The History of England from the Accession of James II, Vol. 4

T >> Thomas Babington Macaulay >> The History of England from the Accession of James II, Vol. 4

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The spot on which he had determined to bring the fate of Ireland
to issue seems to have been chosen with great judgment. His army
was drawn up on the slope of a hill, which was almost surrounded
by red bog. In front, near the edge of the morass, were some
fences out of which a breastwork was without difficulty
constructed.

On the eleventh of July, Ginkell, having repaired the
fortifications of Athlone and left a garrison there, fixed his
headquarters at Ballinasloe, about four miles from Aghrim, and
rode forward to take a view of the Irish position. On his return
he gave orders that ammunition should be served out, that every
musket and bayonet should be got ready for action, and that early
on the morrow every man should be under arms without beat of
drum. Two regiments were to remain in charge of the camp; the
rest, unincumbered by baggage, were to march against the enemy.

Soon after six, the next morning, the English were on the way to
Aghrim. But some delay was occasioned by a thick fog which hung
till noon over the moist valley of the Suck; a further delay was
caused by the necessity of dislodging the Irish from some
outposts; and the afternoon was far advanced when the two armies
at length confronted each other with nothing but the bog and the
breastwork between them. The English and their allies were under
twenty thousand; the Irish above twenty-five thousand.

Ginkell held a short consultation with his principal officers.
Should he attack instantly, or wait till the next morning? Mackay
was for attacking instantly; and his opinion prevailed. At five
the battle began. The English foot, in such order as they could
keep on treacherous and uneven ground, made their way, sinking
deep in mud at every step, to the Irish works. But those works
were defended with a resolution such as extorted some words of
ungracious eulogy even from men who entertained the strongest
prejudices against the Celtic race.107 Again and again the
assailants were driven back. Again and again they returned to the
struggle. Once they were broken, and chased across the morass;
but Talmash rallied them, and forced the pursuers to retire. The
fight had lasted two hours; the evening was closing in; and still
the advantage was on the side of the Irish. Ginkell began to
meditate a retreat. The hopes of Saint Ruth rose high. "The day
is ours, my boys," he cried, waving his hat in the air. "We will
drive them before us to the walls of Dublin." But fortune was
already on the turn. Mackay and Ruvigny, with the English and
Huguenot cavalry, had succeeded in passing the bog at a place
where two horsemen could scarcely ride abreast. Saint Ruth at
first laughed when he saw the Blues, in single file, struggling
through the morass under a fire which every moment laid some
gallant hat and feather on the earth. "What do they mean?" he
asked; and then he swore that it was pity to see such fine
fellows rushing to certain destruction. "Let them cross,
however;" he said. "The more they are, the more we shall kill."
But soon he saw them laying hurdles on the quagmire. A broader
and safer path was formed; squadron after squadron reached firm
ground: the flank of the Irish army was speedily turned. The
French general was hastening to the rescue when a cannon ball
carried off his head. Those who were about him thought that it
would be dangerous to make his fate known. His corpse was wrapped
in a cloak, carried from the field, and laid, with all secresy,
in the sacred ground among the ruins of the ancient monastery of
Loughrea. Till the fight was over neither army was aware that he
was no more. To conceal his death from the private soldiers might
perhaps have been prudent. To conceal it from his lieutenants was
madness. The crisis of the battle had arrived; and there was none
to give direction. Sarsfield was in command of the reserve. But
he had been strictly enjoined by Saint Ruth not to stir without
orders; and no orders came. Mackay and Ruvigny with their horse
charged the Irish in flank. Talmash and his foot returned to the
attack in front with dogged determination. The breastwork was
carried. The Irish, still fighting, retreated from inclosure to
inclosure. But, as inclosure after inclosure was forced, their
efforts became fainter and fainter. At length they broke and
fled. Then followed a horrible carnage. The conquerors were in a
savage mood. For a report had been spread among them that, during
the early part of the battle, some English captives who had been
admitted to quarter had been put to the sword. Only four hundred
prisoners were taken. The number of the slain was, in proportion
to the number engaged, greater than in any other battle of that
age. But for the coming on of a moonless night, made darker by a
misty rain, scarcely a man would have escaped. The obscurity
enabled Sarsfield, with a few squadrons which still remained
unbroken, to cover the retreat. Of the conquerors six hundred
were killed, and about a thousand wounded.

