The Insurrection in Dublin | Page 6

"Halt," but the driver made a tentative effort to turn
his wheel. A great shout of many voices came then, and the three men
ran to him.
"Drive to the barricade," came the order.
The driver turned his wheel a point further towards escape, and
instantly one of the men clapped a gun to the wheel and blew the tyre
open. Some words were exchanged, and then a shout:
"Drive it on the rim, drive it."
The tone was very menacing, and the motorist turned his car slowly to
the barricade and placed it in.
For an hour I tramped the City, seeing everywhere these knots of
watchful strangers speaking together in low tones, and it sank into my
mind that what I had heard was true, and that the City was in
insurrection. It had been promised for so long, and had been threatened
for so long. Now it was here. I had seen it in the Green, others had seen
it in other parts--the same men clad in dark green and equipped with
rifle, bayonet, and bandolier, the same silent activity. The police had
disappeared from the streets. At that hour I did not see one policeman,
nor did I see one for many days, and men said that several of them had
been shot earlier in the morning; that an officer had been shot on
Portobello Bridge, that many soldiers had been killed, and that a good
many civilians were dead also.
Around me as I walked the rumour of war and death was in the air.
Continually and from every direction rifles were crackling and rolling;
sometimes there was only one shot, again it would be a roll of firing
crested with single, short explosions, and sinking again to whip-like
snaps and whip-like echoes; then for a moment silence, and then again
the guns leaped in the air.
The rumour of positions, bridges, public places, railway stations,

Government offices, having been seized was persistent, and was not
denied by any voice.
I met some few people I knew. P.H., T.M., who said: "Well!" and
thrust their eyes into me as though they were rummaging me for
information.
But there were not very many people in the streets. The greater part of
the population were away on Bank Holiday, and did not know anything
of this business. Many of them would not know anything until they
found they had to walk home from Kingstown, Dalkey, Howth, or
wherever they were.
I returned to my office, decided that I would close it for the day. The
men were very relieved when I came in, and were more relieved when I
ordered the gong to be sounded. There were some few people in the
place, and they were soon put out. The outer gates were locked, and the
great door, but I kept the men on duty until the evening. We were the
last public institution open; all the others had been closed for hours.
I went upstairs and sat down, but had barely reached the chair before I
stood up again, and began to pace my room, to and fro, to and fro;
amazed, expectant, inquiet; turning my ear to the shots, and my mind to
speculations that began in the middle, and were chased from there by
others before they had taken one thought forward. But then I took
myself resolutely and sat me down, and I pencilled out exercises above
the stave, and under the stave; and discovered suddenly that I was again
marching the floor, to and fro, to and fro, with thoughts bursting about
my head as though they were fired on me from concealed batteries.
At five o'clock I left. I met Miss P., all of whose rumours coincided
with those I had gathered. She was in exceeding good humour and
interested. Leaving her I met Cy----, and we turned together up to the
Green. As we proceeded, the sound of firing grew more distinct, but
when we reached the Green it died away again. We stood a little below
the Shelbourne Hotel, looking at the barricade and into the Park. We
could see nothing. Not a Volunteer was in sight. The Green seemed a
desert. There were only the trees to be seen, and through them small

green vistas of sward.
Just then a man stepped on the footpath and walked directly to the
barricade. He stopped and gripped the shafts of a lorry lodged near the
centre. At that instant the Park exploded into life and sound; from
nowhere armed men appeared at the railings, and they all shouted at the
man.
"Put down that lorry. Let out and go away. Let out at once."
These were the cries. The man did not let out. He halted with the shafts
in his hand,