Geoffrey Barron had been sent early in 1642 to solicit Richelieu’s help for the Confederacy, and he had remained throughout one of its most irreconcileable partisans. He now pleaded that he had fought for the liberties of his country just as the English Puritans professed to do. Ireton thought it answer enough to say that Ireland was a conquered country, that the Irish had been only too well treated under Charles I., notwithstanding which they had robbed and murdered the English wholesale, and that in the matter of religion the Puritans fought to preserve their natural rights, whereas the Roman Catholics ‘would not be contented unless they might have power to compel all others to submit to their impositions upon pain of death.’ The two points of view were hopelessly opposed, and the court-martial were satisfied with the Lord Deputy’s reasoning. During the short time that was left to him Barron is said to have looked out a wedding suit of white taffety, in which he was hanged, in the belief that his soul would ‘straight enjoy the pleasures of heaven, in the consummation of that eternal nuptial felicity.’[219]

Starvation had not done its work as Ireton had expected, but no horses were found in Limerick at its surrender, and they had probably been eaten. The besiegers commanded the estuary, and were in no want of provisions, but the waste among the men must have been considerable, less by actual fighting than by hardship and sickness. Reinforcements had, however, been poured into Ireland during the summer, and Ireton makes no complaint of insufficient numbers. An Act passed in April authorised the impressment of 10,000 men, and was not suffered to remain a dead letter. As early as June 25 nearly that number had been landed at Dublin or Waterford. They were of three classes, drafts from English garrisons, pressed men, and volunteer recruits. Some were too young for the work, and these were mainly among the volunteers. Money and ammunition was also ungrudgingly supplied, and no time was lost in following up the capture of Limerick. On November 1 Ludlow marched out to Inchecronan with 2000 foot and 1500 horse, and on the 4th, after some parleying, Clare Castle surrendered. Though very strong, it was evidently untenable now that the great siege was over. The guns lost in July were recovered, and about 230 men marched out with the honours of war and with power to go where they pleased. Those who desired protection were to have it, ‘except Romish priests, Jesuits, and friars.’ Carrigaholt also surrendered and was garrisoned, after which the whole of Clare was at the mercy of Parliament. Ireton joined Ludlow, and they visited the barony of Burren, ‘where there is not water to drown a man, wood enough to hang one, nor earth enough to bury him,’ but good pasture between the rocks. In riding through the Corofin district towards Ennis most of the horses cast their shoes among the crags; they carried spare ones, yet a single shoe was sold for five shillings before night. Next morning came Lady Honora O’Brien, youngest daughter of the late Earl of Thomond and niece of his successor, who was accused of harbouring the enemies’ goods and cattle while herself enjoying the Lord Deputy’s protection. Ireton rebuked her, whereupon ‘she burst into tears, promising to mend her ways’, and begging Ludlow’s intercession, which was successful. ‘As much a cynic as I am,’ said Ireton, ‘the tears of this woman moved me.’[220]

The weather was very bad during this journey in Clare, and both generals caught bad colds. Ludlow’s constitution triumphed, and he lived till 1692, but Ireton succumbed. In spite of entreaties he had neglected his health during the siege, not putting ‘off his clothes all that time, except to change his linen,’ and never resting, though he was in a burning fever. Sir Robert King wondered that he was not as mad as a March hare, ‘pen, tongue, head or both, or all, incessantly at work.’ Ludlow was not with him when he died, and we have few particulars. In announcing his loss to Cromwell, the Commissioners call him an incomparable man, and it is certain that he had a high sense of duty and that he was not a self-seeker. Clarendon and others have thought that his republicanism might have prevented Cromwell’s rise to supreme power, but of this there is no evidence. There have been equally vain speculations as to whether Mirabeau, had he lived, could have stopped the French Revolution. Ireton had signed the death-warrant, and as a regicide was of course against restoring the Stuarts, but he was not a theoretical republican, though he would have disliked the supremacy of the army.[221]

