THE SIEGE OF ATHLONE.

Athlone—Ford of the Moon; so called, it is believed, from its connection with some ceremony of Druidic mythology—stands on both sides of the Shannon, in the counties of Westmeath and Roscommon; that part of it on the eastern or Leinster side, being designated Englishtown; and that on the western or Connaught side, Irishtown. Its position is as nearly central as the formation of the island will admit, and the country around it is rich in historic and traditional reminiscences. It was the scene of many a stirring event during the sway of the native kings and chieftains, nor has it lost in importance since the era of the English invasion; for ages it marked the greatest western limit of the "Pale," and it is still the strongest fortress and most extensive military depot in the kingdom. At the period under consideration, the two divisions of the town were of nearly equal extent, and a portion of each was encompassed by a wall of considerable strength, beyond which the suburbs extended for some distance into the country. The portion of the English town within the wall, was little more than half a mile in length, its greatest width being somewhat over a furlong, and the Irish town was similar in every respect, but extended a little farther towards the north and south on the river. In the middle of the eastern wall stood the Dublin Gate, facing the main street and market-place, and opposite to it a bridge of nine arches, connecting the two sections, being the only line of communication between them. The eastern end of this bridge abutted on the bank of the river, but at the western end there was a drawbridge of about thirty feet span, and beyond it, but a little northward, stood the castle, or chief citadel, built in the reign of King John; enlarged and strengthened in that of Elizabeth, who wished to make it the seat of her Lords-Justices; and the town was incorporated in the reign of James I. This castle commanded the whole extent of the bridge, in a slanting direction, and, with adequate artillery, could render it impregnable; but in the approaching siege, as in all others through this war, the native army was deficient in this arm of the service, and had for the defence of this castle, and two bastions that protected the fords on the river, but six pieces of light artillery and two mortars. The wall of the English town was in a dilapidated condition, and incapable of any protracted resistance. On the approach of General Douglas, about ten months before, its suburbs had been given to the flames by its governor, Colonel Grace, and the houses within the wall levelled and left in the same condition as when the siege had been abandoned. The Dublin Gate and its barriers were of great strength, but another which opened towards the north, had been breached by the artillery of Douglas, had undergone but slight repairs since that time, and was incapable of offering a day's resistance to the immense siege-train of de Ginckle. The present governor, Colonel Fitzgerald, in pursuance of the plan which had proved so successful in the former siege, had determined on the destruction of this section of the town, when, contrary to the general advice, St. Ruth resolved on holding both sections, and issued his command to that effect, as Ginckle was about to move from Mullingar; and for this important service, Fitzgerald had but 400 garrisoned troops, and a regiment of cavalry, which came to his aid on the same day that he received notice of the general's resolution. His position was therefore most critical and embarrassing.—To abandon the English town without a defence, would be contrary to the orders of his superior, and subject him to the gravest military punishment; to withdraw his cavalry from the protection of the river was inadmissible, as it would uncover the town on the north and south, in case they should be cut off by a flank movement of the enemy, and compel him to surrender without a blow. His only course was then to make the best defence at all points: to dispatch a part of his garrison to retard the enemy's advance, and gain time for the arrival of the main army, which was known to be approaching, and within a day's march of the town.

Fortunately, the country stretching towards the enemy was well adapted to defensive measures, being such that a small body of resolute men could throw great impediments in the way of an army like de Ginckle's, encumbered with baggage and artillery, and arrayed in all the panoply of war. An extensive sweep of marsh and bog lay to the north, both difficult and dangerous to infantry; to the south the country was broken and irregular; and the road along which the enemy approached was lined on either side with hedges and thickets, affording convenient shelter at almost every step of the way.—Such was the country through which the English army had to march, and determined to seize on every advantage that could, even for a moment, retard it; the governor dispatched about two hundred foot dragoons and grenadiers of his garrison on their perilous adventure.

Ginckle left his encampment at sunrise on the morning of the 19th, and throwing out detachments towards Ballinahown and Killinure, where the Rapparees were reported to be troublesome, he took up his line of march. At Bealin, about a mile from his camp, his advance-guard received a warm salute from the ambushed Irish pickets, and, falling back on the main body, caused some confusion; when, throwing out detachments to clear the brush on his right and left, he approached slowly and warily towards the town. The Irish Guards now disputed the ground with the most obstinate valor; every hedge and thicket became the scene of assault and defence; when they yielded a position to the overwhelming force of their assailants, it was but to renew the strife with still greater desperation at another; the nearer the enemy approached to the town the more deadly the conflict became; many, both assailants and assailed, lay dead by the wayside, and it was well on to noon, when, forced from their last intrenchment outside the wall, the latter retired within their fortifications, and the English army appeared before Athlone.

