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the same kind of trial and execution which he after- c Ha P. wards suffered. . '.

In the trial of this baronet, protestant loyalists, witnesses in favour of the accused, were forcibly prevented by the bayonets of the military from entering the court. Catholic prisoners had been tortured by repeated floggings to force them to give evidence against him, and appear to have been promised their lives upon no other condition than that of his condemnation. Notwithstanding these, and other violent measures, no charge was proved, of which the members of the court-martial, who sentenced him to death, were so sensible, that, in defiance of an act of parliament, the register of the proceedings was withheld, as a secret, from his wife and family. The court was irregularly constituted and illegal, destitute of a iudffe-advocate. The execution of the sentence was precipitate, at an unusual hour, and attended with atrocious circumstances not warranted even by the sentence. After he was hanged, his body was abused, his head severed from it, and exposed on a spike. These proceedings, which reflect indelible disgrace on the persons concerned, are detailed in a pamphlet styled, "A Narrative of the Apprehension, Trial, and Execution of Sir Edward-William Crosbie, Baronet." The president of the court was an illiterate man, unable to write the most common words of English without mis-spelling. But what numbers have fallen victims to ignorance in power, whose wrongs have been unnoticed and are unknown! ::'' The Chap. The progress of rebellious toward the south-west


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was checked by this bloody repulse, and by discomfitures elsewhere of insurgent parties, particularly 1798. pf one at Jackets-town in the same morning. Or\ the northern side of Dublin, where it was less for^ midable, the only large assembly found in arms, was completely routed in the evening of the twenty-> sixth, on, the hill of Tarah, by a body of four hun^ dred Reay fencibles and yeomen. On the western quarter Sir James DufFe, making a rapid march, with six hundred men from Limerick, and arriving on the twenty-ninth of May at Kildare, completed the plan of laying open the communication of the country with the metropolis, which had sustained for some days a, species of blockade. But the army of this general, who appears to have been personally brave and enterprising, committed, through indiscipline or misconduct, an a6l which tended strongly to confirm a spirit of rebellion among the unfortunate peasantry. General Dundas had routed the rebels at Kilcullen, had recovered that little town, and had, with the consent of the lord-lieutenant, accepted the surrendry of two thousand insurgents, posted under one Perkins, on an eminence called Knockawlin-hill, on the bor^ ders of the great race-course called the Curragh of K-ildar^. Permitted, by previous compact, to retire unmolested, on the delivery of their arms, they had, on the general's approach, with shouts of joy returned to their homes, leaving thirteen cart-loads of pikes on the ground. From this a disposition to surrender was becoming general, and a large body

had. had assembled for that purpose, by stipulation with Chap. Dundas, at a place called Gibbet-rath on the Cur- \^rv^/ jagh, when the troops of Sir James Duffe,were marching onward from Kildare, on the twenty-ninth. Qu, the most futile pretence they attacked this unresisting multitude, who fled in consternation, and were pursued, with the slaughter of two, or three hundred^, by a company of fencible cavalry, denominated lojdj Jocelyn's fox-hunters. As the place was totally unfit for either defence or escape, the carnage would have been far greater, if a retreat had not been unmeduitely sounded, according to peremptory orders, by express, from general Dundas, who had been apprehensive of such an accident. From the ardour of the soldiery for the slaughter of unresisting men, a protestant clergyman, named Williamson, who had, been a prisoner among the rebels, would have been hanged by these troops, if be had not in the, critical moment been rescued by colonel Sankey, his brother-in-law.

While the capital was,relieved from apprehensionsstateoftfce of blockade, an insurrection had burst with fury in Wexford. a part where it was least expected. The county of 1'98" Wexford 1»ad not been otherwise than very imperfectly organized, and many of its catholic inhabitants had addressed the lord-lieutenant through earl Mountnorris, protesting their lpyalty, and pledging themselves to arm, if permitted, in defence of government, when occasion should occur. With exception of its yeomen and their supplementaries, about five hundred only of the royal army had been stationed in this large and populous county.


Chap. These were ill-commanded, disorderly, and insolent, v—y^ more fitted to excite than to suppress the spirit of rebellion. Less obedient than formidable to their officers, many of the yeomen a6ted in like manner; while some petty men, who could only by violence raise themselves into notice, took advantage of unhappy times, in the suspension of civil government, to treat with cruel indignity objects incapable of resistance or redress. The rumours of the pitched cap, of the miseries of imprisonment, of the houseburnings, the stranglings, and the lash, had excited horrible apprehensions in the people j and when these began to be exercised on themselves, their consternation was inconceivable. Whether the resolution to rebel had not been so determinately fixed, as to be preventable by no other means than force, I pretend not to judge: but my opinion is fully decided, that no insurrection would have been attempted, if the military command, with a sufficient force, had been held by an officer, who would have enforced a salutary discipline among his troops, and exercised martial law with stri6t impartiality. The floggings were comparatively neither numerous nor severe, and had not become universal. None had been infli&ed in the town of Wexford, nor in the neighbouring baronies of Forth and Bargy; and in these baronies no atrocities were committed when insurrection took place. But other outrages, whose extension was dreaded, were exercised by men unauthorized, yet not rcr strained; as the well-inclined feared, each, by in-.

terference4 terference, to draw insult on himself, Wanton Chap. cruelties were committed on the prisoners in Gorey, "w^^-/ quite contrary to the wishes of the humane officer, lieutenant Swaync, who commanded there, and of a nobleman in the neighbourhood, remarkable for lenity and other amiable qualities, to whom the facts were palliated, Or not made known,

Whatever may have been the immediate cause,imurretthe standard of rebellion was hoisted in the night of"°i798. the twenty-sixth of May, by John Murphy, coadjutor or curate to the parish priest of Boulavogue, a man of shallow intellect, fanatical, and ferocious. Instantly, on intelligence of a nocturnal assembly, Thomas Bookey, first lieutenant of the Camolin cavalry, proceeded against it with a part of his troop. To his summons for surrendry, he received from Murphy this answer of defiance, "Come on, you heretic dog;" and, unsupported by his men, he fell a victim to his courage, slain on the spot with one of his associates. The conflagration of his house, distant seven miles from Gorey, served to heighten the alarm, which on every side spread with rapidity. The commotion was sudden, violent, and extensive. In the morning of the following day, Whit-sunday, the twenty-seventh, two bodies of armed men appeared on the hills of Oulart and Kilthomas, the former ten miles to the north of Wexford, the latter nine to the west of Gorey, an inferior ridge of Slyecve-Byee mountain. Their numbers were fast increasing from reports, too well founded, of men shot in the roads, at work in the fields, and even in

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