CHAPTER I
Second Siege of Limerick—Terrific Bombardment—The English, Aided by Treachery, Cross the Shannon—Massacre of Thomond Bridge
THE decisive battle having been lost by Ireland, what followed in this campaign became almost inevitable. Louis XIV and his ministers were criminally culpable in encouraging the Irish people to resistance when they did not mean to give them effective aid. Ireland had proved, in breach and field, that she needed no foreign troops to do her fighting, but she badly needed arms, ammunition, quartermaster’s supplies, and a money-chest. Perhaps the egotism of the French monarch and his advisers led them to underrate the importance of Ireland as a factor in the affairs of Europe, and the slanders of the perfidious Lauzun and his lieutenants had poisoned the mind of the ruler of France in regard to Irish valor. James, in his panic flight, had also carried with him to the French court a most unfavorable impression, and some Irish writers—among them Mr. Boyle—aver that Louis bitterly reproached the fallen king for his ignominious abandonment of Ireland after the affair of the Boyne. James, however, managed to conciliate his haughty cousin, and the latter made him still more promises of effective assistance.
De Ginkel, whose immediate objective, as before the great battle, was Galway, broke up his camp at Aughrim and marched to Loughrea, on July 16. He reached Athenry the following day, and Oranmore on the 18th. At this point he learned that Lord Dillon was Governor of Galway town, and that the French general, D’Usson, commanded the garrison. Baal Dearg O’Donnell, with what remained of his irregular force, hovered about the city, but failed to throw himself into it. It has been stated, on seemingly good authority, that the Irish officials within the town distrusted him, as, indeed, was not unreasonable, seeing that Chaplain Story tells us that “his [O’Donnell’s] design was to keep amongst the mountains till he could make terms for himself, upon which account he writ [wrote] the general, De Ginkel, before our army removed from Galway.” He followed up this treason in a practical manner, and, some months later on, as the Chaplain circumstantially informs us, the adventurer entered the service of William in the Continental wars, and also received a pension of £500 per annum, for life, from the English treasury. The same consideration was subsequently given to Brigadier Henry Luttrell, on whom popular Irish tradition has fixed the odium of having “sold the pass at Aughrim.” It is certain that twenty-six years afterward, A.D. 1717, this treacherous “general of the Irish horse” was shot to death in a sedan chair, while being carried through the streets of Dublin. No doubt remains among the Irish people that the deed was done in reprisal for Luttrell’s villanous conduct in the campaign of 1691, and some have gone so far as to charge him with having been the officer who ordered the Irish cavalry off the field immediately after the death of St. Ruth on Kilcommodan Hill.
Galway, before which De Ginkel appeared on the 19th, after a respectable show of resistance, surrendered with the honors of war, and sundry liberal civil provisions, on the 22d. On the 26th it was evacuated by the Irish garrison, which marched to Limerick. This capitulation virtually ended Irish resistance in Connaught, except for the town of Sligo, which was stubbornly held by the gallant Sir Teague O’Regan, the hero of Charlemont, against a strong detachment of the English army, under Lord Granard, until the following September 16, when he, too, having done all that a brave commander might, yielded his post with honor, and was allowed to join the main Irish army in Limerick town. The adventurer, O’Donnell, assisted the English against Sligo. De Ginkel, after garrisoning Galway, moved toward Limerick by way of Athenry, Loughrea, Eyrecourt, Banagher Bridge, Birr, Nenagh, and Caherconlish, meeting but feeble resistance on his route. He halted at the last-mentioned place to refresh and reinforce his army, and to provide himself with a stronger siege train. This he finally brought up to the number of sixty “great guns,” none of them less than a twelve-pounder, and about a score of mortars for the throwing of large shells. About this time, he issued several proclamations, and continued to do so throughout the subsequent operations, with the design of seducing the Irish officers and soldiers from their allegiance to a desperate cause. In this effort he was by no means successful, but several clever Irish spies passed themselves off as deserters, and gave him plenty of misinformation regarding the condition of affairs at Limerick. While in this camp at Caherconlish, the Dutch general’s attention was called to the cupidity of the sutlers and other camp-followers, who appear to have been as greedy and conscienceless as their successor of our own times. The gossipy Chaplain informs us, in this connection, that General Ginkel “sent out an order that all ale from Dublin and Wicklow should be sold at 6 pence [12 cents] per quart; all other ale, coming above forty miles, at 5 pence, and all under forty miles at 4 pence; white bread to be sold at 3 pence per pound; brown bread at 2 pence; claret at 2 shillings and 6 pence, and Rhenish at 3 shillings [per quart]; brandy at 12 shillings [$2.88] per gallon, etc.; and that no person should presume to exceed these rates on the penalty of forfeiting all his goods, and suffering a month’s imprisonment. But they promptly found out a trick for this,” continues Mr. Story in disgust, “and called all drink that came to the camp Dublin or Wicklow ale!” This “touch of nature” shows how little mankind has changed in principle and practice after a lapse of more than six generations.
