A POLICE SCARE
I left the office of the _Bomb_ towards 1 A.M., undecided whether
to weep or to laugh at what I had witnessed there. This, my first
introduction into an English Anarchist circle had certainly not been
very encouraging, but I was too deeply persuaded of the truth and
justice of the Anarchist doctrines to be deterred by such a beginning,
and I did not for one instant waver from my resolve to enter and take
part in the "movement." That some insincere and dishonest men and some
fools should also play their part in it I from the first recognised
as inevitable, but I could not see that this affected the Anarchist
principles or rendered it less necessary for those believing in them
to advocate and spread them. Dr. Armitage accompanied me part of my way
home and we talked the matter over _en route_. "Why trouble ourselves,"
he exclaimed, "about a few unprincipled men in such a wide, such a
universal movement? Our objects and ideals are too far above such
considerations to allow us to be influenced by them. Men like Myers are
but the outcome of unnatural and vitiated conditions; they are produced
by the very society which it is our object to abolish--as all manner
of disease is produced by vitiated air. With better conditions such men
will disappear; nay, the very possibility of their existence will be
gone."
"But in the meantime," I rejoined, "they are surely damaging our Cause,
and scenes like the one we have just witnessed would, if known to the
public, bring our party into ridicule and discredit."
"The Cause is too great and too high to be influenced by such men or
such scenes," answered the doctor with conviction. "Moreover it is our
duty to bring fresh blood and life into the party, so that no place will
be left to renegades of the Myers type."
And in face of Armitage's unswerving faith and optimism my moment of
disgust and perplexity passed, and I felt more than ever determined to
bring my quota of time and strength to the propagation of the Anarchist
ideals. "I have only seen a very limited and narrow circle," I said
to myself; "the field is wide, and I only know one obscure and unclean
corner of it. I cannot judge from this night's experience."
As far as the squalor of the men and their surroundings was concerned,
although it was at first something of a shock to me, I did not allow
myself to be disconcerted on its account. I had no desire or ambition to
be a mere dilettante Socialist, and as dirt and squalor had to be faced,
well, I was ready to face them. A famous Russian writer has described
a strange phase through which the Russian youth passed not many years
since, the "V. Narod" ("To the People!") movement, when young men
and girls by the thousands, some belonging to the highest classes
in society, fled from their families, tore themselves free from all
domestic and conventional yokes, persuaded that it was their duty to
serve the cause of the masses, and that in no way could they better
accomplish this object than by settling in the people's midst, living
their life, taking part in their work. I was passing through a similar
phase of mental evolution.
I felt a strong desire to free myself from all the ideas, customs, and
prejudices which usually influence my class, to throw myself into the
life and the work of the masses. Thus it was that I worked hard to learn
how to compose and print, that I might be of use to the Cause in the
most practical manner of all--the actual production of its literature.
Thus it was also that I resolutely hardened myself against any
instinctive sentiments of repulsion which the unclean and squalid
surroundings of the people might raise in me. I remember reading an
article by Tolstoi which appeared in the English press, dealing with
the conditions of the Russian _moujik_, in which he clearly and
uncompromisingly stated that in order to tackle the social problem, it
is necessary to tackle dirt and vermin with it. If you desire to reach
your _moujik_ you must reach him _à travers_ his dirt and his parasites:
if you are disinclined to face these, then leave your _moujik_ alone. It
was in fact a case of "take me, take my squalor." I determined to take
both.
Dr. Armitage left me at the corner of Oxford Circus, but before I had
taken many steps farther, I heard him suddenly turn round, and in an
instant he had come up with me again.
"By the way, Isabel," he exclaimed, "I was quite forgetting to mention
something I had done, to which I trust you will not object. You know
how full up my place is just now with hard-up comrades. Well I took the
liberty to send on to you a young Scotchman, I forget his name, who
has just tramped up from the North; a most interesting fellow, rather
taciturn, but with doubtless a good deal in him. He had nowhere to pass
the night, poor chap, and no money, so I told him that if he waited on
your doorstep some time after midnight you would be certain to give him
a night's lodgings when you returned. Did I do right?" and the doctor's
kindly face beamed with the look of a man who expected approbation.
"Ye--es," I gasped out, somewhat taken aback, "quite right, of course;"
for I felt that any hesitation would be feeble, a mere relic of
bourgeois prejudice.
And, sure enough, on reaching my domicile, I found installed on the
doorstep a most uncouth and villainous-looking tramp. Taciturn he
certainly was, for he scarcely opened his mouth to say "Good-evening,"
and indeed during the three days of his residence with me he hardly
ever articulated a sound. As I was getting out my latch-key the local
policeman chanced to pass: "That fellow has been hanging about for the
last hours, miss," he said to me. "Shall I remove him for you?"
