I will not weary my reader with an account of our debarkation, less
remarkable as it was for the ‘pomp and circumstance of war’ than for
incidents and accidents the most absurd and ridiculous--the miserable
boats of the peasantry, the still more wretched cattle employed to drag
our artillery and train-waggons, involving us in innumerable misfortunes
and mischances. Never were the heroic illusions of war more thoroughly
dissipated than by the scenes which accompanied our landing! Boats and
baggage-waggons upset; here, a wild, half savage-looking fellow swimming
after a cocked-hat--there, a group of ragged wretches scraping sea-weed
from a dripping officer of the staff; noise, uproar, and confusion
everywhere; smart aides-de-camp mounted on donkeys; trim field-pieces
‘horsed’ by a promiscuous assemblage of men, women, cows, ponies, and
asses. Crowds of idle country-people thronged the little quay, and,
obstructing the passages, gazed upon the whole with eyes of wonderment
and surprise, but evidently enjoying all the drollery of the scene with
higher relish than they felt interest in its object or success. This
trait in them soon attracted all our notice, for they laughed at
everything: not a caisson tumbled into the sea, not a donkey brought his
rider to the ground, but one general shout shook the entire assemblage.
If want and privation had impressed themselves by every external sign on
this singular people, they seemed to possess inexhaustible resources of
good-humour and good spirits within. No impatience or rudeness on
our part could irritate them; and even to the wildest and least
civilised-looking fellow around, there was a kind of native courtesy and
kindliness that could not fail to strike us.
A vague notion prevailed that we were their ‘friends’; and although
many of them did not clearly comprehend why we had come, or what was
the origin of the warm attachment between us, they were too lazy and too
indifferent to trouble their heads about the matter. They were satisfied
that there would be a ‘shindy’ somewhere, and somebody’s bones would get
broken, and even that much was a pleasant and reassuring consideration;
while others of keener mould revelled in plans of private vengeance
against this landlord or that agent--small debts of hatred to be paid
off in the day of general reckoning.
From the first moment nothing could exceed the tone of fraternal feeling
between our soldiers and the people. Without any means of communicating
their thoughts by speech, they seemed to acquire an instinctive
knowledge of each other in an instant. If the peasant was poor, there
was no limit to his liberality in the little he had. He dug up his
half-ripe potatoes, he unroofed his cabin to furnish straw for litter,
he gave up his only beast, and was ready to kill his cow, if asked,
to welcome us. Much of this was from the native, warm, and impulsive
generosity of their nature, and much, doubtless, had its origin in the
bright hopes of future recompense inspired by the eloquent appeals of
Neal Kerrigan, who, mounted on an old white mare, rode about on every
side, addressing the people in Irish, and calling upon them to give all
aid and assistance to ‘the expedition.’
The difficulty of the landing was much increased by the small space of
level ground which intervened between the cliffs and the sea, and of
which now the thickening crowd filled every spot. This and the miserable
means of conveyance for our baggage delayed us greatly, so that, with
a comparatively small force, it was late in the afternoon before we had
all reached the shore.
We had none of us eaten since morning, and were not sorry, as we crowned
the heights, to hear the drums beat for ‘cooking.’ In an inconceivably
short, time fires blazed along the hills, around which, in motley
groups, stood soldiers and peasantry mingled together, while the work
of cooking and eating went briskly on, amid hearty laughter and all the
merriment that mutual mistakes and misconceptions occasioned. It was a
new thing for French soldiers to bivouac in a friendly country, and find
themselves the welcome guests of a foreign people; and certainly, the
honours of hospitality, however limited the means, could not have been
performed with more of courtesy or good-will. Paddy gave his ‘all,’ with
a generosity that might have shamed many a richer donor.