Ginckle, who, finding that St. Ruth's army had not yet arrived, determined to press his advantage, immediately set to work in the construction of batteries, and had soon two at work outside the walls of the English town: one of three guns to the north of it, over against a bastion, on the western side of the river, and another of five guns to the south, and both played fiercely all day without cessation. At six in the evening another of nine eighteen-pounders was opened against the northern gate, and all worked steadily until noon on the following day. It was then found that the last one had effected a breach of its own width, practicable for the passage of infantry, when the fire of the two first was turned on the interior of the town, a council of war was held, and it was determined to assault it in force that evening.

The Governor, anticipating the result, and seeing that section of the town no longer tenable, resolved on the destruction of the bridge, as the only means of protracting the siege. For this purpose, after withdrawing his artillery, he detailed a part of his force, while the rest were stationed behind the breach to check the assault, and gain time for the accomplishment of this work, which was now a matter of vital importance.

The order of assault was soon arranged by the British generals, and was to be substantially as follows:—Five hundred grenadiers, with triple the usual number of officers, and a corps of sappers and miners, were to be arrayed in two divisions to support each other and lead the advance. The first, after effecting an entrance into the town, was to turn to the right, while the other was to follow close upon its footsteps, and, at the same time, file to the left. That which took the right was to be supported by 2,000 picked men, under the command of Brigadier Stuart and Prince Frederick, and the other by an equal number under Colonel Brewer and the Count of Nassau. The first column was to make its way to the bridge, and, seizing it, cut off the retreat of the besieged; or, failing in that, to seek cover in the nearest walls and await the support of the other division, which was to gain the Dublin Gate, and throw it open to the army outside. Then all were to push forward and seize on the bridge and fords, if successful, to assail the Irish town immediately, and if not, to cover themselves with intrenchments along the river.—All preliminaries were to be completed at five o'clock; the moment for assault was to be announced by the firing of one signal-gun; the grenadiers, in the mean time, were placed under cover to the northward of the town; and the whole movement was under the direction of Major-General Mackey and Brigadier-General Vittenhoff.

It was now the evening of the second day: the army of St. Ruth had not yet appeared in view; its delay was unaccountable; for he had received timely notice of Ginckle's approach. The cannon from without poured an incessant storm of ball and bomb into the town, and the defenders behind their torn ramparts calmly bided their time, but knew not the moment of assault. The fate of the Irish cause was in their hands, and their determination rose with the importance of their trust. Their Governor having done all that a brave and intrepid soldier could do, committed the rest to the bravery of his soldiers, and the gallant old Colonel Grace, who now served as a volunteer, took his stand beside them, and in his presence no man dare turn his back on an enemy.

At five o'clock the fire of the northern battery suddenly ceased, and the peal of a single gun immediately announced the moment of action. The report had scarcely died away, when it was echoed by a cheer from the British grenadiers, as, springing from their ambush, they rushed headlong towards the breach. A French officer of Cambon's regiment first mounted it, waved his sword, and pointed onward, when the Irish soldiers rose from their cover, levelled their muskets on the advancing foe, and in a moment the gallant Frenchman and many of his immediate followers were numbered with the dead. Still they pressed on, and hundreds of them thronged the breach, when a second volley, more deadly than the first, swept through their ranks, and the defenders stepped forward and stood to confront the whole force of the assailants. The conflict now became desperate, but the result could not be long doubtful; overwhelmed by numbers, they were borne through the breach, and the enemy gaining the open space inside the wall, commenced filing to the right and left in pursuance of their purpose. The way to the right was narrow and tortuous, and, though pressed on by the weight of 2,250 men, their way was disputed foot by foot, and dearly purchased in that direction. But that to the left being less obstructed, the result was terribly ruinous to the defenders. At the end of an hour one-half of them lay dying and trampled among the débris, and still the rest stood and fought as resolutely as ever. At length the gate was gained, the assailants thronged by thousands into the market-place, and the strife was transferred to the street leading down from it to the river. Another hour passed on, and the defenders were borne back towards the bridge; its destruction was not yet completed; and to win it on the one side and maintain it on the other, became the work of life and death. The assailants rushed on in their fury, but were steadily resisted, and even for awhile repelled, their overwhelming numbers defeating the very object of their assault. At length the arch was sprung, the word was given to retire; the defenders rushed along the bridge; some of them succeeded in crossing it, but their assailants pressing closely on them, many were borne over the battlements, to rise no more. Further persistence was now in vain; the work was done; the arch had given way, and sunk beneath the waters of the river; and the enemy retired under an effective fire opened on them from the opposite side; the bridge was rendered impassable.

