Latest / The History of Ireland: Rebellion, Empire, and Independence — Fexingo History / The Siege of Derry 1689: No Surrender
Transcript
- Lucas: So we've talked about the Battle of the Boyne, the Siege of Limerick, the Wild Geese leaving. But before all of that—before William even landed—there was a siege that arguably saved his whole campaign. The Siege of Derry, 1689. Luna: The one with the apprentice boys shutting the gates? I've heard that phrase 'No Surrender' but never really knew what happened. Lucas: Exactly that. Derry was a Protestant stronghold in Ulster, but in early 1689 it was caught between James II's Catholic army advancing from the south and the uncertainty of William's intentions. The city's governor, a Church of Ireland clergyman named George Walker, became the face of resistance. On December 7, 1688, thirteen apprentice boys slammed the gates shut in the face of a Jacobite regiment—that's the origin of the famous 'Closing of the Gates' ceremony. Luna: So they just decided to defy James on their own? No outside orders? Lucas: That's right. The city was divided. Some wanted to surrender, but the apprentices forced the issue. By April 1689, James himself arrived with a French general, Maumont, and began a full siege. The city had maybe 7,000 soldiers and about 30,000 civilians crammed inside. And the siege lasted 105 days—from April 18 to August 1. Lucas: The conditions inside were horrific. Food ran out within weeks. People ate horses, dogs, cats, rats, and even tallow candles. One account says they boiled and ate the starch from their own clothes. Disease—typhus and dysentery—killed far more than enemy fire. By the end, maybe 4,000 soldiers and 10,000 civilians had died, mostly from starvation and illness. Luna: That's an astonishing death toll. Why didn't they just surrender? Lucas: Because they believed William was coming. And also because the Jacobites offered harsh terms—essentially unconditional surrender. The defenders had a slogan: 'No Surrender.' It wasn't just bravado; they knew James would likely punish the city for its defiance. So they held on, even as the shells from Jacobite cannons smashed buildings and the boom—a heavy chain and timber barrier stretched across the River Foyle—blocked relief ships from reaching the city. Lucas: The boom was the key. On July 28, three English ships—the Mountjoy, the Phoenix, and the Dartmouth—sailed up Lough Foyle. The Mountjoy, a merchant ship packed with provisions, rammed the boom and broke it. The Dartmouth provided covering fire. The relief force got through, and the siege ended. Maumont had already been killed in a skirmish, and James left for Dublin. Derry was saved. Luna: And that fed directly into the Boyne campaign the next year. Lucas: Exactly. If Derry had fallen, William might have lost his foothold in Ulster. The siege became a Protestant foundational myth, especially for Ulster unionists. The apprentice boys are still celebrated every December, and the cry 'No Surrender' echoes in Orange Order marches. But it's also a brutal story of human endurance. George Walker wrote a famous account of the siege, though he exaggerated his own role—he was later killed at the Battle of the Boyne. Luna: There's something about a siege that reveals character, I suppose. Lucas: It does. And speaking of revealing character, I want to mention something about how we do this show. We deliberately don't run ads on these conversations. That's a choice we've made because we want the history to speak for itself, without interruptions. If that matters to you, and you'd like to support it, there's a link—buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. It's a small way to keep this completely ad-free. And now, back to Derry. Luna: Yeah, it's nice not having to skip through commercials. So what happened right after the siege? Lucas: The immediate aftermath was grim. The city was devastated—buildings ruined, fields stripped. But William's forces used Derry as a base to secure Ulster. Then, in 1690, came the Boyne. The siege cemented a deep sectarian divide in the north. For Catholics, it was a defeat; for Protestants, a providential deliverance. That memory is still alive today, for better or worse. Luna: It's amazing how a single event can echo for centuries. Lucas: Absolutely. And there's a lesser-known figure from the siege I want to mention: a woman named Mary Hamilton. She was a nurse who tended the wounded and sick, often at great personal risk. She's not in the big histories, but her story is part of the human texture. The siege wasn't just about generals and slogans—it was about ordinary people making impossible choices. Luna: Are there any physical reminders of the siege today in Derry? Lucas: The city walls are still intact, and you can see cannonballs embedded in them. There's a museum, the Siege of Derry Museum, and the Apprentice Boys Memorial Hall. The boom is commemorated, and every August there's a relief parade. But the most enduring reminder is the slogan itself—'No Surrender'—painted on gable walls and sung in loyalist songs. It's a complicated legacy: a tale of courage that also hardened divisions. Luna: It makes you think about how history is used. Lucas: It does. And that's why we keep coming back to these stories—not to celebrate or condemn, but to understand. The Siege of Derry is a window into 17th-century Ireland, but also into the roots of modern Northern Ireland.