Chapter 14: Athlone.
The Irish had, this time, determined to defend not only that portion ofAthlone situated on the west of the river, but the English town on theeast. The fortifications here were repaired and added to, and the townwas abundantly supplied with stores and ammunition. It was, however,unable to resist the heavy artillery which Ginckle brought to playagainst it. Walls, buildings, and towers crumbled beneath the heavycannonade; and although the Irish repelled, with great slaughter, severalassaults upon it, the place became at last untenable, and they abandonedthat part of the town, and retired by the bridge across the river to theIrish town.
The British, on entering the eastern town, found it a mere mass of ruins,with the dead bodies of the soldiers lying everywhere, half covered withthe wreck of the works they had died in defending. The taking of thisportion of Athlone had cost Ginckle dearly, and he was but little nearerthe object of his efforts, for he was separated from the Irish town bythe Shannon, and the western arch of the bridge was broken down by thedefenders.
Eleven large guns and three mortars now came up from Dublin, and heerected a succession of batteries upon the ruins of the English town, andopened fire upon the castle of Athlone, which, although a building ofgreat strength, soon crumbled into ruins beneath the fire of the heavyartillery brought to bear upon it. A mill, which stood in the river, andwas connected with the bridge, was set on fire, and the sixty soldiersposted in it, being unable to escape, were all burned. Night and day,seven great batteries played incessantly upon the town.
On the 26th of June, thirty waggons loaded with powder and a hundredcarts with cannon balls arrived from Dublin, and enabled the besiegers tokeep up their fire without intermission. The interior of the town wasreduced to ruins--nothing remained erect save the city walls, in whichthe breaches, as fast as they were made, were repaired by the Irish. Theslaughter among those so employed was very heavy; but there was no lackof men, the places of those who fell being at once supplied by otherswilling to give their lives in the defence of the town.
At last, there was nothing more that the besiegers could do. The town wasreduced to ashes, but the river and the broken arch still separated themfrom the ruins. To remain much longer where they were was impossible, forthe country on every side was exhausted, and no longer afforded food forman or horse. The country people had fled, from the cruelty andspoliation of Ginckle's foreign soldiery, carrying with them all theireffects; and the Irish light troops and armed peasantry hovered round thecamp, laid the country waste, and intercepted their supplies andcommunications with Dublin.
Ginckle held a council of war, to consider what was to be done. It wasadmitted that they must force the passage of the river without loss oftime, or submit to the alternative of retreat, and the utter failure ofthe campaign. It was finally resolved to attempt the passage of thebridge by throwing a wooden gallery over the broken arch, and forcingtheir way across, at all cost. Additional batteries were now raised onthe bank of the river, and a heavy fire was poured, without intermission,upon the Irish on their side of the broken arch.
Both parties had erected a breastwork on the bridge, at their respectivesides of the breach, and from behind this, day and night, a continuedmusketry fire was kept up, the grenadiers of the English army throwinggrenades into the enemy's works. After some days, the breastwork on theIrish side was set on fire by the continued assault of shot and grenades.The wattles of which it was composed, dried by the hot weather, were soonin a blaze, and, under cover of the flames and smoke, the English ranforward the great beams they had prepared in readiness, and threw themacross the gap in the bridge.
The fire from all the batteries on the English side was directed againstthe burning breastwork, while the grenadiers hastened to lay planksacross the beams to complete the bridge. The work was well-nigh done whenan Irish sergeant and ten men, all clad in armour, leaped through theflames of the breastwork, and began to hew with their axes at the beamsand planks.
For a moment, the British were paralysed at the daring action. Then thebatteries and musketry fire again opened, a storm of shot and bulletsswept across the bridge, and the whole of the gallant fellows fell dead;but in a moment another party, similarly armed, dashed through the flamesand took their places.
Regardless of the fire they whirled their axes. Nine fell, but the lasttwo gave the final stroke to the beams. The bridge fell with a crash intothe river below, and the two survivors recrossed the breastwork andjoined their friends within, amid the wild enthusiasm of the defenders;an enthusiasm in which even the baffled assailants joined, for theBritish grenadiers gave a cheer, in token of their admiration at thegallantry and devotion of the deed.
In all history, there is no record of a more gallant action than this,performed by two sergeants and twenty men, who thus encountered almostcertain death to maintain their post. The destruction of the temporarybridge filled Ginckle and his officers with consternation, and the mannerin which their design had been baffled showed the spirit of thedefenders, and the magnitude of the task which they had undertaken.
