In the early days of July 1690 the citizens and merchants of Galway must have viewed with growing alarm the collapse of the Jacobite army at the Boyne, and the march westwards of the Williamite forces determined to strike a final blow.
Although the Jacobites, consisting of mainly Irish and French soldiers, were defeated, the army was still about 20,000 strong. It withdrew to Limerick, but mainly along the Shannon where it was determined to hold the advancing Williamites until, it was hoped, further reinforcements came from France.
Despite the ruination of the merchant families by Cromwell’s officers and men a mere 38 years earlier, the town’s trade with Spain and other European countries had revived somewhat. But war is bad for business. Although French officers spent their gold coin lavishly, under King James and his disastrous reign, money in Ireland was worth less by the day. King James’ coins, made from melted down cannons, or whatever brass could be found, was supposed to be of equal value, but it now took nearly ten times the amount of brass money to buy the same as one gold or silver coin.*
Nor could it have been any comfort to see whole French regiments embarked in their ships in Galway Bay that September, and returning rather ingloriously to their own country.
King Louis XIV was reluctant to commit further soldiers to Ireland until he was certain of success, at least long enough to occupy an English army while he advanced his ambitions in Europe.
Instead he sent the grand sounding Charles Chalmot de Saint-Ruhe, a French cavalry officer of no great distinction (he is better known for his abrupt departure at Aughrim ), accompanied not by fresh regiments of soldiers, but by large supplies of food and weapons. Saint-Ruhe, who was put ashore at Limerick, the Jacobite headquarters, was ordered to take command of the Irish army, and report to Louis whether further aid was needed.
There was little time to report back to Louis, or indeed to wait months for French troops. Events moved forward rapidly. The victorious Williamites, led by a Dutch General Godert de Ginkel, had one purpose in mind and that was to bring the war to conclusion as quickly and as directly as possible. Ginkel moved his army to wait out winter at Mullingar, and at Caherconlish, about eight miles south-east of Limerick. He hoped to take Galway and Limerick by siege the following spring.
‘Galloping Hogan’
That hope was dramatically delayed by the only success of the Jacobites during the three year Williamite War in Ireland.
Word was given to the Irish command that a well guarded siege train, bringing heavy cannon and ammunition, was on its way from Dublin, and would demolish the walls of Limerick. It was agreed that it must be ambushed, and destroyed. Patrick Sarsfield, Earl of Lucan, French army trained, and known throughout the army as ‘a brave fellow, but very scantily supplied with brains’ ** but was liked and admired by all. Recently appointed Lieut General, Sarsfield agreed to accept the mission. At midnight on August 9 1690, he left Limerick by a back gate with a small force riding hard to intercept the siege train.
Picking up riders on the way, until there were about 500, they travelled at night along what is known today as ‘Sarsfield’s Ride’. They came up to Clarecastle, and following the west bank of the Shannon past Bridgetown, Ballycorney, and on to Killaloe. Turning left they followed the river upstream to Ballyvalley where they were joined by Michael ‘Galloping’ Hogan, a scoundrel and highway man, but nevertheless who rode into every schoolboy’s imagination, when he agreed to guide Sarsfield’s men to Ballynetty where they swooped on the siege train, scattering its guard and blowing up the lot. ‘Galloping Hogan’ was given the honour of lighting the fuse. The scars left by the explosions can still be seen today.***
The battle
Winning wars however, take a lot more than a daring deed. Sarsfield’s gung-ho warfare was not the style of Saint-Ruhe; and Tyrconnell, appointed James’ Lord Deputy, could not stand him.
There was never meant to be a battle at Aughrim. Army command had agreed that the Jacobite army would fall back to Limerick, prolong the war for at least another year, allowing time for French reinforcements to arrive. But Saint-Ruhe, smarting from his failure to hold the enemy at Athlone, announced that the army would stop the advancing Williamites at Aughrim.
He had, in fact, chosen an ideal place for a defensive battle. Spreading out his men and cannon from Kilcommadan, or Aughrim hill, along a two-mile ridge, the Jacobites had the advantage of high, dry ground, whereas before them was waterlogged countryside.
There was one weakness and that was a narrow causeway, on solid ground, near the ruined castle, which was totally capable of bringing a large force into the heart of the Jacobites if enemy cavalry was allowed access. Saint-Ruhe insured that it was well guarded by Henry Luttrell’s cavalry and dragoons.
Ginkel and his army of about 20,000 men, a similar size as the Jacobites, crossed the river Suck early that Sunday morning. As soon as his men were in position the skirmishing began from about 2pm. Both sides tested and probed each other for weakness in their lines, and if some appeared men or cannon were quickly ordered to fill that gap.
The battle began in earnest about 5pm. Saint-Ruhe was most active riding constantly up and down with his officers, and with growing confidence giving orders where necessary, transferring troops to fill gaps; until, late in the evening, Ginkel felt the time had come to strike a mortal blow. He ordered the whole centre of his army to advance through the bog and water only to be driven back after fierce fighting by the Jacobite infantry who fired at point blank range, and reversing their muskets used them as clubs. It was a good omen. Saint-Ruhe was overjoyed at this success and cried ‘Le jour est a nous, mes infants’ and spoke about driving Ginkel back to the gates of Dublin.
But his luck suddenly ran out. Seeing that the attention of the battle had shifted to the centre, perhaps insufficient notice was taken as Ginkel’s second in command, Hugh Mackay, was coming across the causeway, the weakest point in Saint-Ruhe’s plan. In a rapid series of events, in the late evening, Saint-Ruhe, as he moved towards the danger area, was suddenly decapitated by a cannonball. His officers were astonished and immobilised by this catastrophy.
Henry Luttrell, who was located at the ruined castle end of the causeway, and who had the capacity to meet Mackay head on and turn him back, instead, inexplicably, led his men away from the battle to safety. Mackay led 1,000 Williamite cavalry into the thick of the Jacobite army causing mayhem and disorientation, confusion and flight. As darkness fell, an estimated 2,000 Williamites were killed that day, but a stunning 6,000 Jacobites also died. Only a direct order to take no prisoners, and to kill the enemy without mercy could account for such a large mortality rate in the Jacobite army. Virtually no prisoners were taken.
Sarsfield, probably as a result of a quarrel with Saint-Ruhe over the planning of the battle, was ordered to keep his cavalry on the extreme right of the army, or outside it altogether. He played no role in the fighting. He gathered what he could of the fugitives streaming toward him, and led the retreat to Limerick. Tradition tells us that as they passed through Woodford that night Sarsfield buried pieces of artillery in Derrycregg wood.
Next week: Was Luttrell the traitor of Aughrim?
NOTES:
*I am enjoying Joe Joyce’s 1691 - A Novel just published by Cove Books, and on sale €15.
** Irish Battles, by GA Hayes-McCoy, published by Gill and Macmillan 1969.
*** Hands up if you remember this poem some of us learned at National School:
‘Sarsfield went out the Dutch to rout
And to take and break the cannon,
To Mass went he at half-past three
And at four he crossed the Shannon….’
(I don’t know any more ).
