the leaping into the dry ditch below the

counterscarp an Irishman below shot him dead. Lieutenant Barton,

however, encouraged the men and they got upon the counterscarp, and all

the rest of the grenadiers were as ready as they.”

It would seem that, at this point of the attack, some of the Irish

soldiers began to draw off and made for the breach, which the

Williamites entered with them. Half of the Drogheda regiment and some

others actually got into the town. The city seemed nearly won, as the

supports came up promptly to the assistance of their comrades. But the

Irish troops rallied immediately and fell vehemently on their pursuers.

These, in their turn, retreated from the breach, “but some were shot,

some were taken, and some came out again, but very few without being

wounded.” The Williamite chaplain thus describes the outcome, still

preserving his tone of contemptuous hatred of the brave Irish soldiery:

“The Irish then ventured (_sic_) upon the breach again, and from the

walls and every place so pestered us upon the counterscarp, that after

nigh three hours resisting bullets, stones (broken bottles from the very

women, who boldly stood in the breach and were nearer our men than their

own), and whatever ways could be thought on to destroy us, our

ammunition being spent, it was judged safest to return to our trenches!

When the work was at the hottest, the Brandenburg regiment (who behaved

themselves very well) were got upon the Black Battery, where the

enemies’ powder happened to take fire and blew up a great many of them,

the men, fagots, stones, and what not flying into the air with a most

terrible noise.... From half an hour after three, until after seven,

there was one continued fire of both great and small shot, without any

intermission; in so much that the smoke that went from the town reached

in one continued cloud to the top of a mountain [Keeper Hill, most

likely] at least six miles off. When our men drew off, some were brought

up dead, and some without a leg; others wanted arms, and some were blind

with powder; especially a great many of the poor Brandenburgers looked

like furies, with the misfortune of gunpowder.... The king [William]

stood nigh Cromwell’s Fort all the time, and the business being over, he

went to his camp very much concerned, as, indeed, was the whole army;

for you might have seen a mixture of anger and sorrow in every bodie’s

countenance. The Irish had two small field-pieces planted in the King’s

Island, which flankt their own counterscarp, and in our attack did us no

small damage, as did, also, two guns more that they had planted within

the town, opposite to the breach and charged with cartridge shot.

“We lost, at least, five hundred on the spot, and had a thousand more

wounded, as I understood by the surgeons of our hospitals, who are the

properest judges. The Irish lost a great many by our cannon and other

ways, but it can not be supposed that their loss should be equal to

ours, since it is a much easier thing to defend walls than ’tis by plain

strength to force people from them, and one man within has the advantage

of four without.”

Mr. Story acknowledges fifty-nine officers of the English regiments

engaged killed and wounded. Fifteen died upon the ground and several

afterward of their injuries. “The Grenadiers are not here included,”

continues the English annalist, “and they had the hottest service; nor

are there any of the foreigners, who lost full as many as the English.”

We have quoted this English authority, prejudiced though he was, because

the testimony of an eye-witness is much more valuable than the

allegations of writers who give their information at second hand. We may

add, however, that all Irish historians have declared that the Black

Battery was mined for such an emergency as destroyed the Brandenburg

regiment, and some of them assert that Sarsfield, in person, fired the

mine. As he was the Ajax of the campaign, on the Irish side, it seems

quite natural that every extraordinary feat of skill or valor should

have been credited to him. His own merits made him the idol of his

people, and he was farther endeared to them, as being the son of Anna

O’More, daughter of the famous organizer of the Irish insurrection of

1641. On the paternal side, he was of Norman stock. His father had been

a member of the Irish House of Commons, and was proscribed and exiled

because he had sided with the patriots in the Parliamentary wars.

General Sarsfield—the rank he held at the first siege of Limerick—had

seen hot service on the Continent, during the early part of his career,

and commanded a regiment of the royal cavalry at the battle of

Sedgemoor, where the unfortunate Duke of Monmouth met with his fatal

defeat at the hands of Lord Feversham. In stature, he was

tall—considerably over six feet—fair and strikingly handsome. His

flowing wig—in the queer fashion of the period—fell in massive ringlets

over the corselet of a cuirassier, and, in the rush of battle, he must

have been the counterpart of Murat, Napoleon’s “Emperor of Dragoons.”

Irish poets have called him “headlong Sarsfield.” “Long-headed

Sarsfield” would have been a better sobriquet, for, had his advice been

taken by his royal master and the generals sent by the latter to command

over him, Ireland would never have bowed her head to the yoke of

William. Even the most envenomed of English historians against the

adherents of King James—including Lord Macaulay—do ample justice to the

courage, talents, and virtues of Patrick Sarsfield.

The heroic women of Limerick, who fought and bled in the breach, are

complimented by Chaplain Story, as we have seen, at the expense of their

countrymen, but the glorious military record of the Irish race in the

wars of Europe and of this continent, since that period, would make any

defence of the conduct of the heroes of Limerick-breach superfluous. The

women, too, deserve immortal honor; because, in defence of their country

and hearthstones, they dared the storm of war, and “stalked with

Minerva’s step where Mars might quake to tread.”

The Irish loss in killed and wounded was about four hundred. Many lives,

on both sides, were lost by sickness—dysentery and enteric fever

chiefly—during this siege. A conservative estimate places William’s

loss, by wounds and sickness, at 5,000, and the Irish at 3,000.

The day after his bloody repulse, King William sent a flag of truce to

De Boisseleau asking the privilege of burying his dead. After

consultation with Berwick and Sarsfield, the French governor refused the

request, as he suspected a ruse of some kind behind it. All the dead

were buried by the Irish as quickly as possible, because the heat was

intense, and, aside from feelings of humanity, they dreaded a plague

from the decomposition of the corpses left above ground. We are informed

by the late Mr. A. M. Sullivan, M.P., in his admirable “Story of

Ireland,” that, during the pursuit by the Irish of King William’s men

from the breach to their trenches, the temporary hospital established by

the king for his wounded caught fire. The Irish troops immediately

paused in their fierce pursuit, and devoted themselves to saving their

helpless foes in the hospital, who, otherwise, must have perished

miserably in the flames.

King William, after carefully considering the situation, and taking

counsel with his chief officers, decided that there was no hope of

capturing Limerick that year. Therefore, he declared the siege

raised—that is, abandoned—and, on August 30th, the entire Williamite

army drew off from before Limerick, posting strong rear-guards at points

of vantage, so as to baffle pursuit. The king, leaving Baron De Ginkel

in command, retired to Waterford. There he embarked for England, bidding

Ireland what proved to be an eternal farewell. Although this gloomy

monarch was not quite as ferocious as some of his contemporaries, and

was a marked improvement on Cromwell, Ireton, and Ludlow in Ireland, he

is charged by careful Irish historians—like McGee, O’Callaghan, and

Sullivan—with having, like his lieutenant, General Douglas, permitted

many outrages on the people, both in person and property, on his march

from Dublin to Limerick. Making due allowance for the difficulty of

restraining a mercenary army, filled with hatred of the people they

moved among, from committing excesses, it is regrettable that the

martial renown of William of Orange is sullied by this charge of cruelty

in Ireland, as, afterward, in connection with the foul massacre of the

Macdonalds of Glencoe in Scotland. Brave men are rarely cruel, but we

fear, in these instances, William was an exception to the rule.

The story of the first defence of Limerick, in the Williamite war, reads

like a chapter from a military romance, and yet it was, indeed, a stern

and bloody reality. It was, in truth, a magnificent defence against a

powerful foe, not surpassed even by that of Saragossa against the

French. Limerick, like Saragossa, was defended by the citizens, men and

women, quite as much as by the soldiery. All took equal risks, as in the

case of Londonderry. The latter was also a brilliant defence—more,

however, in the matter of splendid endurance than in hand-to-hand

conflict. Londonderry wears the crown for fortitude and

tenacity—Limerick and Saragossa for heroic prowess and matchless

courage.

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CHAPTER VIII

Fall of Cork and Kinsale—Lauzun, the French General, Accused by Irish

Writers—Sarsfield’s Popularity—Tyrconnel Returns to Ireland—Berwick

Departs

THE successful defence of Limerick by the Irish was somewhat offset in

the following month of September by the victorious expedition from

England, against Cork and Kinsale, led by John Churchill, afterward Duke

of Marlborough, the greatest general of that age. Cork, under the

military governor, McEligott, defended itself vigorously during a siege

of five days, but the defences and garrison were both weak, and,

eventually, the city capitulated on honorable conditions. These were

subsequently violated by some soldiers and camp-followers of the English

army, but Marlborough suppressed, in as far as he could, the disorders

as soon as he heard of them. The English lost the Duke of

Grafton—natural son of Charles II—and many other officers and private

men during the siege. Marlborough, with characteristic promptitude,

moved at once on Kinsale. The old town and fort, not being defensible,

were, after some show of resistance, abandoned by the Irish troops, who

took post in the new fort, commanding the harbor, which they held with

creditable tenacity, during fourteen days. They, at last, capitulated,

their ammunition having run low, and were allowed, in recognition of

their valor, to retire to Limerick, the garrison in that city being thus

augmented by 1,200 tried warriors. Marlborough accomplished his task

within five weeks, and returned to England a popular idol. The loss of

Cork and Kinsale, particularly the latter, was a severe blow to the

Irish army, as it was, thereby, deprived of the most favorable seaports

by which supplies from France could reach it. It should have been stated

that Marlborough, in the capture of those towns, was materially assisted

by the English fleet. His army was a very formidable one, consisting of

9,000 picked men from England, and a detachment, nearly equal in

numbers, which joined him, under the Duke of Wurtemburg and General

Scravenmore. The latter body consisted of troops who had fought at the

Boyne and Limerick. Wurtemburg, on account of his connection with

royalty, claimed the command in chief. Marlborough, who was as great a

diplomat as he was a general, agreed to command alternately, but he was,

all through the operations, the real commander. Students of history will

remember that, in after wars on the Continent, Marlborough and Prince

Eugene of Savoy commanded on alternate days. But there was a great

difference in this case, Eugene having been regarded as nearly as good a

general as Marlborough himself.

