I have little left worthy of relating that occurred while stationed in Kilkenny, but I cannot dismiss the subject without paying a tribute of respect and admiration to the character of the clergyman who acted as chaplain to the troops in that place—the Rev. Mr Rowe, rector of St Mary’s. Joined to an indefatigable discharge of his duty, the purest benevolence, and a liberal mind, he possessed an eloquence that caught the attention of the most illiterate and careless. Our men were never very remarkable for their church-going propensities, but we had not been long in Kilkenny when the greater part of the regiment voluntarily attended his Sunday evening sermons. Without stooping to coarseness of expression, he rendered himself plain and intelligible to all; and by his earnest and affectionate manner, endeared himself to his hearers. His preaching had a very visible effect on the conduct of many of our men, and I am sure they all remember him with feelings of esteem and veneration. He was no time-server, ‘with doctrines fashioned to the varying hour,’ but rigidly followed the example of his Master in being ‘no respecter of persons.’ It would be well for the people of Ireland were all the clergymen of the established church like Mr Rowe.
As a specimen of the familiar manner in which he drew the men’s attention, I was once on the jail guard when he came to visit the prisoners. Those of the guard not posted as sentinels were always called in on such occasions, and when we were assembled he read some passages of Scripture; but while he was reading the men’s attention wandered. Perceiving this, he shut the book, and looking round his audience, ‘I will tell you a story,’ said he; every eye was fixed on him, ready to hear the promised tale:—
‘There was once a gentleman possessed of great riches, and he lived up to his income, enjoying all that this world could afford. He was on the point of setting out on a pleasure tour, when he took suddenly ill and soon after died. Some time after, a gentleman, who had been on very intimate terms with the deceased, but ignorant of his death, called at the door, and asked the servant if his master was at home; the servant replied, in melancholy accents, “Alas, sir! my master has gone to his long home—he is dead.” “Dead!” said the gentleman, horror-struck with the news, but recovering himself,—“Well,” said he, “it is the road we must all go sooner or later—but I hope he has gone to heaven?” The servant, who knew his master’s wild manner of living, shook his head. “What!” said the gentleman, “do you doubt it?” “I don’t know,” said the servant, “but when my master was on the eve of going a journey, he was always talking about it, and making great preparations some days before he set out; but during his illness I never once heard him mention heaven.”
‘Are you, my friends, making preparation for that long journey that we must all soon take?’
He then took advantage of their attention being awakened to impress upon them the necessity of that preparation.
CHAPTER XVII.
LIKENESSES.
About the period of which I am now writing, the service of a number of our men expired. Where they were good characters they were strongly pressed to re-enlist; but many of them seemed to be satiated with their seven years’ apprenticeship,—among the others, some of my comrade sergeants, who were induced to leave the service in disgust at the conduct of some of their officers, one in particular, whose situation brought him in closer contact with them. He had risen from the ranks to the situation which he then held, by dint of a species of noisy activity, which was at that time in great request. It was not enough to bid a man do a thing, but the command must be accompanied with a few oaths, in a stentorian voice, that roused every echo within a mile; and it would have been diverting and ludicrous in the extreme, to a person unaccustomed to the business, to hear an order given by the commanding officer when in the field, ringing along through the chain of underlings, increasing in strength and vociferation, until it reached the quarter for which it was intended. I am not sure whether I have conveyed to the reader a clear idea of what I wish to describe; but if he has ever been along-side a dog kennel, and watched the progress of their sweet voices, from the first note sounded by the master of the band, until the whole pack, tagrag and bobtail, joined in the melodious concert, he will have some notion of what I mean. The officer in question considered this quality so essentially necessary to the character of a non-commissioned officer, that those who did not abuse or blackguard the men under their command, were considered unfit for the situation. So particular was he in this respect, that if he heard of a sergeant being praised by his company, that individual was set down in his mind as a candidate for the first private’s coat that might be vacant. ‘You are one of the good fellows, I believe,’ he would say, addressing the offending non-commissioned officer, ‘Damme, I’ll good fellow ye.’
He had a system of favouritism which he pursued in the corps, to the almost total exclusion of any, but those he recommended to the situation of a non-commissioned officer. The power he possessed to do this was partly acquired by his own presumption, and partly by the indolence or apathy of the officer commanding. The result, however, was, that men were promoted to the situation who could not write their own name: being consequently dependent on their inferiors for doing their duty, they could scarcely be very fit persons to hold the situation, and as they could not help being conscious of their inability, it must have been irksome and unpleasant to themselves. In this, however, they were the more like himself, for without any great stretch of imagination, his writing might have been mistaken for Arabic; as to the other parts of a gentleman’s education, he knows best whether he possessed them or not.
But I am digressing—I was talking of the sergeants leaving the corps when their period of service expired. Several of them were sent for, and promised great things if they would re-enlist; but from the reason I have already mentioned, they declined doing so. The consequence was, that during the short time they remained in the regiment, they were treated by him in the harshest manner; this was low, illiberal conduct, and certainly did no good to the service.