corthy. The chiefs themselves, particularly those few among them who had been educated in the Protestant religion, were in perpetual danger of death, or violence, from an ungovernable multitude, whom they had unwisely hoped to command. A strong instance of this was that of Captain Keough. One day, as he was sitting in committee with a number of other chiefs, he was arrested by a common fellow, by the authority of the rabble, as a traitor in league with Orangemen; and when the arrest was resisted by the members of the committee, the infuriated multitude, who were crowded together in thousands in the streets, roared to those who stood most convenient for the purpose, to drive out the committee, and pull the house down. This alarming tumult was appeased by the address of Keough, who, in a speech from a window, displayed on this occasion no despicable eloquence." *

With such feelings and dispositions, it will be a subject of regret, but not surprise, that now the ferocity of the rabble resisted all control, and blood alone could appease it. The death decree of the wretched prisoners went forth, and the fearful story of the massacre is recorded by one who miraculously escaped the fate of his less fortunate companions. It is a fearful record of butchery,—and, alas! the statement is not over-coloured.

"On the 19th of June, the Protestants in Wexford received the heart-rending intelligence that all the prisoners were to be murdered the next day. That night also, one of them, while sitting alone in silent sorrow, heard the death-bell toll as loud as ever she heard it, and much more awfully. On the following morning, the never to be forgotten 20th of June, Thomas Dixon rode to the gaol door, and swore that not a prisoner should be alive against sun-set.† He then rode into the street, repeating the same with horrid imprecations, adding, "that not a soul should be left to tell the tale." Good God! how shall I proceed? neither tongue nor pen can describe the dismal aspect of that melancholy day-a day in which the sun did not so much as glimmer through the frowning heavens. The town-bell rung, and the drums beat to arms, to assemble the rebels for the purpose of joining those at the Three Rocks, to march against General Moore's brigade. In the evening Dixon assembled the murdering band, and immediately hoisted that harbinger of destruction, the Black Flag, which had on

* Gordon.

"Thomas Dixon, rebel captain, was the son of a publican in Castle-bridge, near Wexford. In his youth he was bound as an apprentice to a tanner in New Ross; but not liking that business, he went to sea, and in some time was appointed master of one of his brother's vessels, who was an opulent merchant in Castle-bridge. During the rebellion, he was noted for cruelty and cowardice, and was the means of shedding torrents of Protestant blood. His wife, if possible, was more sanguinary than himself; but wherever they secreted themselves, they never could be found, though a large reward was offered for their apprehension."-Taylor.

"The black flag that appeared in Wexford on that day is, among other things, talked of with various chimerical conjectures, and its notoriety as denouncing massacre has been confidently recorded; notwithstanding that it is an absolute fact, that this identical black flag was, throughout the whole of the insurrection, borne by a particular corps, and the carrying of banners of that colour was by no means a singular circumstance during that period, as a flag of that and every other hue, except orange, were waved by the insurgents."-Hay's Narrative.

one side a bloody cross, and on the other the initials,-M. W. S. that is, “murder without sin," signifying, that it was no sin to murder a Protestant. Having paraded for some time to give more solemnity to the scene, the Protestants who were confined in the gaol and prisonship were led forth to the slaughter, and conducted to the bridge under a strong guard of merciless ruffians, piked to death, with every circumstance of barbarous cruelty, and then flung into the river to leave room for more! While this work of blood was going on, a rebel captain being shocked at the cries of the victims, and possessing some feelings of humanity, ran to the Popish bishop, who was drinking wine with the utmost composure after dinner, and knowing that he could at once stop the massacre, entreated of him, for the mercy of Jesus,' to come and save the prisoners. The bishop coolly replied, that it was no affair of his,' and requested the captain would sit down and take a glass of wine, adding that the people should be gratified!"* The captain, however indignantly refused the invitation, and, filled with abhorrence and distress of mind, walked silently away.†

All this time the sanguinary pikemen continued butchering the poor victims on the bridge; some they perforated in places not mortal, to prolong and increase their torture, others they would raise aloft on their pikes, and while the miserable victim writhed in extreme of agony, his blood streaming down the handles of their pikes, they exulted round him with savage joy. In the midst of this terrific scene, General Edward Roche gallopped up in great haste, and commanded the drum to beat to arms, declaring, "that Vinegar-hill was nearly surrounded by the King's troops, and that all should repair to camp,

*It is only justice to say this serious accusation against Dr. Caulfield has been emphatically repudiated- —" I solemnly declare to God and man that no such captain or man came or applied to me; and that any captain or man (or even Mr. Taylor himself) who gave such information, gave a false and unfounded one."Plowden.

