CHAPTER XII.

THE SIEGE OF LIMERICK.

The city of Limerick, at the time of William's invasion, consisted, as it does at the present time, of three distinct divisions, or towns. One of these was on the right bank of the Shannon, in the County Clare; one on the left bank, in the County Limerick; and the third on King's Island, which is formed by the branching of the river about a mile above the city. The part on King's Island was known as the Englishtown; that on the Limerick side was designated the Irishtown, and two bridges connected that on the Island with the other two sections,—one bridge leading to each.41 Holding a commanding position between the most fertile portions of two loyal provinces, and standing at the head of ship navigation, the military advantages of this city could scarcely be overrated; but the well-known loyalty of the people, the great difficulties that beset the king, and the exhausted state of his exchequer, through every phase of this war, had caused it to be neglected; and its defences were not at all in keeping with its strategic importance. It had, according to the Duke of Berwick, on his arrival there after the Battle of the Boyne, "no other fortification than a wall without ramparts, and a few miserable towers without ditches." But the month that had since elapsed had not been wasted; the old walls had been strengthened, and such new works devised as were allowed by the means at the disposal of the generals. The troops worked with a will corresponding to the exigency, the people shared their means cheerfully with them; and the gallant defence made during the preceding war against the arms of General Ireton, imparted hope and courage as the crisis drew near. The cursory view of this period to which these pages are limited, will not admit of a more minute detail of the disposition which had been made to meet the impending contest, than the following imperfect summary: A covered way had been constructed round the wall, to protect the soldiers in passing from point to point; St. John's Gate—the principal one of the city—which opened towards the south-east, had been strengthened on the outer side by a redoubt and some angular palisades filled with earth, and on the inner side by a fort called "The Black Battery;" a bastion had been erected near the bridge connecting the English and Irish town; and an earthen fort constructed on King's Island, the guns of which flanked the counterscarp, and raked the eastern front of the wall as far as the main gate. A tower on the southern angle of the wall mounted three guns; the redoubt opposite St. John's Gate mounted two; there were two on the bastion near the bridge, and the fort on King's Island, probably mounted two more.42 Eight thousand infantry manned those works; some regiments of dragoons occupied the island; the rest of the cavalry were disposed on the Clare side of the river, some below the city, at Annabeg, and some in the direction of O'Brien's Bridge, above it,—the branch of the river that separated the towns was easily fordable, and there were many fords on the main channel between that and Kilaloe.

When the Prince of Orange reviewed his army at Finglass, before his departure from Dublin, it was 40,000 strong; and after his junction with Douglas at Caherconlish, it is estimated, on good authority, as "38,000 effective men."43 The disparity in numbers between it and the Jacobite army was very great; but in resources, appointments, and artillery, it was still greater, and such as to leave little doubt of William's success.

On the 8th of August, this army appeared within view of the city, on the eastern side, while de Lausun, who had, during the interval, occupied the position already indicated, on the western side, decamped, and marched his command to Galway, whence he shortly after sailed for France. On the 9th, William approached the city slowly and cautiously, bearing the Irish outposts before him, and took up his position between St. John's Gate and King's Island, within cannon range of the wall. His lines were soon extended to the right and left; the latter position being occupied by the Danes, who are said to have expressed great satisfaction at the sight of an old Danish fort that had escaped the changes of seven centuries, and reminded them at once of the sway of their ancestors over the island—and, mayhap, of the king by whose valor their power had been eventually overthrown.

Tyrconnell was still commander-in-chief of the Irish army, but the military conduct of affairs within the city mainly devolved on Sarsfield and the Duke of Berwick; and as William sat down before their walls, the latter requested Tyrconnell to place the cavalry at his disposal, and that he would cross the Shannon, make a circuit of the country in William's rear, destroy his magazines and supplies up to Dublin, and so reduce him to the necessity of decamping. In referring to this proposition in his Memoirs, the Duke says: "As all the towns in the country were open, and without defence, I was morally certain of succeeding in my enterprise; and as to getting back, which was objected, the knowledge I had of the country had already suggested to me by what means it might be effected. I had no doubt of making my way into the North, and returning to our quarters by Sligo." But Tyrconnell, fearing to part with all his cavalry at such a critical moment, represented to him that it would leave the river between Limerick and Kilaloe exposed, and as they were the only protection against a flank movement of the enemy in that direction, he discountenanced the adventure.

