CHAPTER XI.

THE SURRENDER OF DROGHEDA AND DUBLIN—THE FIRST SIEGE OF ATHLONE.

After the departure of King James from Dublin, Colonel Simon Loutrell, then military governor, in pursuance of the royal order, released all the prisoners, and, assembling the principal Protestant inhabitants, surrendered the government of the city into their hands. Those parties having constituted a provisional governor until the arrival of the Prince of Orange, Loutrell withdrew the Irish garrison from the city, and marched to Leixlip, where he was joined by Tyrconnell and De Lausun, and took up the route for Limerick. In the mean time, the French troops had been partially disbanded. One half of them, under De la Hoquette, had marched towards Cork to avail themselves of transportation to France; and the other, under Brigadier De Surlaube, brought up the rear of the Irish army, and followed De Lausun to Limerick.

Berwick, who had remained for some days with a body of cavalry between Drogheda and Dublin, to retard the immediate advance of the enemy on the capital, soon after took up his march for the general rendezvous, whither he had been preceded by the other division leaders, and in a short time an army was assembled there exceeding by some thousands the force that participated in the Battle of the Boyne. This, according to the estimate of the Duke of Berwick, consisted of 4,000 cavalry, still in good condition, and 16,000 infantry, of which only one half were armed with muskets.

De Lausun, who had become quite disgusted with the condition of affairs to which he had so largely contributed since his arrival, now lost no opportunity of effecting his recall, by representing the Jacobite cause as hopeless. Arriving at Limerick, he at once pronounced the place untenable; commented on the forlorn condition of the troops; the dilapidated state of its defences; ridiculed the idea of holding it against the army of the Prince of Orange; and in the excess of irony, declared that "his master could take it with roast-apples." Sarsfield and Berwick thought differently. It was their principal depot of provisions and military stores; one of the few ports of entry that now remained in their possession, and being moreover the key to the defences of the river, its loss would be soon followed by the total subjugation of the island. They accordingly set their minds on holding it to the last extremity, and being joined in this resolution by the governor, De Bo?sselau, they at once set about strengthening its fortifications. De Lausun, finding that his motives were understood, and that he no longer possessed the confidence or respect of the Irish leaders, withdrew his men, military chest, and artillery from the city, and encamped within view of it, on the Clare side of the river, where he remained an inactive spectator of the events that succeeded. But whatever were the motives of De Lausun, the strait to which the city was at this time reduced could hardly be underrated. The provisions of the garrison were quite inadequate to the maintenance of such a force for any considerable time; its ammunition was nearly exhausted, and there were only nine guns, and those of inferior calibre, on its walls. The late reverse had opened up all the country to the east of the Shannon to the arms of William, and on the southern side, round to Cork, there was hardly a fortress capable of offering a day's resistance. The forts of Kilkenny and Clonmel, in the interior, which had been dismantled during the war of the Confederacy, had been neglected during this, and could hardly retard his march from the seaboard longer than to comply with the forms of capitulation. Commerce, which had been hitherto carried on briskly between this city and France, ceased as the risks increased; the shipment of military stores was suspended; and operations in the field had become utterly impracticable. The treasury, too, was empty. The sum of 50,000 pistoles which the king left with Tyrconnell, was soon expended; the troops had become clamorous for pay, and private contributions were no longer to be obtained. The king's Catholic subjects throughout the eastern counties, were beset by the soldiers of William, and the king once departed, the entire Protestant population transferred their allegiance. Still every motive of pride and interest impelled the Irish leaders to more determined resistance, for there was now no alternative between success and total ruin. They had indicated the Shannon as the proper base of operations during the earlier stages of the war, and now that they were driven to it as a necessity, its defence became doubly imperative. Should they now fail to defend it successfully, their former importunities would be looked on as the effect of a weak and vacillating spirit, and the king would be more than justified in having rejected their counsel. All these considerations stirred them to renewed action, and the work of preparation was carried on with vigor. In consequence of their straitened means, one of their first measures was a reduction of the garrison. All the cavalry, and 8,000 infantry were retained for the defence; a few regiments were distributed at the different forts along the river up to Lanesborough, and the rest were sent to live on the country, subject to immediate service when called on.

