Ormonde, and the rest of the exiled family’s chief advisers, with Hyde at the head of them, had little hope from the Duke of Lorraine, whom they considered fond of money, very cunning, and very much inclined to have his pound of flesh. Nicholas saw very clearly that Taaffe was no match for him, and that he was liar enough to ‘deceive the Earl of Norwich or any man living.’ The object was to make a diversion in Ireland, and so give the King some chance in his Scotch venture. The Duke of Lorraine did actually give 20,000l. for Ireland, but this was not enough seriously to affect the desperate situation there. If anything, the expectation of these shadowy succours had the effect of preventing the Irish from exerting themselves. Bad bargains were made in buying arms, there was a good deal of waste, and the discount on bills of exchange was so heavy that ‘the sheer money,’ to quote Bellings, ‘came far short of the first mouthful.’ Dean King reported that the 20,000l. was thus reduced by 6,000l. Rumours that more was coming were sedulously propagated, and great things were expected as far off as Madrid, and the farce was continued during the whole of 1651. This reliance upon a broken reed probably weakened the efforts of the Irish. The Duke proposed to send a small army, but neither Spain, France, nor Holland would allow it passage, and it was arms and money that were wanted, for of men there were already plenty in Ireland. It seems probable that the Duke had no intention of doing anything, and that his real object was to further his matrimonial suits at Rome. To that end he might be willing to outwit the Irish clergy as well as the Protestant Royalists and the non-clerical Deputy. In addressing the Pope he took his stand upon a decree of the Lateran Council under Innocent III., where legates from England and all other States were present, which gave the Pontiff power to appoint a protector if any state fell into heresy. Innocent X., however, was cautious, thought the Irish nation should be consulted, and that some more powerful prince might undertake the work. Bishop French told Taaffe and his colleagues that they derived their authority from the ‘withered and accursed hand of one for several causes excommunicated a jure et homine, and at Rome accounted a great contemner of the authority and dignity of churchmen, and persecutor of my lord nuncio and some bishops and other churchmen ... who never joined the Confederate Catholics until he found the opportunity of bearing down the Pope’s nuncio ... comrade-in-arms with Lord Inchiquin, who not long before dyed his hands in the blood of priests and innocent souls in the church or rock of St. Patrick, in Cashel.’ He urged the agents to ignore Clanricarde’s commission, and to ‘go on cheerfully in the contract with this most Catholic’ prince. Taking advantage of Taaffe’s absence from Brussels, Plunket and Browne did accordingly make an agreement with the Duke of Lorraine without mentioning the Lord Deputy, and in the name of the ‘kingdom and people of Ireland.’[202]

There was an Irish agent at Paris named Tyrrell, who intrigued with Madame de Chevreuse and the Duchess of Orleans, but even before the battle of Worcester Ormonde saw that the Duke would do nothing serious. ‘He must,’ he wrote, ‘sit down with the loss of 20,000l., and they (the Irish) with the state of perfect slavery, the frequent lot of such as affect immoderate power upon weak foundations. The remaining consolation is that, if the King recover England, Ireland will soon follow, without which, if he had it again so peopled as it was, it would be lost.’ The agreement was signed on July 2, but was not transmitted to Clanricarde until September, after the news of Worcester had reached Brussels. Taaffe, who had hitherto been so sanguine, now thought that the Duke of Lorraine would be unable to do anything; and, indeed, he had probably no further object but to gain credit at Rome by a show of strong clerical leanings. ‘His proposals,’ Taaffe wrote, ‘discovered more of self-interest than affection to his Majesty.’ As far as the agreement could do it, he was constituted the ‘true royal protector of Ireland, and this to pass to his heirs and successors.’ The army and militia present and future were placed absolutely in his hands, with power in his absence to appoint a substitute ‘professing Catholic religion, excluding all other whosoever.’ All heretics were to be expelled from Ireland. When these points had been granted, certain provisoes making a show of preserving the royal authority were hardly worth the paper on which they were written. Ormonde, who might easily have been communicated with, never heard of the agreement until a copy was sent back by Clanricarde from Ireland. At the time of its despatch Limerick was closely besieged, and within a few days of surrender, but the corporation of Galway received a direct letter from the Duke of Lorraine, in which he held out hope of further supplies, and claimed their help in carrying out the agreement made with Plunket and Browne. Some powder was sent towards the end of 1651, but it was the ‘basest ever seen, not worth 2s. a barrel,’ yet the Irish were afraid to complain for fear of offending the Duke. In 1652 a very small further supply was sent to Innisbofin. They sent a favourable answer by special messenger, addressing the Duke as royal protector of Ireland, and when the Lord Deputy remonstrated they practically refused to make any excuse. He reported fully to the Queen and to Ormonde, and he could do no more. The latter at least fully understood the matter. The object of the Irish clergy, he said, was to call in a Roman Catholic protector, ‘from which office to absolute sovereignty the way is straight and easy,’ and they were so intent upon this that they allowed the country to fall into the power of the English rebels.[203]

