And sorrows sanctified repose
Thy dust, discrownèd Stuart!”
CHAPTER VI
Irish Army Retires on “The Line of the Shannon”—Douglas Repulsed at Athlone—King William Begins Siege of Limerick—Sarsfield’s Exploit
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.