Preston sat down before Duncannon on January 20, 1644-5, with about 1500 foot. He had both cannon and mortars, and the wonder is that the place held out at all. There was a garrison of about 150 men with twenty-two guns, but no proper supply of water inside the fort, and no doctor or surgeon. A French engineer named Lalue directed the siege operations, which dragged out to a great length. Three weeks after the first investment Inchiquin wrote to say that he could give no relief unless help first arrived from England, and he pointed out that the Confederates might have easily mastered all the Munster towns if they had not exhausted their strength in the Ulster expedition under Castlehaven. Admiral Swanley wrote about the same time from Milford to say that he was sending a collier under convoy to give the garrison fuel, and also shipping to convey reinforcements for Inchiquin, but that ‘as for the soldiers from this country (England), they are not to be drawn from this service without an inevitable prejudice.’ Inchiquin could hardly hold his own, nor could he trust unpaid men. Communications between the fort and the sea were never interrupted, and small supplies were sent in from time to time, and thirty-eight seamen took their part in the defence on shore. At the beginning of the siege an attempt was made by the Parliamentary ships to drive the assailants from their works, but very few shot went even near the mark. Fire from a floating platform is seldom satisfactory against an enemy on a hill. As Lalue drew his lines closer and advanced his guns, still less could be done from the sea. On February 19, five ships anchored under Credan Head in full view of the fort, but their commanders dared not come within reach of the plunging fire, by which one Parliamentary vessel had already been sunk. Frequent sallies of the garrison annoyed the enemy, who suffered from bad weather and from the labour of making approaches in the rocky ground. Lalue contrived an infernal machine which appears in advance of his time. A trunk filled with explosives and calculated to go off when opened was left near the gate of the fort. Esmond suspected a snare, and advised that the trunk should be soaked in the sea for some hours, but the soldiers were too impatient, and the explosion took place. The besiegers heard the noise and expected great results, but only one person was killed, a woman who had drawn near out of curiosity. There were some men in the fort who sided secretly with the besiegers, and when the trenches approached the ditch communicated with them by letters tied to bullets and flung by hand. At last an assault was made, but, says Bellings, the musketeers who were to cover the storming party had their pieces rendered unserviceable by a whirlwind which blew away the priming and filled the pans with gravel. The assailants were beaten off with great loss, but Larcan, who had been the soul of the defence, was hit by a stone which a round shot had displaced. A surgeon might have saved him, but there was none, and he died. The sap went on until a mine was brought up to the rampart, and the second assault was likely to be successful. Vice-Admiral Smyth with the Swallow and other vessels lay in the offing, and to him Esmond made a last appeal. ‘Your lordship,’ the sailor quaintly answered, ‘hath but two things to consider of: first, the potency of the enemy; next, your abilities to subsist. For, before any relief can overtake you, it will be ten or eight days at soonest. Now, if you find in your strength a disability, then our Saviour Jesus Christ gives you the best counsel, who sayeth: agree with thy adversary quickly while thou art in the way.’ If they waited for the assault, he argued, they would all be put to the sword, but if they capitulated so many gallant men would be available for future service, and might perhaps even have a hand in recapturing the fort. As for the guns, they must go with the place, for if they were ‘all of beaten gold’ there was no means of embarking them. The poor old governor could only lament that he had been encouraged to hope for help which had never come, and replied that he would try one stratagem more by asking for a Protestant garrison named by Ormonde. Two days later he still defied Preston, and declared that he would not surrender without the direct orders of the King or the Lord Lieutenant. Larcan being gone, the other officers prepared to take Smyth’s advice, and Esmond was at last forced to ask for a parley. Preston was not bloodthirsty, and on March 19, being the fifty-ninth day of the siege, the garrison marched out with the honours of war, and were allowed to go to Dublin, Bristol, or Youghal, as they themselves preferred. A few men took service with Preston. Esmond waited till a carriage could be got, but died at Adamstown on the road to Enniscorthy. The fort was not without provisions or ammunition at the time of surrender, but the want of fresh water was very pressing. There had been torrents of rain, but either from want of time or from want of vessels it had not been sufficiently utilised. Only about thirty men had been killed, though the besiegers had burned 19,000 pounds of powder. Duncannon was taken on March 19, and on Lady Day Scarampi came in and said high mass. The Confederates boasted much of their success, in announcing to their friends at Paris the capture of what they call the ‘impregnable fort of Duncannon.’[68]
The Glamorgan mission
An extraordinary patent, April 1644.