On the day after the Battle of the Boyne, General Mellioneire, with 8,000 men, and a battering train, approached the town of Drogheda, still held by a Jacobite garrison of 1,300 men. The place was immediately summoned to surrender at sight, or expect no quarter. This was the order of the Prince of Orange, and that he meant to carry it out to the letter, there could hardly be a doubt. The history of this old town had furnished more than one instance of similar cruelty in his predecessors, and there was nothing in the antecedents of William to leave room for a doubt in favor of his greater humanity. The commandant of the garrison, however, interpreted the message literally, and so accepted it. The Irish army had disappeared; there was no hope of succor; and successful resistance to such a force, supported as it would be, if necessary, by William's entire army, was impossible. All these considerations, duly weighed, determined the conduct of the governor, and the garrison was accordingly surrendered. This removed the last enemy from William's rear, and at once opened the way to the capital. But to the great surprise and vexation of its expectant inhabitants, he drew up his army on the ground he had won, and took a respite of several days' duration.

On the withdrawal of the Jacobite authorities from Dublin, a scene of riot and plunder took place there which threatened the safety of the city. The Protestant mob, in defiance of all legal restraint, had commenced to plunder the houses of the Catholic gentry. Among them, the house of General Sarsfield became an object for special violence, and was rifled and totally demolished. The infuriated populace fled to the suburbs, and threatened to burn the city. Fitzgerald, the governor, did all that he could to protect life and property, but the riot increased in violence, and the greatest consternation prevailed among "the better sort." In this emergency, a messenger was dispatched to William's camp for a force sufficient to suppress these outrages, but he turned a deaf ear to the entreaty, and continued unmoved in his present quarters. He is accordingly much censured by the contemporary writers of his own party, for this neglect of what they considered the primary duty of a king who had taken them under his special protection. But, all things considered, the Prince was not so much to blame in this connection. The troops by whom he was surrounded, when from under his own eye, were entirely uncontrollable. They had given proof of this before Carrickfergus. There the presence of Schomberg was insufficient to check their excesses, and now, had they entered the city of Dublin during this tumult, they would but add fuel to the flame; and in this light the conduct of the Prince might be looked on rather as an act of forbearance than otherwise. But the truth is, that William, at that moment, was disturbed by graver considerations than the safety of his good citizens of Dublin. His spies at the French court, and his friends in England, kept him duly apprised of all that transpired abroad touching his interests. Immediately after the surrender of Drogheda, he had received intelligence of the situation of affairs, both on the continent and in England, since his departure, and that intelligence was not very assuring. The career of Luxembourg; the defeat of Admiral Torrington, and the preparations of de Seignelay, had wrought a change in the sentiment of the English people, and his presence among them had become a matter of pressing necessity. His fleet of transports, which accompanied him along the coast, was now moored at Drogheda; his army was encamped there, and his ordnance and military stores were still at hand, and he remained there but to watch the current of events, undecided whether to re-embark at once for England, and leave Ireland to its fate, or to risk his hold on England, by advancing into the country to renew a campaign but just inaugurated.—A few days, however, decided his course.

King James tells us that his principal object in leaving Ireland at this juncture, was to obtain a force from the French king to make a landing in England. He also adds that he had assurances from his friends in England, that any respectable force thrown into the country at that time would wrest it from the dominion of William. But his flight from his only remaining kingdom at such a juncture, so displeased King Louis, that he utterly denied him his presence for several days; and when at last he succeeded in obtaining an interview through the mediation of the queen, he found that de Lausun's misrepresentations had so completely closed the ear of the king to his appeals, that he not only denied his request, but that he had resolved on recalling the force already sent to Ireland.

William was duly apprised of all this, and it allayed his apprehensions for the safety of England; so, after a few days' delay, he struck tents, turned his steps southward, and encamping his army at Finglass, entered the capital.

The Parliament which assembled to meet him, presented a marked contrast to that of the preceding years of this war. The latter was earnestly intent on securing the liberty of the country and the religious freedom of all the denominations, and on having them secured by constitutional enactments; while the total extirpation of the Catholic faith, and the immediate confiscation of the estates of those still in arms for their rightful sovereign, alone could satisfy the former. William adopted a half-way measure, and one which was more likely to subserve his own interests. The confiscation of course became necessary, not only to satisfy his new subjects of Ireland, but also to reward his Dutch and foreign mercenaries; and it accordingly received his sanction. But the extermination of the people did not suit his views. The population of the country was already greatly reduced; and besides, 'tis said that William was opposed to persecution for conscience' sake. However, it became necessary, if possible, to detach the people from their leaders. While their interests were identified, the success of his arms was doubtful, and accordingly, a proclamation was prepared, subjecting the leaders to all the penalty of rebels in arms, and offering an amnesty to the artisan and laboring classes.

