This morning the sun is shining brilliantly, and the movement in the streets possesses more of animation1 than it has done. The movement ends always in a knot of people, and folk go from group to group vainly seeking information, and quite content if the rumour2 they presently gather differs even a little from the one they have just communicated.
The first statement I heard was that the Green had been taken by the military; the second that it had been re-taken; the third that it had not been taken at all. The facts at last emerged that the Green had not been occupied by the soldiers, but that the Volunteers had retreated from it into a house which commanded it. This was found to be the College of Surgeons, and from the windows and roof of this College they were sniping. A machine gun was mounted on the roof; other machine guns, however, opposed them from the roofs of the Shelbourne Hotel, the United Service Club, and the Alexandra Club. Thus a triangular3 duel4 opened between these positions across the trees of the Park.
Through the railings of the Green some rifles and bandoliers could be seen lying on the ground, as also the deserted5 trenches6 and snipers' holes. Small boys bolted in to see these sights and bolted out again with bullets quickening their feet. Small boys do not believe that people will really kill them, but small boys were killed.
The dead horse was still lying stiff and lamentable7 on the footpath8.
This morning a gunboat came up the Liffey and helped to bombard Liberty Hall. The Hall is breeched and useless. Rumour says that it was empty at the time, and that Connolly with his men had marched long before to the Post Office and the Green. The same source of information relates that three thousand Volunteers came from Belfast on an excursion train and that they marched into the Post Office.
On this day only one of my men came in. He said that he had gone on the roof and had been shot at, consequently that the Volunteers held some of the covering houses. I went to the roof and remained there for half an hour. There were no shots, but the firing from the direction of Sackville Street was continuous and at times exceedingly heavy.
To-day the Irish Times was published. It contained a new military proclamation, and a statement that the country was peaceful, and told that in Sackville Street some houses were burned to the ground.
On the outside railings a bill proclaiming Martial9 Law was posted.
Into the newspaper statement that peace reigned10 in the country one was inclined to read more of disquietude than of truth, and one said is the country so extraordinarily11 peaceful that it can be dismissed in three lines. There is too much peace or too much reticence12, but it will be some time before we hear from outside of Dublin.
Meanwhile the sun was shining. It was a delightful13 day, and the streets outside and around the areas of fire were animated14 and even gay. In the streets of Dublin there were no morose15 faces to be seen. Almost everyone was smiling and attentive16, and a democratic feeling was abroad, to which our City is very much a stranger; for while in private we are a sociable17 and talkative people we have no street manners or public ease whatever. Every person spoke18 to every other person, and men and women mixed and talked without constraint19.
Was the City for or against the Volunteers? Was it for the Volunteers, and yet against the rising? It is considered now (writing a day or two afterwards) that Dublin was entirely20 against the Volunteers, but on the day of which I write no such certainty could be put forward. There was a singular reticence on the subject. Men met and talked volubly, but they said nothing that indicated a personal desire or belief. They asked for and exchanged the latest news, or, rather, rumour, and while expressions were frequent of astonishment21 at the suddenness and completeness of the occurrence, no expression of opinion for or against was anywhere formulated22.
Sometimes a man said, "They will be beaten of course," and, as he prophesied23, the neighbour might surmise24 if he did so with a sad heart or a merry one, but they knew nothing and asked nothing of his views, and themselves advanced no flag.
This was among the men.
The women were less guarded, or, perhaps, knew they had less to fear. Most of the female opinion I heard was not alone unfavourable but actively25 and viciously hostile to the rising. This was noticeable among the best dressed class of our population; the worst dressed, indeed the female dregs of Dublin life, expressed a like antagonism26, and almost in similar language. The view expressed was—
"I hope every man of them will be shot."
And—
"They ought to be all shot."
Shooting, indeed, was proceeding27 everywhere. During daylight, at least, the sound is not sinister28 nor depressing, and the thought that perhaps a life had exploded with that crack is not depressing either.
