Home > Authors Index > George Alfred Henty > Orange and Green: A Tale of the Boyne and Limerick > This page
Orange and Green: A Tale of the Boyne and Limerick, a fiction by George Alfred Henty |
||
Chapter 16. Peace |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
|
|
________________________________________________
_ Ginckle's expedition across the Shannon, and his surprise of the Irish cavalry camp, successful as it had been, altered the position in no way. Several days passed, and then, after a council of war, it was determined to recross the bridge of boats, which remained undisturbed, to the Clare side, and try to force a way across Thomond Bridge. On the 22nd of September, all the cavalry of the army, ten regiments of infantry, and fourteen pieces of cannon made the passage without molestation, and marched towards the bridge, which was defended upon the Clare side by two strong towers. As the British advanced guard of infantry approached the bridge, it was charged by a body of Irish horse, broken, and driven back. A strong body of cavalry rode up to support the infantry; the Irish horse were reinforced, and a hot fight continued until, at about four o'clock in the afternoon, the whole force of British infantry came up, and the Irish retired upon the infantry posted in the works which covered the bridge. Near the gate were high grounds cut up by gravel pits. The Irish infantry were posted here, as well as in the forts; and the English, as they advanced, were assailed with a very heavy fire from these positions, and also from the guns on the town walls. In spite of the heavy loss they were suffering, the English pressed on with the greatest gallantry. Success was now almost a necessity, for, if defeated, but few of them would ever have been able to recross the river. Foot by foot they fought their way, pressed on past the outworks, and pushed back the Irish infantry, till the latter were gathered round the head of the bridge. The Irish generals had thought that Ginckle's movement was but a repetition of the previous raid, and the force that had been sent over to guard the head of the bridge was altogether insufficient to withstand the determined attack by Ginckle's force. Reinforcements were now sent across the bridge, but this only added to the confusion. Pressed back by the weight and power of the English attack, the Irish were beginning to retire across the bridge, when they met the reinforcements making their way over. The bridge was of great length, but extremely narrow, and a complete block took place. The English had pierced their way through the struggling mass at the head of the bridge, and pressed on the rear of the mass of fugitives, literally hewing their way through them, and the pressure became so great that the regiments crossing were carried back. The head of the British column was pushed forward by those behind, and could only advance by slaying those in front of them and throwing their bodies over the bridge; for the mass were wedged so tightly that movement had now become impossible, while the Irish, as they retreated, formed ramparts of the slain and impeded the advance of the enemy. While the struggle on the bridge was at its fiercest, the French officer who commanded at the drawbridge across the arch nearest to the city, fearing that the British would press in at the rear of the Irish, and that he might not then be able to raise the drawbridge, ordered this to be done at once--thereby cutting off the retreat of the soldiers still on the bridge. These jumped over the parapet into the river, and strove to reach the city wall by swimming. Some did so, but great numbers were drowned. This incident greatly increased the standing feud between the Irish and French, the former declaring that the latter not only never fought themselves, but were ready, at the first alarm, to sacrifice their allies in order to secure their own safety. The success of Ginckle's second raid had been complete, in so far that he had inflicted great slaughter upon the Irish infantry, and had gained a moral victory; but he was no nearer capturing the town. An attack across the long narrow bridge was not even to be thought of; and he again retired across the river. The Irish were disheartened. Sarsfield, though a dashing cavalry commander, appeared wholly incapable of handling large bodies of men. Ginckle had twice given him a great opportunity, but on neither occasion had he made the slightest effort to utilize it. On the first occasion, surprise and uncertainty might excuse inaction on the part of the army in Limerick, but there was no such excuse the second time. Their force outside the town gate was but a small one; it was certain that the English could not push across the bridge; and, as Ginckle had taken the best part of his army across, Sarsfield could have issued out with his whole force on the Limerick side, crushed the British force remaining there, and captured the camp and all its stores--in which case Ginckle's position would have been desperate. But not a movement was made to seize an opportunity which would have been patent to any military commander possessing genius and energy; nor, until it was too late, was any attempt made to reinforce the detachment which, on the other side of the bridge, was withstanding the attack of a vastly superior force. Ginckle, relying upon the moral effect of the blow he had just struck, renewed his negotiations. Some of the Irish leaders had already received bribes. Others were genuinely anxious that the war should cease, now that William was ready to grant terms which would secure the ends for which they had been fighting. Others, again, were animated by hostility to the French, and the fear that, if the expected reinforcements arrived and the English were driven out, Ireland would become a mere appanage of France. Sarsfield himself was, no doubt, swayed by his dislike to being again superseded in the command by the arrival of another French general. He was, too, influenced by the fear that the peace party might prevail, and