Charles had handed over the reduction of the Irish rebels to Parliament early in the day, and had told the Protestant agents at Oxford that he would rather have war than peace at their expense. As long as negotiations were entirely in Ormonde’s hands this was no empty promise, but when the King decided to employ a private envoy as well, the situation was a good deal modified. The person selected was Lord Herbert, eldest son of the Marquis of Worcester, who had made immense sacrifices for the royal cause. Both father and son were Roman Catholics, and ardent champions of their faith. In history the latter is best known as Earl of Glamorgan, and so Charles styled him, though the creation was never formally made. On April 1, 1644, when the Irish agents were at Oxford, the King had granted him under the Great Seal a patent of so extraordinary a character that its main provisions must be repeated, though perhaps no episode in English history has been more thoroughly discussed. By this document he was constituted generalissimo with extraordinary powers of three armies, English, Irish, and foreign, and admiral of a fleet at sea; with authority to raise money by pledging wardships, customs, woods, and other hereditary property of the Crown. ‘Persons of generosity’ were to be encouraged to subscribe in return for titles of honour, ‘for whom,’ the King wrote, ‘we have intrusted you with several patents under our Great Seal of England, from a marquis to a baronet, which we give you full power and authority to date and dispose of without knowing our further pleasure.’ Charles solemnly bound himself to ratify all the patentee’s acts, and and to give his daughter Elizabeth to Glamorgan’s son Plantagenet ‘with 300,000l. in dower or portion, most part whereof we acknowledge spent and disbursed by your father and you in our service.’ Finally he was promised the dukedom of Somerset with power to ‘put on the George and blue ribbon’ at his pleasure, and to bear the garter in his coat of arms. The affixing of the seal to this patent may have been an amateur performance, the joint work of Endymion Porter and of Glamorgan himself, ‘with rollers and no screw press,’ but the document was genuine, and the king knew all about it.[69]
Introduction of Glamorgan to Ormonde.
Three commissions Jan.-March, 1644-5
Glamorgan’s instructions.
His sanguine hopes of Irish and foreign forces having been dashed, and Marston Moor having been fought, Charles turned to Glamorgan again. The latter had married Lady Margaret O’Brien, the late Earl of Thomond’s daughter, and his many Irish connections might give him influence. Ormonde was informed that ‘Lord Herbert’—the title of Glamorgan was dropped here—had business of his own in Ireland, and that he might be found incidentally useful in bringing about a peace. ‘His honesty or affection to my service,’ says the King in a cypher postscript, ‘will not deceive you; but I will not answer for his judgment.’ Yet to this man of more than doubtful discretion were given three commissions, the first of which authorised him to levy an unlimited number of men in Ireland and other parts beyond sea. By the second Charles promised ‘in the word of a King and a Christian’ to confirm all Glamorgan might do, whatever irregularities might appear when his powers came to be criticised. The third was a royal warrant to treat with the Confederate Roman Catholics of Ireland, proceeding with all possible secrecy. Ormonde was warned by friends in England to be on his guard against Glamorgan, who left Oxford soon after receiving the last commission, but circumstances changed a good deal before the latter reached Ireland. He sailed from the Welsh coast, but was chased by a Parliamentary ship and driven to Lancashire, whence he made his way to Skipton Castle, and there stayed for three months, during which Naseby was fought. In his instructions to Glamorgan which preceded the first of the three commissions above mentioned, the King promised solemnly to ratify whatever should be ‘consented unto by our Lieutenant the Marquis of Ormonde,’ but authorised him to supply if possible anything ‘upon necessity to be condescended unto and yet the Lord Marquis not willing to be seen therein, or not fit for us at the present publicly to own.’ Glamorgan seems to have given a verbal promise to consult Ormonde in everything, but there is no evidence that the Lord Lieutenant knew this, and it is only known to historians because Glamorgan, after his failure, was reproached by the King for not having done so.[70]
Charles lays down conditions of peace,
but soon changes his mind.