The advanced lines of the two contending armies were now in
presence--the National Guard of Orleans and the Irish Brigade. The white
belts and fat paunches of the Guard presented a terrific appearance; but
it might have been remarked by the close observer, that their faces were
as white as their belts, and the long line of their bayonets might be
seen to quiver. General Odillon Barrot, with a cockade as large as
a pancake, endeavored to make a speech: the words honneur, patrie,
Francais, champ de bataille might be distinguished; but the General was
dreadfully flustered, and was evidently more at home in the Chamber of
Deputies than in the field of war.
The Prince of Ballybunion, for a wonder, did not make a speech. "Boys,"
said he, "we've enough talking at the Corn Exchange; bating's the word
now." The Green-Islanders replied with a tremendous hurroo, which sent
terror into the fat bosoms of the French.
"Gentlemen of the National Guard," said the Prince, taking off his hat
and bowing to Odillon Barrot, "will ye be so igsthramely obleeging as
to fire first." This he said because it had been said at Fontenoy,
but chiefly because his own men were only armed with shillelaghs, and
therefore could not fire.
But this proposal was very unpalatable to the National Guardsmen: for
though they understood the musket-exercise pretty well, firing was the
thing of all others they detested--the noise, and the kick of the gun,
and the smell of the powder being very unpleasant to them.
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