CHAPTER XXXV

LAST PHASE OF THE WAR, 1652

Ireton wished to press on to Galway, and Ludlow thought it could easily be brought to surrender while the garrison were ‘under a great consternation by the loss of Limerick.’ But there was much sickness in the army, and officers generally were unwilling to begin another troublesome campaign in November. Coote, who had been for some time blockading Galway on the east side, came to the camp and gave his opinion against immediate action. He did not believe the place could be taken without attacking it on both sides. A bridge had been prepared for the short river between Lough Corrib and the sea, but the right bank was strongly fortified, and it would be impossible to throw it across. It would be necessary to go all round by Cong, where Clanricarde lay with 3000 men. Even if the passage were forced many rivers lay in the way, none of which were fordable in case of heavy rain, while horses could only be led from Cong to Aghenure near Oughterard, and from that on to Galway they could not travel at all. There was no forage in the country, and food and ammunition would have to be carried on the men’s backs. This reasoning prevailed, and Ireton wrote from before Clare Castle merely to offer the same terms as had been tendered to Limerick in July: ‘I will not,’ he said, alluding to what had happened at Waterford, ‘now do you the courtesy to summon you at such a distance, because your gravity once chid me for it as unadvisedly, but for the good men’s sake of the city who perhaps may not be so angry in the notion of a soldier’s honour, as to understand the quibbles of it ... though men of your unhappy breeding think such glorious trifling worth the sacrificing or venturing of other men’s lives.’ He desired him therefore on peril of his head to communicate the offer made to the citizens. It was easy for Preston to answer that he fought in a good cause and that Ireton was risking men’s lives in a bad one, while his head and those of his friends were as ‘unsettled on their shoulders as any in the town.’ The mayor and aldermen answered in the same strain; and Ireton died a fortnight after the date of their letter. Ludlow was in Dublin at the moment, and the Commissioners made him commander-in-chief until the pleasure of Parliament should be further known.[222]

When Axtell left Ireland after his suspension by Ireton, he was captured by a rover at sea and carried to Scilly, then full of Irish soldiers who wished to kill him, the cause of his voyage having been made known by an intercepted letter from Weaver. Grenville or those about him knew that the islands could not be much longer in Royalist hands, and they feared retaliation. Axtell was therefore spared, and was back in Ireland and governor of Kilkenny soon after Ireton’s death. Blake occupied the little archipelago not many weeks later, Bishop Henry Leslie being among those whom he found there. ‘By the articles,’ the Bishop wrote, ‘I am to have my pass to go unto the North of Ireland, that is to say out of the frying pan into the fire; for there I shall be in more danger of the Scots than of the Parliament soldiers.’ In either company he was sure that his soul would be more vexed than Lot’s was in Sodom. As to the Irish soldiers, it was agreed that they should be sent to Ireland, recruited up to 2000, and disposed of as the King wished. Blake offered to take them all into Dunkirk and keep them there till Grenville could arrange for France or Spain, he giving his word of honour never to employ them against the Parliament. This was refused, and Grenville remained in England, most of the Irish soldiers probably finding their way abroad.[223]

During the winter of 1651 and 1652 there was thought to be some danger that the Dutch would retaliate for the Navigation Act by landing foreign troops in Ireland, facilitating instead of opposing the embarkation of the Duke of Lorraine, who was still expected long after he had abandoned his scheme. A general meeting of officers was held at Kilkenny just before Christmas, Coote having already been authorised to give the same terms to Galway as had already been offered to Limerick, provided they were accepted by January 9. It was now evident that all the strong places must soon be taken, and the deliberations at Kilkenny were chiefly directed against the guerrilla warfare, which was still formidable. The nature of the problem is set forth with great clearness in a report by Ludlow and his three colleagues in the Government to the Council of State. The great bogs were the chief difficulty. There are in these wastes many dry islands which were then generally wooded, and between them causeways along which horses could only go in single file. From such places the rebels could sally out at any time to harry the protected districts, thus depriving the army of its resources, while it was easy for them to secure their plunder. They were used to living in cabins and wading among swamps, where the English soldiers were a prey to dysentery from wet and cold. Ireton had successfully used rice to combat this disease, and large quantities were provided later by the London Government.