O’Callaghan attributes the failure of the main Irish army to succor the

Cork and Kinsale garrisons to the misconduct of Lauzun in deserting

Ireland, with his remaining 5,000 French troops, at this critical

period. He quotes King James’s and Berwick’s memoirs, the Rawdon papers,

and other authorities, to show that the Duke of Berwick had advanced

with 7,000 men as far as Kilmallock, in Limerick County, to raise the

siege of Cork, when he found himself destitute of cannon, which had been

carried off by the French general, and could not expose his inferior

force, destitute of artillery, to the formidable force under his uncle,

Marlborough. He was, therefore, most reluctantly compelled to abandon

the enterprise. Lauzun, it is further claimed, carried off most of the

powder stored in Limerick, and, had it not been for Sarsfield’s exploit

at Ballyneety, that city must have fallen if a second assault had been

delivered by William, as only fifty barrels of powder remained after the

fight of August 27th.

The autumn and winter of 1690-91 were marked by constant bloody

skirmishes between the cavalry and infantry outposts of the two armies.

Hardly a day passed without bloodshed. Considerable ferocity was

exhibited by both parties, and neither seemed to have much the advantage

of the other. Story’s narrative of this period is one unbroken tale of

disorder and strife. His narration, if taken without a grain of salt,

would lead us to believe that nearly all the able-bodied Celtic-Irish

were put to the sword, at sight, by his formidable countrymen and their

allies, although he does admit, occasionally, that the Irish succeeded

in killing a few, at least, of their enemies. The most considerable of

these lesser engagements occurred between Sarsfield and the Duke of

Berwick on the Irish side and General Douglas and Sir John Lanier on the

side of the Williamites. The Irish leaders made an attack on Birr Castle

in September, and were engaged in battering it, when the English, under

Lanier, Douglas, and Kirk, marched to relieve it. They were too many for

Berwick and Sarsfield, who retired on Banagher, where there is a bridge

over the Shannon. The English pursued and made a resolute attempt to

take the bridge, but the Irish defended it so steadily, and with such

loss to the enemy, that the latter abandoned the attempt at capture and

retired to Birr. Sarsfield possessed one great advantage over all the

higher officers of King James’s army. He could speak the Irish (Gaelic)

language fluently, having learned it from the lips of his mother, Anna

O’More. This gave him vast control over the Celtic peasantry, who fully

trusted him, as he did them, and they kept him informed of all that was

passing in their several localities. The winter was exceptionally

severe—so much so that, at some points, the deep and rapid Shannon was

all but frozen across. Besides, there were several bridges that, if

carelessly guarded, could be easily surprised and taken by the invaders.

Sarsfield’s Celtic scouts, in December, observed several parties of

British cavalry moving along the banks of the river. Their suspicions

were excited, and they, at once, communicated with their general. The

latter had no sooner taken the alarm than one English force, under

Douglas, showed itself at Jamestown, and another, under Kirk and Lanier,

at Jonesboro. The English commanders were astonished at finding the

Irish army prepared to receive them warmly at both points. After severe

skirmishing, they withdrew. The cold had become so severe that foreign

troops were almost useless, while the Irish became, if possible, more

alert. Sarsfield, at the head of his formidable cavalry, harassed the

retreat of the Williamites to their winter quarters.

The Duke of Tyrconnel, who had, according to O’Callaghan, and other

annalists, sailed from Galway with Lauzun, and, according to other

authorities from Limerick, with De Boisseleau, after William’s repulse,

returned from France, in February, accompanied by three men-of-war well

laden with provisions. They carried but few arms and no reinforcements,

but the aged duke, who seemed to be in good spirits, said that the

latter would speedily follow. The amount of money he brought with him

was comparatively insignificant—only 14,000 louis d’or—which he devoted

to clothing for the army, as most of the men were nearly in rags, and

had received no pay in many months. He had deposited 10,000 louis,

additional, at Brest for the food supply of the troops.

He found unholy discord raging in the Irish ranks. Sarsfield had

discovered that some members of the Senate, or Council, appointed by

Tyrconnel before he left for France, had been in treasonable

correspondence with the enemy, and that this treachery had led to the

attempt at the passage of the Shannon made by the English in December.

The Council consisted of sixteen members, four from each province, and

was supposed to have supreme direction of affairs. Through the influence

of Sarsfield, Lord Riverston and his brother, both of whom were strongly

suspected of treason, were dismissed from that body, and Judge Daly,

another member, whose honesty was doubted, was placed under arrest in

the city of Galway. A difference had also arisen between Sarsfield and

Berwick, although they were generally on good terms, because the former

did not always treat the latter with the deference due an officer higher

in rank. Berwick was an admirable soldier, but he lacked Sarsfield’s

experience, and, naturally, did not understand the Irish people quite as

well as the native leader did. In fact, Sarsfield was the hero of the

time in the eyes of his countrymen, and, had he been unduly ambitious,

might have deposed Berwick, or even Tyrconnel, and made himself

dictator. But he was too good a patriot and true a soldier to even

harbor such a thought. After all his splendid services, he was

ungratefully treated. He deserved the chief command, but it was never

given him, and he received, instead, the barren title of Earl of Lucan,

the patent of which had been brought over from James by Tyrconnel. But

it was gall and wormwood for Sarsfield to learn from the duke that a

French commander-in-chief, Lieutenant-General the Marquis de St. Ruth,

had been chosen by Louis and James to take charge of military matters in

Ireland forthwith. Already he ranked below Tyrconnel and Berwick,

although having much more ability than the two combined, as he had

proven on many occasions.

General St. Ruth, if we are to believe Lord Macaulay and other

Williamite partisans, was more distinguished for fierce persecution of

the French Protestants, called Huguenots, than anything else in his

career. He had served in the French army, in all its campaigns, under

Turenne, Catinat, and other celebrated soldiers, since 1667, and, while

yet in vigorous middle life, had won the rank of lieutenant-general. He

had married the widow of old Marshal De Meilleraye, whose page he had

been in his boyhood, and, according to St. Simon’s gossipy memoirs, the

couple led a sort of cat-and-dog existence, the king having been often

compelled to interfere between them. Of St. Ruth’s person, St. Simon

says: “He was tall and well-formed, but, as everybody knew, extremely

ugly.” The same authority says the general was “of a brutal temper,” and

used to baton his wife whenever she annoyed him. It is well known that

St. Simon was a venomous detractor of those who had incurred his

resentment, or that of his friends, and this may account for his

uncomplimentary references to St. Ruth. Irish tradition says that the

latter was hard-featured, but of commanding person, with a piercing

glance and a voice like a trumpet. It is certain that he had an

imperious disposition and was quick to fly into a rage. When appointed

to the command in Ireland, he had just returned from a successful

campaign in Savoy, where Mountcashel’s Irish Brigade, as already stated,

had formed a portion of his victorious forces. He had learned to

appreciate Irish courage and constancy during that campaign, and was, on

that account as much as any other, deemed the fit man to lead the Irish

soldiers on their own soil to victory.

Tyrconnel had accepted St. Ruth from Louis and James, because he could

not help himself, and, also, because he was jealous of Sarsfield. The

viceroy was no longer popular in Ireland. He was aged, infirm, and

incompetent, and it would seem his temper had grown so bad that he could

not get along peaceably with anybody. One faction from the Irish camp

had sent representatives to James in the palace of St. Germain, begging

that Tyrconnel be recalled and the command placed in the hands of

Sarsfield. But Tyrconnel, because of old association, was all-powerful

with the exiled king, and his cause, therefore, prevailed. Soon

afterward the gallant Duke of Berwick, who subsequently won the battle

of Almanza and placed Philip V—King Louis’s grandson—on the throne of

Spain, unable to agree with either Tyrconnel or Sarsfield, was relieved

of command in Ireland and joined his father in France. This was an

additional misfortune for Ireland. Berwick, the nephew of the great Duke

of Marlborough, was, both by nature and training, a thorough soldier. He

was the very soul of bravery, and could put enthusiasm into an Irish

army by his dashing feats of arms. He was missed in the subsequent

battles and sieges of that war. His career in the French army was long

and brilliant. After rising to the rank of marshal, he was killed by a

cannon shot while superintending the siege of Philipsburg, in 1734. The

aristocratic French family of Fitzjames is lineally descended from the

Duke of Berwick, and that house, although of illegitimate origin,

represents the male Stuart line, just as the House of Beaufort, in

England, represents, with the bend sinister shadowing its escutcheon,

the male line of the Plantagenets. Strange to say, the Duke of Berwick’s

great qualities as a general were not even suspected by his associates,

either French, English, or Irish, in Ireland. When Tyrconnel left him in

command, leading officers of the Irish army declared that they would not

serve, unless he consented to be governed by a council more national in

composition than that nominated by Tyrconnel. After some strong

protests, Berwick yielded the point, but never afterward made any

attempt at bona-fide command. He felt that he was but a figurehead, and

was glad when Tyrconnel’s return led to his recall from a position at

once irksome and humiliating. Had he been King James’s legitimate son,

the House of Stuart would probably have found in him a restorer. He

inherited the Churchill genius from his mother, Arabella, who was King

James’s mistress when that monarch was Duke of York. She was not

handsome of feature, but her figure was perfect, and the deposed king,

to judge by his selections, must have had a penchant for plain women.