Clanricarde plainly told the Duke of Lorraine that he had been duped ‘by the counterfeit shew of a private instrument, fraudulently procured, and signed by some inconsiderable factious persons.’ He laid the chief blame on French, as the violent and malicious enemy of royal authority in Ireland, and ‘a fatal instrument in contriving and fomenting all those diversions and divisions that have rent asunder the kingdom.’ He bade Bishop Darcy of Dromore, and the Archbishop of Tuam, who must have known all about it, to observe the efficacy of that prelate’s powerful spirit in persuading and ‘prevailing with the commissioner to break and betray their trust.’ Letters took a long time in transit, but in February 1652 Charles II. wrote to Clanricarde, entirely approving of his conduct, expressing full confidence in him, and allowing him to leave Ireland whenever he thought fit. This did not reach the Lord Deputy until August, and in the meantime all negotiations with the Duke of Lorraine had been broken off. ‘De Henin,’ says Clarendon, ‘returned in the same ship that brought him, and gave the Duke such an account of his voyage and people that put an end to that negotiation, which had been entered into and prosecuted with less wariness, circumspection, and good husbandry, than that prince was accustomed to use.’ While still professing his anxiety to help the Irish Catholics, the Duke declined to have anything more to say to the Commissioners, whose factiousness had spoiled all. Charles II. had reminded him that Clanricarde was ‘as zealous for the Catholic religion as anyone in Ireland, and that he knew the affections and interests of that people as well as any, whatsoever others pretend.’ Of his dislike to Clanricarde he made no secret, calling him a traitor and base fellow, whom he would do his best to injure if he came within reach, and when the Marchioness reached the Continent he regretted that her sex prevented him from satisfying his feelings of revenge. The remnant of the Irish in Innisbofin continued to hold the island for the Duke of Lorraine, and to hope against hope for his arrival until late in the year 1652.[204]

When the news of Worcester reached Ormonde he knew that all was over for a very long time. A Scottish army in England under Charles in person, a still unsubdued Scotland behind that, and at the same time enough resistance in Ireland to occupy a large Parliamentary force, all these made a combination very unlikely to recur. The only chance, and that a remote one, was that the parties into which England was divided might fall out among themselves, and so the King come by his own. ‘This,’ he wrote to Clanricarde, who may never have got the letter, ‘I take to be a remote, lazy speculation, and very near lying in the dirt and crying God help. God often blesses very improbable endeavours, but I find not where he promises, or where he has given success to flat idleness, unless contempt or misery, which are the proper fruits of it, may be so called.’ He thought the only thing to do was to seek foreign help, and that the best chance was to try to make the Pope a mediator. Attempts to get money from Rome for the Irish war had already failed, but it was proposed to send Taaffe there a little later. The Pope would do nothing unless Charles would satisfy him that he had joined the Roman communion, and to let this be known would have alienated England irretrievably. When, in due time, the treaty of Dover was signed, Ormonde was kept in the dark. Bishop French, who had reviled Taaffe for not signing the agreement with the Duke of Lorraine, did not return to Ireland, but he attacked Ormonde long after the Restoration for preferring Cromwell’s protectorate to that of a distinguished Catholic prince. It was, perhaps, impossible for an Irish Ultramontane to understand the position of an English Royalist, but it is easy to see now that Ormonde and Clanricarde were essentially in the right. Neither they nor their master could help the usurpation, but they would have destroyed their chances altogether by placing the sovereignty of Ireland in the hands of a foreign adventurer, who could not call a single sea-port his own. Two years later the Spaniards seized his person, and the French annexed his army.[205]