In the last two years of world-war our ideas on death have undergone a change. It is not now the furtive29 thing that crawled into your bed and which you fought with pill-boxes and medicine bottles. It has become again a rider of the wind whom you may go coursing with through the fields and open places. All the morbidity30 is gone, and the sickness, and what remains31 to Death is now health and excitement. So Dublin laughed at the noise of its own bombardment, and made no moan about its dead—in the sunlight. Afterwards—in the rooms, when the night fell, and instead of silence that mechanical barking of the maxims32 and the whistle and screams of the rifles, the solemn roar of the heavier guns, and the red glare covering the sky. It is possible that in the night Dublin did not laugh, and that she was gay in the sunlight for no other reason than that the night was past.
On this day fighting was incessant33 at Mount Street Bridge. A party of Volunteers had seized three houses covering the bridge and converted these into forts. It is reported that military casualties at this point were very heavy. The Volunteers are said also to hold the South Dublin union. The soldiers have seized Guinness's Brewery34, while their opponents have seized another brewery in the neighbourhood, and between these two there is a continual fusilade.
Fighting is brisk about Ringsend and along the Canal. Dame35 Street was said to be held in many places by the Volunteers. I went down Dame Street, but saw no Volunteers, and did not observe any sniping from the houses. Further, as Dame Street is entirely commanded by the roofs and windows of Trinity College, it is unlikely that they should be here.
It was curious to observe this, at other times, so animated street, broad and deserted, with at the corners of side streets small knots of people watching. Seen from behind, Grattan's Statue in College Green seemed almost alive, and he had the air of addressing warnings and reproaches to Trinity College.
The Proclamation issued to-day warns all people to remain within doors until five o'clock in the morning, and after seven o'clock at night.
It is still early. There is no news of any kind, and the rumours36 begin to catch quickly on each other and to cancel one another out. Dublin is entirely cut off from England, and from the outside world. It is, just as entirely cut off from the rest of Ireland; no news of any kind filters in to us. We are land-locked and sea-locked, but, as yet, it does not much matter.
Meantime the belief grows that the Volunteers may be able to hold out much longer than had been imagined. The idea at first among the people had been that the insurrection would be ended the morning after it had began. But to-day, the insurrection having lasted three days, people are ready to conceive that it may last for ever. There is almost a feeling of gratitude37 towards the Volunteers because they are holding out for a little while, for had they been beaten the first or second day the City would have been humiliated38 to the soul.
People say: "Of course, they will be beaten." The statement is almost a query39, and they continue, "but they are putting up a decent fight." For being beaten does not greatly matter in Ireland, but not fighting does matter. "They went forth40 always to the battle; and they always fell," Indeed, the history of the Irish race is in that phrase.
The firing from the roofs of Trinity College became violent. I crossed Dame Street some distance up, struck down the Quays41, and went along these until I reached the Ballast Office. Further than this it was not possible to go, for a step beyond the Ballast Office would have brought one into the unending stream of lead that was pouring from Trinity and other places. I was looking on O'Connell Bridge and Sackville Street, and the house facing me was Kelly's—a red-brick fishing tackle shop, one half of which was on the Quay42 and the other half in Sackville Street. This house was being bombarded.
I counted the report of six different machine guns which played on it. Rifles innumerable and from every sort of place were potting its windows, and at intervals43 of about half a minute the shells from a heavy gun lobbed in through its windows or thumped44 mightily45 against its walls.
For three hours that bombardment continued, and the walls stood in a cloud of red dust and smoke. Rifle and machine gun bullets pattered over every inch of it, and, unfailingly the heavy gun pounded its shells through the windows.
One's heart melted at the idea that human beings were crouching46 inside that volcano of death, and I said to myself, "Not even a fly can be alive in that house."
No head showed at any window, no rifle cracked from window or roof in reply. The house was dumb, lifeless, and I thought every one of those men are dead.
