AN ABORTIVE GROUP-MEETING
Before describing the strange committee or group-meeting about to be
dealt with, it is necessary to say a few words concerning the mysterious
affair which gave rise to it.
On the 17th of December 189- the posters of the evening papers had
announced in striking characters:--
"DEATH OF AN ANARCHIST: ATTEMPTED OUTRAGE IN A LONDON PARK."
That same afternoon a loud explosion had aroused the inhabitants of a
quiet suburban district, and on reaching the corner of ---- Park whence
the report emanated, the police had found, amid a motley debris of
trees, bushes, and railings, the charred and shattered remains of a man.
These, at the inquest, proved to have belonged to Augustin Myers, an
obscure little French Anarchist, but despite the usual lengthy and
unsatisfactory routine of police inquiries, searches, and arrests,
practically nothing could be ascertained concerning him or the
circumstances attending his death. All that was certain was that the
deceased man had in his possession an explosive machine, evidently
destined for some deadly work, and that, while traversing the park, it
had exploded, thus putting an end both to its owner and his projects.
Various conflicting theories were mooted as to the motive which prompted
the conduct of the deceased Anarchist, but no confirmation could be
obtained to any of these. Some held that Myers was traversing London on
his way to some inconspicuous country railway station, whence to take
train for the Continent where a wider and more propitious field for
Anarchist outrage lay before him. Others opined that he had contemplated
committing an outrage in the immediate vicinity of the spot which
witnessed his own death; and others, again, that, having manufactured
his infernal machine for some nefarious purpose either at home or
abroad, he was suddenly seized either with fear or remorse, and had
journeyed to this unobserved spot in order to bury it. The papers hinted
at accomplices and talked about the usual "widespread conspiracy"; the
police opened wide their eyes, but saw very little. The whole matter, in
short, remained, and must always remain, a mystery to the public.
Behind the scenes, however, the Anarchists talked of a very different
order of "conspiracy." The funeral rites of the poor little Augustin
were performed with as much ceremony and sympathy as an indignant London
mob would allow, and he was followed to his grave by a goodly _cortège_
of "comrades," red and black flags and revolutionary song. Among the
chief mourners was the deceased man's brother Jacob, who wept copiously
into the open grave and sung his "Carmagnole" with inimitable zeal. It
was this brother whose conduct had given rise to suspicion among his
companions, and "spies" and "police plots" were in every one's mouth.
The office of the _Bomb_, as being the centre of English anarchy, had
been selected as the scene for an inquiry _en group_ into the matter.
Thus on a wet and chilling January evening--one of those evenings when
London, and more especially squalid London, is at the height of its
unattractiveness--I set out towards my first Anarchist "group-meeting."
And certainly the spirit which moved me from within must have been
strong that the flesh quailed not at the foul scenery amid which my
destination lay.
Half-way down one of the busiest, grimiest, and most depressing streets
in the W.C. district stands a squalid public-house, the type of many
hundreds and thousands of similar dens in the metropolis. The "Myrtle
Grove Tavern," pastoral as the name sounds, was not precisely the abode
of peace and goodwill. From four A.M., when the first of her _habitués_
began to muster round the yet unopened doors, till half-past twelve
P.M., when the last of them was expelled by the sturdy "chucker-out,"
the atmosphere was dense with the foul breath and still fouler language
of drunken and besotted men and women. Every phase of the lower order of
British drinker and drunkard was represented here. The coarse oaths of
the men, mingled with the shriller voices of their female companions,
and the eternal "'e saids" and "she saids" of the latter's complaints
and disputes were interrupted by the plaintive wailings of the puny,
gin-nourished infants at their breasts. Here, too, sat the taciturn man,
clay pipe in mouth, on his accustomed bench day after day, year in year
out, gazing with stony and blear-eyed indifference on all that went
on around him; deaf, dumb, and unseeing; only spitting deliberately
at intervals, and with apparently no other vocation in life than the
consumption of fermented liquor.
The side-door for "jugs and bottles" gave on to a dirty and odoriferous
mews, down which my destination lay. The unbridled enthusiasm of
eighteen years can do much to harden or deaden the nervous system,
but certainly it required all my fortitude to withstand the sickening
combination of beer and damp horsy hay which greeted my nostrils.