O’Callaghan, in his “History of the Irish Brigades,” says of the Duke of

Berwick: “He was one of those commanders of whom it is the highest

eulogium to say that to such, in periods of adversity, it is safest to

intrust the defence of a state. Of the great military leaders of whose

parentage England can boast, he may be ranked with his uncle,

Marlborough, among the first. But to his uncle, as to most public

characters, be was very superior as a man of principle. The Regent Duke

of Orleans, whose extensive acquaintance with human nature attaches a

suitable value to his opinion, observed: ‘If there ever was a perfectly

honest man in the world, that man was the Marshal Duke of Berwick.’” We

have also the testimony of his French and other contemporaries that he

was a man of majestic appearance—much more “royal” in that respect than

any other scion of his race.

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BOOK V

RECORDING IMPORTANT EVENTS FROM THE ARRIVAL OF GENERAL ST. RUTH IN

LIMERICK TO HIS GLORIOUS DEATH AT THE BATTLE OF AUGHRIM, IN JULY, 1691

------------------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER I

General St. Ruth Arrives at Limerick to Command the Irish Army—His

Marvelous Activity—Brave and Able, but Vain and Obstinate

THE garrison of Limerick was beginning to despair of any farther succor

from France, and murmurs against the viceroy became loud and deep, when

runners arrived from the southwestern coast, announcing that a French

fleet had been sighted off the Kerry coast, and that it was, probably,

steering for the estuary of the Shannon. This was in the first week of

May, and, on the 8th of that month, the French men-of-war cast anchor in

the harbor of Limerick. On board was Lieutenant-General St. Ruth, with

Major-General D’Usson, Major-General De Tesse, and other officers. He

brought with him, in the ships, provisions, a supply of indifferent

clothing, and a quantity of ammunition, but no reinforcements of any

kind. The general, however, had a large personal staff and a retinue of

servants and orderlies. He was received, on landing, by Tyrconnel,

Sarsfield, Sheldon, and other army leaders. He and his officers attended

pontifical High Mass at St. Mary’s Cathedral, where Te Deum was chanted.

Macaulay, a somewhat imaginative authority, informs us that St. Ruth was

disappointed, if not disgusted, by the conditions then existing in

Limerick. He had been accustomed to command troops perfectly uniformed

and equipped. The Irish army was poorly dressed and indifferently armed.

He had seen the splendid legions of Mountcashel in Savoy, dressed

scrupulously and bearing the best arms of that day, and he was quite

unprepared to behold the undeniable poverty of the brave defenders of

Athlone and Limerick. But he was a practical soldier, and at once set

about what an American general would call “licking his army into shape.”

Dissatisfied with the cavalry mounts, he resorted to a ruse to supply

the deficiency. The “gentry” of the surrounding districts were summoned

to King’s Island to deliberate on the question of national defence. They

came in large numbers—every man, as was the custom of the times, mounted

on a strong and spirited horse. When all had assembled, St. Ruth,

through an interpreter, addressed them in spirited words. One of the

chief needs of the hour was cavalry horses. The gentlemen were invited

to dismount and turn over their horses to the public service. This most

of them did cheerfully, while others were chagrined. However, St. Ruth

gained his point, and the Irish troopers were as well mounted as any in

the world.

The new French general, although much given to pleasure, was a man of

extraordinary energy. He gave balls to honor the country gentlemen and

their families, and the French uniform became very familiar in all the

aristocratic Catholic circles of Munster and Connaught. St. Ruth

participated in the dancing and feasting, but was always “up betimes,”

and away on horseback, attended by his staff and interpreters, to

inspect the posts held by the Irish along the Shannon and Suck. It was

during one of those rides, tradition says, he noticed the hill of

Kilcommodan, rising above the little hamlet of Aughrim, near

Ballinasloe, and, casting a glance at the position, exclaimed to his

officers, in French, “That is the choicest battleground in all Europe!”

We shall hear more about Aughrim, and what there befell Monsieur St.

Ruth and the Irish army.

That brave army, at Limerick, Athlone, and Galway, was put through a

course of drilling, such as it had never received before, under the

orders of the ardent and indefatigable Frenchman. He repressed disorder

with an iron hand, and made such examples, under martial law, as seemed

necessary. It is said he was severe to his officers and contemptuous to

the rank and file of his army, but these assertions come mainly from

Chaplain Story and chroniclers of his class. The haughty Irish

aristocrats would have run St. Ruth through the body with their swords

if he had dared to be insulting toward them. He was necessarily strict,

no doubt, and this strictness bore glorious fruit when the reorganized

army again took the field. One of the chief embarrassments of the time

was lack of money. Lauzun, while in Ireland, had played into the hands

of the English by crying down King James’s “brass money,” as it was

called, issued on the national security. The poor devoted Irish soldiers

took it readily enough, but the trading and commercial classes, always

sensitive and conservative where their interests are affected, were slow

to take the tokens in exchange for their goods. King Louis had promised

a large supply of “good money,” but, somehow, it was not forthcoming,

except in small parcels, which did little good. We may be sure, however,

that St. Ruth, accustomed to Continental forced loans, did not stand on

ceremony, and, under his vigorous régime, the Irish army was better

armed, better fed, and better clad than it had been since the outbreak

of the war. Old Tyrconnel ruled Ireland nominally. The real ruler, after

he had, by repeated representations and solicitations, obtained

unrestricted military command, was St. Ruth himself. Unhappily for

Ireland, he slighted Tyrconnel, who was a very proud man, and did not

get along smoothly with Sarsfield, whose sage advice, had he taken it,

would have saved him from a fatal disaster.

Baron De Ginkel, commander-in-chief for William, marched with an army

computed at 19,000 men from Dublin to open the campaign against the

Irish on the line of the Shannon, on May 30, 1691. On June 7, he reached

the fort of Ballymore, held by a small Irish force under

Lieutenant-Colonel Ulick Burke, and summoned it to surrender. Burke

answered defiantly, and Ginkel immediately opened upon his works. A

detached post, held by a sergeant and a few men, was defended

desperately and caused the Williamites serious loss. It was finally

captured, and De Ginkel, with inexcusable cruelty, hanged the brave

sergeant, for doing his duty, as O’Callaghan says, on the shallow

pretext that he had defended an untenable position. Colonel Burke,

nothing daunted, continued his defence of Ballymore, although Ginkel

threatened him with the unfortunate sergeant’s fate. The fire of

eighteen well-served pieces of heavy artillery speedily reduced the fort

to a ruin. The Irish engineer officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Burton, was

killed, and many men had also fallen. Burke hung out a flag of truce and

demanded the honors of war if he were to surrender the place. Ginkel

refused and called for immediate submission. The utmost time he would

grant was two hours, and he agreed to allow the women and children to

depart within that period. Once he proceeded to storm the position, he

said, the garrison need expect no quarter. Colonel Burke declined to be

intimidated and the work of destruction began anew—the women and

children still remaining in the beleaguered fort. The latter was

situated near the town of the same name, in the County Westmeath, on a

peninsula which jutted into a small loch, or lake, and was too far from

support to make a successful defence. It stood about midway between

Mullingar and Athlone on the road from Dublin. Finally, Ginkel managed

to assail it on the water front, breaches were made, and further

resistance was useless. Therefore, Governor Burke finally surrendered.

He and his command were made prisoners of war, and, in the sinister

words of Story, the four hundred women and children, destitute of food,

shelter, and protection, were “set at liberty.” What subsequently became

of them is not stated. Colonel Burke was exchanged and fell in battle,

at Aughrim, soon afterward. Seven days were occupied by De Ginkel in

again putting Ballymore into a state of defence. He then resumed his

march on Athlone, and, on June 18, was joined at Ballyburn Pass by the

Duke of Wurtemburg and Count Nassau, at the head of 7,000 foreign

mercenaries, and these, according to O’Callaghan, the most painstaking

of historical statisticians, brought his force up to “between 26,000 and

27,000 men of all arms.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER II

De Ginkel Besieges Athlone—Memorable Resistance of the Irish

Garrison—The Battle at the Bridge—St. Ruth’s Fatuous Obstinacy—Town

Taken by Surprise

ST. RUTH had been advised by the Irish officers of his staff not to

attempt the defence of the “Englishtown” of Athlone, on the Leinster

bank of the Shannon; but, rather, to confine himself to the defence of

the Connaught side, as Governor Grace had done so successfully in the

preceding year. He paid no attention to their counsel, considering,

after reflection, that the Williamite army should be met and beaten back

from the Englishtown, and believing that the bridge, which, in the event

of abandonment, must be destroyed, might prove useful in future military

operations. Accordingly, Colonel John Fitzgerald was appointed governor

of this portion of Athlone, and, with a very insufficient force,

prepared to do his duty. Ginkel, his well-fed ranks, according to

Macaulay, “one blaze of scarlet,” and provided with the finest artillery

train ever seen in Ireland, appeared before Athlone on the morning of

June 19th. His advance was most gallantly disputed and retarded by a

detachment of Irish grenadiers, selected by Governor Fitzgerald, for

that important duty. He took command of them in person, and they fought

so bravely and obstinately, that the enemy were delayed in their

progress for several hours, so that the Irish garrison was well prepared

to receive them, when they finally appeared within gunshot of the walls.