While the events I have mentioned were going forward, and a considerable
crowd of fishermen and peasants had gathered about us, still it was
remarkable that, except immediately on the coast itself, no suspicion of
our arrival had gained currency, and even the country-people who lived a
mile from the shore did not know who we were. The few who, from distant
heights and headlands, had seen the ships, mistook them for English, and
as all those who were out with fish or vegetables to sell were detained
by the frigates, any direct information about us was impossible. So far,
therefore, all might be said to have gone most favourably with us. We
had safely escaped the often-menaced dangers of the Channel fleet; we
had gained a secure and well-sheltered harbour; and we had landed our
force not only without opposition, but in perfect secrecy. There were,
I will not deny, certain little counterbalancing circumstances on the
other side of the account not exactly so satisfactory. The patriot
forces upon which we had calculated had no existence. There were neither
money, nor stores, nor means of conveyance to be had; even accurate
information as to the strength and position of the English was
unattainable; and as to generals and leaders, the effective staff had
but a most sorry representative in the person of Neal Kerrigan. This
man’s influence over our general increased with every hour, and one of
the first orders issued after our landing contained his appointment as
an extra aide-de-camp on General Humbert’s staff.
In one capacity Neal was most useful. All the available sources of
pillage for a wide circuit of country he knew by heart, and it was
plain, from the accurate character of his information, varying, as it
did, from the chattels of the rich landed proprietor to the cocks
and hens of the cottier, that he had taken great pains to master his
subject. At his suggestion it was decided that we should march that
evening on Killala, where little or more likely no resistance would
be met with, and General Humbert should take up his quarters in the
‘Castle,’ as the palace of the bishop was styled. There, he said,
we should not only find ample accommodation for the staff, but good
stabling, well filled, and plenty of forage, while the bishop himself
might be a most useful hostage to have in our keeping. From thence, too,
as a place of some note, general orders and proclamations would issue,
with a kind of notoriety and importance necessary at the outset of an
undertaking like ours; and truly never was an expedition more loaded
with this species of missive than ours--whole cart-loads of printed
papers, decrees, placards, and such like, followed us. If our object had
been to drive out the English by big type and a flaming letterpress, we
could not have gone more vigorously to work. Fifty thousand broadsheet
announcements of Irish independence were backed by as many proud
declarations of victory, some dated from Limerick, Cashel, or Dublin
itself.
Here, a great placard gave the details of the new Provincial Government
of Western Ireland, with the name of the ‘Prefect’ a blank. There was
another, containing the police regulations for the ‘arrondissements’ of
Connaught, ‘et ses dépendances.’ Every imaginable step of conquest
and occupation was anticipated and provided for in these wise and
considerate protocols, from the ‘enthusiastic welcome of the French on
the western coast’ to the hour of ‘General Humbert’s triumphal entry
into Dublin!’ Nor was it prose alone, but even poetry did service in
our cause. Songs, not, I own, conspicuous for any great metrical beauty,
commemorated our battles and our bravery; so that we entered upon the
campaign as deeply pledged to victory as any force I ever heard or read
of in history.
Neal, who was, I believe, originally a schoolmaster, had great
confidence in this arsenal of ‘black and white,’ and soon persuaded
General Humbert that a bold face and a loud tongue would do more in
Ireland than in any country under heaven; and, indeed, if his own career
might be called a success, the theory deserved some consideration.
A great part of our afternoon was then spent in distributing these
documents to the people, not one in a hundred of whom could read, but
who treasured the placards with a reverence nothing diminished by
their ignorance. Emissaries, too, were appointed to post them up in
conspicuous places through the country, on the doors of the chapels,
at the smiths’ forges, at cross-roads--everywhere, in short, where they
might attract notice. The most important and business-like of all these,
however, was one headed ‘Arms!’--‘Arms!’ and which went on to say that
no man who wished to lift his hand for old Ireland need do so without
a weapon, and that a general distribution of guns, swords, and bayonets
would take place at noon the following day at the Palace of Killala.
Serasint and, I believe, Madgett, were strongly opposed to this
indiscriminate arming of the people; but Neal’s counsels were now in the
ascendant, and Humbert gave an implicit confidence to all he suggested.