The Parliamentary Commissioners knew that the Irish in Connaught had received arms and money from the Duke of Lorraine, and that they had great hopes from de Henin’s mission. But Ludlow and the rest saw clearly that the subjugation of Ireland was only a matter of time. They did not advise any immediate reduction in the army, but a large part of the country was now contributing to its support, and they saw their way to diminishing the parliamentary grant for Ireland from 33,000l. to 20,000l. a month. They hoped that the area still to be occupied would on these terms be much narrowed by Michaelmas. Provisions and clothes were scarce, ‘yet your poor naked soldiers upon all commands do go out most cheerfully,’ and they were seldom idle. The Irish were making great efforts to form a strong force out of the remnants of O’Neill’s and Preston’s armies in Westmeath, Cavan, and Longford. To prevent this coming to a head Hewson left Trecroghan on March 14, marching by Tyrell’s Pass to Kilbride, which made some resistance, and through Mullingar to Donore, where Reynolds had stormed the castle with much corn and other plunder in it. The two officers here joined their forces to garrison and repair Lord Netterville’s castle at Ballimore, which had been partly dismantled by the Irish. Ballinalack, which commanded a passage into Longford, was taken without much trouble, but a strong stand was made between Loughs Kinale and Sheelin, where Lord Westmeath had left a garrison in his castle of Finnea. He himself had retired with all portable property to a stronghold at Termonbarry, in Roscommon. Colonel Alexander MacDonnell, Antrim’s brother, and Philip MacHugh O’Reilly held the neighbouring village of Togher, where there was another castle, but there was little discipline, and whisky was easily obtainable, so that Hewson had an easy victory. O’Reilly, who had kept his own head clear, could do nothing, and was fain to gallop away, Sir Theophilus Jones being sent in pursuit of the demoralised crowd. Many were killed and about 400 prisoners taken, including the colonel, lieutenant colonel, and major—all MacDonnells, twelve captains, and twenty-eight subalterns. According to the Irish account, those who did not die in Dublin were ‘transported to St. Christopher as slaves.’ The garrison of Finnea then surrendered on fair terms, the men marching away under safe-conduct without arms, and Longford and Cavan were at the mercy of the Parliament. Many still remained in arms under Lord Westmeath’s nominal orders, but they were little better than brigands, plundering the poor, and even depriving fugitive friars of such cattle as they had preserved for their sustenance.[206]

Leinster and Ulster being now pretty safe, Coote was directed to cross the Erne near its mouth, and to turn the line of the Shannon. Reynolds was sent with a regiment of horse to help him, and there was no force in Connaught able to repel the invasion. Coote and Reynolds were at Athenry before the end of May, while Ireton himself advanced to the Shannon opposite Killaloe, and Hewson to Athlone. Castlehaven was at Killaloe with what were called ten regiments, ‘but nothing answerable in numbers,’ and there he received a long letter from Ireton setting forth the justice of the Parliamentary cause, speaking slightingly of the King, and inviting him to retire to England, where he would be well received. He would thus save his property and be spared a hopeless struggle in company unworthy of him. Peter Walsh was with Castlehaven, and by his advice Ireton’s offers were spurned, after which all intercourse ceased between the two generals. Preparations for crossing at Killaloe, where the bridge was broken down, were openly made, and more quietly at O’Brien’s Bridge, where there had been no bridge for generations. A few men were sent over in a boat at daybreak, and seized an old house on the Clare side, under cover of which and of field guns on the Tipperary shore 500 men were ferried over in one hour. The Irish were seized with panic, and deserted their entrenchments, while Colonel Ingoldsby with 300 horse crossed the river unopposed at Castleconnell. Castlehaven came too late to rally the fugitives, and in his absence Colonel Fennell deserted his post at Killaloe and fled to Limerick. Ireton then crossed himself without trouble, while Castlehaven, whose force had dwindled to 300 horse, lost his plate and other property, and went northwards in hopes of joining Clanricarde and intercepting Coote and Reynolds, who had left Londonderry together on May 5, and who for the first time dragged two pieces into Donegal over Barnesmore gap, ‘till then thought impassable for the lightest carriages.’ When they drew near the Curlew mountains, where Sir Conyers Clifford was overthrown in the Elizabethan days, their scouts reported that Clanricarde had occupied the passes, whereupon they turned westward, and got ‘by strange and unexpected ways undiscovered into the county of Mayo,’ near Ballaghdereen, leaving Clanricarde two days’ march in their rear. They were at Athenry on May 31, and outside Loughrea on June 2, where they lost no time, but pushed on towards Portumna without fighting. Clanricarde and Castlehaven were together at Loughrea, but too weak to do anything. They warned all the population to fly with their property, and retired beyond the Galway river, taking refuge in the town when Coote appeared on its eastern side.[207]