The soldiers were always ignorant of the designs and movements of the combatant Irish, for whom the country people acted as scouts, being ‘possessed of an opinion that the Parliament intend them no terms of mercy and therefore endeavouring to preserve them as those that stand between them and danger.’ It was estimated that 30,000 men were still in arms among the Irish, a few in garrisons, but for the most part lurking among woods and bogs. The plan adopted to subdue them was to make a Pale from the Boyne to the Barrow, and to destroy the means of subsistence elsewhere. No smiths, harness-makers, or armourers were allowed to ply their trade outside of garrisons, no beer, wine, or spirits might be sold nor fairs and markets held beyond those limits. The county of Wicklow, with parts of Dublin, Kildare, and Carlow, was outside the new Pale and excluded from protection. All who resided within the doomed area after February 28 were to be treated as enemies, but permitted to live and graze their stock upon such waste or untenanted lands as might be assigned to them in the protected region. As soon as the appointed day had passed, Ludlow himself went to Talbotstown to plant a garrison, and then carefully searched Wicklow with horse and foot. Few people were met with, for they had look-out men on every hill, but all the houses and stores of corn were burned. ‘He was an idle soldier,’ wrote one officer, ‘that had not either a fat lamb, veal, pig, poultry, or all of them every night to his supper ... we have destroyed as much as would have served some thousands of them until next harvest.’[224]

The day fixed for the surrender of Galway with the benefit of the first articles offered to Limerick was allowed to pass, and Clanricarde on behalf of many of the nobility and clergy ‘with the corporation of Galway’ made proposals for a general peace. He was fain to profess, though he could hardly believe, that succours would come from his Majesty and allies; if these failed, he and the assembly for whom he acted were prepared to sell their lives as dearly as possible. Ludlow answered from Dublin ten days later that it belonged to Parliament to grant terms, that those who had already long since refused to hear reason could hardly be admitted at the eleventh hour, and that they were relying upon ‘vain and groundless expectations.’ He believed that moderate terms would still be granted in individual cases, but refused to grant a safe conduct for commissioners pretending to represent the general body in arms. Clanricarde did his best to prolong the resistance of Galway, but left the town when he saw that the inhabitants were not prepared to endure extremities. A sortie to gather cattle led to heavy loss, and of two corn ships which attempted to relieve the besieged one was taken and the other forced upon the rocks of Arran. The town was, however, not invested on the west, and there was always a chance that reinforcements or supplies might be introduced from that side. Coote thought the place very strong, and was inclined even to exceed his authority in granting comparatively easy terms.[225]

There were dissensions within the walls of Galway as there had been at Limerick, and it is not easy to make out exactly what took place. The indefatigable Dean King left Charles at Stirling in June, just after Ireton had crossed the Shannon and when Coote had been some time in Connaught. He landed near Londonderry on the 20th and found his way to Galway by July 2. Bishop Lynch and others of the clergy tried to make out that he had not been with the King, and that his commission was a trick of Ormonde’s. This was easily disproved, and clerical help was promised on condition that the chiefs of the old Irish in Connaught should be made colonels. Ten were so promoted, but not one of them could muster over 500 men, and every one thought of little but defending his own castle. These petty strongholds were daily taken with the pick of the Irish soldiers inside. The Ulster forces for the most part disregarded Clanricarde’s summons, while those of Leinster, 3000 foot and 500 horse, dwindled daily and lived upon the spoil of the country, as there was no money to pay them, so that he thought it better to let them go back to their own province under the nominal generalship of Lord Westmeath. The only force upon which the unfortunate Deputy could rely was raised in his own county of Galway, and with these he kept an eye upon Coote’s army. Dean King found that the clergy generally, headed by Bourke of Tuam and French of Ferns, were hostile to the King’s government and anxious only for an accommodation with the Parliament, in which they were supported by the Prestons father and son, by Sir Nicholas Plunket, and by Geoffrey Brown. The expectation of the Lorraine succours had paralysed all the Irish parties, so that no one exerted himself. The little that had been sent by the ducal pretender had been wasted or embezzled; ‘20,000l. whereof 6000l. defalked for the charge of the negotiations,’ 1000 stand of arms, 1000 barrels of badly damaged rye, and ‘thirty barrels of powder, the worst in the world.’ To make confusion worse confounded, some of the bishops were using Rinuccini’s old excommunication to crush their opponents. There were nevertheless nearly 30,000 men under arms, but no means of keeping them together, and there were many harbours still open in Connaught and Munster through which money and stores might be introduced. Dean King left Ireland on February 16 and reported to Charles at Paris on April 1; but the battle of Worcester had been fought and lost, and no help came.[226]