But it was resolved, at another council which was called, to attempt onemore effort before abandoning the enterprise. A finished platform wasconstructed. This was to be thrown over the arch, and a chosen body ofthe bravest troops in the army were to throw themselves across, and tryto force a passage. At the same time, a division was to cross the riverby a ford near the bridge, and another to attempt to cross by a bridge ofpontoons, prepared in readiness.
The Irish were informed, by French deserters, of what was going on in theEnglish camp, and early on the morning of the assault, several strongdivisions of the Irish army were seen marching down from the camp, twomiles away, into the town. Here they were drawn up, in readiness torepulse the assault.
The British were some time before they were ready for the attack, but atten o'clock the whole army stood in close order, ready to advance.
The first to move forward were those who were to carry the bridge. TheIrish guns, which still remained intact, opened upon them, but theypressed forward along the bridge to the broken arch, and, with lesstrouble than had been anticipated, threw the platform across it. Insteadof rushing forward at once, the grenadiers stood behind their breastworkand hurled their grenades at the Irish grenadiers, who stood in closeorder on the opposite edge.
These, however, stood their ground, and hurled their grenades with greateffect into the column. One of these exploded against the Englishbreastwork and set it on fire. It at once blazed up. A strong west windwas blowing, and drove the smoke and flames into the faces of the Englishgrenadiers, who for some time strove in vain to extinguish the flames,notwithstanding the heavy fire which the defenders poured into them. Theyhad at last to fall back, and the Irish, sallying from behind theirbreastwork, pulled down the burning timbers on to the bridge, which wassoon in flames.
The other divisions of the English army, finding that the grenadiers onthe bridge made no progress, did not attempt to perform their part of thework, and finally the whole retreated to their camp.
That evening, another council of war was held. Matters now lookeddesperate, and the fact that the enterprise had, this time, failed owingto the hesitation of the troops to push forward to the attack of theenemy, made the prospect appear more hopeless. Nevertheless, in spite ofthe opposition of Generals Ginckle and Mackey, the council determinedthat one more attempt should be made, and that this should be carried outat daylight next morning, in the hopes of taking the Irish by surprise.
It was accordingly given out that the army would retreat in the morning,and the heavy guns were withdrawn from the batteries. Saint Ruth, who wasconvinced that Athlone could not be taken, and who had spent the greaterportion of his time in entertaining the ladies and gentry of theneighbourhood with balls and fetes, fell into the trap, and, contrary tothe opinion and advice of the Irish generals, recalled from the town theregiments which had marched in that morning, and replaced them with onlythree battalions of inferior troops. The Irish officers re
monstratedwarmly, but Saint Ruth, to show his disdain for their opinions, invited alarge party of ladies and gentlemen to an entertainment in the evening.
In the night, the British army prepared for the attack. The commanders ofthe respective divisions all led their troops in person.
The garrison of the town were all asleep. In Saint Ruth's camp thefestivities were over, and the general and his officers had retired. TheIrish sentinels, who noted the movement in the British camp, supposedthat they were mustering to retreat, and thus the three British columnsdrew up inside the town wall, in readiness to advance, without a notionof their purpose being entertained on the opposite side of the river.
One column, headed by sixty chosen men in complete armour, was to crossthe bridge and throw a platform over the arch; another to cross by theford: the third by a pontoon bridge. When the church bell tolled six, thethree columns advanced simultaneously, and, before the Irish werethoroughly awake, the leading battalions had forded the river, theplatform was in its place, and the troops pouring into the town.
A few guns were hastily discharged, and then the men of the three Irishregiments in the town fled in haste, to avoid capture by the columnspouring across the river by the ford and pontoon bridge. Many, indeed,were captured whilst asleep. Saint Ruth, roused from sleep by the soundof cannon, ordered the troops to arms, but it was too late. The town, orrather its ruins, were in the possession of the British, and thebrilliant success, which had been won by the valour and determination ofthe Irish troops, was forfeited by the carelessness, folly, andself-confidence of the French general.
Had he listened to the advice of the Irish officers, the attempt, likethose which had preceded it, must have failed, and in that case there wasnothing remained to Ginckle but a precipitous retreat to Dublin, with theloss of the whole of the advantages gained in the previous campaign, andthe necessity of bringing the war to an end by the concession of therights and privileges of the Irish Catholics and landowners. The wholecourse of history was changed by the folly of one man. Ginckle had takenAthlone, but it was at a vast cost of life, and he was more than everimpressed with the magnitude of the task of subduing Ireland, so long asthe people were driven to desperation by the threatened confiscation ofall their lands, and by the persecution of their religion. King William,too, was more anxious than ever for the termination of hostilities, and,on the very day that the news of the fall of Athlone reached him, heissued a proclamation offering protection, security of all possessions,and continuance in any offices which they held under James, to all whowould lay down their arms in three weeks' time.