"Certainly not," I replied firmly, and opening the door, I requested
my unknown comrade to enter. I can still see in my mind's eye that
constable's face. It looked unutterable things.
After conducting the tramp to the pantry, and letting him loose on a
cold pigeon-pie and other viands, and finally installing him on the
study sofa, I retired to my own apartment, well prepared to enjoy a good
night's rest.
This was destined, however, to be of short duration. Towards 6.30 I was
roused from sleep by a loud rat-tat at the front door and, the servants
not being up at such an hour, and suspecting that this early visit
was in some way connected with the Anarchists, I hastily slipped on a
wrapper and ran downstairs.
On opening the door I found one of the members of the previous night's
meeting, the taciturn hero of the potato tragedy.
"It's rather early to disturb you," he began, "but I came to let you
know that last night, after you had all gone, Comrades Banter and
O'Flynn were arrested."
"Arrested!" I exclaimed, as yet unused to such incidents; "why, what on
earth are they charged with?"
"Well," answered Carter, "the charge is not yet very clear, but so
far as we can understand, it is in some way connected with the Myers
business. They are charged with manufacturing explosives, or something
of the sort. The fact is, the police and Jacob Myers are at the bottom
of the whole matter, and Banter, O'Flynn, and Augustin have all played
into their hands."
"Come in here," I interrupted, leading the way to the dining-room. "Let
us sit down and talk the matter over together;" and we entered, Carter
casting a distinctly disapprobatory glance at the "bourgeois luxury" of
this apartment.
As soon as we were seated my companion returned to the question of the
moment. "I fear," he said, "that it is rather a serious affair for the
comrades. That Myers is a police emissary there can no longer be any
reasonable doubt, and the death of his brother is clear proof that he
has not been wasting his time lately. And it is only too likely that
the same hand which provided Augustin with explosives may have placed
similar material in the possession of Banter and O'Flynn."
"How abominable!" I exclaimed indignantly.
"Yes, but Anarchists should not be stupid enough to take any one into
their confidence in such matters," returned Carter. "It is merely
encouraging _mouchards_ and police plots. However, the question now
is--What can be done to help the comrades out of the mess?"
"I am willing to do my best," I answered; "only tell me how I can be of
use."
"You can be of great use, if you care to be," answered Carter. "A
barrister must be procured to defend them, witnesses must be found,
money procured (and here he cast a side-glance at my plate), and some
one ought to interview the comrades in Holloway, and take some food to
the poor fellows."
"I am quite willing to do my best in all these matters," I answered
enthusiastically.
Carter stayed some little while longer instructing me in the various
things I was to do, and then left me, retiring presumably to his double
bed again, for I saw no more of him till long after the trial was over.
He had handed the work over to me, and doubtless felt that so far as he
was personally concerned his responsibilities were at an end.
As soon as the morning papers arrived I scanned them eagerly and from
them learned further particulars of the arrest. A widespread conspiracy
was suspected, the object of which was to blow up the West End of
London, and leaders were devoted to the denunciation of the Anarchists
and their infamous teachings. Explosives, it was alleged, had been found
in the possession of the arrested men, "evidently destined to carry
into effect the deadly work which was only stopped by the hand of God in
Queen's Park three weeks ago."
Having disposed of a hasty breakfast, I left the house, and my morning
was spent in places which were new and strange to me--Holloway Jail,
the Old Jewry, and the Middle Temple. Holloway Prison was my first
destination, for before any other steps could be taken it was necessary
to ascertain what views the prisoners themselves held as to the course
to be adopted in their defence.
I awaited my turn in the prison waiting-room along with a motley crowd
of other visitors--burglars' and forgers' wives, pickpockets' mates, and
the mother of a notorious murderer among others. Their language was not
very choice when addressing the jailers, but sympathetic enough when
talking among themselves and inquiring of one another, "What's your man
up for?" or, "How did your mate get copped?" I felt painfully conscious
of the tameness of my reply: "It's a friend: incitement to murder." How
far more respectable murder itself would have sounded in the midst of
such superior crime!
One burglar's spouse confided to me that her husband had been "at it
for years, but this was the first time he'd been copped:" which latter
incident she seemed to consider an unpardonable infringement of the
privileges and rights of citizenship. She was a bright buxom little
woman and had evidently flourished on his plunder.