that Clifford's act of treachery might be repeated, and the enemy be admitted into the city without any terms being arranged. The French officers, eager to return home, made no attempt to stem the course of events; and, on the evening of the day after the battle on the Clare side, the drums of the besieged beat a parley, and Generals Sarsfield and Waughup went out and had a conference with Ginckle. A cessation of arms was concluded for the night; and in the morning the truce was extended for three days, to allow the cavalry, who were now encamped near Ennis, to be communicated with. On the 25th, the principal noblemen and officers from the cavalry camp arrived, prisoners were exchanged, and hostages on both sides were given, until the terms of a treaty of peace could be adjusted. On the 27th, the Irish submitted their proposals to the English general, which were--that "all past offences should be pardoned; that the Catholics of the counties of Cork, Limerick, Kerry, Clare, Sligo, and Mayo be restored to the estates which they held previous to the war; freedom of worship to be allowed; Catholics to be capable of holding all employments, civil and military; the Irish army to be kept on foot, and those who were willing to serve to be received into the king's service; Catholics to be at liberty to reside in all cities and towns, and to have all rights of citizens; and that an act of parliament should be passed to confirm these conditions." These terms were agreed to, and were held to be applicable, not only to the garrison of Limerick, but to the whole of Ireland. Ginckle at once sent an express to Cork, to order the transports in that harbour to sail round to the Shannon, for the purpose of taking on board such part of the Irish army as might wish to be carried to France--this being one of the stipulations of the treaty. Sarsfield and most of his officers, and the priests, used their utmost efforts to persuade the soldiers to enter the French service, in preference to the English. Their exhortations were successful. Only about two thousand Irish joined the British army, four thousand laid down their arms and returned to their homes, and a considerable number deserted on their march down to Cork. The rest were shipped in transports to France, where they entered the service of that country. Two days after the treaty was signed, the French fleet, with ten thousand men and a great abundance of stores, arrived at the mouth of the Shannon. The Irish negotiators of the treaty have been greatly and deservedly blamed, inasmuch as, while they stipulated that the proprietors of the neighbouring counties should retain their estates, they abandoned those possessing property throughout the rest of Ireland to ruin and beggary. There was no excuse for this. They knew that the French fleet had sailed, and must have arrived in a few days, and that the English cause was becoming so desperate that Ginckle would not have resisted any terms they had laid down. This cruel and wholly unnecessary desertion of their friends has thrown a slur upon the memory of Sarsfield and the other leaders who conducted the negotiations. The officers and men who entered the service of France had bitter reason to repent their decision. Instead of being, as they expected, kept together in regiments, they were for the most part broken up and distributed throughout the French army. Louis was deeply enraged at the surrender, just as the expedition he had made such efforts to send for the conquest of Ireland was within a few hours' sail of its shores, and he treated the whole of the Irish and French who returned from Ireland as men who had acted the part of traitors. As soon as the terms of capitulation were arranged, Captain Davenant obtained papers of protection for all the men of his troop. He had formed them up on parade, and had put the question, whether they wished to return home or to enter the service of France. "I myself, and your officers, intend to return home," he said. "Of course, each of you is free to do as he chooses; but it appears to me a most foolish thing to leave your country forever, and exile yourself in the service of France, when you are free to return home. You know how little French promises have been kept during this war, and how little faith is to be placed on them in future." The men were unanimous in their decision to return to their homes, and, as soon as the protection papers were obtained, the troop disbanded, and all returned to their homes and occupations in and around Bray. It was a joyful meeting, when Captain Davenant and Walter returned to the castle. Mrs. Davenant had always shared her husband's opinion, that the chances of ultimate success were small, and of late even his mother had given up hope, and both were delighted that their anxieties were at last over, and husband and son restored to them in safety. There was an immense deal to tell on both sides, for it was months since any letter had passed between them. "We have everything to be thankful for," Mrs. Davenant said, when the stories on both sides had been told, "and it seems to me that it is, to no slight extent, due to Walter that we have passed so well through the last two troubled years. It was Jabez Whitefoot who first stood our friend, and who saved the castle from being burned, and his goodwill was earned by Walter's friendship with his son. Then Mr. Conyers stood between us and the council, who would certainly have confiscated everything, had it not been for him. And, although he always expressed himself as greatly indebted to you also, he said that, so far as he understood from his wife, it was to Walter's foresight and arrangement that his wife and daughter owed their rescue. "How was it that Walter was so forward in the matter, Fergus?" "Walter was perhaps more particularly interested in the matter than I was," Captain Davenant said, with a smile. "His thoughts were running in that direction." Walter coloured up, and Mrs. Davenant, who was looking at him with some surprise, at her husband's words, broke into a