When William had made the necessary disposition of his forces, he sent a regular summons to the governor—de Bo?sselau—for the surrender of the city, but to this a polite answer was returned through his secretary, to the effect, that he could not comply with the demand; that he was there to defend the city for King James; and that he was resolved to do it, in such a manner as to win the respect of his master, the Prince of Orange. William lost no time in putting this resolution to the test, and had soon made all the dispositions for a regular siege. His main body rested nearly opposite to St. John's Gate, with the Danish troops well extended, encircling the city round on the south and south-west; and his right towards King's Island, with a division opposite to the bridge that connected it with the Irish town. Batteries were soon constructed, bearing on those different points, and, establishing his headquarters in Ireton's tower, which commanded a view of the entire front, he opened a fierce and incessant cannonade. The spirited reply of the besieged soon convinced him that they had set their minds on defending their city to the last extremity, and that the siege would be protracted and desperate. The batteries on King's Island were particularly troublesome; the guns there being so well served, that they did great execution on his right and centre, and after a short time, the former was compelled to withdraw from the river, and the latter to shift ground and heighten its defences. Finding, after a bombardment of two days, that he had inflicted no serious damage, William relaxed his fire on the wall, directed his mortars against the interior of the town, and dispatched orders to Clonmel to hasten up his battering train and pontoons, which had been conveyed by the fleet to Waterford, and were now on their way to his camp.

This intelligence being communicated to the governor by a French officer who had deserted from William, Sarsfield conceived the bold design of intercepting the convoy, destroying the train, and compelling the abandonment of the siege. With this intent, he opened the matter to the deputy; but the latter, being in continual fear of disasters, discountenanced the project, as he had that of Berwick. But Sarsfield, insisting with great earnestness, Tyrconnell at last yielded his assent, and placed eight hundred horse dragoons at his command. From those he selected five hundred men, and having secured the service of some Rapparee guides, to whom all the by-ways of the country were known, he held them in reserve until night would favor his departure without the knowledge of the enemy. The exploit was both difficult and dangerous:—over thirty miles of country, traversed by innumerable small rivers, lay before him; two branches of the Slieve-Phelim mountains stretched across his route; and in order to avoid suspicion, and keep the enemy unapprised of his absence, it was necessary to shun the highways and traverse the least frequented parts of the country. The enemy's scouts were thrown out for several miles to the east; his cavalry were foraging in all directions through the day; and the least inadvertence would cause the failure of the undertaking, and cut him off from the city, or perhaps entail the destruction of his entire command.

