It was six o'clock in the evening. The infantry soon reached the town of Duleek, the French bringing up the rear, and formed in line of battle behind the river Nanny. The cavalry arrived soon after, and had just crossed the river as Count Schomberg drew up and formed on the other side. Both armies then remained facing each other for over an hour; the Irish, seeing that the enemy did not advance, began to retire, and Schomberg followed. The Irish halted and reformed again, in a long ravine, near the village of Neal; the enemy also halted, but did not attack; and in this posture night settled down on the two armies. It was now nine o'clock; the Irish resumed their march, and the enemy following no farther, they continued their way unmolested towards Dublin. William remained on the field. Some say that sorrow for the death of Schomberg was the cause of his not pressing the foe. It might have been caused by a lack of artillery, as his train had not crossed the river. Perhaps he might have been apprehensive that the garrison of Drogheda would issue out and capture or destroy it in his absence, as they might have done during the latter events of the day; but whether it was one of those causes, or a combination of them, now matters but little; he had won the Battle of the Boyne, and it was enough for a day.
The principal personages killed in the Jacobite army were Lord Dungan, Taaf Earl of Carlingford, Sir Neale O'Neil, and the Marquis de Hoquincourt; in that of the Prince of Orange, the Duke of Schomberg,[34] Caillemotte, and Walker of Derry, who commanded a regiment of Enniskilleners. Besides these, several officers of distinction fell on both sides; among whom were two colonels, two lieutenant-colonels, in the division of Caillemotte, and Sir Charles Tooke, Majors Arthur and O'Meara, and the Chevalier de Vaudry, in Tyrconnell's. The number of officers of subordinate rank killed and wounded on each side was very great, considering the loss in private soldiers, which did not exceed one thousand in either. The number of the wounded in the army of William is not known, and, excepting Hamilton, there is no mention of prisoners being taken on either side.
Such was the Battle of the Boyne. Memorable for the extinction of the Stuart dynasty, for the politico-religious government it entailed on England, and for the wrongs innumerable it bequeathed to Ireland; but for nothing more memorable than as a well-contested and long-doubtful battle. It was one fought by twenty thousand men, [35] indifferently armed, with only six pieces of artillery, and under a king whose conduct would have disconcerted the best army in the world, from six in the morning until six in the evening, on a river fordable at every rood of its length, against an army of thirty thousand[36] veteran mercenaries, with experienced leaders, cannon at will, and a prince of great military skill and daring. From the beginning their temerity seemed almost madness, to the bravest and most experienced, and their king was besought to relinquish it. Yet three times through the day the battle seemed equally poised, and once victory was assuredly within their grasp, had their king but displayed one-half the courage and intrepidity of his rival. Through the loss of this field the future was foreshadowed. There the Irish army lost prestige abroad—and at home every thing but their manhood: yet seldom was that better vindicated than on that "ill-fated river;" and as they turned their last look on it, and saw the long lines of William winding up to Donore, well might they exclaim in their anguish, "Change kings, and we'll fight the battle again!" The kings were changed, but not for them. On that river their web of destiny was woven, and though they battled on bravely for a time, patriotic devotion and heroic sacrifice were in vain.
CHAPTER X.
THE FINAL DEPARTURE OF KING JAMES—A RETROSPECT OF HIS CHARACTER.
The consequences of "the Boyne" are too well known for comment; what a reversal of that day's events might have done, it is painful to contemplate. A suspension of the battle for a week—even for a day—would have changed the whole complexion of the war, and turned the finger of destiny. The very hour that William drew up at Townly Hall, on the 30th of June, the combined fleets of England and Holland had been almost utterly destroyed by Admiral Tourville at Beachy Head: and as he crossed the Boyne next day, the combined armies of the League, under Prince Waldeck, had been overthrown at Fleurus by the French army under the renowned Marshal Luxemburg. While James was hastening to Dublin to quit his dominions forever, the fleet of Admiral de Seignelay was unmoored, waiting a favorable wind to sail for Ireland to destroy William's transports round the coast; the fleet of Tourville was riding triumphant at the mouth of the Thames, and "there were not," says Hume, "ten thousand armed men in all England." There, disaffection was on the increase, the Jacobite cause was gaining strength, and it was not easy to decide, even with the loss of the Boyne, which was at that moment in the more critical plight—the victor or the vanquished.
Had any nominal force been thrown into England at this moment, all had been at once recovered; for William, if indeed he could, would have to withdraw his army from Ireland "to save the larger stake," and that country, relieved of his foreign veterans, would soon rectify itself; or, if compelled to remain in Ireland, and continue the war for awhile, he would certainly lose the other two kingdoms, and the third would follow as a consequence. His affairs in Holland, too, were in an unpromising condition. The arms of France were everywhere predominant, and this was a matter of deeper importance to William, than even the loss of the English throne, which, 'tis said, he ambitioned only so far as it enabled him to cope with his proud and detested enemy, Louis XIV. Such a happy combination of events, dashed but by a single defeat, in which only about one thousand men were lost, would have imparted courage and hope to any heart, but that of this unfortunate king. But from the first to the last his course, if not leading to the ruin of a noble people, might be read as a great "Comedy of Errors." He seemed continually under the spell of some evil genius that lulled him to a sense of security, while leading him to destruction:—and from his refusal of the first generous offer of King Louis, through M. Bonrepas, while he was yet upon the throne of England, the series of mishaps and miscalculations through which he stumbled, seems indeed to mark out a manifest destiny.