De Ginkel appeared in front of Limerick on August 25, and the city was immediately invested on the south, east, and north. The Clare side, connected by Thomond Bridge with Englishtown, or King’s Island, still remained unattacked, as no English force had passed the river. The Irish horse and dragoons were all quartered on that side, while the infantry garrisoned the threatened portions of the city.
Notwithstanding the imposing array of Ginkel’s superb army and powerful siege equipment as they approached the walls of their city, neither the people nor the garrison of Limerick seem to have been much concerned by the spectacle. The walls were much stronger than they had been in the previous siege, and the soldiers were seasoned to hardship and peril. D’Usson, the French lieutenant-general, was in chief command, with his fellow-countryman, general, the Chevalier De Tessé, second, and Sarsfield, it appears from the order of signature in the subsequent treaty, was third in rank, with the Scotch general, Wauchop, fourth. The Duke of Tyrconnel had died of apoplexy—Story hints at poison administered in wine—after dining heartily with the French generals and other officers on August 14. The misfortunes of his country, in the opinion of many writers, had more to do with hastening the end than any other cause. His remains lie under a nameless flagstone in the aisle of St. Mauchin’s church in Limerick, but we are informed not even Irish tradition, usually so minute, can point out the exact place of sepulture. The powerful English batteries, raking the town on three sides, poured in torrents of bombs and red-hot cannon balls, day and night, and the place caught fire at several points. Most of the women and children had to be removed to the cavalry camp on the Clare bank, and the casualties among the defenders were numerous. The Irish replied spiritedly, but they were very deficient in weight of metal, and, also, because of the comparative shortness of supply, had to be sparing of their ammunition, whereas the English were always sure of a fresh supply both from the interior and their men-of-war on the adjacent coasts. The Chaplain, under date of September 8, 1691, relates how the “new batteries were all ready—one to the left with ten field-pieces to shoot red-hot ball; another to the right of 25 guns, all 24 and 18-pounders; and in the centre were placed 8 mortars, from 18¾ to 10½ inches in diameter; these stood all together on the northeast of the town, nigh the island; then there were 8 guns of 12-pound ball each, planted at Mackay’s fort, and some also toward the river on the southwest, where the Danes were posted. These fell to work all the time and put the Irish into such a fright [more partisan venom] that a great many of them wished themselves at another place, having never heard such a noise before, nor I hope never shall in that kingdom.”
Three days later the reverend chronicler tells us that “the breach was widened at least forty paces, and, floats being prepared, there were great debates amongst the chief officers whether it should be attempted by storm.... Though indeed we could not do the enemy a greater pleasure, nor ourselves a greater prejudice, in all probability, than in seeking to carry the town by a breach, before those within [the Irish, to wit] were more humbled, either by sword or sickness.” No finer tribute than this, coming from such a source, could be paid to Irish constancy and courage, after such treasons and disasters as marked the capture of Athlone and the loss of Aughrim.
