case was involved a mighty question, palpable, self-created and
conclusive. The wisest forethought may fail to arrive at a sound
conclusion as to the result of holding the meeting. The risk existed, no
doubt, that some ill-disposed or hired villains, or even rash
enthusiasts may provoke the troops, and thus afford a pretext for
carnage. But opposed to that were the dictates of prudence, honour and
fear on the part of those in command of the army; and it seemed a more
probable result that either the meeting would be allowed to proceed, or
it would be illegally dispersed in the usual way by reading the Riot
Act. Even if the weight of conjecture were the other way, the
consequences should be risked rather than falsify the national pledge.
To recede was cowardice; not the vulgar cowardice arising from personal
weakness, but the moral cowardice which shrinks from an imperious
obligation, because it is perilous. The meeting should be held; every
possible precaution should be taken to prevent an armed conflict. If
Power, drunk with its own advantage, risked an outrage, the people
should be taught to yield; but only to yield with the purpose of
entering a court of law, as prosecutors and avengers. Even if worse
consequences ensued after every effort to prevent them had been
exhausted, the issue should be left to God. Recriminations, painfully
petty in their nature, followed. The Government were charged with a
premeditated design to commit wide and indiscriminate slaughter, and the
weakness, in which were shrouded deep national shame and guilt, was made
matter of indecent boast. The Government, aware of the unexpected
advantage, followed up the blow. Mr. O'Connell took shelter in the
sacredness of the Hall, which, he imagined, he had guarded against the
encroachments of arbitrary power, and thither they followed him. Having
abandoned a position where he could act on the offensive, he was forced
to contend against the aggressive attacks of Government flushed with its
first success.