Clanricarde did what he could to prolong the defence of Galway, but the citizens could not see that there was anything to gain by it. He had agreed to approach Ludlow with proposals for a general pacification, but was determined to resist as long as he could. The town therefore acted without consulting him, though he was in the neighbourhood, and the articles of surrender contain no mention of King, Lord Lieutenant, or Deputy. Fear of famine and of hard terms when the inevitable end came were sufficient inducements to surrender, and there is no reason to suppose that Galway was betrayed in the common sense of the words, though in 1656 some of the inhabitants claimed special indulgence on the ground that they had favoured the English interest throughout the war, and had thereby ‘contracted a malice from those of their own nation’ among whom they had to live. Coote has a bad name on the score of severity, but he and many of those with him had estates in Ireland, and some of them in Connaught, and they did not see with the same eyes as those who were bent upon planting new settlers everywhere. The extreme Independents called Coote and his men ‘Tame Tories,’ and there was jealousy of his position as President of Connaught. Ireton thought the provincial presidencies should be abolished, as an unnecessary burden to State and country, and the Commissioners in Dublin were of the same opinion. One hot-headed captain of the Munster army attached to that of Connaught wrote to say that Ireland being almost reduced, there was little left to do but to ‘fall on Sir Charles Coote and his ‘Tame Rebels.’’ The letter was intercepted, and Coote imprisoned the writer, whose curious defence was that many others agreed with him. Ludlow released him and blamed Coote for exercising authority over an officer not belonging to his province. From all this the Royalists had hopes, and no doubt Coote had never been a republican, but they had to wait several years for their realisation. In the meantime he was glad to get hold of Galway upon almost any terms.[227]

The conditions actually granted were not hard, and the Commissioners in Dublin thought them too easy. Quarter and freedom from pillage and military violence were granted to all, as long as they obeyed the Commonwealth of England, and were not guilty of murder before March 19, 1642, when a state of war began to exist in Galway. The murderers of Captain Clark’s crew were excepted by name. All who wished to depart were given six months to sell such property as they did not carry away. This extended to clergymen provided their names were given in before the actual surrender, but in their case no protection was to be given after that time. Where property within the city and liberties was sold one-third was to go to the State, and the rest to be freed from extraordinary taxation, and this principle was extended with qualifications to lands possessed by the townsmen elsewhere. The charter was maintained until Parliament should otherwise direct; and Coote promised to get a ratification within twenty days by the Dublin Government and legislative confirmation in England as soon as possible. A fort on Mutton Island and another opposite Tirellan were surrendered at once, and the town, after one week’s delay, on April 12, when Coote took actual possession. The news reached Dublin on the 11th, and the Commissioners there at once took exception to some of the articles. They objected, and so far we can sympathise with them, to any indemnity for murder committed ‘by or upon any person not being in arms.’ They insisted on the power of compulsorily purchasing land or houses in the town when Parliament considered their owners unsafe persons to remain; in which case they would have to remove within three months. The protection as to outside property was considered too absolute, and should be left for parliamentary decision, and some minor matters were also reserved. An express was at once sent to insist on the amendment of the articles, with orders that the capitulation should be suspended until this was done, but when the messenger reached Galway he found the English garrison installed. The ratification of the articles was made dependent on the acceptance of the revised terms, but it can hardly be said that the condition was fulfilled. Only eight heads of families could be found to sign the certificate of assent, while over one hundred refused; and there were nearly a hundred absentees. Coote apologised for his mistake, but maintained that he had nevertheless done the best thing for the State. If he had not closed with the besieged there were great chances of the town being relieved, ‘so that it might have kept all your forces this summer in those parts to attend that service.’[228]