Thoroughly convinced that he could not hope to carry Limerick by direct assault, De Ginkel now resolved to test the never-failing weapon of treachery and surprise on this stubborn foe. He had information that there was a strong peace-at-any-price party within the town, and that, could he but land a strong force on the Clare bank of the Shannon, the city would speedily capitulate. He, therefore, determined to construct, in all secrecy, a pontoon bridge across the river above St. Thomas Island, near a place called Annaghbeg, where Brigadier Robert Clifford commanded a strong body of Irish dragoons and infantry, quite sufficient, if only properly directed, to foil any hostile movement. On the night of the 15th of September, the bridge was laid—the most favorable point having been revealed by some fishermen, who, the historian O’Callaghan relates, were bribed to betray their country. It is much more probable, however, that they were forced to turn traitors under threat of death. However, on the morning of the 16th the bridge was completed and a formidable English force of horse and foot, under Generals Talmash and Scravenmore, succeeded in crossing. Apparently taken by surprise—although distinctly charged with treason by numerous Irish historians—General Clifford, at this important juncture, displayed neither zeal, courage, nor capacity. He brought his men up in a state of unreadiness and in detachments, instead of in a solid formation, and, of course, was easily put to rout. To show the criminal carelessness, to say no worse, of this commander, his cavalry horses were “out at grass” two miles from his camp, when the English attack was made! Such “generalship” would have demoralized an army of Spartans, and the Irish rank and file can hardly be blamed if, on this occasion, they did not manifest their customary intrepidity. Europe never beheld in the field a braver body of men than King James’s Irish army, and the world never furnished a more incompetent staff of general officers, whether French or Irish, than that which commanded and, finally, wrecked it. We wish to except St. Ruth and Sarsfield and Boisseleau, who were able and gallant soldiers, thoroughly devoted to the cause in which they had embarked. De Ginkel’s bold movement resulted in the partial turning of Thomond Bridge—the key to King’s Island—and the capture of St. Thomas Island, another important Irish post above the city. He, therefore, felt justified in issuing, that same day, a proclamation inviting the garrison of Limerick to surrender on honorable conditions, but the Irish, although now under a veritable rain of fire and iron from every point of the compass, paid no heed to it, whereat the phlegmatic, but skilful, Dutch strategist greatly marveled.
But, although the river had been successfully passed, Ginkel was so discouraged by the firm countenance of the Irish garrison that he called a Council of War on the 17th, when it was, at first, decided to cross the whole English army into Clare, destroy the Irish resources of food and forage in that county, and then convert the siege into a blockade that might last indefinitely. Reflection, however, changed this decision. Winter was approaching, and the wet Irish winter meant wholesale death to the soft and pampered English and their foreign allies. Ginkel, then, resolved to again try his favorite manœuvre—a turning movement. Accordingly, on September 22, at the head of the greater portion of the allied army, he crossed the pontoon bridge and, commanding in person, made a sudden and tremendous attack on the small fort which commanded Thomond Bridge, and was garrisoned by about 800 Irish soldiers. The English cannon soon covered this fort with red-hot projectiles. Everything inflammable in the soldiers’ quarters caught fire, and the desperate garrison made a sortie with the object of crossing into King’s Island by Thomond Bridge. The connection was by means of a draw. A little over a hundred of the Irish had crossed in safety, when the French major in command at the drawbridge, fearing, it is said, that the English might enter the town with the fugitives, caused it suddenly to be raised. The men behind were not able to see what had happened, and the foremost ranks that stood on the western abutment were forced over the gulf and nearly all perished in the river. The others put up white handkerchiefs in token of surrender, but the savage victors showed no mercy. Story, who saw the whole sickening butchery, paints the scene in ghastly fashion thus: “Before the killing was over, they [the Irish] were laid in heaps upon the bridge, higher than the ledges of it.” Out of 800 men, only the five score and odd that gained the drawbridge in time, and the few strong ones who swam the river, escaped. It, on a smaller scale, resembled the disaster at Leipsic, in 1813, when the French Major of Engineers, Montfort, caused the bridge over the Elster to be blown up, while yet the corps of MacDonald and Poniatowski, which formed Napoleon’s rearguard, were on the hostile bank of the river. Thus, through the stupidity, or panic, of a subordinate officer, the emperor lost the Polish marshal, who was one of his best generals, and 20,000 of his choicest troops. A fool or coward commanding at a bridge over which an army is compelled to retreat, is more deadly to his friends than all the bullets and sabres of the enemy.