The English slept that night on the field of battle. On the
following day they buried their companions in arms, and then
marched westward. The vanquished were left unburied, a strange
and ghastly spectacle. Four thousand Irish corpses were counted
on the field of battle. A hundred and fifty lay in one small
inclosure, a hundred and twenty in another. But the slaughter had
not been confined to the field of battle. One who was there tells
us that, from the top of the hill on which the Celtic camp had
been pitched, he saw the country, to the distance of near four
miles, white with the naked bodies of the slain. The plain
looked, he said, like an immense pasture covered by flocks of
sheep. As usual, different estimates were formed even by
eyewitnesses. But it seems probable that the number of the Irish
who fell was not less than seven thousand. Soon a multitude of
dogs came to feast on the carnage. These beasts became so fierce,
and acquired such a taste for human flesh, that it was long
dangerous for men to travel this road otherwise than in
companies.108

The beaten army had now lost all the appearance of an army, and
resembled a rabble crowding home from a fair after a faction
fight. One great stream of fugitives ran towards Galway, another
towards Limerick. The roads to both cities were covered with
weapons which had been flung away. Ginkell offered sixpence for
every musket. In a short time so many waggon loads were collected
that he reduced the price to twopence; and still great numbers of
muskets came in.109

The conquerors marched first against Galway. D'Usson was there,
and had under him seven regiments, thinned by the slaughter of
Aghrim and utterly disorganized and disheartened. The last hope
of the garrison and of the Roman Catholic inhabitants was that
Baldearg O'Donnel, the promised deliverer of their race, would
come to the rescue. But Baldearg O'Donnel was not duped by the
superstitious veneration of which he was the object. While there
remained any doubt about the issue of the conflict between the
Englishry and the Irishry, he had stood aloof. On the day of the
battle he had remained at a safe distance with his tumultuary
army; and, as soon as he had learned that his countrymen had been
put to rout, he fled, plundering and burning all the way, to the
mountains of Mayo. Thence he sent to Ginkell offers of submission
and service. Ginkell gladly seized the opportunity of breaking up
a formidable band of marauders, and of turning to good account
the influence which the name of a Celtic dynasty still exercised
over the Celtic race. The negotiation however was not without
difficulties. The wandering adventurer at first demanded nothing
less than an earldom. After some haggling he consented to sell
the love of a whole people, and his pretensions to regal dignity,
for a pension of five hundred pounds a year. Yet the spell which
bound his followers to hire was not altogether broken. Some
enthusiasts from Ulster were willing to fight under the O'Donnel
against their own language and their own religion. With a small
body of these devoted adherents, he joined a division of the
English army, and on several occasions did useful service to
William.110

When it was known that no succour was to be expected from the
hero whose advent had been foretold by so many seers, the Irish
who were shut up in Galway lost all heart. D'Usson had returned a
stout answer to the first summons of the besiegers; but he soon
saw that resistance was impossible, and made haste to capitulate.
The garrison was suffered to retire to Limerick with the honours
of war. A full amnesty for past offences was granted to the
citizens; and it was stipulated that, within the walls, the
Roman Catholic priests should be allowed to perform in private
the rites of their religion. On these terms the gates were thrown
open. Ginkell was received with profound respect by the Mayor and
Aldermen, and was complimented in a set speech by the Recorder.
D'Usson, with about two thousand three hundred men, marched
unmolested to Limerick.111

At Limerick, the last asylum of the vanquished race, the
authority of Tyrconnel was supreme. There was now no general who
could pretend that his commission made him independent of the
Lord Lieutenant; nor was the Lord Lieutenant now so unpopular as
he had been a fortnight earlier. Since the battle there had been
a reflux of public feeling. No part of that great disaster could
be imputed to the Viceroy. His opinion indeed had been against
trying the chances of a pitched field, and he could with some
plausibility assert that the neglect of his counsels had caused
the ruin of Ireland.112