It was four o’clock in the evening when the word to march was given, and
our gallant little force began its advance movement. Still attached to
Colonel Charost’s staff, and being, as chasseurs, in the advance, I had
a good opportunity of seeing the line of march from an eminence about
half a mile in front. Grander and more imposing displays I have indeed
often witnessed. As a great military ‘spectacle’ it could not, of
course, be compared with those mighty armies I had seen deploying
through the defiles of the Black Forest, or spreading like a sea over
the wide plain of Germany; but in purely picturesque effect, this scene
surpassed all I had ever beheld at the time, nor do I think that, in
after-life, I can recall one more striking.
The winding road, which led over hill and valley, now disappearing,
now emerging, with the undulations of the soil, was covered by troops
marching in a firm, compact order--the grenadiers in front, after which
came the artillery, and then the regiments of the line. Watching the
dark column, occasionally saluting it as it went with a cheer, stood
thousands of country-people on every hill-top and eminence, while far
away in the distance the frigates lay at anchor in the bay, the guns at
intervals thundering out a solemn ‘boom’ of welcome and encouragement to
their comrades.
There was something so heroic in the notion of that little band of
warriors throwing themselves fearlessly into a strange land, to contest
its claim for liberty with one of the most powerful nations of the
world; there was a character of daring intrepidity in this bold advance,
they knew not whither, nor against what force, that gave the whole an
air of glorious chivalry.
I must own that distance lent its wonted illusion to the scene, and
proximity, like its twin-brother familiarity, destroyed much of the
prestige my fancy had conjured up. The line of march, so imposing when
seen from afar, was neither regular nor well kept. The peasantry were
permitted to mingle with the troops; ponies, mules, and asses, loaded
with camp-kettles and cooking-vessels, were to be met with everywhere.
The baggage-waggons were crowded with officers and _sous-officiers_ who,
disappointed in obtaining horses, were too indolent to walk. Even the
gun-carriages, and the guns themselves, were similarly loaded, while, at
the head of the infantry column, in an old rickety gig, the ancient mail
conveyance between Ballina and the coast, came General Humbert, Neal
Kerrigan capering at his side on the old grey, whose flanks were now
tastefully covered by the tricolour ensign of one of the boats as a
saddle-cloth.
This nearer and less enchanting prospect of my gallant comrades I was
enabled to obtain on being despatched to the rear by Colonel Charost, to
say that we were now within less than a mile of the town of Killala, its
venerable steeple and the tall chimneys of the palace being easily seen
above the low hills in front. Neal Kerrigan passed me as I rode back
with my message, galloping to the front with all the speed he could
muster; but while I was talking to the general he came back to say that
the beating of drums could be heard from the town, and that by the rapid
movements here and there of people, it was evident the defence was being
prepared. There was a lookout, too, from the steeple, that showed our
approach was already known. The general was not slow in adopting his
measures, and the word was given for quick-march, the artillery to
deploy right and left of the road, two companies of grenadiers forming
on the flanks. ‘As for you, sir,’ said Humbert to me, ‘take that horse,’
pointing to a mountain pony, fastened behind the gig, ‘ride forward to
the town, and make a reconnaissance. You are to report to me,’ cried he,
as I rode away, and was soon out of hearing.
Quitting the road, I took a foot-track across the fields, and which the
pony seemed to know well, and after a sharp canter reached a small, poor
suburb of the town, if a few straggling wretched cabins can deserve the
name. A group of countrymen stood in the middle of the road, about fifty
yards in front of me; and while I was deliberating whether to advance
or retire, a joyous cry of ‘Hurrah for the French!’ decided me, and I
touched my cap in salute and rode forward.
Other groups saluted me with a similar cheer, as I went on; and now
windows were flung open, and glad cries and shouts of welcome rang out
from every side. These signs were too encouraging to turn my back upon,
so I dashed forward through a narrow street in front, and soon found
myself in a kind of square or ‘Place,’ the doors and windows of which
were all closed, and not a human being to be seen anywhere. As I
hesitated what next to do, I saw a soldier in a red coat rapidly turn
the corner--‘What do you want here, you spy?’ he cried out in a loud
voice, and at the same instant his bullet rang past my ear with a
whistle. I drove in the spurs at once, and just as he had gained a
doorway, I clove his head open with my sabre--he fell dead on the spot
before me. Wheeling my horse round, I now rode back, as I had come, at
full speed, the same welcome cries accompanying me as before.