At Salisbury, when deserted by his nobles, he had but to choose generals from the ranks, and pledging his army the estates forfeited by this treason, he could have created a revolution within a revolution, and held his throne at will as the sovereign of the people. If, instead of going to Ireland, where four-fifths of the people were unalterably attached to him, he had gone to Scotland, we are told that the whole country would have risen under Dundee; and William would have had two countries to conquer instead of one. On his arrival in Ireland, he weakened the strength of that country by sending 3,000 trained soldiers to the assistance of Dundee; under the advice of Secretary Melford, a Scotchman, and against the advice of Tyrconnell, who had seen the fate of the soldiers sent under Hamilton to England. He next disconcerted the arrangements for the surrender of Derry, and afterwards, through a weak punctilio, refused the second offer, and protracted the rebellion of Ulster until the arrival of Schomberg. Again, deaf to the entreaties of his generals, he virtually saved the army of invasion from total destruction, on the plea that winter and desertion would do the work of war, on the foreigners. As time advanced, and the war assumed greater proportions, his blunders became more glaring and more fatal. In the spring of 1690, he sent Lord Mountcashel, the best general then in the country, and 6,000 men, "the flower of the Irish army," to France, in lieu of 6,000 nondescripts, under the lead of de Lausun, a man, if not of dubious courage, of very dubious loyalty, and to sustain this equivalent in Louis' army, sent 4,000 more the same year. He fought the Battle of the Boyne against the counsel of his generals, and when fortune seemed to favor his army, he lost an offered victory by trepidity and indecision. And, now, to complete a series of blunders by one more fatal than all: instead of sending Tyrconnell, or some other statesman of diplomatic ability, to plead his necessities before his "brother of France," he formed the resolution of appearing in person at the French court, where the general rejoicing over recent victories could only render his forlorn condition the more marked, and his suit the more neglected. And, yet, through all, the people of Ireland loved him, and followed him with a devotion deepened and intensified by each successive misfortune. Her young men presented themselves in thousands, aye, in tens of thousands, at every call for new levies, but to go away and fold their arms, while their country was sacrificed! Such a country! and such a king! We read the history of La Vendée in vain, for an exemplification of the fidelity of the one; and there is no parallel in the category of royal refugees, save that of the fabled Lear, for the misfortunes and melo-dramatism of the other!
When he arrived in Dublin, he summoned his council, and communicated his intention of quitting the country to solicit aid from France. It is but justice to state that he says they were unanimous in their approval; that de Lausun was importunate in his persuasion to that effect, and that letters, lately received from his queen, were still more urgent, and that so his resolution was confirmed. Ordering that the army should rendezvous at Limerick, each colonel leading his men thither as he might, he committed the government of the kingdom again to Tyrconnell, and, after giving some salutary advice on the regulation of affairs in the city until the arrival of the Prince of Orange, he made an exposition of his principles, and of the hopes he yet entertained of establishing them; then, in a very simple and affecting address, he bade farewell to his friends, and left the city under escort of two regiments of the Guards, those of Brown and Purcell. From Dublin he proceeded to Bray, where he left those troops to defend the bridge there in case of pursuit, and continued his route to Wicklow, where he spent the night at the residence of a gentleman named Hacket; from Wicklow he journeyed to Duncannon, and thence to Waterford. The detail of this route in the "Memoirs" forms a chapter, highly interesting and suggestive to a writer of romance, although of little import to the general reader. It tells how on the way he was almost startled from his propriety at every step by Messieurs de la Hoquette, Famechon, Chamarante, and Merode, colonels in the French contingent, who had, no doubt, been sent by de Lausun to urge him to swifter flight; for this general had many intrigues of his own at the French court, and, as they were spoiling in his absence, he encouraged the king's departure as the surest way of procuring his own recall from Ireland. But, as the subject is irrelevant here, the curious are referred to the notes of Berwick's Memoirs, where they may contemplate the web woven around this unfortunate king by the general for whom he had made the powerful Louvois his inveterate enemy.
At Waterford he heard that the French ship De Lausun, of twenty guns, was moored at Passage, with a cargo of corn and supplies; and in this he sailed from Waterford to Kinsale, where, after a short delay, he embarked, and arrived at Brest on the 9th of July, escorted by the fleet of M. de Seignelay, which he met on its way to destroy William's transports around the Irish coast!
So ended the reign of James II.; and with it, virtually, the dynasty of the Stuarts. He died at St. Germains, in France, on the 16th of September, 1701, surviving his daughter Mary by seven years; and on the 8th of March, 1702, his death was followed by that of the Prince of Orange, who broke his collar-bone by a fall from his horse; surviving his much injured father-in-law only by six months. The son and grandson of the expatriate monarch, each in turn, tried to regain his inheritance, but the Hanoverian line prevailed, and with Prince Charles, "The young Chevalier," the grandson of the renowned Sobieski, the noblest and bravest of his race, the royal house of Stuart became extinct.