THE ARRIVAL OF ST. RUTH—GINCKLE TAKES THE FIELD.

Towards the middle of January, 1691, three French ships entered the harbor of Galway, as an escort to the Duke of Tyrconnell, who, it was confidently believed, had succeeded in the object of his mission, and the tidings of his arrival were received with general manifestations of joy. To the soldiers this news was particularly gratifying. He left them victors, it is true, but victors over a city in ruins;—exhausted in military resources, worn out by fatigue, without clothing or pay, and living on the bounty of a greatly impoverished country. They had borne their privations with cheerfulness, restored and strengthened their city, maintained their flag against overwhelming numerical odds at every post of their frontier; and believing their services about to be rewarded, their enthusiasm knew no bounds, and they looked to his arrival in Limerick with the happiest anticipations. They had been led to expect a full arrear of pay, a complete outfit of clothing, arms equal to their need, and a powerful French auxiliary, that would enable them to turn the tide of war, and wrest the conquered provinces from the grasp of the invader. They were bright hopes;—the brighter for being so long deferred—but, like those of the previous years, they were doomed to cruel disappointment. It soon became known that the only money he brought was about ￡8,000, to be distributed as a present donation; that the clothing received was not only insufficient, but entirely unfit for wear—their old regimentals being preferable;—and that, instead of the expected auxiliary, he was accompanied but by Sir Richard Nagle and Sir Stephen Rice,—who had been sojourning in France,—and a few of those military adventurers that in all ages appear wherever hostilities in any cause offer a road to ambition. Furthermore, it was found that the Duke of Berwick, who had performed signal service to the cause, and who shared the popular favor with General Sarsfield, was ordered to France, and that the latter was to be placed in a secondary position to another French general,—the Marquis de St. Ruth,—who had been appointed to the command of the army. Serious discontent soon became manifest at this neglect of a general whose unceasing activity, through the darkest period of the war, had kept the army from entire dissolution, and saved the Jacobite cause from irretrievable ruin. Besides, it was believed that the experiment of placing French generals over native troops had proved too disastrous to be again repeated, and, notwithstanding the high military reputation of St. Ruth, the news was received with great disfavor, and in the army created a spirit of disaffection that it required but a breath to fan into mutiny. That Sarsfield himself felt deeply humiliated, we have abundant evidence in the records of the period; nor did the title of Earl of Lucan, nor the commission of lieutenant-general which was borne to him by the deputy, entirely reconcile him to his altered condition. The unbounded confidence reposed in him during the interval of Tyrconnell's absence, had invested him with almost plenary powers, which had been exercised with a discretion and ability that pointed him out as the man for the time; public sentiment was undisguisedly in favor of continuing those powers; and his own heart responded to the wish, for he saw there were elements of success around which he, and only he, could call into action. His humiliation was the greater on this account: that though irrevocably bound to serve his king and country in any position, however subordinate, it greatly impaired his future efficiency; and the new appointment was viewed by all as another fatal step in the downward tendency of the Catholic cause.

There was, however, a consideration which, when duly weighed, as no doubt it was at the time, must have lessened the poignancy of this neglect, and rendered it less intolerable. The Duke of Berwick had high claims to this appointment,—perhaps higher even than Sarsfield. He was the king's son, and had been Lieutenant-General since 1689: he was brave, and accomplished in the art of war; and there was no cause but his youth, why he should not have received it. That he ambitioned it, is plainly inferable from the tone in which he notices his "recall from a country so full of troubles," and from his disapproval of the manner in which his successor conducted the ensuing campaign. It would, in short, seem that King James, being a dependant on the good-will of the French monarch, had to bow to that will in resignation; that this new general was selected by Louis; and that Berwick, by his recall, was saved the indignity of being reduced to a secondary position.

The result of this last mission to France, becoming known along the English lines, gave rise to mirth and ridicule among the soldiery, who might well pride themselves on the timely consideration of their own provident monarch, who left nothing undone that could contribute to their comfort or efficiency. Wherever they met the Irish soldiers, as they did along the river during the month of February, they taunted them with their repeated disappointments. The effect on the weak and vacillating was soon visible. Desertions became of not unfrequent occurrence among the soldiers of English descent, but those of the native race clung more faithfully to their cause with every reverse; but the general depression soon passed away, and all murmurs and despondent thoughts were lost in the notes of preparation.

So frequently are the names of King James and his ally, Louis XIV. of France, linked with mismanagement and misadventure through the history of this period, that it would seem all the attendant misfortunes of the Catholic cause resulted from the weakness and indecision of the one, and the absence of timely support arising from the mistaken policy of the other. But though these were the leading, and perhaps the main causes of its ultimate defeat, it was also induced by the prejudices and follies of the Irish leaders themselves, as much as by the errors of either king, or of both together. We have already seen some of the evil effects of divided counsels, and of incipient treason in the senate: we have now to make a cursory allusion to a character hitherto unnoticed, who played no insignificant part in the closing scenes of the drama, and added a ludicrous page to a melancholy and tragic dénouement.