As soon as he heard of Coote’s approach, Ireton sent 1000 cavalry and dragoons to meet him, with whom Ludlow, who volunteered his services, started northwards through a desolate country. One ‘creaght’ or encampment of half a dozen families with their cattle, was sighted, and the soldiers would have killed these poor people as enemies had not Ludlow interfered. ‘I took a share with them,’ he says, ‘of a pot of sour milk, which seemed to me the most pleasant liquor that ever I drank.’ Having marched forty miles in about twenty-four hours, Ludlow left the bulk of his men comfortably encamped, and hurried on with sixty troopers to Portumna, which, having repulsed one attack, surrendered next morning. Coote being safe, Reynolds joined Ludlow with 500 horse, and they pursued Clanricarde as far as Ballinasloe, which surrendered and was garrisoned. Reynolds then returned to Portumna, and Ludlow marched through Clare to Limerick. At Gort he found that Sir Dermot O’Shaughnessy had gone to Galway, leaving his tenants with some soldiers under an English lieutenant named Foliot to hold the castle. A countryman employed by Ludlow deserted, and told the garrison that he had no artillery or other equipage for a siege. But faggots or fascines were made, and each soldier carried one to use as a shield first, and afterwards to fill up the ditch. Enraged by the fall of two comrades the men climbed the twelve foot wall of the courtyard, helping each other to the top. Some ladders were found inside which gave admission to more, a window was soon forced open, and the occupants of the room killed. Foliot fought desperately ‘with a tuck in one hand and a stiletto in the other,’ but was soon run through the body. Faggots were piled against the gates and fired, when the garrison, fearing to be burned alive, hung out a white flag and threw down their arms. Ludlow gave one of his men twenty shillings to fetch out two barrels of powder that were near the fire, which could not be put out, eighty men besides many women and children being rescued by ‘skeins of match thrown up into the chambers.’ A few soldiers were put to death as defenders of an untenable post. Ludlow says he was pressed by his council of war to use this severity, but O’Shaughnessy’s tenants were all dismissed unhurt to their homes, and the general went on to Ireton, driving before him 500 cattle which his foragers had collected among the Burren hills.[208]

Ireton came before Limerick on June 3 on the Clare side of the Shannon. A large number of cattle had been collected at a place called Ferboe, a little above the town, where there was a narrow pass partly defended by an old castle. A stout resistance was made here, but Ingoldsby forced the passage with his cavalry and drove the Irish back to Thomond Bridge, about 150 being killed or drowned. The cattle formed a welcome addition to the commissariat, and Ireton marched on without further opposition. The estuary was in the hands of the Parliament, and the next few days were spent in landing cannon and mortars. The word bomb was, perhaps, first applied to the mortar-shells used during this siege. June 18 was set apart as a day of thanksgiving ‘for the Lord’s mercies in bringing us over the Shannon,’ and other unexpected successes, and on the next day Ireton having formally summoned Limerick, at once began the bombardment. A battery of twenty-eight guns played upon the castle defending Thomond Bridge. Two mortars, afterwards increased to four, threw shells into the town, but the largest, carrying projectiles of two hundred weight, burst, but without hurting anyone. Ludlow joined Ireton three days later, and found that a lodgment had already been effected on the great salmon-weir above Limerick, where a castle still stands. Two guns were brought to bear, and from one the first shot went in at a window and broke a soldier’s leg. The garrison at once took to their boats, but the fire was so hot that they all rowed to shore and surrendered, some to Tothill on the Clare bank, and some to Ingoldsby on the Limerick bank.[209]

Ireton, says Ludlow, ‘was so great a friend of justice, even where an enemy was concerned, that, though Colonel Axtell was a person extraordinarily qualified ... he suspended him from his employment.’ A court-martial had found that he killed prisoners who had been promised quarter by soldiers, though not by himself. This seems to have been in the attack on Meelick. Tothill was now charged with the same offence and deprived of his regiment, his ensign being also cashiered. Tothill pleaded that he thought no one could grant quarter but the commanding officer, and that the Lord Deputy would be angry if he showed mercy. Ireton said the punishment was too little for the offence and the excuses equally abominable, ‘for the base and servile fear pretended in the latter part, as for the pride of spirit predominate in the former.’ He was somewhat consoled by the fact that Ingoldsby spared all lives on his side.[210]

