Their leaders were the first to exhibit this state of feeling. Affecting a haughty disdain for us, they went about with disparaging stories of the French soldiery; and at last went even so far as to impugn their courage!
In one of the versions of the affair at Castlebar, it was roundly asserted that but for the Irish threatening to fire on them, the French would have turned and fled; while in another, the tactics of that day were all ascribed to the military genius of Neal Kerrigan, who, by-the-bye, was never seen from early morning until late the same afternoon, when he rode into Castlebar on a fine bay horse that belonged to Captain Shortall of the Royal Artillery!
If the feeling between us and our allies was something less than cordial, nothing could be more friendly than that which subsisted between us and such of the Royalists as we came in contact with. The officers who became our prisoners were treated with every deference and respect. Two field-officers and a captain of carbineers dined daily with the general, and Serasin entertained several others. We liked them greatly; and I believe I am not flattering if I say that they were equally satisfied with us. Nos amis l’ennemis, was the constant expression used in talking of them; and every day drew closer the ties of this comrade regard and esteem.
Such was the cordial tone of intimacy maintained between us, that I remember well, one evening at Humbert’s table, an animated discussion being carried on between the general and an English staff-officer on the campaign itself—the Royalist averring that in marching southward at all, a gross and irreparable mistake had been made, and that if the French had occupied Sligo, and extended their wings towards the north, they would have secured a position of infinitely greater strength, and also become the centre for rallying round them a population of a very different order from the half-starved tribes of Mayo.
Humbert affected to say that the reason for his actual plan was that twenty thousand French were daily expected to land in Lough Swilly, and that the western attack was merely to occupy time and attention, while the more formidable movement went on elsewhere.
I know not if the English believed this; I rather suspect not. Certes, they were too polite to express any semblance of distrust of what was told them with all the air of truth.
It was amusing, too, to see the candour with which each party discussed the other to his face—the French general criticising all the faulty tactics and defective manoeuvres of the Royalists; while the English never hesitated to aver that whatever momentary success might wait upon the French arms, they were just as certain to be obliged to capitulate in the end.
‘You know it better than I do, general,’ said the major of dragoons. ‘It may be a day or two earlier or later, but the issue will and must be—a surrender.’
‘I don’t agree with you,’ said Humbert, laughing; ‘I think there will be more than one “Castlebar.” But let the worst happen—and you must own that your haughty country has received a heavy insult—your great England has got a soufflet in the face of all Europe!’
This, which our general regarded as a great compensation—the greatest, perhaps, he could receive for all defeat—did not seem to affect the English with proportionate dismay, nor even to ruffle the equanimity of their calm tempers.