Short as had been my absence, it was sufficient to have brought the
advanced guard close up with the town; and just as I emerged from the
little suburb, a quick, sharp firing drew my attention towards the left
of the wall, and there I saw our fellows advancing at a trot, while
about twenty red-coats were in full flight before them, the wild cries
of the country-people following them as they went.
I had but time to see thus much, and to remark that two or three English
prisoners were taken, when the general came up. He had now abandoned
the gig, and was mounted on a large, powerful black horse, which I
afterwards learned was one of the bishop’s. My tidings were soon told,
and, indeed, but indifferently attended to, for it was evident enough
that the place was our own.
‘This way, general--follow me,’ cried Kerrigan. ‘If the light companies
will take the road down to the “Acres,” they’ll catch the yeomen as they
retreat by that way, and we have the town our own.’
The counsel was speedily adopted; and although a dropping fire here and
there showed that some slight resistance was still being made, it was
plain enough that all real opposition was impossible.
‘Forward!’ was now the word; and the chasseurs, with their muskets ‘in
sling,’ advanced at a trot up the main street. At a little distance the
grenadiers followed, and, debouching into the square, were received
by an ill-directed volley from a few of the militia, who took to their
heels after they fired. Three or four red-coats were killed, but the
remainder made their escape through the churchyard, and, gaining the
open country, scattered and fled as best they could.
Humbert, who had seen war on a very different scale, could not help
laughing at the absurdity of the skirmish, and was greatly amused with
the want of all discipline and ‘accord’ exhibited by the English troops.
‘I foresee, gentlemen,’ said he jocularly, ‘that we may have abundance
of success, but gain very little glory, in the same campaign. Now for a
blessing upon our labours--where shall we find our friend the bishop?’
‘This way, general,’ cried Neal, leading down a narrow street, at the
end of which stood a high wall, with an iron gate. This was locked, and
some efforts at barricading it showed the intention of a defence; but
a few strokes of a pioneer s hammer smashed the lock, and we entered
a kind of pleasure-ground, neatly and trimly kept. We had not
advanced many paces when the bishop, followed by a great number of his
clergy--for it happened to be the period of his annual visitation--came
forward to meet us.
Humbert dismounted, and removing his chapeau, saluted the dignitary
with a most finished courtesy. I could see, too, by his gesture, that he
presented General Serasin, the second in command; and, in fact, all his
motions were those of a well-bred guest at the moment of being received
by his host. Nor was the bishop, on his side, wanting either in ease or
dignity; his manner, not without the appearance of deep sorrow, was yet
that of a polished gentleman doing the honours of his house to a number
of strangers.
As I drew nearer I could hear that the bishop spoke French fluently,
but with a strong foreign accent. This facility, however, enabled him
to converse with ease on every subject, and to hold intercourse directly
with our general, a matter of no small moment to either party. It is
probable that the other clergy did not possess this gift, for assuredly
their manner towards us inferiors of the staff was neither gracious nor
conciliating; and as for myself, the few efforts I made to express, in
English, my admiration for the coast scenery, or the picturesque
beauty of the neighbourhood, were met in any rather than a spirit of
politeness.
The generals accompanied the bishop into the castle, leaving myself
and three or four others on the outside. Colonel Charost soon made
his appearance, and a guard was stationed at the entrance gate, with a
strong picket in the garden. Two sentries were placed at the hall door,
and the words ‘Quartier Général’ written up over the portico. A small
garden pavilion was appropriated to the colonel’s use, and made the
office of the adjutant-general, and in less than half an hour after
our arrival, eight _sous-officiers_ were hard at work under the trees,
writing away at billets, contribution orders, and forage rations; while
I, from my supposed fluency in English, was engaged in carrying messages
to and from the staff to the various shopkeepers and tradesmen of the
town, numbers of whom now flocked around us with expressions of welcome
and rejoicing.