He made some preparations for defending Limerick, repaired the
fortifications, and sent out parties to bring in provisions. The
country, many miles round, was swept bare by these detachments,
and a considerable quantity of cattle and fodder was collected
within the walls. There was also a large stock of biscuit
imported from France. The infantry assembled at Limerick were
about fifteen thousand men. The Irish horse and dragoons, three
or four thousand in number, were encamped on the Clare side of
the Shannon. The communication between their camp and the city
was maintained by means of a bridge called the Thomond Bridge,
which was protected by a fort. These means of defence were not
contemptible. But the fall of Athlone and the slaughter of
Aghrim had broken the spirit of the army. A small party, at the
head of which were Sarsfield and a brave Scotch officer named
Wauchop, cherished a hope that the triumphant progress of Ginkell
might be stopped by those walls from which William had, in the
preceding year, been forced to retreat. But many of the Irish
chiefs loudly declared that it was time to think of capitulating.
Henry Luttrell, always fond of dark and crooked politics, opened
a secret negotiation with the English. One of his letters was
intercepted; and he was put under arrest; but many who blamed his
perfidy agreed with him in thinking that it was idle to prolong
the contest. Tyrconnel himself was convinced that all was lost.
His only hope was that he might be able to prolong the struggle
till he could receive from Saint Germains permission to treat. He
wrote to request that permission, and prevailed, with some
difficulty, on his desponding countrymen to bind themselves by an
oath not to capitulate till an answer from James should
arrive.113

A few days after the oath had been administered, Tyrconnel was no
more. On the eleventh of August he dined with D'Usson. The party
was gay. The Lord Lieutenant seemed to have thrown off the load
which had bowed down his body and mind; he drank; he jested; he
was again the Dick Talbot who had diced and revelled with
Grammont. Soon after he had risen from table, an apoplectic
stroke deprived him of speech and sensation. On the fourteenth he
breathed his last. The wasted remains of that form which had once
been a model for statuaries were laid under the pavement of the
Cathedral; but no inscription, no tradition, preserves the memory
of the spot.114

As soon as the Lord Lieutenant was no more, Plowden, who had
superintended the Irish finances while there were any Irish
finances to superintend, produced a commission under the great
seal of James. This commission appointed Plowden himself, Fitton
and Nagle, Lords justices in the event of Tyrconnel's death.
There was much murmuring when the names were made known. For both
Plowden and Fitton were Saxons. The commission, however, proved
to be a mere nullity. For it was accompanied by instructions
which forbade the Lords justices to interfere in the conduct of
the war; and, within the narrow space to which the dominions of
James were now reduced, war was the only business. The government
was, therefore, really in the hands of D'Usson and Sarsfield.115

On the day on which Tyrconnel died, the advanced guard of the
English army came within sight of Limerick. Ginkell encamped on
the same ground which William had occupied twelve months before.
The batteries, on which were planted guns and bombs, very
different from those which William had been forced to use, played
day and night; and soon roofs were blazing and walls crashing in
every corner of the city. Whole streets were reduced to ashes.
Meanwhile several English ships of war came up the Shannon and
anchored about a mile below the city.116

Still the place held out; the garrison was, in numerical
strength, little inferior to the besieging army; and it seemed
not impossible that the defence might be prolonged till the
equinoctial rains should a second time compel the English to
retire. Ginkell determined on striking a bold stroke. No point in
the whole circle of the fortifications was more important, and no
point seemed to be more secure, than the Thomond Bridge, which
joined the city to the camp of the Irish horse on the Clare bank
of the Shannon. The Dutch General's plan was to separate the
infantry within the ramparts from the cavalry without; and this
plan he executed with great skill, vigour and success. He laid a
bridge of tin boats on the river, crossed it with a strong body
of troops, drove before him in confusion fifteen hundred dragoons
who made a faint show of resistance, and marched towards the
quarters of the Irish horse. The Irish horse sustained but ill on
this day the reputation which they had gained at the Boyne.
Indeed, that reputation had been purchased by the almost entire
destruction of the best regiments. Recruits had been without much
difficulty found. But the loss of fifteen hundred excellent
soldiers was not to be repaired. The camp was abandoned without a
blow. Some of the cavalry fled into the city. The rest, driving
before them as many cattle as could be collected in that moment
of panic, retired to the hills. Much beef, brandy and harness was
found in the magazines; and the marshy plain of the Shannon was
covered with firelocks and grenades which the fugitives had
thrown away.117