On the same day that the castle on the weir was taken, the garrison of Limerick sent out a drum in answer to Ireton’s summons. A truce was asked for, hostages to be given by the Deputy during the time that the representatives of the besieged were in his camp. Both conditions were refused, but Ireton had no objection to treat for a capitulation, and six commissioners were sent out, two for the garrison, two for the citizens, and two for the clergy, a like number being named by the Deputy. Among the former were Major-General Purcell and Geoffrey Baron, one of the late Supreme Council; among the latter, Ludlow, Waller, and Colonel Henry Cromwell. They met in a tent between town and camp, dined together every day, and discussed the terms in a leisurely way; but Limerick did not yet despair of relief, and the negotiations came to nothing. Meanwhile, the bombardment continued, two bridges being thrown across the Shannon, one of wood at Castleconnell and the other of boats or floats, below the weir. O’Neill tried to reduce the number of useless mouths by driving non-combatants out of the town. On one occasion Ireton ordered that four of these poor wretches should be knocked on the head, but the order was wrongly given, and forty were killed—‘an act much disgusted by his Excellency.’ The castle on Thomond Bridge was stormed after many hand-grenades had been thrown in; which, strange to say, failed to ignite some barrels of powder specially laid to blow up the assailants. An open arch under the drawbridge was filled up with rubbish and faggots, so that the captured work could be used against the town; but the garrison broke down other arches, and there appeared to be no chance of entering that way. As soon as the floating bridge was finished, Ireton fortified the Clare end of it, and transferred the bulk of his army to the county Limerick side. More than a dozen boats were laden with men, and an attempt was made to seize the upper end of King’s Island, upon the lower end of which a large part of Limerick stands; but here the besiegers met with a serious reverse. Four boats got over safely, under Major Walker, who had been distinguished at O’Brien’s Bridge, and three other officers. Finding no resistance at first, the men got out of hand and ran through the enemies’ line up to a fort in the middle of the island. The garrison sallied out and drove them back to their boats and to a fifth which was just coming ashore, so that nearly all were either shot or drowned. ‘We find missing,’ Ireton wrote, ‘eighty-six or eighty-seven men, besides the four commissioned officers aforementioned, and not more whatever may be reported.’ Abundant reinforcements were at hand, but before order was restored it was broad daylight, and nothing more could be done. A night attack is always risky, and Ireton acknowledges that there was mismanagement; but some of Tothill’s men who had broken faith with the enemy were among those who perished, and on that account, he adds, ‘that most justly the Lord hath rebuked us, and cast reproach and confusion of face upon us.’[211]

The next day was set apart as one of humiliation for the sins of the army, and on the following came the news that Coote had taken Athlone Castle. Great efforts were made to relieve Limerick. Muskerry had about 5000 men in Kerry, with whom he intended to join Fitzpatrick, who collected what was left of the Leinster forces at Galbally, near the Glen of Aherlow. Meanwhile, David Roche was active with some 3000 men in Clare, and Ludlow was detached to look after him. Roche, who was besieging Carrigaholt, which had been but lately taken, drew off as soon as he heard that Ludlow had passed the Fergus, and Captain Lucas took the opportunity of slipping out with his men, whom he brought safe to the Parliamentary camp. Roche then occupied the passage of the river at Inch Cronan, so as to prevent Ludlow from returning to Limerick; but his party were soon routed by a superior force of cavalry. Some skirmishing took place among woods and bogs, during which Connor O’Brien of Leamaneh, who commanded a regiment of horse, and was perhaps the most considerable person in Clare, was shot. The Irish were so light of foot that Ludlow could do but little execution; but Carrigaholt was burned or blown up, whether by him or by Roche does not seem quite certain; it was too remote to have much effect on military operations. Having dispersed the Clare gathering and made all safe on that side, Ludlow rejoined Ireton, and while the engineers were pushing on the siege works accompanied him to Killaloe, where he repaired or rebuilt the bridge. The Lord Deputy ‘rode so hard that he spoiled many horses, and hazarded some of the men; but he was so diligent in the public service, and so careless of everything that belonged to himself, that he never regarded what clothes or food he used, what hour he went to rest, or what horse he mounted.’ As a cavalry leader he might have done better by giving heed to Francesco Sforza, one of whose three leading principles was never to ride a horse that stumbled or cast its shoes.[212]

