Of the generals who commanded the respective divisions of St. Ruth's army, or of the regiments that constituted them, little can be established from contemporary or subsequent historians, beyond this:—That Colonel Walter Burke and his brother, Colonel David Burke, held the Castle of Aughrim and its defences; that Lord Bophin, Brigadier Henry Luttrell, Colonels Simon Luttrell, and Ulick Burke commanded on the left; that Major-Generals Dorrington, H. M. J. O'Neil, Brigadier Gordon O'Neil, Colonels Felix O'Neil, and Anthony Hamilton, held the centre; and that Lords Kilmallock, Galmoy, Galway, Clare, and Colonel James Talbot commanded on the right. And judging from the positions held by those leaders respectively, and the regiments they indicate, it may be inferred that the Munster troops were on the right, the Leinster and Ulster troops in the centre, and that those of Connaught held the left and its surroundings.
In addition to those division and regimental commanders, the marshalling of the entire infantry was deputed to General William Mansfield Barker, and that of the cavalry to Major-General John Hamilton;[69] and the whole was commanded by the Marquis de St. Ruth and Lieutenant-General Sarsfield,[70] aided by Generals d'Usson and de Tessé, and other officers of established reputation.
Having completed his arrangements, and allotted every division its service, St. Ruth drew up his army and reviewed it in front of its encampment. Then, in an eloquent and animated address, he set before all the great issues dependent on the coming battle. He reminded them that, unlike the mercenary army of the Prince of Orange, they were about to contend for all that man holds dear, and for all that exalts and ennobles the profession of arms—their homes and kindred; their country and its altars. The duty of allegiance to their king who had staked his crown to free them from an odious religious bondage, and the certainty of immediate and adequate succor from his own sovereign, should their arms be crowned with success, were set before them in language calculated to awaken loyalty and enkindle enthusiasm. His own services in the cause of religion were alluded to as an earnest of that sincerity in their cause which tended to awaken sympathy and establish confidence, and his troubles, and even his errors, since he came to the country, were reviewed with an earnest ingenuousness that removed all traces of discontent and restored general harmony. This address was delivered in the French language, and interpreted to the soldiers by their officers and chaplains in their native tongue, till every eye kindled with devotion, and every bosom glowed in the hope of anticipated victory. Then exhorting them to prepare themselves by those religious observances that should distinguish the Christian soldier, he retired to his tent to digest the thoughts that labored in his mind, and to shape them to purpose and to action.
The eve of battle had come:—that hour which best attunes the soldier's heart to sympathy and devotion; and many associations contributed to render that one more than usually impressive. It was at once the season of full moon and perpetual twilight, and the sultry glare of day was succeeded by that chastened yet abundant radiance that at once soothes and spiritualizes; and, above all, it was the Sabbath eve, which more than any other awakens the sacred memories of love, home, and kindred.—The crest of Kilcommodon, studded from end to end with the white tents of the soldiers, stood out in its isolation like a city of silver, while the castles of Urrachree and Aughrim on the front, and the churches of Kilcommodon and Kilconel in the rear, seemed as sentinels of the place, and carried back the mind to the ages of faith and chivalry. Nor was the scene passing throughout the encampment less characteristic of the time and the event.—From sunset until the hours that precede the dawn, the chaplains of the army knew no repose: the voice of prayer arose on all hands, and the soldiers approached the confessional to prepare for the great sacrifice of the Mass, by which the human ordeal of the morrow was to be inaugurated. Towards morning heavy clouds obscured the moon, and darkness deepened over hill and valley, until all became as drear and dismal as it had before been full of grandeur and celestial loveliness:—nothing was heard but the challenge of the sentinels on their rounds, and the occasional neigh of the war-horse; and nothing seen but the distant watch-fires where the pickets on the eastern hills kept watch above the camp of the enemy.
How commendable is the spirit of religion on such occasions! History, sacred and profane, delights to record this manifestation of the divinity in man. The Israelites never joined battle without offering sacrifice, and even the pagan nations always propitiated their gods on the eve of battle. And yet we find this instance of it in the Irish people made a subject of the lowest ribaldry, even by the reverend historian of William's army. Without, however, entering on a disquisition as to the efficacy of prayer, or what providence, or good or evil directs the destiny of nations, a precedent in point may not be considered inappropriate.
The battle of Hastings was to England what that of Aughrim was to Ireland. Each established a new dynasty, and each accomplished the subjugation of the native race. That of the Saxon was but the work of a day; that of the Irish was an incessant warfare of centuries. The one was the extinction of Thanes and Heptarchs; the other of chieftains and princes.—And there were still other traces of similarity.
At Hastings, the Saxons revelled while the Normans prayed. At Aughrim, the Irish prayed while the English revelled. Yet the same historians who appreciate the devotion of the Norman, and indicate its efficacy, make it a subject of ridicule in the Irish, and couple it with defeat. Providence and faith are often too lightly used to link a defective argument, or to round a happy period. Few will now deny that the Saxons were a more virtuous people than their Norman conquerors, or that the Irish were not much more so than the heterogeneous mass that followed the Prince of Orange. If the Saxons bent to the yoke of a conquering race, and prospered under it, let them glory in their wisdom and servility; but that the Celtic race, through every vicissitude, spurned it, hated the connection, and have still an undying faith in their ability to sever it, constitute, it is believed, a truer nobility of character.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE BATTLE OF AUGHRIM.
'Twas five o'clock on the morning of July 12th, 1691. A heavy fog obscured the rising sun, and passed like a moving curtain along the hills that separated the adverse armies now preparing for the stern arbitrament of battle. What a chaos of human feeling surged and swayed beneath it! On the one side, the love of home, kindred, and country, and the memories that come of ages of persecution; on the other, that of power, plunder, and confiscation, and the wantonness that exalts vice into virtue, and deifies usurpation. The maintenance of legitimate right, and the establishment of perfect civil and religious liberty, called forth the royal army, and marked its footsteps from the advent of this war to its close. An unnatural usurpation, and the ambition to dominate in matters civil and religious, heralded the other, and its course was marked by cruelty and proscription. Their causes were markedly dissimilar, and of the spirit which impelled them to battle, each army, in its various gradations, was a fair representative.
At early dawn, Ginckle, who induced the battle, was moving his men across the river, and forming them, according to prearrangement, on a level ground about a mile to the west of it, leaving still a span of two miles between him and his adversary. This was effected by eight o'clock, but an advance was suspended, owing to the heavy fog that lay over the hills, and rendered the manoeuvring of his army in the vicinity of the foe both troublesome and hazardous.