The attack on Englishtown began immediately, Ginkel planting such of his

cannon as had already come up with great judgment; and Fitzgerald

replied to his fire with the few and inefficient pieces he possessed.

But his Irish soldiers performed prodigies of heroism. Their deeds of

unsurpassed valor are thus summed up by Mr. O’Callaghan in an epitaph

which he suggested, in his “Green Book,” should be engraved on a

memorial stone in the locality of the action to be revered by the Irish

people of all creeds and parties:

“Be it remembered that, on the 19th and 20th of June, 1691, a little

band, of between three hundred and four hundred Irishmen, under Colonel

Fitzgerald, contested against an English army of about 26,000 men, under

Lieutenant-General Ginkel, the passes leading to, and the English town

of, Athlone. And though the place had but a slender wall, in which the

enemy’s well-appointed and superior artillery soon made a large breach,

and though its few defenders were worn down by forty-eight hours’

continual exertion, they held out till the evening of the second day,

when, the breach being assaulted by a fresh body of 4,000 Dutch, Danish,

and English troops, selected from above 26,000 men, who fought in

successive detachments, against but three hundred or four hundred, with

no fresh troops to relieve them, these gallant few did not abandon the

breach before above two hundred of their number were killed or disabled.

Then, in spite of the enemy, the brave survivors made their way to the

bridge over the Shannon, maintained themselves in front of it till they

demolished two arches behind them, and finally retired across the river

by a drawbridge into the Irish town, which was preserved by their

heroism till the coming up, soon after, of the Irish main army under

Lieutenant-General St. Ruth.”

Having at last attained possession of Englishtown, Baron De Ginkel

proceeded without delay to bombard the Connaught, and stronger, section

of Athlone. His cannonade knocked a portion of the grim old castle to

pieces, and did considerable other damage, but produced no depressing

effect on the resolute Irish garrison, commanded by two such heroes as

Colonel John Fitzgerald and the veteran Colonel Grace, who acted as a

volunteer. The experienced Dutch general, fearing the appearance on the

scene of St. Ruth, with a relieving army, became a prey to anxiety.

Impressed by the spirit displayed by the Irish troops, he knew there was

little chance of forcing the mutilated bridge by a direct assault, and

he looked for some means of flanking the place, either by a ford or a

bridge of boats. He did not have, at first, sufficient material for the

latter, so he “demonstrated” with detachments of horse, toward

Lanesborough, east of Athlone, and Banagher west of it. The vigilance of

the Irish patrols at both points baffled his design.

Meanwhile, St. Ruth, who had been on the march from Limerick for some

days, at the head of 15,000 men, if we are to believe King James’s

Memoirs, appeared beyond the Shannon and went into camp on a rising

ground about a mile and a half from the town. He was soon made aware of

the condition of affairs, and strengthened the castle garrison. He also

had an earthen rampart constructed to protect the bridge and ford. The

latter was practicable at low water only, and the summer of 1691 was

exceptionally dry. The river had never been known to be so shallow

within the memory of living man. This fact alone should have warned the

French general to be exceptionally vigilant. He retired the brave

Fitzgerald from the governorship, to which he appointed General

Wauchop—a good soldier, but not an Irishman—and the French officers,

Generals D’Usson and De Tesse, were made joint commandants in the town.

The apologists for St. Ruth’s mistakes in front of Athlone claim that

the ill-fated chief gave orders to the French commandants to level all

the useless old walls near the bridge, but that his orders were

neglected. As is usual in such cases, disobedience led to tragical

results. Foiled in his attempt at flank operations, Ginkel determined to

assault the partially destroyed bridge across the Shannon, which, under

cover of a tremendous cannon fire, he did. But it was defended with

Spartan tenacity. Attack after attack failed. Movable covered galleries

were tried, and these contained planks wherewith to restore the broken

arches. Not less than nine English batteries, armed with heavy guns,

rained death on the Irish army, but still it stood unmoved, although

losing heavily. Under cover of the fire of nearly fifty great guns, the

English pontoniers, protected also by their galleries, succeeded in

laying planks across the broken arches. They accounted their work done,

when suddenly out of the Irish trenches leaped eleven men clad in armor,

led by Sergeant Custume, or Costy, who, according to Sullivan, called on

them “to die with him for Ireland.” They rushed upon the bridge and

proceeded to tear away the planks. Instantly, all the English cannon and

muskets sent balls and bullets crashing upon them. The whole eleven fell

dead—shattered by that dreadful fire. Some planks still remained upon

the arches. Eleven more Irish soldiers leaped from their works, and,

following the example of their fallen comrades, gained the bridge and

sought to throw the planks into the river. Nine of these heroes were

killed before their work was accomplished. But the planks were floating

down the Shannon, and two heroic survivors of twenty-two Homeric heroes

regained the Irish lines! Pity it is that their names have not come down

to us. Aubrey de Vere, in his fine poem, commemorating the exploit,

tells us that St. Ruth, who, with Sarsfield, witnessed the glorious

deed, rose in his stirrups and swore he had never seen such valor

displayed in the Continental wars. Chaplain Story, with incredible

meanness, tries to steal the glory of this deed from the Irish army by

saying that the heroes were “bold Scots of Maxwell’s regiment.” The

slander has been sufficiently refuted by O’Callaghan, Boyle, and other

writers. Maxwell was a Scotchman, but he commanded Irish troops

exclusively, and there was not a single Scotch battalion in the service

of King James in Ireland from first to last. For further information on

this point, the reader can consult O’Callaghan’s “Green Book” and

“History of the Irish Brigades,” and also Dalton’s “King James’s Irish

Army List,” which gives the roster of the field, line, and staff

officers of each Irish regiment, including Maxwell’s. The defence of the

bridge occurred on the evening of June 28. On the morning of the 29th

another attempt was to have been made, but, owing to some

miscalculation, was deferred for some hours. St. Ruth was ready for it

when it came, and, after another murderous struggle at the bridge, where

the English and their allies were led by the Scottish General Mackay,

the assailants were again beaten off, their covered gallery destroyed,

and their bridge of boats, which they bravely attempted to construct in

face of the Irish fire, broken up. St. Ruth commanded the Irish army in

person and displayed all the qualities of a good general. Success,

however, would seem to have rendered him over-confident. The conflict

over, he led his main body back to camp, and is said to have given a

ball and banquet at his quarters—a country house now in a neglected

condition and popularly known as “St. Ruth’s Castle.” The Roscommon

peasants still speak of it as “the owld house in which the French

general danced the night before he lost Athlone.”

By some unaccountable fatality, St. Ruth, instead of leaving some

veteran troops to occupy the works near the bridge, committed them to

new and untrained regiments, which were placed under the command of

Acting Brigadier Maxwell. The latter, who has been—unjustly,

perhaps—accused of treason by Irish writers, would seem to have shared

the fatal over-confidence of St. Ruth. Therefore, no extraordinary

precautions were adopted to prevent a surprise—something always to be

anticipated when a baffled enemy grows desperate. Colonel Cormac

O’Neill, of the great Ulster family of that ilk, happened to be on duty

at the defences of the river front during the night and morning of June

29-30, and noticed suspicious movements among the English troops

occupying the other side of the Shannon. Becoming alarmed, he

immediately communicated his suspicions to Maxwell, observing, at the

same time, that he would like a supply of ammunition for his men.

Maxwell sneered and asked, “Do your men wish to shoot lavrocks (larks)?”

However, O’Neill’s earnest manner impressed him somewhat, and, in the

gray of the morning, he visited the outer lines, and, from what he saw,

at once concluded that De Ginkel had some serious movement in

contemplation. He sent immediately to St. Ruth for a regiment of veteran

infantry, at the same time giving his reasons for the request. St. Ruth,

it is said, sent back a taunting reply, which reflected on Maxwell’s

courage. We are told that Sarsfield remonstrated with St. Ruth, who

declared he did not believe Ginkel would make an attempt to surprise the

town, while he was so near with an army to relieve it. English

historians say that, upon this, Sarsfield apostrophized British valor

and remarked that there was no enterprise too perilous for it to

attempt. The discussion—if, indeed, it ever took place—was cut short by

the ringing of bells and firing of cannon in the town. “Athlone is

surprised and taken!” Sarsfield is credited with having said, as he

observed the untrained fugitives running from the Irish trenches.

“Impossible!” St. Ruth is represented to have replied, “Ginkel’s master

should hang him if he attempts the capture of the place, and mine should

hang me if I were to lose it!” But the uproar from the city soon showed

the Frenchman that something terrible had occurred. When too late, he

gave orders to rectify his mistake. The English were already in the

works and could not be dislodged. Maxwell’s men had fled in disorder,

most of them being surprised in their sleep, and the general and some of

his officers became prisoners of war. It was the most complete and

successful surprise recorded in military annals, except, perhaps, that

of Mannheim by General, afterward Marshal, Ney, in 1799. It would seem

that Ginkel, by the advice of Mackay, and other officers, looked for a

ford, and found it by the aid of three Danish soldiers who were under

sentence of death, and were offered their lives if they succeeded. They

found the ford, and the Irish, seeing them approach the bank of the

river fearlessly, concluded they were deserters and refrained from

firing. After them plunged in sixty armored English grenadiers, led by

Captain Sandys, a noted military dare-devil, and these were followed by

the main body under Mackay, another experienced commander. The hour was

six in the morning of June 30, and, after one of the bravest defences of

which we have record, Athlone, through the infatuation of St. Ruth, was

in English hands before noon on that eventful day. And so it came to

pass, that after a conflict of more than a year, the defensive line of

the Shannon was, at last, broken. It is estimated by most historians

that Ginkel’s total loss amounted to 1,200 men and that of St. Ruth was

somewhat greater, owing to the surprise. Among those killed in St.