The issue of such a proclamation as this, a year before, would havesatisfied the Irish and put a stop to the war; but it was now too late.The promises made had been broken, over and over again, and the Irish hadbut too much reason to fear that, when all opposition ceased, the counciland their train of greedy adherents would again obtain the ascendency,and would continue their work of spoliation and robbery.
Moreover, the Irish army did not feel itself in any way beaten. It wasnot its fault that the second siege of Athlone had not terminated as theformer siege and that of Limerick had done, and that Ginckle's army wasnot hurrying back, defeated and disorganized, to Dublin. They felt that,at the battle of the Boyne, they had suffered no defeat, although, inaccordance with the general plan, they had fallen back, and they eagerlydesired to fight one battle to prove that, in the open field, they weremore than a match for the mercenaries of King William.
The council and lords justices, who were aghast at the proclamation,which threatened to destroy their hopes of dividing among themselves andtheir friends all the lands of the Catholics of Ireland, did their bestto prevent its acceptance, by spreading rumours that it was a mere bait,and that its promises would not be fulfilled; while Saint Ruth and hisFrench officers did their best, also, to set the Irish against it.
Saint Ruth, who was really a good officer, was conscious that, so farfrom having gained credit, as he had expected from a command in Ireland,the misfortunes which had happened were entirely attributed to him, andhe longed for an opportunity of wiping out the slur on his militaryreputation. He therefore urged upon the Irish generals that Ginckle hadindeed gained but little; that all the hopes of William rested upon thatarmy alone; and that, with its defeat, they could demand and obtain anyterms they liked to lay down; besides which, he was able to assure them,by his advices from France, that Louis was making preparations forassisting them on a vastly larger scale than he had previously done.Thus, from a combination of circumstances, the proclamation elicited noresponse.
While the siege of Athlone was being carried on, the main body ofSarsfield's cavalry remained, for the most part, in the camp near thetown; but commanders of small bodies of men, like the corps of CaptainDavenant, which were regarded as irregulars, had liberty of action. Somemade long raids to the east, and often spread confusion and dismay amongthe enemy, by appearing suddenly when no Irish troops were believed to bewithin a hundred miles. Some went down and joined the peasants, who werekeeping up desultory fighting in the neighbourhood of Cork, harassing theEnglish whenever they moved from one point to another, or sent outparties to collect forage or provisions.
Captain Davenant, who had more than once respectfully urged uponSarsfield the immense benefit which would result, were the whole of theIrish cavalry to place themselves upon the line of the enemy'scommunication, finding that the Irish general was unmoved by hisarguments, several times endeavoured to carry out his ideas, as far ascould be done with his own small force.
The inactivity of the Irish horse, throughout the long sieges of Athloneand Limerick, except only upon the occasion of the raid upon the siegetrain, is almost inexplicable. They had nothing to fear from the enemy'scavalry, to whom they proved themselves immensely superior, whenever theymet during the war, and they had it in their power, for months, to cutthe British communications and so oblige them, either to detach so largea force to keep the roads open that they would have been unable to pushon the siege, and would indeed have been in danger of being attacked anddestroyed by the Irish infantry; or to raise the siege, and fall backupon their bases, Dublin and Waterford.
The only possible explanations that can be offered are--first, thatSarsfield, although a dashing commander in action, was possessed of nomilitary genius whatever; second, that he was prevented from moving bythe jealousy of the French commanders-in-chief, who did not wish to seethe credit of compelling the enemy to fall back monopolized by the Irishcavalry; or, third, that Sarsfield saw the advantages which could beobtained by throwing himself, with his cavalry, in the rear of the enemy,but deliberately remained inactive rather than leave the French generalsto act, unchecked by his presence at headquarters. It can never bedecided to which of these alternatives it was due that the Irish cavalryremained for so long a time inactive, and that William, and after himGinckle, were permitted, unmolested save by a few detached bodies ofhorse, to maintain their long line of communications to their base,unchecked.
Upon one of his excursions in the rear of the English army, CaptainDavenant's troops dashed down upon a convoy of waggons. The dragoons whowere escorting them were killed or driven off. The drivers were collectedin a group, for Captain Davenant always ordered that these men should notbe injured, as they were not combatants, and were in most cases obligedto accompany their teams, which had been requisitioned for the service.
The men were collecting the waggons together, preparatory to setting themon fire, when Walter, on riding near the group of drivers, heard himselfcalled by name. Turning round, he leapt from his horse and ran up to oneof the prisoners.
