On the morning of the appointed day for this momentous enterprise, the Kildare men were seen directing their hurried steps towards the capital. They had collected about the depot in Marshalsea-lane and Thomas-street, in unusual crowds, when about five o’clock they were persuaded by their officers to return home. This, with the defection of the Wicklow and Wexford labourers, would have deterred a less ardent spirit than that of Emmet’s from proceeding. His, though damped, never quailed under the danger that this disappointment was likely to bring on him and his followers.
Towards dusk he directed the distribution of pikes amongst the waiting crowds in Thomas-street, and proceeded to make the necessary arrangements for the contemplated attack.
On the night of the 22d, we assembled at the depot, and, though every thing wore a gloomy aspect, resolved to persevere. The different leaders received their instructions; some were to assemble their forces in the Barley Fields, now Mountjoy Square, some on the Coal-Quay, and others in different parts of the town. These were to act only in case of seeing a third rocket, which Emmet was to send up when he considered the time arrived for the commencement of hostilities. Emmet, Malachy, Bryan, and I, were to head the forces which were to attack the castle.
Every thing being thus arranged, I bid my companions farewell for the night, and returned to my lodgings. I could sleep but little, and when I awoke the next morning, the consciousness of being on the eve of a great event, filled my mind with gloomy apprehensions. To reflect, however, was now useless, and without giving my thoughts time to inform against my purpose, I hurried to the depot, where I found all in confusion. The place was thronged by insurgents, who had arrived from the country, and whose presence served to obstruct the workmen. Malachy and Emmet, with astonishing firmness, gave directions; and I was handed the printed proclamation to read.
As I looked upon the expressive countenances of the desperate and infatuated men around me, I could not resist the gloomy prescience which the scene was calculated to impart. It was a moment I would not wish to go through again, there was so much of foreboding evil—so much of personal misfortune to be apprehended—and so much toil and peril which must be endured, whether the rebellion triumphed or was crushed. My imagination, like a prism, collected all the rays of evil from probable discomfiture, and showed me, in aggravated horror, all the dangers I had to encounter. However, to recede was now impossible, without incurring the imputation of cowardice, or what was more intolerable, the suspicion of my associates. Actual hostility was preferable to either of these; and, making a virtue of necessity, I recalled the memory of those conspirators who had been successful, and fortified my resolution by anticipating the same fortune, though every thing around might have taught a rational man the extravagant folly of hoping to subvert a powerful government with a few hundred men, partially armed. These, it is true, we thought, had only to raise the standard of rebellion, and thousands were ready to support it, but in future, who will rely upon the promises of conspirators?
About six o’clock, Emmet, Malachy, one or two others, and myself, put on our green uniform, trimmed with gold-lace, and selected our arms. The insurgents, who had all day been well plied with whiskey, began to prepare for commencing an attack upon the Castle; and when all was ready, Emmet made an animated address to the conspirators. At eight o’clock precisely, we sallied out of the depot, and when we arrived in Thomas-Street, the insurgents gave three deafening cheers.
The consternation excited by our presence defies description. Every avenue emptied its curious hundreds, and almost every window exhibited half a dozen inquisitive heads, while peaceable shopkeepers ran to their doors, and beheld with amazement a lawless band of armed insurgents, in the midst of a peaceable city, an hour at least before dark. The scene at first might have appeared amusing to a careless spectator, from the singular dubious character which the riot wore; but when the rocket ascended, and burst over the heads of the people, the aspect of things underwent an immediate and wonderful change. The impulse of the moment was self-preservation; and those who, a few minutes before, seemed to look on with vacant wonder, now assumed a face of horror, and fled with precipitation. The wish to escape was simultaneous, and the eagerness with which the people retreated from before us impeded their flight, as they crowded upon one another in the entrance of alleys, courtways, and lanes; while the screams of women and children were frightful and heart-rending.
“To the Castle!” cried our enthusiastic leader, drawing his sword, and his followers appeared to obey; but when we reached the Market-house our adherents had wonderfully diminished, there not being more than twenty insurgents with us.
“Fire the rocket!” cried Malachy.
“Hold awhile” said Emmet, snatching the match from the man’s hand who was about applying it. “Let no lives be unnecessarily lost. Run back and see what detains the men.”