With the Connaught Rangers

by Edward Herbert Maxwell

MY FIRST EXPERIENCES IN THE REGIMENT—TOBY WHITE—THE CASTLE GUARD—CHANGES IN IRELAND—DONNYBROOK FAIR—HALF-A-CROWN’S WORTH OF FIGHTING—ORDERED TO MALTA—AFFAIRS IN SYRIA—IRISHMEN AND SCOTCHMEN—TRANSPORTS—A CRUEL JOKE—AMUSEMENTS AT MALTA—CRUISE TO CANDIA AND GREECE—AN OLD COLONEL’S OPINION OF ROME AND ITS RUINS—DEPOT AT PAISLEY—FIRING A SALUTE AT DUMBARTON CASTLE—MARCH FROM STIRLING TO ABERDEEN—ILLUSTRIOUS TOM AND THE BLOTTING BOOKS—REMINISCENCES.

CHAPTER I.

In the year 1839 I entered the Army as ensign in the 88th Regiment Connaught Rangers, which was then quartered in Dublin; and a merry life it was. What with drill and parties, hunting and field-days, the officers of the old regiment were always occupied. There were several packs of hounds within easy distance of Richmond Barracks; but the Ward Union was the one most patronised by my brothers-in-arms. The manœuvres in the Phœnix Park were not much varied. I remember one day, when, my captain being absent, I was in command of the company in which I was ensign. The old colour-sergeant took the greatest care of me. We advanced in line, and so sure was the non-commissioned officer of what the manœuvre would be that he whispered to me: ‘When ye get to that black thing on the ground, ye must give the words, “Form fours to the right; right wheel;”’ which, I think, was the form in those days. The black thing was a crow, which flew away before we got up to it. But, by my friend the colour-sergeant’s help, I gave the proper word, and we retired in time to let the cavalry through. Week after week passed, and the same manœuvres were executed.

Old Toby White was town-major then, and his portrait, often repeated, appeared on the walls of the Castle Guard. I always tried to be sub. on the Castle Guard, for it was a pleasant lounge during the day, and in the evening a good dinner was served free of expense, while at night a supper of grilled bones, etc., was always ready for those who had been at the theatre, and who looked in on their way home.

Everything is changed in Ireland now-a-days. The spirit of fun seems to have vanished, and a sombre gloom appears to overshadow everything. There was always a comical side to all the proceedings of our Irish friends, even when the affair was serious, or assumed an air of importance.

I remember going to Donnybrook fair—now a thing of the past—with two brother officers, Bayley and Dawson. When we arrived all was quite decorous. We observed many tents, in which the country people were apparently enjoying themselves peaceably, but, unfortunately, an urchin—a Dublin street Arab—came up to us, and said, ‘Give me half-a-crown, captin, and I’ll show ye the finest sport ye ever saw.’ So we tossed him the money, and off he went. He crept up near a tent, where we saw him ‘feeling for a head,’ and, having found one ‘convanient’ belonging to some man inside, perhaps asleep, he took the stick in his hand, and hit the head as hard as he could. The effect was wonderful. All started up with such vehemence that the tent came down at once, and everyone began to fight with his neighbour. The clatter of sticks was incessant, and the uproar soon extended to the whole fair. Then the peelers rushed in, and were swayed from one side to the other by the contending parties. We left the scene of battle while the strife was still raging,—many a cracked crown being the consequence of that miserable half-crown.

After being quartered for some time in Dublin, we were ordered to Cork, there to await embarkation to Malta. In the year 1840, affairs in Syria looked very warlike, and we fully expected to be ordered on to the seat of war, but the bombardment of St. Jean D’Acre by our Fleet, under Sir R. Stopford, together with the other successful operations, put off for some years a great war.

The 42nd Royal Highlanders were quartered at Cork when we were there, and a great friendship existed between the two regiments. The consumption of whiskey—to cement this friendly feeling—among the men of the two corps was enormous. Sometimes a Highlander and a Connaught Ranger might be seen climbing the steep hill on whose summit the infantry barracks are situated; both having proved the genuineness of their friendship by deep potations, and both in their way showing various indications of their respective nationalities. Sandy appeared quiet, grave, and canny, while Paddy was excited and noisy; waving a stick in the air, and challenging everyone to ‘tread on the tail of his coat.’

When they arrived at the barrack-gate, the Scotchman pulled himself together, and, solemnly fixing his eyes on a distant point, marched steadily past the sentry to his barrack-room, while the Irishman, howling defiance to all about him, staggered right into the middle of the guard and was lodged most probably in a cell for the night.

At length the transport Conway was reported to be ready to receive the head-quarters of the Connaught Rangers, and we went on board. Very different from what they are now were the vessels employed for the conveyance of troops; the comfort and luxury of floating palaces like the Crocodile and the Jumna were then unknown, and a ship that was considered almost unsafe to convey merchandise was regarded as quite good enough to carry one of Her Majesty’s regiments.