Darkness had settled over camp and city as Sarsfield crossed the Thomond Bridge, and followed his Rapparee guides into the open country beyond. For some time he pursued his course northward, in order to avoid the road by the river, the cavalry of William being extended as far as O'Brien's Bridge; but when distance removed apprehension, he wheeled eastward at Fahy, urged his command to greater speed, and crossed the bridge of Kilaloe towards midnight. He then struck southward through Newport and Murruo, crossed the Dead River and its tributaries, and as morning dawned, ambushed in the mountain district, about two miles north of the route from Clonmel to Limerick. Here he threw forward his scouts in the direction of Clonmel, to watch the convoy and give timely notice of its approach; but the day passed on, and the night was somewhat advanced, when the lumbering train at last appeared, and halted at a short distance from the place of ambush. The men were now within seven miles of their own camp; the little chapel of Ballyneety, which stood near the roadside, offered a pleasant resting-place; and being in no apprehension of danger, they resolved to bivouac there for the night, and reach the camp early on the following morning. Having made their arrangements and lit their fires, they betook themselves to rest, and were soon wrapped in slumber around and within the walls of the ruin, when the Rapparees, who had watched them throughout the day, taking note of their numbers and disposition, repaired to the general and informed him that the hour had come, and the word was "Sarsfield." The assault that followed was a complete surprise to the enemy, who offered but an ineffectual resistance. In a few minutes over sixty of them were slain, the rest put to flight, and Sarsfield turned his attention to the main object of the expedition. The cannon, eight in number, were loaded to the muzzles and buried deep in the earth: around and over those were pressed the ammunition and ball: over them were laid the chests, wagons, and carriages: the tin boats were next destroyed and placed on top: a train was then laid, and the troop-horses, and all that was portable, were secured and started in advance: and last of all, Sarsfield, with his own hand, lit the train and retired. Then followed that terrible explosion, which is said to have shaken the earth for fifteen miles around, and startled the Prince of Orange in his camp. But, notwithstanding the precautions taken by Sarsfield, his movements had not been unobserved. An Irish Williamite, named Manus O'Brien, had met the detachment on its way towards Kilaloe, and divining that it was on some expedition of importance, hastened to the English camp, and requested an audience of the Prince. He succeeded after considerable delay, and communicated his intelligence; but the Prince, though suspecting at once the design of Sarsfield, looked on it as futile, and took no further notice at the time; yet, as the night waned, he sent out Sir John Lanier, with five hundred horse, to meet the convoy, and ordered the fords of the river to be well guarded to intercept the Irish troops on their return. The delay of O'Brien was providential. Lanier had got within a short distance of the place when he heard the explosion, and pressed on with the hope of intercepting the enemy, but only reached the ground as Sarsfield retired. Warned by the appearance of Lanier that it would be dangerous to return as he had come, he changed his course, passed to the east of the Keeper mountains, and holding his way through Upper and Lower Ormond, he, on the following evening, reached the town of Banagher,44 a distance of more than forty miles, where he halted to recruit his men, and returned through Galway and Clare without the loss of a man.45

This event roused the spirits of the besieged army, and mainly contributed to its final success. It also raised the fame of Sarsfield among the officers of rank, and left him without a rival in the affection of the soldiers. Known before only as a dashing leader of dragoons, he was from that day forward the idol of the populace, and through every change, or good or ill, his name has been a household word with his countrymen in every clime. Nor were the fame of this exploit and the successful defence of Athlone long in reaching King James; they were the first good tidings he had received since his departure, and they gave him assurance to press his suit at the French court. In due time Sarsfield was promoted to the rank of Major-General, and eventually created Earl of Lucan, Viscount of Tully, and Baron of Rosberry.

By this feat, which happened towards the morning of the 13th, William's operations were greatly impeded; but ever provident, he was still the master, and, not like his rival, the slave of circumstances. At the end of another week, the loss was supplied by a train still more formidable than that destroyed, nor did their loss cause the cessation of hostilities for a single day.

Two of the guns found among the débris at Ballyneety were still fit for use, and with these, his mortars, and field-train, he continued the bombardment, and by the 17th, he had pushed his lines of circumvallation close to the walls of the city. Nor were the besieged less active or determined in their resistance; every foot of the ground was dearly purchased, and no day went by without a sortie of the most desperate character. One of these, which occurred between the 17th and 20th, was of so novel a character as to demand a passing notice. As William's lines approached close to the walls, the fire from within was so fierce as to compel the soldiers to lie close within their trenches during the night. Those opposite the sally-port, between the bridge and St. John's Gate, were occupied by two regiments: the Blue Dutch and the British, between whom no very friendly feelings existed. The Irish, to whom this was known, taking advantage of the darkness, made a lodgement in one of the traverses, and threw in a stealthy fire on the Dutch. The latter seeing no enemy, and observing the British by the flash of the muskets, believed the fire came from them, and answered it by a deadly volley. This was immediately returned, and the two regiments commenced a murderous fire on each other, while the Irish, as occasion offered, directed a volley at each of them. After several had fallen victims to their own stupidity, the real cause was detected by one of the English generals, and troops were brought up to correct the evil, and chastise the authors of it; but these seeing the place getting too hot for them, rushed from their ambush and reached the city with little loss. The affray between the British and Dutch was not easily reconciled. The confusion of languages baffled, for some time, all attempts at explanation, and hostilities continued until both regiments were placed under arrest, and fresh troops stationed in the trenches. The blunder created great mirth among the Irish soldiers, but the besiegers redoubled their vigilance, and surprise was thenceforth a matter of impossibility. The most serious engagement that occurred after this, took place about the 22d, and was forced by the besieged for the purpose of destroying William's heavy guns before they could be got into position. Issuing out in force, at mid-day, they assailed the enemy's centre with such vigor that they drove it from the trenches; the Prince, who was present, retreated towards his quarters; but falling in his hurry, he had scarcely arisen when a cannonball tore up the very spot on which he had fallen, and after receiving a serious contusion from a fragment of a rock, splintered by the shot, he was carried to Ireton's Tower, nor did he appear again until the final assault. But the sortie ended in the repulse of the besieged, and the guns were rescued and placed in position.