† Dr. Caulfield, the titular bishop, was heavily censured for the imputed apathy, he exhibited, while Wexford was in the hands of the insurgents, and when the most revolting barbarities were perpetrated before his eyes. If a country priest had power to bind and loose--and that they had the power is not to be disputed-what might have been expected from the influence of a prelate, to whom the savage multitude looked up with awe and veneration? Much has been said and written in apology for the doctor's conduct. That he possessed commanding influence cannot be denied, and few have attempted to prove that he used it as he should. But that he could and did protect Protestants, the following correspondence establishes :— Reverend Doctor Caulfield, Wexford.

"My Lord!

"If possible you'll have the Messrs.

liberated, or removed to some more comfortable lodging: they are well disposed, and have never injured any one individual. Your compliance will oblige your affectionate friend.

Enniscorthy, June 15th, 1798.

"JOHN SUTTON, Priest." "The Messrs. I am sure, are free from any party business, orange, or any thing inimical to any society of people, as is mentioned above. "I remain, my Lord, yours most sincerely, "WM. SYNNOTT, P.P."

"From the excellent characters of the above gentlemen, I beg leave, in the name of Jesus Christ, to recommend them to be protected. "Wexford, June 15th, 1798.

"JAMES CAULFIELD."

as reinforcements were wanting." This express had a wonderful effect: the assassins instantly closed the bloody scene, and fled in all directions, leaving three of the prisoners on their knees, namely, William Hamilton, William O'Connor, and Charles Jackson. Some of the rebel guard returned soon after, and conveyed the prisoners back to gaol, who had still continued on their knees without making the least effort to escape, being stupified with terror. But that sanguinary monster, Thomas Dixon, returning, he soon evinced that his thirst for blood was not yet satiated, by ordering out the remainder of the prisoners from the gaol and prison-ship, the greater part of whom were tortured to death in like manner as the former. He then proceeded to the markethouse, and having fixed his vulture-eye on others, dragged them to the fatal bridge for execution. After butchering these, a lot of ten more was brought forth, and barbarously murdered. The third time they took out eighteen, and were massacring them, when Dick Monk* rode into town from Vinegar-hill, with his shoes and stockings off, and shouted "D-n your souls, you vagabonds, why don't you go out and meet the enemy that are coming in, and not be murdering in cold blood?" Some Protestant women followed him, and asked him, "What news?" he replied, "Bad news, indeed; the King's forces are encamped round Vinegar-hill." He then rode towards the convent, and perceiving the women (who were anxious to be more fully informed of this matter) following him, he drew out a pistol, and swore "that if they came any farther he would blow their brains out." Shortly after, Priest Corrin was seen running towards the bridge. There were six of the poor Protestants killed out of the last party that were taken down before he arrived, and it was with great difficulty he prevailed upon them to spare the rest. After using all the arguments he could, without effect, he at length took off his hat, and desired them to kneel down and pray for the souls of the poor prisoners before they put them to death. They did so and having thus got them in the attitude of devotion, he said, "Now pray to God to have mercy on your souls, and teach you to shew that kindness towards them, which you expect from HIM, in the hour of death, and in the day of judgment."-This had the desired effect; he led them off the bridge without opposition, and they were sent back to confinement. The massacre of that day ceased about eight o'clock in the evening. Out of forty-eight prisoners who had been confined in the market-house, nineteen only escaped.†

* Richard Monaghan, alias Dick Monk, a rebel captain, was born of obscure parents, having formerly been a shoe-black in Wexford: but being a fellow of great wit and humour, he was taken notice of, and afterwards obtained a livelihood by buying corn for the merchants; he had also been a recruiting serjeant part of his life, and on the rebellion breaking out, he was appointed a captain in the rebel army, and considered during that period a generous and well-minded man. After the rebels were driven out of the county, he received a wound in an engagement, and was going to Newtown-barry to surrender himself to Colonel Maxwell, of the Cavan militia, when he was met by a party of yeomanry, and shot.

"They thus continued, till about seven o'clock, to convey parties of prisoners, from ten to twenty, from the gaol and the market-house, where many of them were confined, to the bridge, where they butchered them. Every procession was preceded