Neither could the cabmen and stablemen, hanging round the public-house
doors and the mews generally, be calculated to increase one's democratic
aspirations, but I walked resolutely on, and turning to my left,
dexterously avoiding an unsavoury heap of horse manure, straw, and other
offal, I clambered up a break-neck ladder, at the top of which loomed
the office of the _Bomb_.
The door was furtively opened in response to my kick by a lean,
hungry-looking little man of very circumspect appearance. He cast me
a surly and suspicious glance, accompanied by a not very encouraging
snarl, but on my mentioning Dr. Armitage he opened the door a few inches
wider and I passed in.
It took me some seconds before I could accustom my eyes to the fetid
atmosphere of this den, which was laden with the smoke of divers
specimens of the worst shag and cheapest tobacco in the metropolis. But
various objects, human and inanimate, became gradually more distinct,
and I found myself in a long, ill-lighted wooden shed, where type and
dust and unwashed human beings had left their mark, and where soap and
sanitation were unknown. Past the type racks and cases, which occupied
the first half of this apartment, were grouped benches, stools,
packing-cases, and a few maimed and deformed chairs for the
accommodation of the assembly. Then came a hand printing-press, on which
were spread the remains of some comrade's repast: the vertebral column
of a bloater and an empty condensed-milk can, among other relics. The
floor, from one extremity to the other of the "office," was littered
with heaps of unsold revolutionary literature, the approximate date
of which could be gauged by the thickness of dust in which it was
smothered. On the walls and from beams and rafters hung foils and
boxing-gloves; artistic posters and cartoons, the relics of a great
artist who had founded the _Bomb_, and the effigies of divers comrades
to whom a pathway to a better world had been opened through the
hangman's drop. But what most riveted my attention was an indistinct
animate _something_ enveloped in a red flag, rolled up in a heap on
the frouziest and most forbidding old sofa it had ever been my lot to
behold. That this _something_ was animate could be gathered from the
occasional twitchings of the red bundle, and from the dark mop of black
greasy hair which emerged from one end. But to what section of the
animal kingdom _it_ belonged I was quite at a loss to decide.
Other stray objects which I noted about this apartment were an
ostentatious-looking old revolver of obsolete make, and some chemical
bottles, which, however, contained no substance more dangerous than
Epsom salts.
The human occupants were not less noticeable than the inanimate, and
some of them are deserving of our attention.
The man Myers, round whom the interest of the meeting was principally
centred this evening, was to all appearances a mean enough type of the
East End sartorial Jew. His physiognomy was not that of a fool, but
indicated rather that low order of intelligence, cunning and intriguing,
which goes to make a good swindler. The low forehead, wide awake, shifty
little eyes, the nose of his forefathers, and insolent lock of black
hair plastered low on his brow--all these characteristics may frequently
be met with in the dock of the "Old Bailey" when some case of petty
swindling is being tried.
Next Myers I noticed Dr. Armitage, who stood out in striking contrast
from the rest of his companions. The smile with which he welcomed me was
eloquent of the satisfaction with which he noted this my first entrance
into an Anarchist circle.
The short bench on which he sat was shared by a man in corduroys of
the navvy type, a large honest-looking fellow whose views of the Social
question appeared to be limited to a not very definite idea of the
injustice of third-class railway travelling and the payment of rent, and
he expressed his opinions on these knotty problems with more freedom
and warmth of language than was perhaps altogether warranted by the
occasion.
Gracefully poised on one leg against an adjoining type-rack leaned a
tall youth with fair curling hair, a weak tremulous mouth, and an almost
girlish physiognomy. This youth had been drummed out of the army, the
discipline of which he had found too severe, for feigning illness,
since when he had passed his time between the bosom of his family, the
workhouse, and the Anarchist party. He paid very little attention to the
proceedings of the meeting, but discoursed eloquently, in a low voice,
of the brutality of his parents who refused to keep him any longer
unless he made some attempt to find employment. I remember wondering,
_en passant_, why this fair-haired, weak-kneed youth had ever entered
the Anarchist party; but the explanation, had I but known, was close at
hand.