The following extract, from an impartial historian of the times, will give a brief outline of the parliamentary proceedings of that period: "His first measures after his arrival in the capital were highly impolitic, if not unjust. He promised, by a declaration, to pardon and protect such of the lower sort as should in a limited time surrender their arms; but he excepted the gentry, whom he resolved to abandon to all the rigors of war and conquest. He issued a commission for seizing all their estates and effects, though no court of judicature was open to proceed against them. The commissioners executed their power with the utmost rigor. They even ruined a country which they endeavored to appropriate to themselves. Public misery, persecution, and confusion prevailed everywhere. The king himself was either not sincere in his offers of mercy to the vulgar, or he possessed no authority to restrain the license of his army. His declaration was disregarded, his protections slighted. Revenge, wantonness, and avarice induced men to break through every form of decency and every tie of faith. Despair animated the Irish to a renewal of hostilities, as submission produced nothing but oppression and injustice."38

Those measures were at the same time sagacious and cruel, and such as would have disunited any other people than those to whom they were now applied. They exempted the men of no property, but marked out all others for total ruin; and had there been no other principle at issue than the individual merits of William and James, it is hard to tell what their effect on the artisan and laboring classes might have been. But the clan system was not yet entirely eradicated from the minds of the people. Most of the private soldiery in the Irish army were men attached to their leaders by all the memories and ties which that system engenders, and the wrongs of those leaders were resented as their own individual wrongs. It is true that this system was dying out; but this war, which was waged for the maintenance of a common faith, served also to revive the ties of kindred and of clan, and it is probable, that had James succeeded in re-establishing his power in England, the feudal system of Ireland would have been revived in many, if not all, its forms. Therefore, in leaving the men of estate no choice between ruin and success, William utterly failed in his object of detaching the people from their leaders. On the contrary, they clung to them with greater fidelity than ever; and drawn back behind the Shannon, as their last line of defence, they submitted their cause to the arbitrament of the sword, and set the enemy at defiance.

After a short stay in Dublin, William determined to press the real object of his mission. He reviewed his army at Finglass, and mapped out his plan of operations. His own command, and that of Duke Schomberg at the Boyne, were to proceed along the coast, and after subjecting the eastern counties to his sway, turn westward for the reduction of Limerick. In the mean time, General Douglas, who now commanded that part of the army which had been hitherto led by Count Schomberg,39 was to proceed westward from Dublin, capture the fortress of Athlone, and then join the main army at Limerick.

The march of Douglas across the country was marked by the most revolting excesses, and scarce had he lost sight of the capital, when the people's eyes were opened to the sort of amnesty intended for them. Depending on the proclamation of William, those to whom it was extended at first remained in their homes, but found that its provisions were disregarded both by the general and his soldiers. The Protestant population fared no better than the Catholics, the houses of all were indiscriminately plundered and given to the flames, and themselves mercilessly slain, without regard to sex or condition. His march could be tracked by the cries of his victims through the day, and at night by the light of the burnings. In this manner he advanced through the most fertile and populous districts, spreading death and desolation as he went. A report of these barbarities spread through the country, and roused the spirit of revenge. The Rapparees inflicted some losses on his outposts, but there was no organized force then east of the Shannon capable of offering effectual resistance.

Athlone was at this time garrisoned by a Jacobite force of 800 men, under the command of Colonel Richard Grace, a veteran of the last civil war. The life of this soldier was a stormy and eventful one. He seems to have been one of those who, like Bayard, stand out from time to time among men, as an example of fidelity and heroism. A colonel in 1645, and a colonel still, he had spent the interval in war—France, Spain, and Ireland being each in turn the field of his adventures. Twice, in youth, he had successfully defended Athlone against the arms of Cromwell, and again he stood there, in his eightieth year, as vigorous and agile as any of his command, to defend its walls against the assaults of this sanguinary general.

Douglas advanced with all the assurance of certain success, and appeared before the town on the 11th of July. He was, however, surprised to find that the part of it east of the river had been given to the flames, its walls demolished, the bridge broken down, and the castle on the western side in a formidable state of defence. He halted before the walls, and immediately sent in a herald to demand a surrender. The governor, roused to indignation by the atrocities of Douglas, flashed his pistol in the face of the herald, and, pointing to a red flag which he had hoisted, said: "These are my terms; these only will I give or take." The herald departed, and the governor retired to animate his soldiers for the impending contest.