"My dear John!" he exclaimed, "I am glad indeed to see you. Why, whatbrings you here?"
After exchanging hearty greetings, Walter led him away from the group,and the two sat down together on a bank.
"What brings you here?" Walter repeated.
"All the waggons within miles round Dublin have been requisitioned," Johnsaid; "and as our three were called for, my f
ather suggested that Ishould accompany them, to see that the horses were fed and cared for."
"Which are your waggons?" Walter asked.
"The three last in the column."
Walter immediately ran to his father, told him what had happened, andbegged that the three waggons should be exempted from the generaldestruction. Captain Davenant at once rode up to the men, and ordered thewaggons to be unloaded and their contents added to the pyre which wasbeing prepared, but that the waggons themselves should be taken back aquarter of a mile along the road, and left there under the charge oftheir drivers, who were not to move until joined by their owner. He thenrode back, and shook hands with John.
"I am glad to see you," he said. "All are well, I hope, at both ourhomes?"
"Quite well, sir."
"Thank God for that! Now, I must leave you to see that our work isthoroughly carried out. You will find your waggons safe, a quarter of amile along the road. I will leave you to tell all the home news toWalter, who will retell it to me afterwards."
"Now tell me all the news," Walter said, when they were together again.
"The news is not altogether pleasant," John replied. "The whole of thecountry round Dublin is being harried by the cavalry in garrison there.They pay no attention whatever to papers of protection, and care butlittle whether those they plunder are Protestant or Catholic, friend orfoe. They go about in small parties, like bands of brigands, through thecountry; and those who go to Dublin to obtain redress for their exactionsare received with indifference, and sometimes with insult, by theauthorities. Then, too, we have had trouble at home.
"My grandfather became more bigoted than ever, and would, if he had thepower, have annihilated every Catholic in Ireland. My father and he hadfrequent quarrels, and I was in daily expectation of an open breachbetween them, and of my father giving up his share of the property, andtaking us to England. He was a backslider, in my grandfather's eyes. Thetales of battle, plunder, and murder seemed to have taken the latter backto his own fighting days; and he was rather inclined to consider thegenerals as lukewarm, than to join in the general indignation at theiratrocious conduct.
"Even the sufferings of the Protestants did not seem to affect him. TheLord's work, he said, cannot be carried on without victims. It horrifiedme to hear him talk. If this was the religion of our fathers, I was fastcoming to the conclusion that it was little better than no religion atall.
"I think my father and mother saw it in the same light, and the breachbetween them and my grandfather daily widened. But I have not told youthe worst, yet. A party of cavalry rode up the other day, and were about,as usual, to seize upon some cattle. My father was out, and mygrandfather stepped forward and asked them 'how they could lay it totheir consciences to plunder Protestants when, a mile or two away, therewere Catholics lording it over the soil--Catholics whose husbands andsons were fighting in the ranks of the army of James Stuart?'
"I was in the house with my mother, but we heard what was said; and shewhispered to me to slip out behind, and find my father, and tell him whatwas being done. I made off; but before I had gone a quarter of a mile, Isaw the soldiers riding off towards the castle, with my grandfatherriding at their head. I was not long in finding my father, who at oncecalled the men off from their work, and sent them off in all directionsto raise the country; and in an hour two hundred men, armed with anyweapon they could snatch up, were marching towards the castle, my fatherat their head. There were Catholics and Protestants among them--thelatter had come at my father's bidding, the former of their own freewill.
"We hurried along, anxiously fearing every moment to see flames rise fromthe castle. Fortunately, the soldiers were too busy in plundering tonotice our approach, and we pounced down upon them and seized themunawares. They were stripping the place of everything worth carryingaway, before setting it on fire. We burst into the hall, and there was asight which filled my father and myself with anger and shame. Yourgrandmother was standing erect, looking with dignity mingled with disdainat my grandfather; while your mother, holding your brother's hands, stoodbeside her. My grandfather was standing upon a chair; in his hand he helda Bible, and was pouring out a string of denouncing texts at the ladies,and was, at the moment we entered, comparing them to the wicked who hadfallen into a net.
"I don't think, Walter, his senses are quite right now. He is crazed withreligion and hate, and I believe, at the time, he fancied himself in themeeting house. Anyhow, there he was, while two sergeants, who weresupposed to be in command of the troop, were sitting on a table, with aflagon of wine between them, looking on with amusement. Their expressionchanged pretty quickly, when we rushed in.