It had long been an accepted prophecy in Ireland,—one much akin to that of the "sleeping warriors" of Aileach,—that an O'Donnell, a descendant of the house of Tyrconnell, was one day to return from Spain, and free the land of his fathers from the English yoke, by a great victory to be gained by him at, or near Limerick; and this chief was to be known by the Ball-dearg,—or red mark,—on the shoulder, which, 'tis said, attaches to the true descendants of that noble house. It happened that at this time there lived in Spain, an O'Donnell, of the family mentioned, and known also to bear the mark that distinguished its true representatives, and him fame pointed out as the destined liberator of the country. Whether this personage ever entertained an idea of his wonderful virtue or not, until consulted by an Irish deputation in Spain, does not clearly appear from the records of the time; but that he was waited on, and awakened to a sense of his importance, there seems to be abundant testimony to warrant this allusion.58 In the nineteenth century this infatuation of men intrusted with the destiny of a nation would seem almost incredible, but it was not the less true. It was a glorious destiny to be the liberator of the land of his ancestors; he heard the call, obeyed it, and arrived at Limerick during the month of August, 1690. It was the time of the siege, and he took part in its most stirring events from the 17th to the 27th, and, it is said, did good service in the memorable conflict that has immortalized that city. His appearance at such a time was hailed with acclamations of joy by the populace, and even the leaders of the army treated him with consideration. After the retreat of the Prince of Orange, he was furnished with a Colonel's commission, and empowered to raise troops from among the Rapparees, to co-operate with the regular army. Those of the north and north-west, scattered along the frontiers, at once flocked to him and acknowledged him as their hereditary chief: others sought his standard under the influence of the prophecy that attached to him, until he had a following, variously estimated at from eight to ten thousand men. But here his services ended. With this following, he established his quarters from Clare-Galway to Sligo, behind the Irish lines, and assuming the authority of an independent chief, instead of harassing the movements of the enemy, he levied on the surrounding districts, wasting the subsistence of the remaining province to support his infatuated followers.—

"In short, he was," says O'Driscoll,59 "of a class found in Ireland and elsewhere. He was a great boaster, suspected to be a coward, known to be a knave; noisy, insolent, presumptuous, and corrupt.... He was afterwards known to have been in correspondence with both William and Ginckle, and treating for a title and a command in the English army." Yet he played his part ably; so ably, that he carried himself through to the end of the war; nor did he appear in his true colors to his deluded followers, or indeed to the leaders of the army, until the final result of the war, revealed at the same time, and in the same manner, the intrigues of Ball-dearg O'Donnell, and the treason of Henry Luttrell. Such was one of the many influences that helped to divert the strength of the country from the direct purpose of the war, and its evil effect cannot well be over-estimated. It placed a covert enemy in the rear of the national army; materially lessened the resources of a province already overburdened with a helpless floating population; and withdrew from the enemy's country, which the other provinces then virtually were, the most daring of those hardy Rapparee bands, that had hitherto wrung their support from it, and materially embarrassed the movements of the foreign army.

Though the appointment of the Marquis de St. Ruth was opposed to the public sentiment of the people and army, still they well understood that the countenance of the French king was indispensable to their cause, and resolved to make a virtue of necessity; all now daily wished for his arrival to remove the general suspense and disquietude of feeling. The enemy was known to be in an advanced state of preparation, and it was feared that he would open the campaign before a corresponding force should be ready to meet him. It was also hoped that as King Louis had this time made his own selection of a general, he would support him in all things necessary—arms, ammunition, and artillery, and perhaps a contingent of troops to sustain the national honor. The public mind now underwent another of those changes incident to a condition of war, markedly in contrast with that of the previous month. From the western headlands a daily watch was kept up, and expectation was on tiptoe for his arrival. But day after day, and month after month passed on, and still neither armament nor general relieved the fever of anxiety. At length, on the 7th of May, when all hope seemed to fail, a French fleet was signalled off the headlands of Kerry, and the next day, riding up the Shannon, it came to anchor off Limerick. It bore the Marquis de St. Ruth, with Generals d'Uson and de Tessé, and about one hundred French officers of different rank; but no money, and no military contingent. He came, however, well provided with the munitions of war, a good supply of arms, and an outfit of serviceable clothing. His arrival was hailed with general acclamations, the bells of St. Mary's chimed forth throughout the day, and the most solemn ceremonies of religion welcomed this devoted soldier of the Catholic cause.

Though considerably beyond the middle age, St. Ruth was still a man of vigor and activity. He was of a commanding presence, pleasing aspect; was nervous in address, and energetic in command;—the first passports to the confidence of the Irish soldier. He had but lately returned to Paris, after a successful campaign in Savoy, and was selected by Louis to command the Jacobite forces in Ireland. But fame, which preceded him there, had also told how the finer traits of his character were marred by a vain ostentation, a hauteur of manner towards his subordinates, and an overweening conceit in his own importance,—the very worst traits to win the confidence or esteem of the Irish officers of that period, on whom the conduct of de Rosen and de Lausun had left a very unfavorable impression; or that of the generals; who could not see the necessity for his appointment at all, when he came unsupported by an army, and without coffers to warrant the raising of one from the floating population of the country.

Preparations for the renewal of hostilities were now actively resumed along the lines, and the minds of the soldiers were diverted from all other considerations. Their "penny-a-day" went far, for the country still abounded in the necessaries of life, and the people shared their means liberally. The proclamation of non-intercourse between the British Islands and France, announced at once both in London and Dublin, only served as a spur to greater enterprise both by sea and land, and every succeeding day witnessed the arrival of trading vessels, bearing arms and munitions—while the love of adventure brought daily accessions to the ranks of either army.

After a hasty inspection of the frontier and the condition of the troops, St. Ruth directed himself to the work of reconstructing the army, and his first movement for that purpose tended to raise him greatly in the estimation of the soldiers. Notwithstanding the exertions of the Rapparees through the winter and spring, there was still a deficiency of ............