laugh. "You don't mean to say, Walter, that you have been falling in love, at your age?" "You forget, dear," Captain Davenant said, coming to Walter's rescue, "that Walter is no longer a boy. Three years of campaigning have made a man of him, and, I venture to think, an earnest and thoughtful one. He is, it is true, only nineteen, but he has seen as much, and gone through as much, as men double his age. He has, upon several occasions, evinced an amount of coolness and judgment in danger which has earned him the approbation even of General Sarsfield, a man not easily satisfied." "I don't mean to hurt your feelings, Walter," Mrs. Davenant said; "but of course, it is difficult for me, at first, to realize that while you have been away you have changed from a boy into a man." "I don't mind, mother dear," Walter said, "and you can laugh at me as much as you like." "And is there anything in what your father says?" Mrs. Davenant asked, as she passed her hand fondly over Walter's head, as he sat on a low stool beside her. "Yes, mother," he answered manfully. "I am engaged to Claire Conyers. I have her mother's consent, but what Mr. Conyers will think about it, I don't know. He must know long before this, for Mrs. Conyers said that she should tell him, as soon as he joined them in England." Mrs. Davenant leaned over, and kissed her son. "The Conyers are of good family," old Mrs. Davenant said, "although they did come over with Cromwell. I do not think that is any objection to a son of our house marrying into theirs." Captain Davenant laughed. "No objection at all, on our side, mother. Any objection is likely to be on the other side, not on the ground of family, but on that of property. Claire Conyers is one of the richest heiresses in Ireland, while Walter's inheritance can scarcely be termed extensive." Two months later, Captain Davenant received a letter from Mr. Conyers, saying that he had arrived with his wife and daughter at Dublin on the previous day, and should be glad to make his acquaintance, and that of his son. "My wife," he said, "has informed me of certain love passages, which have taken place between Claire and your son, and I shall be glad to talk to you concerning them." Captain Davenant and Walter at once rode over to Dublin, the latter full of delight, and yet with a considerable amount of trepidation as to the interview between his father and Mr. Conyers. His mind was, however, speedily put at rest, for upon entering, Mr. Conyers at once took him by the hand, and said: "I am glad, indeed, of the opportunity of thanking you, in person, for the inestimable service you rendered to my wife and daughter. I find, from my wife, that Claire has discovered a means of repaying you for your service, and as her happiness is, she tells me, dependent on my giving my consent to the plan, I tell you at once that I do so, very heartily. I think you had better wait for a while, say two or three years, but we need not settle that at present. "Come here, Claire." He placed the girl's hand in Walter's. "Take her," he said, "and make her happy." The next day, Mr. Conyers, with his wife and daughter, accompanied Captain Davenant and Walter back to Davenant Castle, where they stayed for some days. The Whitefoots did not long remain neighbours of the Davenants. Old Zephaniah had passed away, ere the peace was signed, and, soon after Captain Davenant returned, Jabez called at the castle. "We are going away," he said. "John has made up his mind to become a trader, in London, and Hannah and I would be lonely without him, and, moreover, we are both weary of our life here, and have far more than enough money laid by for our needs, and for giving John the means of entering some well-established firm, when the time shall come. As to the lands here, they are ours now; but the next turn of the wheel might give them back to you. Besides, we do not wish to be troubled with their care. I therefore intend to revert to the offer which you made me, when the Parliament restored the land to you. I have received a good offer for our house and farm, and this I have accepted. The rest of the estates I hand back to you, from whom they were taken by the sword. My wife wishes this, as well as myself. John is eager that it should be so. He will be glad that his friend should be heir to the estates of his ancestors." "But we could not accept such a generous offer," Captain Davenant exclaimed. "It is out of all reason." "That I know not, friend Davenant; but I know that I, and my wife and John, have so made up our minds, and we are of a race not given to change. The land would but be an incumbrance and a trouble to us. John would far rather make his path in life, as he chooses it, than live upon the rents of ill-gotten lands. You will receive your own again, and all parties will be satisfied." Nothing could alter the resolution Jabez and his wife and son had taken, and so the Davenant estates came back to their former possessors. Three years after the conclusion of peace, Walter became Claire Conyers' husband, and in time succeeded to the wide estates of Mr. Conyers, as well as those of the Davenants. Godfrey Davenant, on attaining the age of eighteen, obtained, through Colonel L'Estrange's interest, a commission in the English army, fought under Marlborough in the fierce campaign in Flanders, and fell at the battle of Oudenarde. Happily, during the lifetime of Walter and Claire Davenant, there was never any renewal of trouble in Ireland, and they lived to see their children and grandchildren grow up around them, in peace and happiness. John Whitefoot became, in time, one of the leading merchants of the city of London, and spent the greater of the fortune he gained in trade in works of charity and kindness. The friendship between him and Walter Davenant remained unchanged to the end of their lives. They occasionally paid each other visits, and, when a son of John Whitefoot married a daughter of Walter Davenant, they felt that this was a fitting termination of the old feud between the families. [THE END] _ |
||