"It needed all my father's efforts to prevent the whole party being hung,so furious were all the rescuers at the outrage upon the good ladies ofthe castle. But my father pointed out to them that, although such apunishment was well deserved, it would do harm rather than good to theladies. They had orders of protection from the lords justices; and heshould proceed at once, with four or five witnesses, to lay the matterbefore the general at Dublin, and demand the punishment of the offenders.But if the party took the law into their own hands, and meted out thepunishment the fellows deserved, the facts of the case would be lostsight of. There would be a cry of vengeance for the murder, as it wouldbe called, of a party of soldiers, and it would serve as an excuse forharrying the whole district with fire and sword.
"Having at last persuaded the angry tenants and peasantry to lay asidetheir project of vengeance, my father went to the soldiers, who, tiedhand and foot, were expecting nothing short of death. He ordered alltheir pistols and ammunition to be taken away, and their bonds to beloosed; then told them that their escape had been a narrow one, and that,with great difficulty, he had persuaded those who had captured them whileengaged in deeds of outrage and plunder to spare them; but that acomplaint would at once be made before the military authorities, and thelaw would deal with them. Finally, they were permitted to mount and rideoff, after having been closely examined to see that they were taking withthem none of the plunder of the house.
"Everything was then carefully replaced as they had found it; and myfather at once rode off, with six of the leading tenants--threeProtestants and three Catholics--and laid a complaint before the general.The latter professed himself much shocked, and lamented the impossibilityof keeping strict discipline among the various regiments stationed in thetowns. However, he went down with them at once to the barracks of theregiment, ordered them to be formed up, and asked my father if he couldidentify the culprits.
"My father and those with him picked out fifteen, including the twosergeants, as having formed part of the body of plunderers; and thegeneral had the whole tied up and flogged severely, then and there, anddeclared that, the next time an outrage upon persons who had receivedletters of protection came to his ears, he would shoot every man who wasproved to have been concerned in it. He also gave orders that awell-conducted noncommissioned officer, and four men, should be sent atonce to Davenant Castle, and should there take up their quarters as aguard against any party of marauders, with the strictest orders to causeno annoyance or inconvenience to the inhabitants of the castle.
"I learned afterwards that Mr. Conyers, who had been interesting himselfgreatly on behalf of the ladies of the castle, is a great friend of thelords justices, and other members of the council, and is also acquaintedwith the general, which will account for the prompt measures taken topunish the marauders--a very rare and exceptional matter, I can tellyou."
"I am sure we are greatly indebted to your father and you, for sopromptly taking measures to assist my mother," Walter said. "I have nodoubt the castle would have been burned, as well as plundered, if it hadnot been for your rescue of them."
"It is not worth thinking about, Walter. We are heavily your debtors,still, for the kindness of your father and yourself to me at Derry, andindeed on all other occasions. Besides, it was the least we could do,seeing that it was my grandfather's hatred of your family which brought
the matter about."
"What became of your grandfather," Walter asked, "when you interruptedhis sermon?"
"He fell down in a fit," John replied; "and perhaps it was the best thinghe could do, for I don't know what my father and he would have said toeach other, had it not been so. He was carried home, and he has not beenthe same man since. I don't think the subject was ever alluded to betweenmy father and him; but I think that being balked, just at the moment whenhe thought he had obtained the object of his hopes and prayers for thelast forty years, has almost broken his heart.
"He goes about the house, scarce speaking a word, and seems to have lostalmost all his energy. He has ceased to read the family prayers, and tohold forth morning and night. I do think he considers that the Lord hascheated him out of his lawful vengeance. It is awfully sad, Walter,though it is strange, to see such a travesty of religion as the tenets ofmy grandfather and some of the old men who, like him, represent the viewsof Cromwell's soldiers.
"Their religion cannot be called true Christianity. It is the Judaism ofthe times when the Jews were among the most ignorant of peoples. To me itis most shocking, and I would infinitely rather be a Mohammedan than holdsuch a faith as theirs. I thank God that my father and mother have shakenoff such a yoke, and brought me up according to the teaching of the NewTestament, rather than that of the Old."
By this time the waggons, with the exception of those under JohnWhitefoot's charge, had been collected in a mass, and fire had beenapplied to them. They were now a pile of flame. A few of the best andfastest looking of the horses were set aside to be carried off by thetroop. The rest were shot, as the great object of the raids was todeprive the English army of its means of transport.
The troop then mounted. Captain Davenant and Walter took a heartyfarewell of John, and intrusted him with hastily-written letters forhome; and as the smoke of the burning train would soon bring down anyparties of the enemy who happened to be in the neighbourhood, the troopthen rode off at full speed, and arrived safely at Athlone withoutmeeting with any further adventures.
