A bridge too far in the Races of Castlebar

by Tom Gillespie

DURING the height of the Covid-19 epidemic in April/May 2020 workmen undertook major renovations of the bridge at Bridge Street, Castlebar

I wonder when they were engaged in the restoration project did they realise the historical significance of the bridge.

The location was a vital one during the famed Races of Castlebar 223 years ago this week and it was where the British forces made one last stand against the invading 800 French troops aided by 1,500 Irish, all led by General Humbert.

Today Staball Hill, leadings down to the bridge over the town river, is a constant reminded of that battle and many reenactments of that historic encounter have been staged, the most colourful being in August 1998 when a commemorative booklet was published to mark the event.

During the 1798 battle a blockade was erected by the British in one last stand at Bridge Street.

As the Irish soldiers, armed only with pikes, charged the British the residents of the street are said to have shouted ‘Stab them all’. This was shortened to ‘Staball’.

On the Ordnance Survey Map c1900 the hill is called ‘Stab all’ - the words separated. The street was also known as ’98 Street to some residents of the town.

However, before Staball got its name this street was known as ‘Poorhouse Hill’. The Workhouse was located at the bottom of this hill and people had to walk this way to get to it.

On August 27, 1798 a yeoman who had been attending his cattle spotted the French/Irish advance party as they approached Castlebar from the Lahardane direction. He fled to the town to alert the British.

The English forces took up position at Sion Hill outside the town.

LibraryIreland has the following account of the ‘Races’: At the bridge over Castlebar River a horrible crush ensued.

The main body of the British army had converged to that point, and the narrow structure was blocked with field guns, caissons (a two-wheeled cart designed to carry artillery ammunition) and supply wagons, against which the struggling mass of humanity surged in unreasoning terror.

Here it was every man for himself, the alternative to the luckless foot soldier being death under the hoof or a plunge into the waters beneath.

To increase the confusion some shots fell in among the fugitives, and in their desperation they turned their weapons against each other.

How many perished on the bridge has never been fully ascertained, but for weeks afterwards the river and the lough nearby threw up mutilated corpses in the uniform of the British line and the Anglo-Irish yeomanry.

But the battle was not yet over. The most desperate fighting was still to come.

By the exertions of the Earl of Granard, Major Thompson, and captains Chambers and Armstrong, a comparatively large body of men were gotten together to cover the retreat of the army.

This they endeavoured to do by maintaining a musketry fire from behind hedges and thickets on the approaching Sans-culottes (the common people of the lower classes in late 18th century France).

Unable to hold their ground thy retired to the bridge, and took top position there with a curricle gun.

At the same moment the Highlanders and some carabineers, after being driven from the left wing at the point of the bayonet, stationed themselves in the public square of Castlebar, where Lieutenant Blundell with two curricle guns had been posted early in the morning.

To dislodge the enemy from both these positions Humbert detached his cavalry from his centre and moved it on to the town, with some infantry.

A Protestant citizen present at the battle thus related some of the details of this conflict: “Colonel Miller,” he says, “rushed into the town crying: ‘Clear the street for action!’ when in a moment, as a dam bursting its banks, a mixture of soldiers of all kinds rushed in at every avenue; a sergeant desired that every woman should go to the barracks; but Dr. Hennin’s, another family and mine retired into a house, fell on our knees, and there remained in prayer until the town was taken.

“Four brave Highlanders at a cannon kept up a brisk fire on the French, but were killed while loading, the gunner taken, and the guns turned on our men.

“Now the street action became hot; before it was peal answering peal, but now thunder answering thunder; a black cloud of horrors hid the light of heaven - the messengers of dearth groping their way, as in gloomy hell, whilst the trembling echoes which shook our town concealed the more melancholy groans of the dying.

“When the French approached the jail, our sentinel (a Fraser Fencible) killed one Frenchman, charged and killed another, shot a third and a fourth and, as he fired at and killed the fifth, a number rushed up the steps, dashed his brains out, tumbling him from from his stand, and the sentry-box on his body.

“The street action laster nearly an hour, during which period every foot of ground was obstinately disputed. The British, still having the advantage of position and numbers, inflected severe losses on their opponents, and were only overcome in the end by the sheer pluck and hard fighting on the part of he latter.

“Death had no terrors of these sons of the republic, even though to them it meant not an awakening in another and better world, but chaos and an end to all things.

“Utterly regardless of grape and canister, of sword and shell, they flung themselves upon foe. One grenadier, after stabbing two gunners, placed his thumb on the touch-hole of a cannon in time to extinguish the burning fuse.

“He earned his epaulets for the bold deed, which saved the head column of the advancing column from certain destruction.

“Acts of heroism were not lacking during the obstinate struggle. Captain Chambers, on the British side, fought like a very demon.

“With his own hand he killed or wounded several Frenchman, including an officer. Throwing away his sword he seized a musket from a soldier’s hand and continued to fight until a grenadier had run a bayonet clear down his throat, and driven the point of it out at the side of his neck.

“A French chasseur, on the other hand, received a ball in his right arm. Grasping his sword with is left, he went on fighting desperately.

“Presently a ball entered his left breast; but, still undaunted, he remained on the spot, slashing at the enemy with might and main. In the end a royal soldier pierced him with a bayonet, and the brave Frenchman fell to earth a corpse.”