Ruth’s army were two colonels, named McGinness, Colonel MacMahon,

Colonel O’Gara, Colonel Richard Grace, who fell in defence of the bridge

on the 29th, and the French adjutant-general. Few officers of note fell

on the English side. Ginkel, during the siege, “expended 50 tons of

gunpowder, 12,000 cannon balls, 600 bombshells, and innumerable tons of

stone, hurled from the mortars, when the shells were exhausted.” After

the capture, the English found only a mass of ruins, and it took De

Ginkel several days to put the place in some kind of repair.

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CHAPTER III

The Irish Army Falls Back and Takes Post at Aughrim—Description of the

Field—Disposition of the Irish Forces—Baal Dearg O’Donnell’s Apathy

BOTH history and tradition affirm that St. Ruth and Sarsfield almost

came to swords’ points over the loss of Athlone, and it is still

believed, in that section of Ireland, that the Irish general, indignant

at the criminal blunder that had been committed by his superior, took

all of his cavalry from under the Frenchman’s command and marched to

Limerick. But this tradition is more than doubtful. It is, however,

certain that the two leaders, who should have been so united in council,

had a bitter altercation over the disaster, and were hardly on speaking

terms during the few momentous days they were destined to serve

together. St. Ruth was filled with rage and mortification. He felt that

he had committed a grievous error, and dreaded the anger of King Louis,

who was a severe judge of those who served him ill. He declared his

determination to hazard all on a pitched battle. Against this resolve,

Tyrconnel, who had come to the camp from Limerick, and others,

protested, but in vain. St. Ruth was in no humor to be balked. Tyrconnel

left the camp in dudgeon and retired once more to Limerick, which he was

destined never to leave again. Having made up his mind to fight, St.

Ruth at once broke camp and moved by Milton Pass, where he halted for a

night, toward Ballinasloe, which stands on the river Suck and in the

county of Galway. The cavalry covered the retreat, but no attempt

whatever was made at pursuit.

The army took post along the fords of the Suck, as if it intended to

fight in front of Ballinasloe, which was considered quite defensible,

but St. Ruth’s previous knowledge of the country would appear to have

determined him to retire about three and a half miles south by west of

his first position, as soon as reinforcements, drawn from the abandoned,

or reduced, posts along the Shannon, had joined him. In his retreat from

Athlone, some of the Connaught troops, disgusted by the loss of that

town and doubtful of the general’s motives, deserted, and these had to

be replaced by the soldiers of the Irish garrisons broken up or

depleted. About July 9, old style, St. Ruth decamped from Ballinasloe,

and a few hours afterward his devoted army, which, according to our best

information, consisted of about 15,000 foot and 5,000 horse and

dragoons, with only nine field-pieces, defiled by the causeways of

Urachree and Aughrim to the slopes of Kilcommodan Hill, where the new

camp was established, on the eastern side of the eminence, facing toward

Garbally and Ballinasloe. Kilcommodan, at that period, was almost

surrounded by red bog, and, on the front by which De Ginkel must

approach, ran a small stream, with several branches, which made the

morass impracticable for horse and difficult for infantry. In our day,

this morass has become meadow-land, but it is about the only natural

feature that has undergone considerable change since the period of the

battle. From north to south, the hill is estimated to be a little more

than a mile in length, and its mean elevation is about 350 feet. The bog

lay closer up to Aughrim, where stand the ruins of an old castle which

commanded the narrow and difficult pass, than to Urachree, where there

is another pass not particularly formidable to a determined assailant.

The road through the pass of Aughrim ran then, and still runs, by

Kilconnell Abbey and village—after which the French have named the

battle—to Athenry, Loughrea, and Galway. The road through the pass of

Urachree connects Ballinasloe with Lawrencetown, Eyrecourt, and Banagher

Bridge, and also, by a branch route, with Portumna; and these were the

natural lines of retreat for the Irish army in the event of disaster.

Near the crest of Kilcommodan Hill are the remains of two so-called

Danish raths, circular in shape, and in the one nearest to Aughrim

Castle St. Ruth is said to have pitched his tent.

Most of the elevation was then a wild common, but at its base, on the

Irish front, were many fields under tillage, and these small inclosures

were divided from each other by thick, “quick-set” hedges, or, rather,

fences, such as are still common in Ireland—formidable against the

encroachments of cattle, but still more formidable when applied to

military purposes. The French general had found his intrenchments

ready-made, and proceeded to use them to the best possible advantage.

Weak points in them were strengthened, and passageways connecting one

with the other, from front to rear and from right to left, were

constructed. The design was to enable the formidable Irish cavalry to

aid the infantry when a crisis should arrive. In the direction of

Urachree, St. Ruth caused the construction of regular breastworks,

conceiving that his point of danger lay to the right, and having, as a

military writer has well observed, “a fatal confidence in the strength

of his left flank,” resting as it did on an old castle and “a narrow,

boggy trench through which two horsemen could hardly ride abreast.” All

his arrangements were completed by the 10th of July, and, according to

Boyle, the author of “The Battlefields of Ireland,” his line of battle,

which contemporaneous accounts say covered a front of about two miles,

had its right resting on Urachree and its left upon Aughrim. The London

“Gazette” of July, 1691, says that this wing of the Irish army “extended

toward the Abbey of Kilconnell,” which was considerably to the left and

almost in rear of Kilcommodan Hill. The Irish centre rested on the mid

slope of the elevation, “between its camp and the hedgerows.” Each

division consisted of two front and two rear lines; the former of

infantry and the latter of cavalry. Of St. Ruth’s nine brass pieces, two

were devoted to the defence of Aughrim Castle; a battery of three pieces

was constructed on the northeastern slope of Kilcommodan, so as to rake

the castle pass, a part of the morass, and the firmer ground beyond it,

and thus prevent any hostile troops from deploying there and so threaten

his left. His other battery, of four pieces, was planted on his right

and swept the pass leading to Urachree. It is said that a strong reserve

of horse, under Sarsfield, was posted on the west side of the hill, out

of view of the approaching enemy, but that Sarsfield had been

particularly enjoined by St. Ruth to make no movement whatever without a

direct order from himself. Story, who ought to know, says that Sarsfield

was second in command, but neither to him nor to any other of his

subordinate generals did St. Ruth communicate his plan of battle, so

that, if he were doomed to fall, the conflict could still be waged as he

had from the first ordained it. This was St. Ruth’s most fatal error, as

it placed the fate of Ireland on the life or death of a single man. He

had no cannon with which to arm a battery on his centre, nor does he

seem to have wanted any for that purpose—his apparent plan being to let

the English infantry cross at that point, where he felt confident the

Irish foot and dragoons would soon make an end of them. Although King

James’s memoirs aver that St. Ruth had “a mean [_i.e._ poor] opinion” of

the Irish infantry, until it developed its prowess in the battle, his

disposition of this arm at Aughrim would not convey that opinion to the

observing mind. Most of the Irish foot lacked discipline, in the strict

sense of the term, but no general who had seen them fight, as St. Ruth

did, at the bridge of Athlone, could doubt their courage. His

expectation that the English troops sent against his centre would be

roughly handled was not doomed to disappointment.

Owing to many untoward causes, a full and correct list of the Irish

regiments that fought at Aughrim is not to be obtained, but Boyle holds

that Colonel Walter Bourke and his brother, Colonel David Bourke, held

the position in and around the castle of Aughrim; that Lord Bophin,

Brigadier Henry Luttrell, and Colonels Simon Luttrell and Ulick Bourke

commanded on the left; that Major-General Dorrington, Major-General H.

M. J. O’Neill, Brigadier Gordon O’Neill, Colonel Felix O’Neill, and

Colonel Anthony Hamilton held the centre; and that Lords Kilmallock,

Galmoy, Galway, Clare, and Colonel James Talbot commanded on the right,

toward Urachree. Thus it may be inferred, says the historian, that the

Munster troops were on the right, the Leinster and Ulster contingents in

the centre, and the soldiers of Connaught were posted on the left. The

general in command of the entire infantry was William Mansfield Barker,

and Major-General John Hamilton was in chief command of the horse. The

discord among the chief officers in the Irish camp must have been

something unusual, when to none of the distinguished commanders

enumerated did the French commander-in-chief reveal his order of battle.

But the historian recently quoted says, in reviewing the character of

the unfortunate Frenchman: “Whatever were the foibles of St. Ruth, from

his advent in the country to his retreat from Athlone, we have now to

look on an entirely different character. He had learned, though at a

fearful cost, that his name had no fears for his potent adversary; that

deeds alone were to be the test of high emprise, and that his folly had

narrowed down the campaign, and in fact the whole war, to the last

resource of fallen heroes—death or victory. With this feeling, all that

was vainglorious in his character at once disappeared; the mist was

removed from his mind, and it shone out to the end of his short career

as that of a true hero in adversity. Unlike his French predecessors, he

scorned to hide his faults behind the shield of calumny; he candidly

acknowledged his error and bitterly lamented it. He became courteous to

his officers, affable to his soldiers, changed at once from the despot

to the patriarch, and, touched by his sorrows, as much as by their own

calamity, they again rallied round him and determined on a final throw

for religion and liberty.”