After the fall of the city, Ginckle remained inactive some time, but,finding that his proclamation had no effect in inducing the Irish to laydown their arms, he reluctantly prepared to advance against them. In theinterval, he occupied himself in repairing the western wall of the city,and, as he had been joined by several regiments sent out to reinforcehim, he resumed his advance with a force larger than that with which hehad commenced the siege of Athlone. Before starting, he issued the mostperemptory orders against a repetition of the acts which had so disgracedhis army, and had done so much harm to the cause by banding the wholepeasantry against them.
Saint Ruth chose his position with great skill. His camp extended morethan two miles, along a range of hills called the heights of Kilcomeden.His right was protected by a rivulet, and by hills and marshes. On hisleft was a deep glen. Beyond this, along his whole front, a vast bogextended, in most places impassable for horse or foot. On the borders ofthe bog, on the left, stood the ruins of the little castle of Aughrim,occupying the only spot of firm ground which led to the camp.
To pass the bog at this point, it was necessary to go close by the castlewall, where there was a broken path only wide enough for two men to passabreast. The passage on the right of the bog was more open, but it wasmarshy and unsafe.
This position was much stronger than that which the Irish had held at thebattle of the Boyne, and whereas, on that occasion, they had been veryinferior in numbers to their assailants, they were now superior by someregiments in number. In the point of artillery the English had here, asat the Boyne, an overwhelming superiority.
Ginckle moved forward slowly and with caution, halting on the river Suckuntil he had been joined by every available soldier in Ireland.
On the morning of the 12th of July, the British army halted on the edgeof the bog, that, like a great belt, encircled the Irish within it. Themorning was foggy, and the mist did not clear off until towards noon. TheIrish prepared for battle by having divine service performed at the headof their regiments, and Dr. Stafford, chaplain to the royal regiment offoot, and some other priests, passed through the ranks, urging upon themen their duty and obligation, as soldiers and Irishmen, to make everyeffort they could to rescue their country from the oppression of thePrince of Orange, and his army of foreigners.
Ginckle, on his part, as at Athlone, distributed money among the troops,and promised them the plunder of the enemy's camp. As the day cleared up,the British army was put in motion, and a strong column advanced againstthe enemy's right, where stood the house and grounds of Urachree,occupied by some Irish horse. A strong detachment of Danish cavalryheaded the British column. They moved forward boldly, quickening theirpace as they approached the Irish; but, on the latter charging them atfull gallop, they wheeled about and rode off at once in disorder.
Ginckle immediately ordered two hundred of Cunningham's dragoons, whowere considered the best cavalry in the army, to advance and drive backthe Irish horse. The dragoons advanced at a trot, but, seeing that theIrish quietly awaited their coming, they halted behind a hedge andawaited the arrival of the infantry. When these came up, the cavalryagain moved forward.
The Irish horse now fell back on a little hill in their rear, where abody of infantry were posted. They then faced to the front and charged,and broke the English dragoons, who retreated, as the Danes had done, inconfusion.
Eppinger's dragoons were ordered up to support Cunningham's, but theIrish horse had also received reinforcements before they arrived, and,after a fierce fight, the two English regiments were routed and drivenoff the field.
Ginckle rallied them, added Lord Portland's horse to their numbers, andagain sent them against the Irish. These, however, had fallen back fromUrachree, and had taken up a new position upon the rivulet behind it, infront of the solid ground by which, alone, the right wing of the Irisharmy could be approached. Here they remained, waiting the onset of theBritish cavalry; but these, perceiving that the ground was becoming moreand more difficult, soon came to a halt, and then, wheeling about, fellback upon the infantry.
Seeing the successful stand which was made, by a small body of Irishhorse, to the advance of the left wing, and that the spirit with whichhis troops were behaving was greatly inferior to that of the Irish,Ginckle called a council of war. Opinions were greatly at variance. Itwas now nearly four o'clock, and it was, at first, decided to postponethe battle till the morning, and a messenger was sent to the baggagecolumn in the rear to bring up the tents.
But other counsels finally prevailed. The order for the tents wascountermanded, and, at half-past four, the British infantry were orderedto advance. They pressed forward, in solid masses, across the groundwhere the cavalry fight had taken place, and the Irish horse fell backbehind their infantry, who were posted behind the substantial hedgeswhich intersected the ground beyond the rivulet. A heavy musketry firewas opened upon the British infantry as they advanced, but they pressedforward, in unbroken order, till they reached the hedges. These were longand obstinately contested.
The Irish had cut openings through the hedges by which they could retire,and, as they fell back from hedge to hedge, the advancing British werereceived by a fire from hedges on both flanks, as well as from the front.As the British poured regiment after regiment to the attack, Saint Ruthmoved some bodies of horse and foot, from his left, to the support of hisright wing.