This was the last sally from the garrison. The siege was now pressed with terrible energy by the besiegers, and the besieged, no less determined, addressed themselves to resist the final assault which now appeared imminent. By the 24th, William's entire artillery had been brought to bear on every vulnerable point within range, while his lines of circumvallation drew closer and closer to the walls. Six batteries lay along his entire front, disposed, according to his historian, in the following manner: The first, of eight eighteen-pounders, bore against the southern angle of the wall, opposite to the Danish quarters; the second, of eight twenty-fours, against St. John's Gate and the Black Battery which stood within the city behind it; the third, of twelve field-pieces, against the sally-port which opened near the bridge; and the fourth and fifth, of four heavy guns each—the former against the bridge itself, and the latter against the bastion which stood near it on the left—while behind them a floor had been constructed for a battery of four mortars, which poured a stream of red-hot shot and shell on every prominent object beyond the wall. Day and night, the fire from all was sustained with unabated vigor, until the 27th, when the outer works, before St. John's Gate, were demolished, and a breach, two hundred yards in width, was effected in the wall, opening up the very heart of the city, when William slackened his fire and again summoned it to surrender.46

The besieged were now hard pressed;—the trenches of the besiegers were within two toises47 of the palisades in front of the breach, and overlooked them, so that they had but to step over to find themselves on the level and unobstructed area around the city gate. The Irish fort on King's Island, which until now had thrown a slanting fire across the enemy's right, was dismantled and its guns removed to the Black Battery to defend the breach; the wall, along its whole front, was rendered untenable to the musketeers; and the cavalry were withdrawn across the river, for the guns bearing on the bridge threatened the destruction of their only line of communication. Still, the English town itself was impregnable, being situated on low ground, which could be easily inundated by a flood-gate on the main channel of the river; the English cavalry, too, had been withdrawn from the island, and the whole fury of their guns concentrated on the Irish town. Such was the condition of the garrison when de Bo?sselau received the second summon from the Prince of Orange, and, believing that further resistance was useless, he consulted the Irish generals and advised them to accept an accommodation. But he was opposed by the general voice. The soldiers were unanimous for resistance to the last; the citizens appealed against a surrender; the women declared that they would rather be torn piecemeal by the artillery than be subject to the barbarities of William's soldiers. The general voice prevailed, and de Bo?sselau withdrawing from the city, declined further responsibility.

The herald was accordingly dismissed with an indignant refusal to the Prince's message, when the bombardment was again renewed, and active preparations were made for storming the city. For this purpose William selected 10,000 men from the different regiments, and formed them into supporting columns, under leaders of approved valor and experience. Five hundred British grenadiers were to lead the assault; the Dutch and Danish troops were to follow, and be sustained by the Huguenots in turn, while the Brandenburgers, English and Enniskilleners, were to bring up the rear. Biding these preparations, the artillery was to keep up its fire along the whole line, and when it ceased, three guns, fired in rapid succession, was to put all in motion, and be the signal of assault.