Lord Broghill thought his services had been insufficiently acknowledged, and when Cromwell left Ireland he announced that he would obey no one but Ireton and Adjutant-General Allen. Ludlow sympathised with his discontent, though he occupied in command of the cavalry the very post that Broghill coveted. This, he assured Ireton, he would never have accepted but as a matter of duty and in obedience to positive orders. He advised that something should be done to content Broghill, who, after much discussion, was appointed Lieutenant-General of the Ordnance, with the rank of a general officer. In July 1651 he was detached to intercept Muskerry, with not more than 600 foot and 400 horse as a field force; but his own troop, consisting of reformadoes or unemployed commissioned officers, was particularly efficient. Muskerry collected nearly 3000 men, of whom about one-third were cavalry or dragoons, in the woods near Drishane, where he had defeated Colonel Elsing in the previous winter, and he got over the Blackwater to Dromagh without fighting. At Castlelyons, Broghill had a message from Ireton ordering him to use every exertion to intercept the Irish army. On the 21st he went to Mallow with this object, and next day followed them towards Castle Ishin, on the border of county Limerick, coming upon their outposts at midnight in a storm of rain and wind. Muskerry doubled back to Dromagh, ‘but through a place and country that the very Teigs themselves could hardly march in,’ leaving Broghill to bar the road to Limerick. On the 24th the Irish were at Drishane again, whither Broghill followed next day, crossing the Blackwater, which had risen much from the great rain. Unable to bring them to action, he determined to return to Mallow for fresh provisions and take up a position at Courtstown, where he could watch the road to Fitzpatrick’s position at Galbally. Before they had marched half a mile the enemy suddenly appeared on the hills to his rear, and at last their whole force descended into the plain at Knockbrack, to the south of Banteer railway station. Broghill’s men fought with great alacrity, and he thought ‘better knocking’ had never been known in Ireland. One division of Irish pikemen particularly distinguished themselves, and all fought well, but, though almost surrounded by superior numbers, the veterans had the best of it. Broghill narrowly escaped with his life, which was specially aimed at, the Irish soldiers calling to each other to ‘kill the fellow with the gold-laced coat.’ He lost under thirty men killed, but there were four or five times as many wounded, and he admits that his force was extremely shattered. Having no means of keeping prisoners safely, he had given orders to make none, and at least 600 were killed, but a few officers were taken to Cork. The priests had exhorted the Irish to fight, and fortified their speech with holy water and charms, many of which were ‘found quilted in the doublets of the dead,’ and there was also a large stock of spare ones. A specimen guaranteeing the wearer against war, water, fire, and pestilence, was sent for parliamentary inspection: it claimed to have been approved by the Council of Trent, and it was supposed that the Virgin Mary would appear to the owner fourteen days before his death.[213]

The fight at Knockbrack was the last in this war which deserves the name of a battle. There was a prophecy current among the country people that there would be one on that spot, and that the English would get the day. Broghill noted that it was like Naseby, fair weather at the beginning, then a thunderstorm, and then sunshine again. It made the relief of Limerick impossible, and Ireton was justified in firing salvoes of artillery and musketry. But guerrilla warfare continued in many places, and the besiegers were always in danger of being attacked. At the end of August or beginning of September Ireton and Ludlow were both in Clare, catching horses and cows, but seldom their masters, and placing a garrison at Clonroad to curb Clare Castle. Seizing the opportunity of their absence, two thousand foot sallied out of Limerick and almost surprised the cavalry guard; but the latter ‘immediately mounted, and being not accustomed to be beaten,’ drove them back into the town. Muskerry again collected some force, but Broghill easily dispersed them, and the Irish general soon retired to Galway. Occasionally the Parliamentarians suffered small reverses. Meelick, for instance, was recaptured by Fitzpatrick at the beginning of August, the garrison being all asleep. Phelim M’Hugh O’Reilly attacked Finnea on August 5, but was beaten back with great loss; and there were other considerable bodies of the Irish still together in Leinster and Ulster. ‘I found them unwilling to fight,’ says Hewson, ‘though their numbers be great.’ But they sometimes surprised and routed small bodies of troops, and they exhausted the country and made it impossible for the people to contribute towards the support of the army. The detached Parliamentary garrisons could just hold their own, but were scarcely able to act on the offensive. Early in October Venables made an attempt on Ballinacargy, O’Reilly’s chief stronghold in Cavan, but was foiled, the Irish retreating to a bog whenever he advanced, and watching to intercept provisions, so that he had to return to Dundalk. It was evident that nothing of importance could be done as long as Limerick held out and kept the main strength of the army occupied. Even within a few miles of Dublin, Sherlock kept 2000 men among the mountains, and there was no force to attack him. Meanwhile, the coast was but carelessly guarded, no Government ships being seen between July and October. At Carrickfergus and at Wexford rovers took many English vessels out of the harbours, and it was as hard to get in the customs as the assessments from the country.[214]