This movement had been foreseen by Ginckle, who now gave orders forseveral battalions of infantry to cross the bog, and attack the Irishcentre. At this point there was a path across the bog, or rather a placewhere the mud and water were not so deep as at other points, and where itwas possible for it to be forded. Ginckle had found a peasant, who, for alarge sum of money, disclosed the passage. It traversed the bog at itsnarrowest point, the hill of Kilcomeden here running out a shoulder farinto it. Four regiments entered the morass, with orders to cross it, andmake their way to the nearest hedges on the sloping ground, where theywere to post
themselves till the cavalry, who were to attempt the passageby Aughrim Castle, could come round to their support.
The first part of the passage was unopposed, but the difficulty ofpassing was great, for the men were frequently up to their waists in mud,too soft to afford any firm footing, but solid enough to render itextremely difficult for the feet to be disengaged from it. At length, asthey approached firmer ground, the Irish infantry advanced towards theedge of the bog, and received them with a steady fire. The English,although suffering heavily, pressed forward without firing a shot, tillthe ground became solid under their feet, when the Irish withdrew, and,as upon the right, took post behind the hedges which everywhereintersected the slopes.
The English, seeing the Irish retire, pressed forward, and another fiercecontest raged in the inclosures; the Irish, according to theirpreconceived plan, falling gradually back. The British, in their ardour,forgot their orders to halt at the first hedge, and continued to pressforward, until the constantly increasing numbers of the enemy recalled totheir leaders the danger of the position.
Before them were the heights of Kilcomeden, with a strong force drawn upto receive them, while on both flanks the enemy were crowding down, tointercept their retreat. Colonel Earl, who was the senior officer, lookedanxiously towards the right, from which quarter he expected the Britishcavalry to arrive to his assistance; but no sound reached him from thatquarter; while on the left the sound of the conflict, instead ofadvancing, appeared to recede, as if the British column was being forcedback. Advancing before his own regiment, he called upon the soldiers tostand firm, for retreat would be destruction, and the only hope was tomaintain their position till assistance arrived.
When the Irish saw that the enemy had halted, and could not be tempted toadvance further, they poured down to the attack through the passages inthe hedges. The British might have defended these hedges, as the Irishhad done, but the soldiers saw that they would be taken in the flank andrear, and, observing a large body of cavalry ascending the hill, theywere seized with a panic.
On the first shock of the Irish infantry, the four regiments broke andfled. They were hotly pursued, and slaughtered in great numbers, theIrish cavalry pouring through the openings in the hedges which had beenprepared for them. At length, the fugitives reached the edge of the bog,where they gathered in a confused mass; which the officers, in vain,attempted to form into order. The cavalry charged down upon them, brokeand scattered them, and drove them into the morass, followed by the Irishinfantry, who were better acquainted with the ground, and more accustomedto traversing bogs. The soldiers were driven into the deepest and mostdifficult portion of the morass, and a great slaughter took place.
The British artillery were planted on the edge of the morass, but somingled were the two parties that they were unable to fire. Great numbersof the English were killed. Colonels Earl and Herbert, with many officersand men, were taken prisoners, and the remnant of the British were drivencompletely across the bog, to the shelter of their own cannon.
While this was passing in the centre, another division of Ginckle's army,consisting of English and French infantry, had crossed the bog by apassage more to the right. They also had met with no opposition inpassing, and it was only when they reached the hedges, on the firmground, that the Irish showed themselves, fired, and retreated. Thisdivision, more cautious than that of Earl, could not be tempted topursue, but contented themselves with maintaining their ground under aheavy fire, awaiting anxiously the arrival of the British horse. Theycould see, however, no sign of them, but could perceive the Irish cavalrydescending in large masses, preparing to charge, while the infantry wereforming for an advance.
So far the Irish had been successful at every point. They had repulsedevery attack made by the British left; had crushed the brigade, composedof the flower of the British infantry, which had assaulted the centre;and were now preparing to destroy the division which stood, unsupported,on their side of the bog.
At this moment, a tumult was heard on the left wing of the Irish, thedirection from which the British division expected relief, and the Irish,aware of the importance of the pass of Aughrim, suspended their attack toawait the events there.
Saint Ruth had directed the operations of the battle with as much skillas he had prepared for the assault. He had taken up his position on apoint of the hill whence he had a complete view of the whole field ofbattle, and had moved his troops, with calmness and judgment, to meeteach of the attacks made upon them; and when he saw the destruction ofthe English regiment in the centre, he exclaimed, in the full confidenceof victory, "Now I will drive the English to the walls of Dublin!"