In striking contrast to the burglar's wife, I noticed the daughter of a
would-be suicide, a tall, beautiful girl, who formed a pathetic
contrast to her surroundings. Her unfortunate father--an unsuccessful
musician--had succumbed in the struggle for an honest life, and the
cares of a large family had driven him to desperation. As I gazed at the
poor girl with her tear-swollen eyes and noted her extreme thinness
and the shabbiness of her well-worn clothes, and as, from her, my eyes
turned to the cheerful burglar's wife, I meditated on the superiority of
virtue over dishonesty--especially in the reward accorded to it.
At last, having stated my name, the name of my prisoner, the
relationship or lack of relationship between us, and declared my
non-connection with the case, and having received a tin number in
return for this information, I was ushered through various passages and
apartments into a kind of dark cage, separated by a narrow passage from
a still darker one, in the depths of which I perceived my Anarchist,
O'Flynn, as soon as my eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness. I had
several questions to ask him during the few minutes at our disposal,
and conversation was anything but easy; for on all sides of me other
prisoners and their relatives were talking, weeping, arguing, disputing,
and shouting one another down with all their might and lungs.
Two things struck me in Holloway Prison on this my first visit to such
a place. Firstly, the outward cleanliness, and I might almost say
pleasantness, of the place; and secondly, the illogical nature of the
law which treats the unconvicted men, who in its eyes are consequently
innocent, like convicted criminals. Nothing could be more uncomfortable
and unattractive than the conditions under which the detained men are
allowed to see their relatives; no privacy of any sort is allowed them,
the time allotted is of the briefest, and only one visitor a day is
permitted to pass. The censorship over books allowed is very strict and
hopelessly stupid, and altogether everything is made as uncomfortable as
possible for those under detention.
Later in the course of my Anarchist career I had occasion to visit
Newgate on a similar errand, and was struck by the same incongruity in
the system. The external impression made by Newgate was very different,
however.
There is no suggestion of pleasantness about Newgate. It strikes you
indeed as the threshold of the gallows, and is calculated to arouse
qualms in the most strenuous upholder of capital punishment. A constant
sense of gloom is settled like a pall over the whole building, blacker
even than the soot and grime which encrust it. Inside, the dreary
atmosphere is ominous of the constant vicinity of the hangman's drop,
doors seem for ever to be swinging heavily and locking, keys and chains
clanking, and over all the uncompromising flagstaff looms like an
embodied threat.
After my many dreary wanderings round London, the clambering in and
out of omnibuses and other vehicles, and prison interviews, I found the
old-world tranquillity of the Temple quite a relief.
Here began a new order of search. I had to find a barrister, and that
without delay. But how, whom, and in what court or lane did the right
man dwell? During one brief moment indeed my thoughts turned towards our
family solicitor as a possible counsellor in this matter, but only to be
promptly diverted into other channels. That worthy gentleman's feelings
would certainly not have withstood so rude a shock. I could picture him,
in my mind's eye, slowly removing his gold pince-nez and looking at me
in blank but indulgent surprise, as at one who had suddenly taken leave
of her senses. No, this would never do. Barristers by the score must
surely reside in the labyrinths of the Temple, and I determined to seek
one first hand.
And thus it was that, after some little hesitation, I finally ascended
the stairs of a house in Fig Tree Court in the hope that J. B.
Armstrong, Esq., selected at random, might answer my purpose.
The clerk who opened the door looked politely surprised at my appearance
and inquired my business, into which I promptly plunged headfirst. His
eyebrows gradually ascended higher and higher into the regions of his
hair, and his face grew stern and sad as I proceeded. "Allow me to
inquire," he interrupted, "the name of the solicitor who is instructing
the case."
"I have not got a solicitor," I replied, somewhat taken aback.
Then he re-opened the door. "I feel confident, madam, that Mr. Armstrong
would not care to undertake such a case. Good morning."
I retired from this gentleman's presence neither bent nor broken, though
slightly disappointed. "So it is usual to engage a solicitor first," I
reflected, "and to communicate through him with the barrister, is it?
Well, a solicitor can't be afforded here and we must do without him."
The Anarchist in me revolted at such red-tapeism. "Well, here's for
another plunge," I said to myself; "let us try a B this time. C.
Bardolph sounds promising." And I ascended another staircase and knocked
at another inhospitable door.
Mr. Bardolph I saw in person, a very pompous gentleman with manners the
reverse of polite. He could scarcely contain his outraged feelings when
it came to the question of the solicitor. "I can have no connection
with such a case," he said firmly, and I again retired, feeling quite
disreputable.
My next defeat occurred in the chambers of Mr. Anthony C. Frazer. No
sooner did my eyes fall on that gentleman than I regretted my entry, and
the utter hopelessness of my mission was borne in upon my mind, for I
was beginning to realise the difficulties of the situation and to scent
failure in the very air. Mr. Frazer requested me to be seated and eyed
me curiously, as though I were some queer zoological specimen recently
escaped from captivity, and listened with an incredulous smile to my
narrative. He did not even wait for the missing solicitor. "This is
scarcely in my line, madam," he said, rising. "You have certainly made
some mistake." And he left his clerk to accompany me to the door.