The conquerors returned in triumph to their camp. But Ginkell was
not content with the advantage which he had gained. He was bent
on cutting off all communication between Limerick and the county
of Clare. In a few days, therefore, he again crossed the river at
the head of several regiments, and attacked the fort which
protected the Thomond Bridge. In a short time the fort was
stormed. The soldiers who had garrisoned it fled in confusion to
the city. The Town Major, a French officer, who commanded at the
Thomond Gate, afraid that the pursuers would enter with the
fugitives, ordered that part of the bridge which was nearest to
the city to be drawn up. Many of the Irish went headlong into the
stream and perished there. Others cried for quarter, and held up
handkerchiefs in token of submission. But the conquerors were mad
with rage; their cruelty could not be immediately restrained; and
no prisoners were made till the heaps of corpses rose above the
parapets. The garrison of the fort had consisted of about eight
hundred men. Of these only a hundred and twenty escaped into
Limerick.118

This disaster seemed likely to produce a general mutiny in the
besieged city. The Irish clamoured for the blood of the Town
Major who had ordered the bridge to be drawn up in the face of
their flying countrymen. His superiors were forced to promise
that he should be brought before a court martial. Happily for
him, he had received a mortal wound, in the act of closing the
Thomond Gate, and was saved by a soldier's death from the fury of
the multitude.119 The cry for capitulation became so loud and
importunate that the generals could not resist it. D'Usson
informed his government that the fight at the bridge had so
effectually cowed the spirit of the garrison that it was
impossible to continue the struggle.120 Some exception may
perhaps be taken to the evidence of D'Usson; for undoubtedly he,
like every Frenchman who had held any command in the Irish army,
was weary of his banishment, and impatient to see Paris again.
But it is certain that even Sarsfield had lost heart. Up to this
time his voice had been for stubborn resistance. He was now not
only willing, but impatient to treat.121 It seemed to him that
the city was doomed. There was no hope of succour, domestic or
foreign. In every part of Ireland the Saxons had set their feet
on the necks of the natives. Sligo had fallen. Even those wild
islands which intercept the huge waves of the Atlantic from the
bay of Galway had acknowledged the authority of William. The men
of Kerry, reputed the fiercest and most ungovernable part of the
aboriginal population, had held out long, but had at length been
routed, and chased to their woods and mountains.122 A French
fleet, if a French fleet were now to arrive on the coast of
Munster, would find the mouth of the Shannon guarded by English
men of war. The stock of provisions within Limerick was already
running low. If the siege were prolonged, the town would, in all
human probability, be reduced either by force or by blockade.
And, if Ginkell should enter through the breach, or should be
implored by a multitude perishing with hunger to dictate his own
terms, what could be expected but a tyranny more inexorably
severe than that of Cromwell? Would it not then be wise to try
what conditions could be obtained while the victors had still
something to fear from the rage and despair of the vanquished;
while the last Irish army could still make some show of
resistance behind the walls of the last Irish fortress?

On the evening of the day which followed the fight at the Thomond
Gate, the drums of Limerick beat a parley; and Wauchop, from one
of the towers, hailed the besiegers, and requested Ruvigny to
grant Sarsfield an interview. The brave Frenchman who was an
exile on account of his attachment to one religion, and the brave
Irishman who was about to become an exile on account of his
attachment to another, met and conferred, doubtless with mutual
sympathy and respect.123 Ginkell, to whom Ruvigny reported what
had passed, willingly consented to an armistice. For, constant as
his success had been, it had not made him secure. The chances
were greatly on his side. Yet it was possible that an attempt to
storm the city might fail, as a similar attempt had failed twelve
months before. If the siege should be turned into a blockade, it
was probable that the pestilence which had been fatal to the army
of Schomberg, which had compelled William to retreat, and which
had all but prevailed even against the genius and energy of
Marlborough, might soon avenge the carnage of Aghrim. The rains
had lately been heavy. The whole plain might shortly be an
immense pool of stagnant water. It might be necessary to move the
troops to a healthier situation than the bank of the Shannon, and
to provide for them a warmer shelter than that of tents. The
enemy would be safe till the spring. In the spring a French army
might land in Ireland; the natives might again rise in arms from
Donegal to Kerry; and the war, which was now all but
extinguished, might blaze forth fiercer than ever.