History has few parallels for the bravery and devotion of the gallant men who performed this act of self-immolation. Two hundred of them strewed the way from the breach to the bridge; but not a prisoner was taken, nor a color, to grace the enemy's triumph. This happened on the 20th of June. On the 22d a French lieutenant-colonel was found wounded and dying under the bridge; and, three days after, a pair of colors was found in the same place, under a heap of the slain, for which Ginckle gave the finder a reward of five guineas. Nor was it a defence without a purpose,—for valor is generally estimated by the end attained:—it saved the Irish town from the immediate grasp of the enemy, and was a fitting inauguration to a siege which, for heroic daring and unbending fortitude, has few examples in the history of warfare. They had done their work at the sacrifice of their lives; the siege was now about to be renewed between more equally matched forces; for, just as they had retired across the drawbridge, on the western side, St. Ruth's army appeared beyond the town, and he took speedy measures to stop the progress of the enemy.—Wauchop was placed in the command of the castle; d'Usson and de Tessé were installed as joint commandants of the town, and Fitzgerald retired to his former position in the army, as colonel of his few remaining veterans.

Ginckle having thus gained the English town, removed all his artillery within the walls, and a train of eleven guns and three mortars having arrived in the mean time, he spent all the succeeding night in the erection of batteries. By the next morning he had five of them in full play against the Irish town and its defences:—two above the bridge, two below it—and one of five twenty-four pounders and six mortars at the foot of the bridge over against the eastern wall of the citadel. He next sent orders to hasten up his pontoons, which were on their way from Mullingar, and, warned by the desperate resistance he had just met, he took his precautions accordingly, and sent a requisition to Dublin for additional reinforcements.

Nor was St. Ruth now idle on his part. Encamping his army in a good position about two miles from the town, he garrisoned the castle with fresh troops, threw up lines of intrenchment along the river, and at once opened on the works of the enemy. His guns were few and of inferior calibre, but they were worked with a spirit and vigor that soon caused Ginckle to shift two of his batteries from the river, while the fire from the castle swept the bridge and rendered any approach along it impracticable.

Ginckle soon saw that to silence the guns of the castle was a work of the first necessity, and to this end all his heavy guns and mortars were at once directed. The labor of the gunners on both sides now became incessant. Night brought no respite to the toils and dangers of the day. The weather was extremely hot; an unusual drought had prevailed, rendering the fascines as dry as tinder; and their continual ignition made the work of the soldiers more harassing. The skies were clear, and the evening twilight almost ushered in the dawn, while the glare of the batteries lit up the intrenchments and rendered the assailants and assailed continually visible to each other, while the fire of Ginckle's mortars, being directed on the houses beyond the castle, added perpetual conflagration to the other horrors of the scene. After a short time, a mill which stood in the middle of the river, to the north of the bridge, and into which the Irish had thrown a detachment of sixty-four men to keep up a fire on the broken arch, attracted the fire of the enemy. The passage which connected it with the bridge was soon broken down, and the building itself taking fire, the whole detachment—with two exceptions—perished in the flames. The wall of the castle crumbled bit by bit, a rent became discernible in the eastern wall, and gradually widening, the greater part of the front gave way, strewing the passage to the bridge, choking up the sally-port, and exposing the interior to the great guns of the besiegers.

Such was the condition of the besieged on the morning of the 26th, and all that day the bombardment continued with increased fury. Towards evening the bastion opposite the ford was beaten down so as to be passable to horse and foot, and the battery which protected it was completely silenced; the castle was deemed no longer tenable, and Ginckle contemplated an assault in force on the following morning. Preparatory to this, he resolved to try once more the passage of the river, in order to create a diversion on the Irish rear while putting his design in execution; and, having lately received information that a ford had been discovered to the north of Lanesborough, which might be easily crossed in the face of the small garrison stationed there, had dispatched a strong force to that place, with orders to approach it in the night, and having captured the town, to make a demonstration on the enemy's left, while he himself, with the main body, would storm the bridge and fords on their front. But the design was communicated to General Wauchop, and he immediately sent a regiment of cavalry to the assistance of Colonel O'Reilly, who commanded there, with orders to defend the place to the last extremity. The troops of Ginckle had started on their expedition on the night of the 25th, under direction of a guide, and, after making a wide detour to the north-east, approached the ford with great caution on the night of the 26th; but, arriving there, they found the opposite side strongly intrenched and the Irish cavalry drawn up to oppose them. They, however, tried to force their way through, but being routed with severe loss, they returned, and reported that it would take the whole army to cross there, so the project was finally abandoned. Nor was this his only disappointment. The morning of the 27th broke over a scene as startling as unexpected, for in its light he beheld that the Irish battery above the bastion had been repaired and strengthened, and that the castle which he expected to find abandoned had been put in a better state of defence than before. An opening had been made in the western wall, through which rocks and beams had been conveyed to the top of the breach, and firmly imbedded there, while its one solitary tower, the Connaught Tower, still commanded the broken arch, and displayed its flag as proud and defiant as ever. He was therefore obliged to forego his intention for that day, and direct his whole force to the total destruction of the citadel before risking an assault on the bridge. To the five batteries already at work two more were now added, and an incessant storm of shot and shell was directed all day on the castle and the houses beyond it. Three times during the siege the town had been set on fire; the population had fled to the suburbs, and nothing having life remained within the walls but the gunners behind their crumbling earth-works, and the soldiers laboring to check the flames extending in all directions.

