The whole
course of history was changed by the folly of one man. Ginckle had taken
Athlone, but it was at a vast cost of life, and he was more than ever
impressed with the magnitude of the task of subduing Ireland, so long as
the people were driven to desperation by the threatened confiscation of
all their lands, and by the persecution of their religion. King William,
too, was more anxious than ever for the termination of hostilities, and,
on the very day that the news of the fall of Athlone reached him, he
issued a proclamation offering protection, security of all possessions,
and continuance in any offices which they held under James, to all who
would lay down their arms in three weeks' time.
The issue of such a proclamation as this, a year before, would have
satisfied the Irish and put a stop to the war; but it was now too late.
The promises made had been broken, over and over again, and the Irish had
but too much reason to fear that, when all opposition ceased, the council
and their train of greedy adherents would again obtain the ascendency,
and would continue their work of spoliation and robbery.
Moreover, the Irish army did not feel itself in any way beaten. It was
not its fault that the second siege of Athlone had not terminated as the
former siege and that of Limerick had done, and that Ginckle's army was
not hurrying back, defeated and disorganized, to Dublin.
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