It was then, and quite suddenly, that the possibilities of street fighting flashed on me, and I knew there was no person in the house, and said to myself, "They have smashed through the walls with a hatchet47 and are sitting in the next house, or they have long ago climbed out by the skylight and are on a roof half a block away." Then the thought came to me—they have and hold the entire of Sackville Street down to the Post Office. Later on this proved to be the case, and I knew at this moment that Sackville Street was doomed48.
I continued to watch the bombardment, but no longer with the anguish49 which had before torn me. Near by there were four men, and a few yards away, clustered in a laneway, there were a dozen others. An agitated50 girl was striding from the farther group to the one in which I was, and she addressed the men in the most obscene language which I have ever heard. She addressed them man by man, and she continued to speak and cry and scream at them with all that obstinate51, angry patience of which only a woman is capable.
She cursed us all. She called down diseases on every human being in the world excepting only the men who were being bombarded. She demanded of the folk in the laneway that they should march at least into the roadway and prove that they were proud men and were not afraid of bullets. She had been herself into the danger zone. Had stood herself in the track of the guns, and had there cursed her fill for half an hour, and she desired that the men should do at least what she had done.
This girl was quite young—about nineteen years of age—and was dressed in the customary shawl and apron52 of her class. Her face was rather pretty, or it had that pretty slenderness and softness of outline which belong to youth. But every sentence she spoke contained half a dozen indecent words. Alas53, it was only that her vocabulary was not equal to her emotions, and she did not know how to be emphatic54 without being obscene—it is the cause of most of the meaningless swearing one hears every day. She spoke to me for a minute, and her eyes were as soft as those of a kitten and her language was as gentle as her eyes. She wanted a match to light a cigarette, but I had none, and said that I also wanted one. In a few minutes she brought me a match, and then she recommenced her tireless weaving of six vile55 words into hundreds of stupid sentences.
About five o'clock the guns eased off of Kelly's.
To inexperienced eyes they did not seem to have done very much damage, but afterwards one found that although the walls were standing56 and apparently57 solid there was no inside to the house. From roof to basement the building was bare as a dog kennel58. There were no floors inside, there was nothing there but blank space; and on the ground within was the tumble and rubbish that had been roof and floors and furniture. Everything inside was smashed and pulverised into scrap59 and dust, and the only objects that had consistency60 and their ancient shape were the bricks that fell when the shells struck them.
Rifle shots had begun to strike the house on the further side of the street, a jewellers' shop called Hopkins & Hopkins. The impact of these balls on the bricks was louder than the sound of the shot which immediately succeeded, and each bullet that struck brought down a shower of fine red dust from the walls. Perhaps thirty or forty shots in all were fired at Hopkins', and then, except for an odd crack, firing ceased.
During all this time there had been no reply from the Volunteers, and I thought they must be husbanding their ammunition61, and so must be short of it, and that it would be only a matter of a few days before the end. All this, I said to myself, will be finished in a few days, and they will be finished; life here will recommence exactly where it left off, and except for some newly-filled graves, all will be as it had been until they become a tradition and enter the imagination of their race.
I spoke to several of the people about me, and found the same willingness to exchange news that I had found elsewhere in the City, and the same reticences as regarded their private opinions. Two of them, indeed, and they were the only two I met with during the insurrection, expressed, although in measured terms, admiration62 for the Volunteers, and while they did not side with them they did not say anything against them. One was a labouring man, the other a gentleman. The remark of the latter was:
"I am an Irishman, and (pointing to the shells that were bursting through the windows in front of us) I hate to see that being done to other Irishmen."
He had come from some part of the country to spend the Easter Holidays in Dublin, and was unable to leave town again.
The labouring man—he was about fifty-six years of age—spoke very quietly and collectedly about the insurrection. He was a type with whom I had come very little in contact, and I was surprised to find how simple and good his speech was, and how calm his ideas. He thought labour was in this movement to a greater extent than was imagined. I mentioned that Liberty Hall had been blown up, and that the garrison63 had either surrendered or been killed. He replied that a gunboat had that morning come up the river and had blown Liberty Hall into smash, but, he added, there were no men in it. All the Labour Volunteers had marched with Connolly into the Post Office.
