At this juncture, the rebellion of 1798 broke out in Ireland, and at the urgent request of Ministers, who appear to have considered Lord Cornwallis the man for every difficulty, his lordship consented to undertake the joint duties of lord-lieutenant and commander-in-chief in that unhappy country, then as disturbed and disloyal as conflicting races and religions, and the most savage misgovernment, could make it.
His lordship’s letters to the Duke of Portland and others, from Dublin, evince far more apprehension at the violence, cruelty, and insubordination of the army under his command, than at the rebels who were up in arms against him. His words are:—“The violence of our friends, and their folly in endeavouring to make this a religious war, added to the ferocity of our troops, who delight in murder, most powerfully counteract all plans of conciliation.” Nevertheless his judgment, firmness, and temper soon prevailed; by midsummer the insurrection was suppressed with far less bloodshed than was pleasing to the supporters of the government; and Lord Cornwallis was endeavouring to concentrate his attention on the reorganization of the military mob, which then, under the name of soldiers, garrisoned Ireland against foreign and domestic foes, when the invader actually arrived.[10]
On the 22nd of August, three frigates under English colours anchored in Killala Bay, co. Mayo, carrying a force of about 1,100 French troops, commanded by General Humbert. They were the vanguard of a larger force under General Hardy, which was to have sailed at the same time, but which had been detained by unforeseen difficulties at Brest.
There being no sufficient force to oppose them, the French easily took possession of Killala, and established their head-quarters in the palace of the bishop, Dr. Stock, who has left a most interesting journal of what occurred whilst the French occupied the town.
Humbert had brought with him a large supply of arms, ammunition, and uniforms, to be distributed amongst the United Irishmen, who he had been led to suppose would instantly rally round his standard. But he soon discovered that he had been deceived, that he had landed in the wrong place, and that he had arrived too late. The peasantry of Mayo, a simple and uncivilized race, ignorant of the use of fire-arms, crowded round the invaders as long as they had anything to give, and as long as there was no enemy to fight; but, at the first shot, they invariably ran away. Besides, the neck of the rebellion had been already dislocated by the judicious vigour of Cornwallis. Had the landing been effected earlier, and farther north, the result might have been different; as it was, the French general found that he had a losing game to play—and most manfully and creditably did he play it.
Professing to wage no war against the Irish, he assured the bishop that neither pillage nor violence should be permitted, and that his troops should only take what was absolutely necessary for their subsistence; and on these points, the bishop tells us, the Frenchman “religiously kept his word;” not only controlling his own soldiers, but actually protecting the bishop and his little Protestant flock from the rapacity of the Irish rebels who for a time joined the invaders.
The bishop’s account of the French soldiery is notable; they appear to have been an under-sized and mean-looking set of men, whom Sir David Dundas would have held in no account on parade; yet they did the work they had to do, hopeless and fatal as it was, as well as the Duke of York’s own gigantic regiment of guards could have done it.
“The French,” says the bishop, “are a nation apt enough to consider themselves as superior to any people in the world; but here, indeed, it would have been ridiculous not to prefer the Gallic troops in every respect before their Irish allies. Intelligence, activity, temperance, patience to a surprising degree, appeared to be combined in the soldiery that came over with Humbert, together with the exactest obedience to discipline. Yet, if you except their grenadiers, they had nothing to catch the eye: their stature for the most part was low, their complexions pale and sallow, their clothes much the worse for wear; to a superficial observer they would have appeared incapable of enduring almost any hardship. These were the men, however, of whom it was presently observed that they could be well content to live on bread and potatoes, to drink water, to make the stones of the street their bed, and to sleep in their clothes, with no covering but the canopy of heaven. One half of their number had served in Italy under Buonaparte, the rest were from the army of the Rhine, where they had suffered distresses that well accounted for thin persons and wan looks.”
Humbert himself, who had accompanied the Bantry Bay expedition in 1796, had risen from the ranks, and had brought himself into notice by his brilliant conduct in La Vendée.
The day after landing, the French advanced towards Ballina, leaving at Killala six officers and two hundred men to guard a quantity of ammunition which they had no means of carrying with them. The English garrison of Ballina fled on their approach, and Humbert, stationing there one hundred more of his men, pushed on to Castlebar, where General Lake was prepared to meet him. The latter had previously ascertained, by means of a flag of truce, the exact number of the French, and had sent a message privily to the bishop, telling him to be of good cheer, inasmuch as the great superiority of his own numbers would speedily enable him to give a good account of the invading force. What did occur when the French and English met is, perhaps, best told in the words of General Hutchinson, Lake’s second in command during the affair. Contemporary authorities, however, prove that Hutchinson has very much understated the numbers of the English force:—