There was, indeed, but one hope, on the part of the English, ofretrieving the day; namely, the success of the attempt to force thepassage at Aughrim. But two horsemen abreast could pass under the castlewalls. Saint Ruth was aware of the passage, but thought it impassable forcavalry. It might easily have been made so, by cutting a deep gap acrossit; but here, as at Athlone, his overconfidence proved his destruction.He had, however, taken the precaution to erect a battery commanding thepassage, and had placed some battalions of infantry there.
General Talmash, who commanded the English cavalry, knew that the battlewas lost, unless he could succeed at this point; and, at the head of hiscommand, he led the way along the pass, which was not only narrow, butbroken and encumbered with the ruins of the castle wall. Saint Ruthbeheld the attempt of the cavalry with astonishment, and, with theremark: "They are brave fellows, it is a pity they should be sacrificed,"sent orders for the Irish horse to move forward and prepare to chargethem; and moved down the hill at the head of his officers to the battery.
There is no doubt as to what the result would have been, had the Irishhorse charged. They were greatly superior in number, and the Englishcavalry who had got across the passage were still in confusion, and weresuffering from the fire of the battery, and, indeed, even when in equalnumbers, William's cavalry had never withstood the charge of the Irish.It seemed that nothing could avert the defeat of the body on whichGinckle's last hope rested.
But at this moment one of those events, by which Providence overrules thecalculations of man, occurred. A cannonball struck Saint Ruth, as hestood in the middle of the battery and killed him instantly. Theoccurrence paralysed the Irish army. Sarsfield was away, there was no oneto give orders, the news that some extraordinary calamity had happenedspread rapidly, the men in the battery ceased firing, the cavalry,receiving no orders to charge, remained immovable.
Talmash took advantage of the pause to get the rest of his cavalry acrossthe passage, and then, with his whole force, moved towards the centre. Ashe approached, the idea that the unknown calamity, of which they hadheard, was that the British had defeated their own left, spread among theIrish, and they began to fall back. The British column on the edge of thebog advanced, Ginckle pushed several fresh battalions across the morassin the centre, and the Irish infantry fell back, disputing every inch ofthe ground.
The cavalry were still without orders, for strangely enough, no oneassumed the command on the death of Saint Ruth. As night came on, theretreat of the Irish infantry became a rout, but the cavalry halted onthe summit of Kilcomeden, and covered the retreat.
The extraordinary circumstance, of the Irish army being left withoutorders after the death of Saint Ruth, has never been explained. Thecommand should have devolved upon Sarsfield, but none of the accounts ofthe battle speak of him as being present. He had certainly not beenconsulted by Saint Ruth, and had not been present at the council of warbefore the battle; for the bad feeling, which had existed between him andSaint Ruth since that general arrived, had broken out into open disputesince the fall of Athlone. But it is inexplicable that there should havebeen no second in command, that no one should have come forward to giveorders after the death of the general, that a victorious army should havebeen left, as a flock of sheep, without a shepherd.
Up to the moment of the death of Saint Ruth, the loss of the British hadbeen very severe,
as they had more than two thousand men killed andwounded, while that of the Irish was trifling. But in the subsequentstruggle the Irish, fighting each man for himself, without order orobject, were slaughtered in vast numbers, their loss being estimated bythe British writers at seven thousand men, a number which points towholesale slaughter, rather than to the loss which could have beeninflicted upon a brave army during little over an hour of daylight.
But, crushing as the defeat of the Irish had been, the victory was farfrom inspiring William or his army with the confidence they had felt atthe outset of the war. Here, as at Athlone, it was almost a miracle whichhad saved the English from a terrible disaster. The Irish had provedthemselves fully a match for the best soldiers that William could sendagainst them, and, although their infantry had suffered terribly in therout, their ranks would be speedily filled up again; while the cavalry,the arm in which the Irish had uniformly proved their superiority, hadmoved away from the field of battle intact and unbroken. Athlone andAughrim therefore rendered William and his general more anxious than everto bring the struggle to an end, not by the force of arms, but byoffering every concession to the Irish.
The imminence of the peril had cowed even the party of confiscation, andthey offered no opposition to the issue, by Ginckle, of proclamationsrenewing the offers of William. Ginckle himself moved forward,immediately after the battle, and granted the most liberal terms to thegarrisons of the various small posts which he came upon. On arrivingbefore Galway, he permitted that town and garrison to surrender on theterms of a pardon for all, security of property and estate, freedom ofreligious worship, and permission for the garrison to march away toLimerick, with drums beating and colours flying, the British furnishinghorses for the transport of their cannon and baggage.