On receipt of this answer, Douglas lost no time, but, erecting his batteries over against the castle, opened a heavy cannonade. The garrison replied with a spirit and vigor that astonished the besiegers: their guns were dismounted, their works demolished, and several of their men and their best gunner were killed. Again and again they trimmed their works and renewed the enfilade, but with a like result—the castle was impregnable to direct operations. Seeing this, Douglas ordered a detachment of 3,000, horse and foot, to force a passage of the river at Lanesborough, about ten or twelve miles to the north of the town, at the head of Lough Ree. On their arrival there they found the ford intrenched on the opposite side, and a strong body of troops drawn up to receive them; and after a vigorous attempt to force a passage, they were repulsed with considerable loss, and the project was abandoned. On their return they were beset at every point by those desultory bands that traversed the country, and harassed up to the camp, losing many men and horses on their way. The unsoldierlike conduct of Douglas now began to have its effect. He had marched as if to certain victory, devastating every thing in his path, and making no preparation for a sustained siege. Owing to his sanguinary character, the people, both Catholic and Protestant, now shunned his camp; his provisions and provender were soon consumed, and he had to send out foraging parties daily, to levy on the surrounding country. But these were ambushed at every available point by the Rapparees, who also burned and destroyed in their turn; so that his subsistence soon became precarious, and his situation more like one besieged than one besieging. In this critical condition, he determined to force a passage across the river at a ford below the town; but in this he was also foiled; for the governor, apprised of his intention, had it protected by strong earthworks, and the project was abandoned as desperate. For seven days the siege continued with unabated vigor on the part of the besiegers, but with a like result; every succeeding day rendered success more hopeless. It was now reported that General Sarsfield was advancing from Limerick with a strong force to raise the siege. Whether this report was true or false, the narratives of the times do not affirm; but Douglas accepted it as true, and shaped his conduct accordingly. Not deeming it prudent to remain any longer before the town, he decamped on the night of the 26th, abandoning his heavy baggage, and avoiding the highways, lest he might encounter the enemy on his way.

The condition of the Protestant population was now worse than before. Hitherto they had received ample protection, nothing more being required of them than to remain peaceable subjects. But on the appearance of this army they had declared for the Prince of Orange, and having forfeited their former claim, they believed that retaliatory measures would be instituted when the army of Douglas was withdrawn. They had experience enough to convince them of their folly, and to satisfy them that they were safer at the mercy of the rudest of their countrymen, than as the camp-followers of a general who had already violated all the rules of civilized warfare. But their fears outran their discretion; many of them followed the retreating army, and received the treatment which characterized the foreign soldiery of William throughout this war; while others, adopting the wiser course, remained in the town, and received the accustomed protection.

Douglas could not have taken a worse route than that which he now selected. The country through which he passed was studded with woods and thickets. Innumerable rivers traversed it on all hands, and immense tracts of bog extended across his line of march, rendering continual deviations from the direct course imperative. He was beset on all hands by marauding parties of the Rapparees, who took bloody reprisals, with that total recklessness of life which had now become characteristic of these homeless wanderers. He had lost four hundred men at Athlone. Several skirmishes are related in which he lost from fifty to two hundred; and though his entire loss cannot now be definitely stated, it could not have fallen short of 1,000 men. Followed and beset on all hands, both by day and by night, after a most harassing march of fourteen days he formed a junction with the Prince of Orange, who had reached Caherconlish on his way to Limerick.

The Prince and his general had very different results to compare. The march of the former had been one of uninterrupted success. Kilkenny, Waterford, Duncannon, Clonmel, and all the intermediate places, had surrendered in succession, without even a check to mar the conquest of the Boyne, while that of Douglas had been one of continual disaster,—showing the only reverses that the Prince's arms had sustained since his arrival in the country. But if their military exploits were dissimilar, their catalogues of crime closely assimilated; for the same wanton outrages marked the footsteps of the Prince and his general. As William advanced from Dublin, he threw out detachments on all sides that plundered and laid waste the country, and slaughtered the defenceless inhabitants. Roused by the excesses of his soldiers, the people set upon them wherever they were found in detached bodies; and, neither giving nor asking quarter, no day went by without its tale of wanton aggression on the one side, and deadly revenge on the other.