"When Mr. Parnell came to speak, the passion within him found vent. It was a wonderful speech; not one word of it for oratorical effect, but every word charged with a pregnant message to the people who were listening to him, and the millions who should read him. It was a long speech, lasting nearly an hour; but listened to with intense interest, punctuated by fierce cries against men whom this crisis has made odious, now and then marked in a pause by a deep-drawn moan of delight. It was a great speech, simple, direct, suave--with no device and no artificiality. Mr. Parnell said long ago, in a furious moment in the House of Commons, that he cared nothing for the opinion of the English people. One remembered it now, noting his passionate assurances to his own people, who loved him too well to ask him questions."
During this meeting the anti-Parnellites took the opportunity to seize Parnell's paper, _United Ireland_, and the offices. A witness's account of the incident contained in Mr. Barry O'Brien's "Life of Charles Stewart Parnell" appealed to me immensely, because this little affair was of intense interest to me, and all, or nearly all, I could get out of Parnell himself on the subject was a soft laugh and, "It was splendid fun. I wish I could burgle my own premises every day!"
Something like this appears to have happened. The anti-Parnellite garrison was strongly entrenched in the offices of the newspaper--doors and windows all barred. The streets were filled with a crowd of Parnellites crying death and destruction on the enemy, and pouring in faster from the side streets. Men threading their way through the mass were distributing sticks and revolvers.
Parnell had been apprised of the event at the meeting, and a pony-trap was waiting for him outside the Rotunda. He got into it with Dr. Kenny, and they dashed off to the scene of action. At the sight of their Chief the crowd went wild; cheers for Parnell and curses for his enemies filled the air. At full gallop the pony-trap dashed through the mass of people (which gave way as if by magic), and was brought up before the offices with a jerk that sent the horse sprawling on the ground. Parnell jumped out of the trap, sprang up the steps, and knocked loudly at the door of the offices. There was a dramatic moment of silence--the crowd hushed and expectant. Then Parnell quietly gave some orders to those nearest him. In a brief space they were off and back again with pickaxe and crowbar. Parnell wished to vault the area railings and attack the area door, but he was held back. So several of his followers dropped into the area, while Parnell { 296} himself attacked the front door with the crowbar. The door yielded, and he and many others rushed into the house. A second party came from the area, and the united force dashed upstairs. The rest was a Homeric struggle between garrison and besiegers, fought from staircase to staircase and story to story. At length the garrison was downed to the last man. A window of the second story was removed, and Parnell came out to his people. He had lost his hat, his hair was tumbled, his face was quite white, his eyes were filled with the wild joy of the battle. His face and clothes were powdered with dust and plaster. For a moment again the crowd was silent; then it burst into a roar.