A proclamation issued by the English Lords Justices, in the name of

William and Mary, immediately after the fall of Athlone, offered

inducements, in the shape of promotion and money, to such officers and

soldiers of the Irish army as would desert their colors and accept

service with De Ginkel. Very few traitors availed themselves of the

offer, but many of those who were indignant with St. Ruth abandoned the

camp and joined the irregular forces of the military Hiberno-Spanish

adventurer, Baal Dearg O’Donnell, who claimed to be of the noble House

of Tyrconnel, and had lately come from Spain, apparently without a

settled purpose or principle. Instead of uniting his 7,000 irregulars

with the regular Irish army under St. Ruth, who had no French troops

whatever with him, O’Donnell assumed the airs of a hereditary Irish

prince, affected to despise James as well as William, and established

his camp and court in the country between Tuam and Athenry, within two

short marches, if made even in ordinary time, of the Irish encampment on

Kilcommodan Hill. St. Ruth summoned him to his aid, but the adventurer,

whose selfish conduct some Irish writers, notably Mr. Haverty, have

sought to explain and excuse, made no reply, and, to this day, he is

remembered in Ireland with detestation not unmingled with contempt. His

duty, when within sound of the cannon of Aughrim, was to hasten to the

field and spare the fate of his gallant countrymen.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER IV

De Ginkel Marches After St. Ruth—The Latter Prepares to “Conquer or

Die”—His Speech to the Irish Army on the Eve of Fighting

REINFORCEMENTS continued to reach De Ginkel’s camp near Athlone, where

he lingered much longer than he originally intended, owing to the utter

ruin which the bombardment had wrought. Another cause of his delay was

his anxiety to obtain fresh supplies of ammunition, and he judged

correctly that St. Ruth, rendered desperate by his late misfortune,

would give him decisive battle at the very first opportunity. But, about

July 10, all was in readiness, and leaving in Athlone a powerful

garrison, the Dutch general and his fine army set out in pursuit of St.

Ruth, who had now so many days “the start” of his enemy. The English

halted that night at Kilcashel, on the road to Ballinasloe. On the 11th

they reached the fords of the Suck, and the scouts reported the Irish

pickets in full view on the heights of Garbally—now the domain of the

Earl of Clancarty, whose ancestor distinguished himself as an

artillerist on the English side at Aughrim. De Ginkel, taking with him a

formidable force of cavalry, crossed the river by the ford and rode

forward to reconnoitre St. Ruth’s position. The Irish pickets fell back

as he advanced, and, reaching the crest of the heights, he beheld,

through his field-glass, on an opposite elevation, about a mile and a

half distant, the Irish army drawn up in “battle’s magnificently stern

array,” matches lighted at the batteries, and their colors advanced,

challenging to combat. He rode forward farther still, to get a closer

view, and St. Ruth allowed him to gratify his curiosity unmolested,

although he came within less than half a mile of the Irish lines. What

he saw made De Ginkel thoughtful. His military glance showed him the

strength of the Irish position, and St. Ruth’s reputation as a competent

general stood high in all the camps of Europe. He rode back to his camp

and called a council of his officers, Mackay, Ruvigny, Talmash, and the

rest. Having explained the situation, he asked for their opinion. Some

were for trying a flank movement, which would draw St. Ruth from his

chosen ground, but the bolder spirits said they had gone too far to turn

aside without loss of honor, and a forward movement was decided on. The

camp, guarded by two regiments, was left undisturbed. All superfluous

clothing was laid aside, and, in light marching order, De Ginkel’s army

crossed the Suck, the movement being visible to St. Ruth from

Kilcommodan Hill, “the foot,” as Story has it, “over the bridge; the

English and French [Huguenot] horse over the ford above, and the Dutch

and Danes over two fords below.” It was six o’clock in the morning of

Sunday, July 12, 1691 (July 23, new style), while the early church bells

were ringing in Ballinasloe, when they prepared to march on Aughrim.

English annalists, intending, perhaps, to minimize the prowess of the

Irish army, place De Ginkel’s strength at 18,000 men of all arms, but

the roster of his regiments, as given by Story and other contemporaneous

writers, shows conclusively that his force could not have been less than

from 25,000 to 30,000 men, nearly all seasoned veterans. The Williamite

chaplain’s map of Ginkel’s order of battle shows over seventy (70)

regimental organizations, not including Lord Portland’s horse, which

joined after the line was formed. Some of the bodies shown as regiments

may have been battalions or squadrons, but, making due allowance for

these, and counting 400 men as the average of seventy distinct

formations, which is an almost absurdly low estimate, the Williamite

army could not, possibly, have been less than 28,000 men. Its artillery

was formidable, and the cavalry—British, Dutch, Danish, German, and

Huguenot—was accounted the best in Europe. As this fine force advanced

toward its objective, the scared rural folk fled before it, remembering,

no doubt, the excesses committed by the armies of William and Douglas in

Leinster and Munster during the preceding year. The writer lived for

some years almost within sight of Kilcommodan Hill, and heard from the

simple, but intelligent, peasantry, whose great-grandfathers had spoken

with soldiers of King James’s army, how De Ginkel’s troops defiled in

four great, glittering columns of scarlet and blue and steel, horse,

foot, and cannoneers, over the Suck and took up their positions on the

Galway side of the river. Their brass field-pieces shone like burnished

gold in the morning sun. They halted where the road from Ballinasloe,

running west by south, branches around the north side of Kilcommodan,

toward Kilconnell, Athenry, and Galway, and around the south end of that

elevation toward Kiltormer, Lawrencetown, and Clonfert. The Irish

pickets fell back before them, firing as they retired, from the heights

of Knockdunloe, Garbally, and Liscappel. De Ginkel marshaled his army

into two lines of battle, corresponding almost exactly to the Irish

formation, the infantry in the front line, and strongest, finally,

toward the centre, and the cavalry on the flanks, supported by the

cannon.

Up to about 7.30 o’clock, tradition says, the morning remained

beautifully clear, and the Irish camp, on the rising ground, was plainly

visible to the enemy. St. Ruth’s army, except the officers and men on

duty and the few non-Catholic Jacobites who followed its fortunes, was

observed to be assisting at mass—altars having been erected by the

chaplains at the head of every regiment. It was, according to the

imposing French custom, which St. Ruth closely followed, military High

Mass, during which, at the elevation of the Host, there was rolling of

the drums and blare of trumpets, instead of the pealing of cathedral

bells. The horses of the Irish cavalry were “on herd” along the grassy

hillside, under guard; but, when the English advance was sighted, the

bugles sounded “To Horse,” and there was “mounting in hot haste” of

Sarsfield’s and Galmoy’s and Kilmallock’s bronzed and bearded

troopers—the paladins of the Boyne and Ballyneety. Divine service over,

the Irish army at once occupied the positions assigned to the several

corps by their general on the preceding day. Story and some other

English writers claim that, on that day, also, St. Ruth addressed to his

army a pompous, vainglorious, and rather insulting speech, which he

caused to be translated into English and Irish, by his interpreters, for

the benefit of those to whom it was directed. But Irish chroniclers aver

that he spoke to the troops with paternal consideration, reminded them

of their country’s sufferings, and their own duty, and called upon them,

in words of nervous eloquence, in the name of honor, religion, and

liberty, and for Ireland’s military glory, to conquer or die.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER V

Decisive Battle of Aughrim—It Opens Favorably for the Irish—Desperate

Fighting in the Centre and at Urachree—Fortune or Treason Favors De

Ginkel

BUT the fog, “arising from the moist valley of the Suck,” had,

meanwhile, gathered so densely that the rival armies, for a time, lost

sight of each other, and De Ginkel’s forward movement was suspended; but

his soldiers rested in the positions previously determined on, although

the formation had to be somewhat modified later in the day. It was about

noon when the fog finally rolled away, and Ginkel’s line of battle moved

slowly onward, until, at last, to use the graphic words of Lord

Macaulay, the rival armies “confronted each other, with nothing but the

bog and the breastwork between them.” The Irish historian, John Boyle,

states, in his fine account of the conflict at Aughrim, that, at sight

of the Williamite array, on the other side of the morass, the Irish army

broke into loud shouts of defiance, which were vigorously responded to

by their foes. There was a mutual mortal hatred expressed in those

cheers. It meant “war to the knife,” and, as at our own Buena Vista,

“Who heard the thunder of the fray

Break o’er the field beneath,

Well knew the watchword of that day

Was ‘Victory or death!’”

Observing the strength of the Irish left at Aughrim Castle, De Ginkel

resolved to manœuvre toward Urachree, where his horse had a better

chance, and, about one o’clock, began the battle with a cavalry advance

in the direction of the latter point. The first charge was made by a

Danish troop on an Irish picket. The latter met the shock so fiercely

that the Danes, although superior in numbers, by the admission of Story,

fled in great haste. Another party was sent forward, and still

another—the Irish responding with fresh bodies of their own, until, at

last, Cunningham’s dragoons, Eppinger’s cavalry, and Lord Portland’s

horse—all under the veteran General Holztapfel—were drawn in on the

English side. They charged furiously, and, for a moment, the Irish

cavalry gave ground, drawing their opponents after them. The English,

carried away by apparent success, rode at a gallop past the house of

Urachree and were immediately charged in flank by the brave Lord Galmoy.