Meanwhile the Irish generals had made the best disposition of their force to meet the impending event. The bulk of their infantry was divided into four columns: two drawn back on each side of the breach, so that each of the opposite columns could meet promptly in front or rear of the assailing parties; the musketeers were posted in every available position on the wall, and the guns of the Black Battery were loaded with grape to rake the breach as they entered. Farther back, near the square of the city, a body was held in reserve to support the battery, and to give succor wherever it became necessary, while Brigadier Talbot, with five hundred of the Guards, was posted on the right, to guard against any surprise from the enemy in that quarter. The streets were filled with citizens armed with every available weapon, and with groups of women, the sad spectators of the approaching conflict.

It was three o'clock in the afternoon when the fire of the enemy's cannon ceased along the whole line, and the assaulting columns, in their varicolored uniforms of buff, blue, and scarlet, moved down to the intrenchments as gayly as if on parade, and halted. The fire within the town also ceased, and an ominous silence settled over the scene, the combatants on each side, standing with bated breath, and as motionless as statues. An unusual drought prevailed,—not a drop of rain had fallen for three weeks;48 the weather was intensely hot, and the sun threw a flood of unobstructed light upon dome and spire, while the river glided away through its autumnal foliage, as placid as if peace had returned and war should revisit it no more. Some time passed on, and suspense was becoming painful, when the signal: one! two! three! pealed forth. The British grenadiers were over the palisades in a twinkling, hurling their destructive missiles, and followed by the Dutch Guards, while the cannon rang out again along the whole front, excepting the point of assault. So quick was the movement, that the Irish troops, though awaiting it, were actually taken by surprise, and the grenadiers had reached the breach before they met with any opposition. Here, they were checked by a shower of grape that did great execution; still they pressed on with a headlong impulse, mounted the breach, and passed the first line of guards drawn up to oppose them. But they were destined to go no farther; another storm of grape tore through their ranks, the Irish Guards closed in on them, front and rear, cutting them off from their supports, and assailing them with such fury that in a short time they were nearly all slain, only four or five escaping out of this gallant body, which was reckoned the flower of the English army. The Dutch Guards pressed boldly on, and under the eye of their Prince, performed prodigies of valor; several times they bore back the defenders from the breach, and were as often repulsed through it; but being continually reinforced from the other divisions outside, the Irish troops were gradually forced back into the city, where they divided right and left, still disputing every inch of the way. William now threw forward a Brandenburg regiment to storm the Black Battery, and, filling up the breach with his remaining columns, prepared to enter the city. While this conflict raged along the widening expanse inside, the fire of the enemy's batteries was unabated; the soldiers were driven from the parapets; the populace from the house-tops; the city was on fire in several places, and "it seemed," says an eye-witness, "as if the heavens were rent, and the smoke that arose from the town reached, in one continued cloud, to the top of a mountain six miles off."

The whole storming force was now engaged within the breach, and the way was literally strewn with its dead and wounded; but the besieged, despite the most heroic resistance, were gradually borne back by the heavy masses continually hurled on them, inspiring redoubled energy with every accession. The Brandenburg regiment had captured the battery, and, having seized the guns, were turning them against its defenders, who were retreating from it in apparent consternation. William, who now stood at Ireton's Tower, looked on in proud anticipation of success; the city seemed completely within his grasp, and pushing forward his last reserve, he viewed exultantly the engagement which was to complete his triumph.

It was now near seven o'clock; the sun was sinking behind the western headlands, and still the battle raged with unabated fury. Throughout the long hours of this sanguinary conflict, the populace, men and women, stood by in painful suspense, watching the tide of fortune as it stood or swayed before them, and now it became manifest that every effort of valor was exhausted, and the doom of their city at last was sealed. Oppressed by odds, their brave defenders were giving way, and the battery, the last obstruction to the advancing foe, was in the possession of the Brandenburgers. A wild cry of despair rung up from all; their last hope was gone: at this moment a terrific explosion shook the city to its centre; a dark cloud overspread the combatants, and clearing away, it was seen that the mine beneath the battery had been sprung, and the whole Brandenburg regiment had been blown to atoms!