A negotiation was therefore opened with a sincere desire on both
sides to put an end to the contest. The chiefs of the Irish army
held several consultations at which some Roman Catholic prelates
and some eminent lawyers were invited to assist. A preliminary
question, which perplexed tender consciences, was submitted by
the Bishops. The late Lord Lieutenant had persuaded the officers
of the garrison to swear that they would not surrender Limerick
till they should receive an answer to the letter in which their
situation had been explained to James. The Bishops thought that
the oath was no longer binding. It had been taken at a time when
the communications with France were open, and in the full belief
that the answer of James would arrive within three weeks. More
than twice that time had elapsed. Every avenue leading to the
city was strictly guarded by the enemy. His Majesty's faithful
subjects, by holding out till it had become impossible for him to
signify his pleasure to them, had acted up to the spirit of their
promise.124

The next question was what terms should be demanded. A paper,
containing propositions which statesmen of our age will think
reasonable, but which to the most humane and liberal English
Protestants of the seventeenth century appeared extravagant, was
sent to the camp of the besiegers. What was asked was that all
offences should be covered with oblivion, that perfect freedom of
worship should be allowed to the native population, that every
parish should have its priest, and that Irish Roman Catholics
should be capable of holding all offices, civil and military, and
of enjoying all municipal privileges.125

Ginkell knew little of the laws and feelings of the English; but
he had about him persons who were competent to direct him. They
had a week before prevented him from breaking a Rapparee on the
wheel; and they now suggested an answer to the propositions of
the enemy. "I am a stranger here," said Ginkell; "I am ignorant
of the constitution of these kingdoms; but I am assured that what
you ask is inconsistent with that constitution; and therefore I
cannot with honour consent." He immediately ordered a new battery
to be thrown up, and guns and mortars to be planted on it. But
his preparations were speedily interrupted by another message
from the city. The Irish begged that, since he could not grant
what they had demanded, he would tell them what he was willing to
grant. He called his advisers round him, and, after some
consultation, sent back a paper containing the heads of a treaty,
such as he had reason to believe that the government which he
served would approve. What he offered was indeed much less than
what the Irish desired, but was quite as much as, when they
considered their situation and the temper of the English nation,
they could expect. They speedily notified their assent. It was
agreed that there should be a cessation of arms, not only by
land, but in the ports and bays of Munster, and that a fleet of
French transports should be suffered to come up the Shannon in
peace and to depart in peace. The signing of the treaty was
deferred till the Lords justices, who represented William at
Dublin, should arrive at Ginkell's quarters. But there was during
some days a relaxation of military vigilance on both sides.
Prisoners were set at liberty. The outposts of the two armies
chatted and messed together. The English officers rambled into
the town. The Irish officers dined in the camp. Anecdotes of what
passed at the friendly meetings of these men, who had so lately
been mortal enemies, were widely circulated. One story, in
particular, was repeated in every part of Europe. "Has not this
last campaign," said Sarsfield to some English officers, "raised
your opinion of Irish soldiers?" "To tell you the truth,"
answered an Englishman, we think of them much as we always did."
"However meanly you may think of us," replied Sarsfield, "change
Kings with us, and we will willingly try our luck with you
again." He was doubtless thinking of the day on which he had seen
the two Sovereigns at the head of two great armies, William
foremost in the charge, and James foremost in the flight.126

On the first of October, Coningsby and Porter arrived at the
English headquarters. On the second the articles of capitulation
were discussed at great length and definitely settled. On the
third they were signed. They were divided into two parts, a
military treaty and a civil treaty. The former was subscribed
only by the generals on both sides. The Lords justices set their
names to the latter.127

By the military treaty it was agreed that such Irish officers and
soldiers as should declare that they wished to go to France
should be conveyed thither, and should, in the meantime, remain
under the command of their own generals. Ginkell undertook to
furnish a considerable number of transports. French vessels were
also to be permitted to pass and repass freely between Britanny
and Munster. Part of Limerick was to be immediately delivered up
to the English. But the island on which the Cathedral and the
Castle stand was to remain, for the present, in the keeping of
the Irish.