A murderous conflict followed, but, as at the Boyne, the Irish horsemen

showed their superiority, and their gallant enemies were forced to fall

back in terrible disorder, leaving hundreds of their comrades dead or

dying on the ensanguined field. Many of the Irish troopers fell also,

and, on both sides, every man was killed or wounded by the sabre. The

English left their heroic commander, General Holztapfel, among their

dead. When De Ginkel saw his chosen cavalry repelled with slaughter from

Urachree, he became profoundly anxious. There had been, up to this time,

only a few partial demonstrations by the Anglo-Dutch infantry which had

produced no impression whatever on St. Ruth’s sturdy foot, who lay

quietly in their works, waiting for their foes to advance to closer

quarters.

De Ginkel, in deep distress of mind, summoned a council of war, which

debated whether it were better to defer the battle until next day or

renew the attack immediately. At one time, during the discussion, it was

determined upon to send back to Ballinasloe for the tents, and encamp

for the night where the army stood. This decision was afterward set

aside, and, says Chaplain Story, “it was agreed to prosecute the battel

on the enemies’ right, by that means proposing to draw part of their

strength from Aghrim [so he spells it] Castle, nigh which their main

body was posted, that so our right might have the easier passage over to

attack their left, and then our whole army might have opportunity to

engage. This, I am told, was the advice of Major-General Mackay, a man

of great judgment and long experience, and it had its desired success.”

We will take the Williamite chaplain’s account of the movement against

the Irish right wing, which immediately followed the council of war:

“About half an hour past four in the afternoon, a part of our left wing

moved toward the enemy, and, at five o’clock, the battel began afresh. A

party of our foot marched up to their ditches, all strongly guarded with

musketiers, and their horse posted advantageously to sustain them: here

we fired one upon the other for a considerable time, and the Irish

behaved themselves like men of another nation [mark the ungracious

sneer], defending their ditches stoutly; for they would maintain one

side till our men put their pieces over at the other, and then, having

lines of communication from one ditch to another, they would presently

post themselves again, and flank us. This occasioned great firing on

both sides, which continued on the left nigh an hour and a half, ere the

right of our army or the centre engaged, except with their cannon, which

played on both sides. All this time, our men were coming up in as good

order as the inconveniency of the ground would allow, and now General

Mackay and the rest, seeing the enemy draw off several bodies of horse

and foot from the left, and move toward their right, when our men

pressed them very hard; they [the English generals] laid hold on that

advantage, and ordered the foot to march over the bogg, which fronted

the enemies’ main battel. Colonel Earl, Colonel Herbert, Colonel

Creighton, and Colonel Brewer’s regiments went over at the narrowest

place, where the hedges on the enemies’ side run farthest into the bogg.

These four regiments were ordered to march to the lowest ditches,

adjoining to the side of the bogg, and there to post themselves till our

horse could come about by Aghrim Castle and sustain them, and till the

other foot marched over the bogg below, where it was broader, and were

sustained by Colonel Foulk’s and Brigadier Stewart’s [forces]. Colonel

Earl advanced with his regiment, and the rest after him, over the bogg,

and a rivulet that ran through it, being most of them up to their

middles in mudd and water. The Irish at their near approach to the

ditches fired upon them, but our men contemning all disadvantages,

advanced immediately to the lowest hedges, and beat the Irish from

thence. The enemy, however, did not retreat far, but posted themselves

in the next ditches before us, which our men seeing and disdaining

[_sic_] to suffer their lodging so near us, they would needs beat them

from thence also, and so from one hedge to another, till they got very

nigh the enemies’ main battel. But the Irish had so ordered the matter

as to make an easy passage for their horse amongst all those hedges and

ditches, by which means they poured in great numbers both of horse and

foot upon us: which Colonel Earl seeing, encouraged his men by advancing

before them, and saying: ‘There is no way to come off but to be brave!’

As great an example of true courage and generosity as any man this day

living {1693}. But, being flanked and fronted, as also exposed to the

enemies’ shot from the adjacent ditches, our men were forced to quit

their ground, and betake themselves to the bogg again, whither they were

followed, or rather drove [_sic_] down by main strength of horse and

foot, and a great many killed. Colonel Earl and Colonel Herbert were

here taken prisoners; the former, after twice taking and retaking, got

free at last, tho’ not without being wounded.

“While this was doing here, Colonel St. John, Colonel Tiffin, Lord

George Hambleton, the French [Huguenots] and other regiments were

marching below on the same bogg. The Irish, in the meantime, laid so

close in their ditches that several were doubtful whether they had any

men at that place or not; but they were convinced of it at last; for no

sooner were the French and the rest got within twenty yards, or less, of

the ditches, but the Irish fired most furiously upon them, which our men

as bravely sustained, and pressed forwards, tho’ they could scarce see

one another for the smoak [_sic_]. And now the thing seemed so doubtful,

for some time, that the bystanders would rather have given it on the

Irish side, for they had driven our foot in the centre so far back that

they were got almost in a line with some of our great guns, planted near

the bogg, which we had not the benefit of at that juncture, because of

the mixture of our men and theirs.

“Major-General Ruvigny’s French horse and Sir John Lanier’s, being both

posted on the right, were afterward drawn to the left, where they did

very good service. And the right wing of our horse, in the meantime,

were making what haste they could to succor our foot; for, seeing the

danger, and, in fact, that all was in hazard by reason of the difficulty

of the pass, they did more than men, in pressing and tumbling over a

very dangerous place, and that amongst showers of bullets, from a

regiment of dragoons and two regiments of foot, posted conveniently

under cover by the enemy, to obstruct our passage. Our horse at this

place were sustained by Major-General Kirke and Colonel Gustavus

Hambleton’s foot, who, after we had received the enemies’ fire for a

considerable time, marched under the walls of the castle, and lodged

themselves in a dry ditch, in the throng of the enemies’ shot [globular

buttons cut from their jackets, when their ammunition failed], and some

other old walls and ditches adjoining.”

Commenting on the foregoing account of the Williamite chaplain, Mr.

O’Callaghan, in his “Green Book,” page 224, says: “He [Story] has the

same fraudulent coloring I have previously exposed respecting this [the

Huguenot] portion of the English left having ‘kept their ground.’ The

Huguenot narrative [of the battle] is only wrong in the supposition that

La Forest [Huguenot general] on the English left was successful with the

French [Huguenot] infantry, before Ruvigny [Huguenot general], with his

horse, had conquered in the centre; the first progress of the English

having been on their right opposite Aughrim ... where Sir Francis

Compton with the van and Mackay with the rest of the English horse

succeeded in forcing a passage; secondly, on the centre, where Talmash

next to Mackay, and Ruvigny next to Talmash advanced; and, thirdly, on

the left, where La Forest first, and then the Danish horse and foot were

enabled to cross.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER VI

Battle of Aughrim Continued—Its Crisis—The English Turn Irish Left—St.

Ruth Killed by Cannon Ball—Confusion and Final Defeat of Irish Army

THE lodgment made by the English, or, rather, Ulster regiment of

Gustavus Hamilton in the dry ditch, as described by Chaplain Story,

together with another lodgment made in front of the Irish left centre by

some of the infantry who escaped the slaughter when they were so

gallantly repulsed at that point shortly before, however effected, threw

the chances of victory, for the first time that day, heavily on the side

of De Ginkel. St. Ruth, whose sharp attention was, doubtless, mainly

drawn off toward his centre and right, where the battle had raged

fiercely and continuously for nearly two hours, soon became aware of the

movement inaugurated by the enemy’s cavalry at the castle pass. He

seemed astonished, conceiving that the point was strongly garrisoned,

and asked of his officers: “What do they mean?” The reply was: “They

mean to pass there and flank our left!” St. Ruth observed them for a

moment, laughed incredulously, having still “that fatal confidence in

the strength of his left flank,” and exclaimed in his impetuous fashion:

“Pardieu! but they are brave! What a pity they should be so exposed!” A

few minutes previously, exhilarated by the splendid prowess of the Irish

infantry, in the centre and at Urachree, he threw his plumed hat in the

air and shouted: “Well done, my children! The day is ours! Now we will

beat them back even to the gates of Dublin!”

The unlooked-for passage of the English horse on the Irish left has been

variously explained, or, rather, sought to be explained. Almost every

Irish writer, the careful O’Callaghan included, attributes the disaster

to a lack of proper ammunition on the part of Colonel Walter Bourke’s

regiment, to which was committed the defence of the castle. Having

exhausted their original supply, the soldiers opened the barrels in

reserve and found that the bullets were cast for the calibre of the

English guns which they had used earlier in the war, and were too large

for the bore of the French muskets, which they carried at Aughrim. Other

authors aver that when the Irish left was weakened, to strengthen the

right, the front instead of the rear line of the covering brigade (Henry

Luttrell’s) was withdrawn, thus enabling the infantry that accompanied

Sir Francis Compton’s horse—who were twice repulsed, but, being heavily

reinforced, again advanced—to post themselves in “the dry ditch”

referred to by Chaplain Story; while General Talmash made a

corresponding lodgment, with his rallied foot, on the right centre.