After the failure of the boat attack in June, Ireton had been content to rest his hopes mainly on famine and on the plague which raged within the walls of Limerick. The garrison sometimes made signals with fire, but without result, and spies had not much chance. One poor woman brought a message from Roche, which might have caused a combined attack by the garrison and by his men in Clare, but she was caught and ‘hanged for fear of giving further intelligence.’ All attempts to escape from the doomed city were ruthlessly repressed. No threats were strong enough to deter these poor wretches, and an example was made by hanging two or three and having the rest driven back with whips. One old man desired to be hanged instead of his daughter, ‘but that,’ says Ludlow, ‘was refused, and he with the rest driven back into the town.’ A gibbet was then raised in sight of the walls upon which condemned criminals were hanged, and this stopped the exodus, but only for a time. Michaelmas came round without starving out the place, and Ireton, having greatly strengthened his battering train, resumed active operations, for the winter was approaching, and an Irish soldier boasted from the walls that snowballs would beat bombshells. But heavy guns had been brought up from the ships, and the counsels of the defenders were divided. Overtures were made to Ireton early in October, but three weeks elapsed and a fresh bombardment began before the scale turned in favour of the party of surrender. The news of Worcester had probably destroyed all hope, but an actual breach was made before the decisive step was taken. A weak spot had hitherto escaped notice, where there was no counter-scarp in front and no mass of earth behind, and Ludlow thought it would soon have been untenable; but Ireton, who had no vanity, thought the sudden surrender ‘a mercy most seasonable at the beginning of winter.’ The English and Irish accounts agree that there were two parties in the beleaguered city, and it is possible that the weak place was pointed out by a deserter or by one of the commissioners who had been going and coming between city and camp. The charter required that a new mayor should be chosen on October 6, and the election resulted in the substitution of Peter Creagh, who was peacefully inclined, for Thomas Stretch, who had sworn that the city should be defended during his year of office. After more than two months of a mere blockade, ‘we began our approaches,’ says Ireton, ‘in one night, and finished our batteries and planted our guns the second, and next morning began to batter.’[215]

The articles offered to the besieged in June and July had been on the whole favourable, but an exception was made as to those who ‘committed the murders and outrages in the first insurrection before the first General Assembly.’ The members of that first Assembly and the clergy generally were also denied all protection, so that the city contained many desperate men, who naturally prolonged the siege as far as possible. This mistake was not now repeated, but twenty-two persons were excepted by name, who were all known or believed to have deceived or overawed the generality of the people into ‘the obstinate holding out of the place.’ All spies and a single Welsh deserter were also excepted. Of those named, the most important were Hugh O’Neill, the governor, the Bishops of Emly and Limerick, Major-General Purcell, Ormonde’s old enemy, Alderman Fanning, and Geoffrey Barron, amongst the others being a few priests and friars. The corporation and the military officers met, and decided ‘that the treaty should go on, and that they should not stick for any person exempted, or to be exempted, from quarter of life or goods’; but when they met next morning to choose commissioners, the two bishops, accompanied by others of the clergy, appeared, and threatened to excommunicate them all ‘if they should deliver up the prelates to be slaughtered.’ But the danger was too pressing and ecclesiastical censures had become too common, so that the commissioners were named nevertheless. The sentence of excommunication and a perpetual interdict of the city were posted on the church doors, whereupon Colonel Fennell and others were sent to seize St. John’s Gate and the adjoining tower. O’Neill remonstrated, but Fennell said he had orders from the mayor and chief citizens. The governor, whose military authority at least had hitherto been unquestioned, then summoned a court-martial, but Fennell refused to appear. Lord Castleconnell took his part, so that no sentence was passed; and Fennell, who had the keys and some powder from the mayor, turned the guns upon the town, and said plainly that he would not leave his post until surrender was decided on. At last Ireton’s preparations were complete, and seventeen heavy shot were discharged with great effect against one spot in the wall, whereupon a drum was sent out and negotiations began in earnest. Two hundred ‘redcoats’ were admitted by Fennell into the gate-tower, and on October 27 the articles of capitulation were signed. According to one account, Fennell even threatened O’Neill with a pistol, when that brave soldier rode out alone and delivered his sword to Ireton himself, who treated him honourably. Fennell was not among the twenty-two specially exempted from the benefit of the articles, but they did not protect him or others ‘from prosecution to justice in a judicial way for any crimes they might be guilty of.’ There is perhaps no positive evidence against him, though he has always been considered a traitor by writers on the Irish side. He was accused of a plot to give up Clonmel; and Castlehaven, who is not much given to calling names, accuses him of cowardice or treachery in quitting his post at Killaloe and flying to Limerick, after the fall of which, ‘Ireton, with more than his usual justice, hanged him. Some say he was carried to Cork and there pleaded for his defence how he had betrayed me before Youghal; but his judges would not hear him on his merits, but bid him clear himself of the murders laid to his charge.’[216]