Clanricarde on his part announced that ‘Galway having basely and perfidiously yielded,’ he would resist while he could, and gave earnest of his determination by sending away Castlehaven in his only frigate, thus leaving himself no means of escape. He summoned Westmeath and O’Ferrall from Leinster, Muskerry from Munster, and O’Reilly from Ulster to join him in Sligo or Leitrim and ‘unite in one clear score for God, our King, and country.’ Galway Bay was full of Parliamentary ships, so Castlehaven had to go first to Innisbofin and embark from there. He was chased, and had a smart fight at sea, but was saved by thick weather. Arthur Magennis, Bishop of Down, a nephew of Owen Roe O’Neill, died during the action ‘by the wind of a bullet, for fear,’ having no wound. Castlehaven got safely to Brest, and thence to Paris or St. Germain’s, where he saw the King and Queen and Ormonde. As French affairs then stood nothing could be done, and he joined Condé as a volunteer, after which he commanded an Irish brigade of about 5000 men. As late as 1680 he published his memoirs, confessedly to show that he was always a good Royalist and not to be confounded with the Irish ‘as a confederate Catholic, which in plain English is a rebel.’ Lord Anglesey, the son of Strafford’s Mountnorris, who was a great gainer by the Restoration settlement, reviewed Castlehaven’s pleasant little book, saying that ‘by a providence from heaven to the English the marquesses of Ormonde and Clanricarde, his Majesty’s chief governors, encouraged the Irish to keep up a war against the English, wherein they were so much hardened to their ruin, that they were at length entirely subdued without condition to any save for life, and left to be as miserable as they had made others in all respects.’[229]

It had long been evident to Clanricarde, as well as to Ormonde and his friends abroad, that the power of the Parliament would establish itself in Ireland. But it was their policy to keep the flag of Royalty flying as long as possible, on the chance of some foreign complication. That this stubborn attitude increased the ultimate sufferings of the Irish masses is very probable. As early as the beginning of February, Charles, with many expressions of gratitude and confidence, gave Clanricarde free leave to quit Ireland when he thought fit, but adding that ‘the keeping up of the war there in any kind, either offensive or defensive, is of the highest importance to us and our service that can be performed; as the contrary would be of the greatest prejudice to all our designs.’ Six weeks later he wrote holding out hopes of further help from the Duke of Lorraine, and directing that no declaration should be issued which might increase the friction with the clerical party. The two letters reached Clanricarde together in the following August, when they were too late to have any significance. Meanwhile, in May, a second letter was given to Castlehaven, and forwarded by a sure hand, authorising the Deputy to leave his post at any time. This letter, though apparently not extant, probably reached its destination much sooner than the other two, and justified Clanricarde in making terms when he did. In the meantime, he succeeded in getting a considerable force together, with which, after blowing up several castles, he swooped down upon the fort at Ballyshannon and took it by assault, dismissing the survivors unhurt and substituting his own garrison of 300 men. He took Donegal also, but the success was only transient, for he had no means of feeding his men but by seizing cattle, and thus involuntarily making the task of the Parliamentarians easier. Venables came up from Down to join Coote, and they soon took Sligo and retook the other two places, giving punctual quarter in their turn. At the end of June the Lord Deputy, who, Ludlow says, was practically surrounded in the island of Carrick, made terms for himself, but none for his vast estates. He was left free to go abroad where he pleased with not more than twenty servants, to remain in Ireland for three months, and to enlist 3000 men for foreign service. In the meantime he was to divest himself of his viceregal authority and do no hostile act. Six weeks later he was excepted by Act of the English Parliament from pardon for life and estate, but was nevertheless left unmolested at his own place at Somerhill in Kent. His health had never been good, and was not improved by his campaigning, but he lived till 1657, and was buried in Tonbridge Church. He was not a great general, but to most people he appeared, and still appears, as a loyal and worthy man. To the ultramontane clergy of his own day he was, as an independent Catholic who cared little for a nuncio’s censures, more hateful even than the heretic Ormonde. Bishop French says he put Cæsar before God, and Bishop Lynch that the Ulster men refused to follow him because he disdained to receive absolution from Rinuccini’s excommunication. The British officer so often quoted says, on the contrary, that the Irish were well satisfied with him as true both to King and Church, ‘being a good Roman Catholic,’ and that he surrendered only because he could not fight Coote and Venables combined. ‘Neither, indeed, was he ever practised in that trade [war], though a very fine, devout, liberal, hospitable gentleman, as any is in Ireland in his time, as I have heard many aver.’[230]