This explanation was a square-built, sturdy-looking man of some forty
years. His appearance was the reverse of engaging, but by no means
lacking in intelligence. He was ill-satisfied and annoyed with the
universe, and habitually defied it from the stronghold of a double
bed. Thither he had retired after the death of his father, an old
market-porter, who had been crushed by the fall of a basket of potatoes.
The son saw in this tragic circumstance the outcome and the reward of
labour, swore a solemn oath never to do a stroke of work again, threw
up his job, and from that day became a confirmed loafer in the Anarchist
party. Some months previously, while propagandising in the workhouse,
he found the youth there, and learned from his own lips how, being
disinclined to become a burden on his poor old parents after his exit
from the army, he had seen no other alternative but to become a pauper,
and make the best he could of the opportunities afforded him by the
poor-rates. From the workhouse he was dragged triumphantly forth by
his new friend, and became an easy convert to anarchic and communistic
principles.
The only feminine element in this assembly was a fair, earnest-looking
Russian girl, whose slight knowledge of English did not allow her to
follow the proceedings very accurately. She was an almost pathetic
figure in her naïve enthusiasm, and evidently regarded her present
companions as seriously as those she had left behind her in Russia, and
seemed to imagine they played as dangerous a rôle, and ran the same risk
as they did.
There were several others present among whom the loafer type was perhaps
in the ascendant. But there were also many of the more intelligent
artisan class, discontented with their lot; labourers and dockers who
had tramped up after a hard day's work, a young artist who looked rather
of the Social Democratic type, a cabman, a few stray gentlemen, a clever
but never-sober tanner, a labour agitator, a professional stump-orator,
and one or two fishy and nondescript characters of the Hebraic race.
O'Flynn, the printer of the _Bomb_, was a cantankerous Irishman with a
taste for discoursing on abstract questions, concerning which he grew
frightfully muddled and confused. He had a rather mad look in his eye
and a disputatious manner.
When at last inquiry was made whether all companions expected were
present, the red flag began to quiver and writhe most noticeably and
finally to unfurl, and there emerged from its depths the dirtiest and
most slovenly man I had ever seen, and the frouziest and most repulsive
of dogs. This man, if man I may call him, was bony and ill-built, and
appeared to consist largely of hands and feet. His arms were abnormally
long and his chest narrow and hollow, and altogether he seemed to hang
together by a mere fluke. His ill-assorted limbs were surmounted by a
sallow, yellowish face, large repulsive lips, and a shapeless nose, and
to him belonged the long, black greasy hair which I had already noted
amid the folds of the red banner. Large gristly ears emerged from his
uncombed mop of hair, and the only redeeming feature about the abject
creature was his large, brown, dog-like eyes. He crept forward, grinding
his teeth and rubbing his bony hands, and subsided into a waste-paper
basket which was the only available seat left unoccupied.
And now at last, after much talking and shifting about, and not before a
young German hairdresser had been stationed with one eye glued to a hole
in the outer wall of the shed, in order to make sure that no detective
was listening outside, the proceedings commenced.
Banter, the little man who had opened the door to me, rose to his feet,
cleared his throat, and said "_Com_rades" in a stentorian voice. Then
followed a long and rambling statement which he read out, from amid
the grammatical inaccuracies and continual digressions of which I was
enabled to gather that he had noticed of late something very peculiar
about the conduct of Jacob Myers, who had appeared to exercise undue
influence and power over his brother Augustin; that, moreover, Jacob
had been seen by a third party drinking a glass of rum in the "Nag and
Beetle" in company with a well-known detective, and that, in final and
conclusive proof of some very fishy transactions on his part, three
undeniable half-crowns had been distinctly observed in his overcoat
pocket the previous week. "And how should he come by these by honest
means?" indignantly inquired Banter. "He says he's out of work, and he's
not got the courage to steal!"
"'Ear, 'ear! Why pay rent to robber landlords?" the navvy, Armitage's
neighbour, ejaculated at this juncture, after which irrelevant inquiry
he spat defiance at Society.
Then followed the speeches for the prosecution, if the use of such a
word may be permitted in connection with an Anarchist transaction. The
chief accusations made against Myers were his violent blood-and-thunder
speeches which he had in no wise carried out in action, but which he
had delivered under the eyes and in the hearing of the police who had
listened and seen it all with quite commendable Christian forbearance.
Besides this several sensational articles had appeared in the daily
press in connection with Augustin's death, exaggerating the importance
of the affair and hinting at dark plots; of which articles he was
suspected of being the author. Jacob was in fact accused of having egged
on his unfortunate brother to his doom in order that he might turn a
little money out of the transaction between newspaper reports and police
fees. It apparently mattered little to this modern Shylock whence came
his pound of flesh or what blood ran or congealed in its veins.
Through all these statements and questions Myers sat in stolid and
insolent silence--occasionally whistling snatches of some music-hall
air. At last when reference was made to some chemicals which he was
alleged to have procured and handed on to his brother, he roused up from
his affected indifference and appealed to Armitage for assistance. "Dr.
Armitage knows," he exclaimed indignantly, "that I only procured the
sulphuric acid from him for domestic purposes."
My eyes were riveted on the doctor's face, and only to one who knew him
well could the expression be at all decipherable. To me it distinctly
denoted disappointment--that humiliating sense of disappointment
and disillusion which must invariably come upon a man of strong and
fanatical convictions when brought into contact with the meanness and
cowardice of his fellows.
Dr. Armitage was a fanatic and an idealist, and two convictions were
paramount in his mind at this time: the necessity and the justice of the
"propaganda by force" doctrine preached by the more advanced Anarchists,
and the absolute good faith and devotion to principle of the men
with whom he was associated. A man of the Myers type was quite
incomprehensible to him. Not for a single instant had Armitage hesitated
to throw open the doors of his Harley Street establishment to the
Anarchists: to him the cause was everything, and interests, prudence,
prospects, all had to give way before it. And here was this man who had
professed the same principles as himself, with whom he had discoursed
freely on the necessity of force, who had openly advocated dynamite
in his presence--this man who had spoken of the revolution and the
regeneration of Society with the same warmth as himself--talking of
"domestic purposes," and ready to recant all that he had preached and
said. And what lay behind this reticence and these denials? Treachery of
the basest kind, and the most sordid, abominable calculations which it
was possible to conceive.
These thoughts I read in the doctor's face, and turning my eyes from
him to the abject Jacob I could only wonder at the naïve sincerity of
Armitage, which could ever have laid him open to such illusions and
disillusions.
After some seconds' hesitation Armitage replied: "I do not desire or
intend to go into any details here concerning my past conversations
or relations with Jacob Myers, neither do I consider myself in any way
bound to discuss here the motives which prompted, or which I thought
prompted his actions, and the requests he made of me. As Anarchists
we have not the right to judge him, and all we can do is to refuse
to associate ourselves any further with him, which I, for one, shall
henceforth do. The knowledge of his own abominable meanness should be
punishment enough for Myers."
The doctor's words were received with very general approval.
"Armitage is perfectly right," said Carter. "We Anarchists cannot
pretend to judge our fellows, but we can form our own opinions and act
accordingly. Myers' conduct proves him to be no better than a spy; we of
the _Bomb_ can have no further relations with him."
"Damn about judging and not judging," exclaimed a sturdy-looking docker.
"All I know is that if Myers does not quickly clear out of the _Bomb_
I'll kick him out. He ought to be shot. I don't pretend to understand
none of these nice distinctions. I call a spade a spade, and if...."
"'Ear,'ear! Down with ..." commenced Elliot again, and Jacob opened his
mouth to speak, but he was saved from any further need of self-defence
or explanation, for at this moment the door of the office was broken
rudely open and there entered like a hurricane a veritable fury in
female form--a whirlwind, a tornado, a ravening wolf into a fold of
lambs. This formidable apparition, which proved to be none other than
the wife of the suspected Myers, amid a volley of abuse and oaths
delivered in the choicest Billingsgate, pounced down on her ill-used
husband, denounced Anarchy and the Anarchists--their morals, their
creeds, their hellish machinations; she called on Jehovah to chastise,
nay, utterly to destroy them, and soundly rated her consort for ever
having associated with such scoundrels. And thus this formidable
preacher of dynamite and disaster was borne off in mingled triumph and
disgrace by his indignant spouse.