Soldiers and citizens were allowed to go free, and time was given to remove personal property, but without any guarantee for lands or houses; and Ireton evidently contemplated a partial colonisation. The garrison of 2000 had been reduced to about 1200, who marched out after giving up their arms, and the city contained about 4000 other men capable of bearing arms, though about 5000 persons had perished ‘by the sword without and the famine and plague within.’ He was inclined to spare those who had not shown themselves irreconcilable; but there would still be plenty of room for settlers. In the meantime, he had himself to deal with as many of the excepted persons as he could catch. Besides the governor, ten of them voluntarily surrendered, and their fate was reserved for further consideration. Some of the others were not caught, among them the Bishop of Limerick, who escaped in a soldier’s dress, joined Muskerry in Kerry, and died at Brussels in 1654. Ireton did not regret this, as he found that he had not been one of the violent party; he had formerly been well disposed to Ormonde. The Bishop of Emly took refuge in the pest-house, where he was quickly taken and hanged by order of a court-martial. He had been the soul of the defence all along, and has always been regarded as a martyr by those of his own faith. His head was placed over one of the gates, as were those of Stretch and of Purcell, who alone behaved in a pusillanimous manner. Five or six others were executed, including a priest named Walsh, who served as a captain, Sir Geoffrey Gallwey, Geoffrey Baron, and Dr. Higgins, a physician who, according to the military diarist, was ‘powder-maker and money-coiner to the besieged.’[217]

Hugh O’Neill was the last of that great clan who played an important part in Irish history, and he bore himself worthily. Ireton seems to have treated him personally with courtesy, but he influenced the court-martial against him because of the blood shed through his defence of Clonmel. He pleaded that the war had gone on long before he came upon the invitation of his countrymen, that he had always been a fair enemy, and that he had often advised the townsmen not to prolong a conflict which he had seen to be hopeless from the first; that he had carefully observed the capitulation by surrendering all stores, ‘without embezzlement, and his own person to the Deputy’; and that he was entitled to the benefit of the articles. Many of the officers, including Ludlow, accepted his defence, and Ireton, ‘who was now entirely freed from his former manner of adhering to his own opinion, which had been observed to be his greatest infirmity,’ allowed a third vote after sentence of death had been twice passed. He was acquitted, sent to England in the same ship that carried Ireton’s embalmed body, and well treated in the Tower. After a few months he was released at the instance of the Spanish ambassador, on the ground that he was born in Flanders a vassal of the King of Spain, that he was not concerned in the first outbreak in Ireland ‘nor in the excesses which were committed at that time,’ and that he would be very useful in managing the Irish soldiers whom the Commonwealth allowed to be recruited for the Spanish service; and in the end this was agreed to. After the Restoration he wrote to Charles II. pointing out that his cousin John’s death had made him Earl of Tyrone, and asking the King to acknowledge him as such. The attainder was, of course, not reversed, and O’Neill, who was in bad health when he wrote, probably died not long after. The title of Earl of Tyrone was conferred on Lord Power in 1673.[218]