St. Ruth, believing that the tower could not long withstand the terrible fire brought to bear on it, set to work in the erection of earth-works to answer the same end, and for this purpose he conveyed some guns outside the town, and erected two batteries—one to the north and the other to the south—both bearing across the eastern angles of the bridge. Their fire soon drove the English gunners from their batteries, and during the cessation of their fire two intrenchments were thrown up on a high ground to the right and left of the castle. The fire from these dislodged the English musketeers from the walls near the river, and from this forward the contest became a duel of artillery. Ginckle's heavy missiles still bore down all obstructions; the ingenious traverse and change of position were unavailing; nothing could withstand the heavy guns of the besiegers but the Connaught Tower, and that, though crumbling bit by bit, still sent its shot with the same precision as before. In this manner the conflict raged during the whole of the 27th. The bombs of the enemy became exhausted, but this brought no respite to the besieged. Immense blocks of stone, even more destructive than shell, were hurled into the Irish intrenchments, crushing their fascines to atoms, and breaking down all barriers. Towards evening a body of the besiegers, moving behind an improvised breastwork, stormed the bridge, gained possession of the broken arch, and secured themselves behind a strong breastwork. The defence was stubborn, and cost both sides dearly; "for," says the English annalist, "what we gained here was inch by inch, as it were, the enemy sticking very close to it, though great numbers of them were slain by our guns, and the service cost us a great store of ammunition." But ammunition was of small account with Ginckle. One hundred wagon-loads of shot and shell reached the camp that evening; thirteen squadron of wagon-horses were sent to Dublin for more, and two batteries were added to the seven that had been at work since the morning of the 25th. One of these was on a hill outside the wall, which commanded the western end of the bridge, and the other in a meadow to the south of it, which raked the passage leading from the Irish town to the castle. Under cover of these nine batteries the English reached the last broken arch, and secured themselves by a breastwork overlooking that of the Irish on the other side. Here the grenadiers of both armies now stood firing their muskets and hurling their grenades across the narrow space that separated them. At length the fascines of the Irish breastwork took fire, the whole was soon a sheet of flame, its defenders were forced to retire, and on the night of the 27th the English remained masters of the last broken arch of the bridge.

The situation of the besieged was now most desperate. The town seemed all but in the possession of the enemy. The bastion opposite the southern ford, about fifty yards from the bridge, was levelled, and practicable to infantry and cavalry. The ford itself was easily passable, for the river was unusually low for the season. The town was a heap of smouldering ruins, and the castle,—with the single exception of the Connaught Tower—was beaten down to the level of the besiegers' guns. Beams had been extended across the last broken arch of the bridge, the planking was partially set, while the fire of their forty-seven guns was fierce and active as ever. Still the Irish relaxed neither in courage nor intrepidity. Though but one gun alone sent an occasional response to the incessant roar of nine batteries, sweeping every foot of their intrenchments, "they worked like horses, checking the fire within the town; carrying fascines to fill their trenches;" and exhibited a courage and endurance "such as was never excelled by man." Such was the situation on both sides through the night of the 27th:—the one in the face of inevitable death trying to reconstruct their shattered defences, and the other in exultation preparing to force the river at sunrise the next morning.

The night passed on, and the morning rose bright and clear above the river. The besieged seemed to have exhausted all the means of defence. Some lay close in the cover of their trenches, and others drawn up behind the western wall of the castle, waiting for the approaching conflict. The enemy alone were at work. The planking was nearly completed across the last broken arch of the bridge. The fire from their right and left traversed its western end between their workmen and the besieged, and their grenadiers were advanced along the bridge waiting for the expected signal. At this moment a sudden commotion was observable in the Irish quarters, and a simultaneous shout rent the air, as eleven men, cased in armor, were seen to clear their trenches, and bear directly for the bridge. A silence still as death fell over the besiegers and besieged, and for a moment all seemed spellbound. In another the noble fellows had reached th............