Gross carelessness, deliberate treason, or both combined, contributed to

the Irish disaster. St. Ruth himself, however, would not seem to have

been much concerned by the apparition of the English cavalry forming

toward his left flank, in the small area of firm ground, just across

from the old castle. On the contrary, like Napoleon before the final

charge at Waterloo, “the flash of victory passed into his eyes,” and, as

he observed the enemy forming with some difficulty in that narrow space,

while the single infantry regiment in the dry ditch cowering under the

rain of Irish bullets, cried out to his staff, “We have won the battle,

gentlemen! They are beaten. Now let us beat them to the purpose!” His

bodyguard was formed in rear of the staff and he had already ordered his

cavalry reserve to report to him. Therefore, these formidable squadrons

came up at a trot that shook the ground over the hill behind him. We are

not informed of the name of the officer who led them—fortunately for his

fame, for he must have been either a dastard or a traitor. Instead of

committing the command to a subordinate general, as he should have done,

St. Ruth prepared to lead the attack in person, and the mass of

horsemen, proud and confident, began to move slowly down the slope in

the direction of the disheartened but still determined enemy. The

general, dismounting, halted for a brief space at the battery which

defended that flank of the army, addressed some remarks to the officer

in command, and, it is said, directed the fire of one of the cannon,

with his own hand, toward a particular point of the causeway leading to

the castle. Then he remounted his superb gray charger—the third he had

ridden that fatal day—and, dressed as he was in full uniform, made a

conspicuous mark for the English gunners. He drew his sword, his hard

features, according to tradition, kindling with enthusiasm, and was

about to utter the command to charge Compton’s and Levinson’s cavalry—a

charge that must have given the victory to Ireland, because, according

to Macaulay, De Ginkel already meditated a retreat—when, right before

the eyes of his horrified followers, his head was dashed from his

shoulders by a cannon shot, fired from the English battery at the other

side of the bog! His sword remained firmly gripped in his right hand,

but his affrighted horse galloped down the hill, the body of the rider

remaining erect in the saddle, until it was knocked off by the

overhanging branches of a tree whose remnants are still pointed out to

the traveler. A general paralysis of the Irish left wing, chiefly among

the horse, would seem to have immediately followed the sudden and

ghastly death of St. Ruth. The French attendants at once threw a cloak

over the headless trunk, with the well-meant, but, as it turned out,

ill-considered object of concealing the general’s unlooked-for fall from

the all but victorious Irish army.

St. Ruth’s bodyguard halted the moment he fell, and, when the servants

bore the body over the hill toward the rear, they acted as escort. The

Irish horse, through the timidity or treachery of their chief, halted

also, and, unaccountably, followed the movement in retreat of the

bodyguard. The single word “Charge!” uttered by any general officer,

before the cavalry retired, would have saved the day; but it was never

uttered. The stubborn Mackay and his lieutenants, from their position

near the castle below, divined, from the confusion they observed on the

near hillside, that something fatal had occurred. They took fresh heart.

More of their cavalry, strongly supported by infantry, came up. All

these reheartened troops began to push forward beyond the pass, and even

on their beaten centre and left the long-baffled British and their

allies again assumed the offensive. No orders reached the Irish

troops—mainly foot—still in position on the right and centre and even on

a portion of the left—for the order of battle had perished with St.

Ruth. Was it possible that, impressed by repeated dissensions, he

doubted the fidelity of his chiefs and feared to take any of them into

his confidence? He must have misjudged most of them sorely if this was

the case. Mere selfishness or vanity can not explain his fateful

omission. The English cavalry, now practically unopposed, poured through

the pass, penetrated to the firm ground on the north slope of the hill,

and, finally, appeared in rear of the infantry of the Irish left wing.

Their foot, too, had succeeded in making firm lodgment in the lowest

ditches. The Irish still continued to fight bravely, “but without order

or direction.” At the sight of the repeatedly routed British infantry

crossing the bog in the centre, and the cavalry threatening their left

and rear, it is averred by Boyle that a cry of “Treason!” rang through

the ranks of the regiments so placed as to be able to observe the

hostile movements.

The enemy now vigorously attacked the Irish right and centre, but were

as vigorously met, and again and again repulsed. For a long time, on the

right particularly, they were unable to advance, and it would appear

that the Irish soldiers in their front were totally ignorant of what had

occurred in other parts of the field. The Irish infantry on the left,

destitute of ammunition and having expended even their buttons and

ramrods for projectiles, retired within the castle, where nearly all of

them were finally slaughtered; or else broke off to the left, toward

Kilconnell, and made for the large, red bog, which almost surrounded

that flank, where many of them found refuge from the sabres of the

pursuing cavalry. But even still the devoted centre and right, although

furiously assaulted, refused to give way. At last, the uproar toward

Aughrim, and the bullets of the outflanking enemy in the left rear,

taking them in reverse, warned these brave troops that their position

had become desperate. Twilight had already set in—it was more than an

hour after the fall of St. Ruth—when the English horse and foot appeared

almost behind them, toward the northwest; while the Dutch, Danish, and

Huguenot cavalry, so long repelled at Urachree, supported by the foot

that had, at long run, crossed the morass, began to hem them in on all

sides. Their bravest leaders had fallen, but this admirable infantry

retired slowly from inclosure to inclosure, fighting the fight of

despair, until they reached their camp, where the tents were still

standing in the order in which they were pitched. Here they made their

last heroic stand, but were, at length, broken and fled toward the red

bog already mentioned. The English leveled the tents, so as to render

pursuit more open, and then a dreadful slaughter of the broken Irish

foot followed. Few of these brave men, worthy of a better fate, escaped

the swords of the hostile horse. “Our foreigners, and especially the

Danes, make excellent pursuers,” writes Chaplain Story grimly. Irish

historians say that two of the Irish regiments, disdaining to fly, took

position in a ravine, and there waited “till morning’s sun should rise

and give them light to die.” They were discovered by the enemy next

morning and perished to a man! The spot where they died is still pointed

out and is called by the peasantry “the glen of slaughter.”

We have, unhappily, no better authority than tradition for stating that,

toward the end of the battle, a part of the Irish cavalry, led by

Sarsfield, covered the retreat of the survivors of the Irish foot on

Loughrea and Limerick. In fact there seems to be a complete mystery

about the action of the Irish cavalry after the death of the French

general. Certain it is that this force did not act with the vigor it

showed in the early part of the combat on the right or with the spirit

it displayed at the Boyne; and this fact deepens the doubt as to whether

Sarsfield was in the fight or not. Had it not been, as we are informed

by the learned Abbé McGeoghegan, in his able “History of Ireland,” for

one O’Reilly, the almoner of a regiment, who caused the charge to be

sounded as the fugitives passed through a boggy defile on the line of

retreat, the entire Irish infantry might have been destroyed. They were

also aided by darkness, caused by “a thick misty rain,” brought on, no

doubt, by the detonations of the firearms, acting on a humid atmosphere.

Numbers of small arms and other munitions were abandoned in the flight;

all the cannon, most of the colors, and the whole camp material fell

into the hands of the enemy. Aughrim was to Ireland what Culloden was to

Scotland and Waterloo to France—an irretrievable military disaster,

redeemed only by the desperate valor of the defeated army. Even the most

bitter and partisan of the English annalists admit, although with

manifest reluctance, that the Irish army fought heroically in this

murderous battle. Its losses are placed by Story, who witnessed the

conflict throughout, at 7,000 killed on the spot and 500, including

officers, made prisoners. This statement of his shows conclusively that

almost all of the Irish wounded were put to the sword. Other writers,

including King James himself, make the Irish loss somewhat less, but we

are inclined to think that Story, in this case, came pretty near to the

truth. He says in his interesting narrative, “looking amongst the dead

three days after, when all of ours and some of theirs were buried, I

reckoned in some small inclosures 150, in others 120, etc., lying most

of them in the ditches where they were shot, and the rest from the top

of the hill, where their camp had been, looked like a great flock of

sheep, scattered up and down the country for almost four miles round.”

The bodies had been stripped by the camp-followers, which accounts for

the white appearance to which Story makes allusion. Most of these

corpses were inhumanly left above ground, to be the prey of birds and

beasts, by the conquerors, and thus Aughrim is known to the Irish people

as the “Field of our Unburied Dead.” It was customary a generation ago,

and may be so in our day, for the Catholic peasantry passing along the

roads that wind around Kilcommodan, to uncover their heads reverently

and offer up prayers for the souls of the heroes of their race who died

there for faith, land, and liberty.

Story says he never could find out what became of St. Ruth’s corpse,

“some say that it was left stripped amongst the other dead when our men

pursued beyond the hill, and others that it was thrown into a bog.” In

the neighborhood of Aughrim it was long believed that while still the

left of the Irish army remained in position, the French staff officers

laid the remains to rest under the chancel floor of the adjacent Abbey

of Kilconnell. Other traditions are to the effect that they were buried

in Loughrea Abbey, or beside those of Lord Galway, who fell in the same

battle, in the ruined church of Athenry. Boyle, after mentioning the two

last-named probabilities, says: “There is, however, reason to doubt

both, and the writer is aware that the people of the locality where the

battle was fought, directed by tradition, point to a few stunted white

thorns, to the west of the hill toward Loughrea, beneath which, they

say, rest the ashes of that great but unfortunate general.”

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CHAPTER VII

Mortality Among Officers of Rank on Both Sides—Acknowledged English Loss

at Aughrim—English and Irish Comments on Conduct of Battle