Consternation seized on the besiegers; even the besieged, though expecting the event, were for a moment astonished, and each stood as it were paralyzed and watching each other in amazement. But the advantage was not lost; the men braced themselves again for the contest, the women rushed forward, calling on the men to follow, and with one impulse threw themselves in front of the enemy. The effect was electric; all caught the inspiration; generals, soldiers, citizens; all, with one desperate effort, hurled themselves on the masses of William, and bore them back bodily through the breach. In the mean time Brigadier Talbot, anticipating the result, led his men round the outside of the wall, and attacking the rear of the assaulting force with great spirit, put it into inextricable confusion; panic-stricken, they fled precipitately from the city, pursued to their camp by the victorious Irish—and Limerick was saved.

The loss of William in this day's action was 2,000 men and one hundred and fifty-eight officers killed, and his casualties through the preceding eighteen days are estimated at 3,000 more. The loss of the besieged is nowhere definitely stated; but in the final assault they lost four hundred killed and wounded,—a small number for so great a result. But, as if to give a mournful grandeur to the event, many of the noble daughters of the city lay side by side in death with the men whose sterner natures they had animated to victory!

After the battle, William sent an ensign into the town for leave to bury his dead; this being refused, he dismounted his batteries, withdrew his army, and prepared to retreat, for he could no longer continue the siege, as matters of a pressing nature demanded his presence in England, and should the news of this defeat precede him the consequences might be serious. His Irish adherents entreated him not to leave them with the conquest of the country uncompleted, and the leaders of his foreign army besought him to the same effect: but he turned a deaf ear to their entreaties. A deputation of the soldiers, both native and foreign, headed by the ecclesiastics, waited on him, and promised still greater efforts if he remained among them; but his resolution was unchanged. Annoyed by their importunities and chagrined by defeat, he gave vent to that exclamation which English historians have industriously suppressed: "Yes," said he; "if I had this handful of men who defend the place against you, and that you were all within it, I would take it in spite of you!"49—A censure so caustic, and a eulogium so grand, render comment unnecessary.

Before retreating he set fire to his hospital, in which there were many invalids; but the Irish soldiers issued from the city, suppressed the flames, and saved the wretched victims. It is hard to credit, even on the authority of historians distinguished for wide research and cautious investigation, an act of such cold-blooded atrocity; and yet his conduct, during his retreat, was of a character that would seem to corroborate it.50 "The curse of Cromwell" was repeated, the peasantry were murdered, their lands laid waste, and their homes given to the flames; so that the fertile district between Limerick and Clonmel was a scene of death and desolation. Committing the command of the army to the Count de Solmes, with Ginkle as second in command, he proceeded under escort to Waterford, whence, accompanied by Prince George of Denmark, and the Dukes of Ormond and Wurtemberg, he sailed for England.

Though the theme of many a glowing eulogy, William's campaign in Ireland was not such as to exalt his name, either as a statesman or a soldier. The victory of the Boyne, had he taken that advantage of it which a great military mind would not have failed to take, might have led to the total suppression of the war within a month; and his short sojourn among the Irish representatives of that day, marked only by pusillanimity and cruelty, shows him entirely devoid of statesmanship. If, without dividing his army, after his first success, he had turned aside from the capital, and pressed the rear of the retiring army, he could have gained some of the passes of the Shannon, or perhaps have anticipated the enemy at Limerick, and ended the war without another blow. The truth is, his career, in this connection, was a very inglorious one. His doubt and hesitation after the Boyne were scarce less remarkable than those of Schomberg, which he so severely censured. Through indecision and delay, he gave his enemy time to recuperate for that memorable siege which checked his career, jeopardized his chance of eventual success, and sent him back to his newly acquired kingdom, to be humiliated before his Parliament; divested of nearly all popularity, and humbled before his courtiers by an aspiring subject.