This piece was written at the request of our tour guide in Ireland. A fine man named Andy who works for Rabbie’s Small Group Tours. They are one of the BEST tour companies we have ever used, adn we cannot recommend them highly enough. Their small bus format make for easy discussions with the guide, with no callte-car feel of the larger buses. The very best thing about Rabbies is they do not cancel their tours if the bus is not full. If you have a ticket, the bus is leaving!

Andy was great. He maintained a colorful running dialog with the group offering many insights into Irish history and politics, ancient and contemporary, along the way. When he found out I am a writer he asked me to write an account of the last major battle of the Jacobite movement in Ireland.

Thanks again for the great tour Andy!

Sliante!

Aughrim a Narrative

By

Michael Morgan

Preface

            The Jacobite Risings in Scotland are famous in song and story. Support for exiled Catholic King James II of England was the origin of the Jacobite movement. (James is “Jacobus” in the Latin, hence “Jacobite”) This conflict for the English throne culminated in the Battle of Culloden most recently made famous in the Outlander books and TV series. What is not so widely know is the impact of the Jacobite moment on Ireland. This work describes the Irish “ “Culloden” fought in the village of Aughirm, County Galway, Ireland.

Finally! The blasted fog has lifted! Charles Chalmont, Marquis de Saint-Ruhe and Marshal-General of Ireland sat his horse atop Kilcommandan Hill in the center of the Irish line scanning his dispositions through his telescope. The troops look in order. Dorrington and Hamilton have the center well in hand. The bogs should keep Monsieur Ginkel’s heathens at a respectful distance while our men shoot them like ducks.

            A messenger pounded up, and reined in with a hurried salute, “Message from Monsieur Sarsfield, mon General.”

            Saint-Ruhe did not remove his eye from the scope, “Proceed.”

            “We are in position. The enemy is massing cavalry to our front.” The messenger’s horse chose that moment to sidle nervously interrupting the young man’s report. “Your reply Monsieur?”

            The telescope sought the enemy arrayed to the far right, “They are not ready to advance. Tell Sarsfield to hold his position, and stick to the plan. Engage when the enemy is crossing the stream. That is all.” The courier saluted and wheeled his horse about.

            Monsieur General Ginkel where is your surprise? Surely you cannot be so confident as to send your infantry to certain death in the bogs. The scope swung to the left. He watched Burke’s dragoons moving about in the ruins of Aughrim castle piling stones to improve breastworks and deepen trenches. We have the causeway blocked, if we can hold it. The scope traced the causeway to the enemy lines and a large formation of infantry backed by cavalry appeared. Saint-Ruhe adjusted the focus, and the banner of Clan MacKay resolved itself. Ah, Hugh MacKay, Ginkel sent the Scotsman on this fool’s errand. The Irish are never so courageous as when they have a breastwork between the enemy and themselves.

            A salvo of artillery signaled the opening of the ball and interrupted Saint-Rhue’s internal monologue. Williamite infantry advanced across the front. The Irish waited patiently as the well-ordered lines began to break and stagger when the marshy ground took its toll.

            The cavalry on the right was formed up, but not yet in motion. The skirling of pipes came from the left as the infantry stepped off along the causeway.

A shout and the enemy soldiers approaching the center of the Irish lines vanished in a haze of gray smoke. Saint-Ruhe watched and the ranks of his infantry shifted to give the next man in line a position on the wall while the prior rank stepped back to reload. Another volley lashed out.

Williamite artillery had finally found the range, but the guns on both sides were not numerous enough to be more than an annoyance. Saint-Ruhe glassed the cavalry on the right. Charging cavalry are always a stirring sight, no matter whose they are, he mused as the heathens rode hard at the stream that fed the bogs before him. The first horsemen sent up fountains of spray when they hit the water and the charge rapidly lost momentum as their horses struggled to climb the opposite bank. This was the signal, and Sarsfield’s men began their own countercharge. Saint-Ruhe enjoyed the spectacle as the opposing forces merged into a whirling maelstrom of colors.

Turning back to the left, the telescope revealed Lieutenant Burke’s men still held the castle ruins, denying the causeway to the enemy’s cavalry, but the enemy was unlimbering some field pieces to support their next effort. Steady volleys kept the center fogged in as men screamed and died, trapped in the mud and waist-deep waters.

A wayward cannonball dug a pit just downslope from where Saint-Ruhe surveyed the field. He patted his horse’s neck to calm the animal and resumed his survey. Messengers came and went, and formations moved on invisible strings. Cavalry from the left moved to support Sarsfield on the right; another shift of infantry from the left toward the center.

Sarsfield was holding his own, and possibly close to a breakthrough. The enemy cavalry was being pushed into the bogs toward the center where the Irish infantry was taking a terrible toll.

Saint-Ruhe’s blood went cold. Ginkel is committing his cavalry to the causeway! “Messenger!”

“Mon General?!”

“To Sarsfield! His Life Guards to me! We must support Burke at the causeway! Go!”

“Messenger!”

“Monsieur General!”

“To Commander Sheldon! Engage the enemy cavalry coming across the causeway! That is all.” The messengers departed in opposite directions. Saint-Ruhe sat and watched the cavalry charging along the causeway. The spurts of smoky flame appeared only intermittently among the stones. Why do the dragoons not fire?

A cannon shot toward the center caught his eye, and he spurred his horse toward the Irish battery hurrying to reload. We can turn the guns to the causeway! “Follow me! They are beaten, let us beat them to the purpose!”

            Charles Chalmont, Marquis de Saint-Ruhe and Marshal-General of Ireland was decapitated by a cannon ball on July 12, 1691 while trying to redirect the Irish cannons. His death was concealed from his troops, and because he had neglected to share his battleplans with his junior officers, the bloodiest battle on Irish soil rapidly began to fall apart leading to an Irish defeat. The Jacobite rebellion in Ireland ended at the siege of Limerick when the Treaty of Limerick ended the War of the Kings, in October, 1691.