He said the Labour Volunteers might possibly number about one thousand men, but that it would be quite safe to say eight hundred, and he held that the Labour Volunteers, or the Citizens' Army, as they called themselves, had always been careful not to reveal their numbers. They had always announced that they possessed64 about two hundred and fifty men, and had never paraded any more than that number at any one time. Workingmen, he continued, knew that the men who marched were always different men. The police knew it, too, but they thought that the Citizens Army was the most deserted-from force in the world.
The men, however, were not deserters—you don't, he said, desert a man like Connolly, and they were merely taking their turn at being drilled and disciplined. They were raised against the police who, in the big strike of two years ago, had acted towards them with unparallelled savagery65, and the men had determined66 that the police would never again find them thus disorganised.
This man believed that every member of the Citizen Army had marched with their leader.
"The men, I know," said he, "would not be afraid of anything, and," he continued, "they are in the Post Office now."
"What chance have they?"
"None," he replied, "and they never said they had, and they never thought they would have any."
"How long do you think they'll be able to hold out?"
He nodded towards the house that had been bombarded by heavy guns.
"That will root them out of it quick enough," was his reply.
"I'm going home," said he then, "the people will be wondering if I'm dead or alive," and he walked away from that sad street, as I did myself a few minutes afterwards.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
animation
|
|
| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
rumour
|
|
| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
triangular
|
|
| adj.三角（形）的，三者间的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
duel
|
|
| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
trenches
|
|
| 深沟，地沟( trench的名词复数 )； 战壕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
lamentable
|
|
| adj.令人惋惜的，悔恨的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
footpath
|
|
| n.小路，人行道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
martial
|
|
| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
reigned
|
|
| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
extraordinarily
|
|
| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
reticence
|
|
| n.沉默，含蓄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
delightful
|
|
| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
animated
|
|
| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
morose
|
|
| adj.脾气坏的，不高兴的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
attentive
|
|
| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
sociable
|
|
| adj.好交际的，友好的，合群的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
constraint
|
|
| n.(on)约束，限制；限制(或约束)性的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
astonishment
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
formulated
|
|
| v.构想出( formulate的过去式和过去分词 )；规划；确切地阐述；用公式表示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
prophesied
|
|
| v.预告，预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
surmise
|
|
| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
actively
|
|
| adv.积极地，勤奋地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
antagonism
|
|
| n.对抗，敌对，对立 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
proceeding
|
|
| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
sinister
|
|
| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
furtive
|
|
| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
morbidity
|
|
| n.病态；不健全；发病；发病率 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
maxims
|
|
| n.格言，座右铭( maxim的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
incessant
|
|
| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
brewery
|
|
| n.啤酒厂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
dame
|
|
| n.女士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
rumours
|
|
| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
gratitude
|
|
| adj.感激，感谢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
humiliated
|
|
| 感到羞愧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
query
|
|
| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
quays
|
|
| 码头( quay的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
quay
|
|
| n.码头，靠岸处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
intervals
|
|
| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
thumped
|
|
| v.重击， （指心脏）急速跳动( thump的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
mightily
|
|
| ad.强烈地；非常地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
crouching
|
|
| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
hatchet
|
|
| n.短柄小斧；v.扼杀 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
doomed
|
|
| 命定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
anguish
|
|
| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
agitated
|
|
| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
obstinate
|
|
| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
apron
|
|
| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
alas
|
|
| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
emphatic
|
|
| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
vile
|
|
| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
kennel
|
|
| n.狗舍，狗窝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
scrap
|
|
| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
consistency
|
|
| n.一贯性，前后一致，稳定性；(液体的)浓度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
ammunition
|
|
| n.军火，弹药 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
admiration
|
|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
garrison
|
|
| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
savagery
|
|
| n.野性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |