When Mr, Kilroy’s waiter has drawn the window-curtains, brought the hot water for the whisky-negus, and a pipe and a ‘screw’ of tobacco, and two huge old candlesticks that were plated once, the audience may be said to be assembled, and after a little overture performed on the pipe, the second night’s entertainment begins with the historical tragedy of the ‘Battle of Aughrim.’
Though it has found its way to the West of Ireland, the ‘Battle of Aughrim’ is evidently by a Protestant author, a great enemy of Popery and wooden shoes: both of which principles, incarnate in the person of St. Ruth, the French General commanding the troops sent by Louis XIV. to the aid of James II., meet with a woeful downfall at the conclusion of the piece. It must have been written in the reign of Queen Anne, judging from some loyal compliments which are paid to that sovereign in the play, which is also modelled upon Cato.
The ‘Battle of Aughrim’ is written from beginning to end in decasyllabic verse of the richest sort; and introduces us to the chiefs of William and James’s army. On the English side we have Baron de Ginckle, three Generals, and two Colonels; on the Irish, Monsieur St. Ruth, two Generals, two Colonels, and an English gentleman of fortune, a volunteer, and son of no less a person than Sir Edmonbury Godfrey.
There are two ladies—Jemima, the Irish Colonel Talbot’s daughter, in love with Godfrey; and Lucinda, lady of Colonel Herbert, in love with her lord. And the deep nature of the tragedy may be imagined when it is stated that Colonel Talbot is killed, Colonel Herbert is killed, Sir Charles Godfrey is killed, and Jemima commits suicide, as resolved not to survive her adorer. St. Ruth is also killed, and the remaining Irish heroes are taken prisoners or run away. Among the supernumeraries there is likewise a dreadful slaughter.
The author, however, though a Protestant, is an Irishman (there are peculiarities in his pronunciation which belong only to that nation), and as far as courage goes, he allows the two parties to be pretty equal. The scene opens with a martial sound of kettle-drums and trumpets in the Irish camp, near Athlone. That town is besieged by Ginckle, and Monsieur St. Ruth (despising his enemy with a confidence often fatal to Generals) meditates an attack on the besiegers’ lines, if, by any chance, the besieged garrison be not in a condition to drive them off.
After discoursing on the posture of affairs, and letting General Sarsfield and Colonel O’Neil know his hearty contempt of the English and their General, all parties, after protestations of patriotism, indulge in hopes of the downfall of William. St. Ruth says he will drive the wolves’ and lions’ cubs away. O’Neil declares he scorns the Revolution, and, like great Cato, smiles at persecution. Sarsfield longs for the day ‘when our Monks and Jesuits shall return, and holy incense on our altars burn.’ When
‘Enter a Post.
Post. With important news I from Athlone am sent,
Be pleased to lead me to the General’s tent.
Sars. Behold the General there. Your message tell.
St. Ruth. Declare your message. Are our friends all well?