I descended the stairs from this gentleman's chambers feeling distinctly
crestfallen and tired, and at my wits' ends as to where next to go,
when, turning the corner into another court, I became aware of rapid
footsteps in my pursuit, and next moment I was overtaken by the youth
who had ushered me out from the scene of my last defeat.
"I think, miss," he began, "that I can direct you to a--er--barrister
who would just do for your business. On no account say that I
recommended you to him, or you will get me into trouble. But you try
Mr. Curtis in Brick Court. He undertakes the defence of burglars
and swindlers and all sorts of people, and you'll find him cheap and
satisfactory."
I thanked the youth, and although this did not strike me as altogether
the most promising introduction, I thought it best to try my luck
in this new direction, and, having at length discovered the house, I
ascended the three rickety flights of stairs which led to Mr. Curtis's
apartment and entered.
This Curtis was a small, wizened old man, of obsolete cut, but
with remarkably up-to-date manners, and a pair of keen little eyes,
penetrating as Röntgen rays. His hair was weedy, and his clothes snuffy
and ill-fitting; but spite of this there was something uncommonly
brisk and wide awake about the little man, and a certain business-like
directness in his manner which impressed me favourably. I felt hopeful
at once.
One of the first remarks he addressed to me--for we primarily discussed
the financial aspect of his services--struck me by reason of its
uncompromising common sense. "Five guineas down and another three next
Tuesday, miss, and I make no inquiry where the money comes from," he
said, "not so long as it is the current coin of the realm and paid
punctually. Without this, however, I cannot undertake or proceed with
the case."
On my immediately producing the required sum he requested me to be
seated, and sitting down opposite me himself, he asked me for full
particulars of the case. These I gave him to the best of my ability and
he took notes.
The question of witnesses he tackled with the same uncompromising lack
of veneer which had characterised his remarks on the money question.
"Witnesses to character and so forth must be found," he said, "the
more authentic and reputable the better, but at all costs they must be
procured. Whom can you suggest?"
I confessed that I could for the moment think of nobody.
"You will think of somebody," he replied persuasively, "you _must_
remember somebody," and there was that in his voice which did not brook
or encourage contradiction, "some one in a respectable position, of
course," he continued, "a man pursuing one of the liberal professions,
or a business man of means. Plenty of doctors and professional men
among your people, are there not? The evidence of such a man would
carry weight. The court's belief in a witness's veracity is, generally
speaking, proportionate to his means. Doubtless you will be able to
think of a desirable man ... who knows the prisoners," he added, rapidly
turning over his notes, and speaking in such a manner as to convey to
me the idea that the exact extent of the witness's knowledge of the
prisoners was not of any very great consequence, so long as he was
prepared to swear to their respectability, and that his banking account
and general appearance were satisfactory.
"I will look round and let you know the result to-morrow," I answered.
"Good," replied Curtis, "two witnesses at least, and men of position and
education at all costs. Good afternoon."
I had enough to do during the remainder of the day in finding those
witnesses, but found they were at last, though not without a tremendous
effort on my part and some considerable degree of ingenuity. When
attired in some of my brother Raymond's discarded clothes, and
produced for Curtis's inspection the following day, they really made
a respectable couple, and I felt proud of them--one a physician of
superior accomplishments and aristocratic appearance, the other a
master-tailor, of prosperous if not very _distingué_ presence. I
likewise discovered a cabman who had been present in Hyde Park at an
allegedly incriminating speech made by Banter; and on jogging his memory
with a little whisky he distinctly recalled several points valuable to
the defence.
Up till the very day of the trial my time was kept well occupied with
such errands. Indeed, remarkable as the fact may appear, practically the
whole labour of preparing the defence devolved upon me.
It was neither an easy nor a very encouraging task. The greater number
of the English Anarchists mysteriously disappeared at this approach of
danger. Mindful of the truth of the axiom that discretion is the better
part of valour, A thought it well to suddenly recollect his duties
towards his family; B discovered that he had a capacious stomach, which
required feeding; C, that the Anarchist policy was in discord with his
own true principles. At such a moment, therefore, and surrounded, or
rather unsurrounded by such men, the task in front of me was not easy,
and in the actual state of public opinion it was not very hopeful
either.
Public feeling was against the Anarchists. So long as violence and
outrage had been reserved entirely for the benefit of foreign climes,
the British public had regarded the Anarchists with tolerance and
equanimity. But the mysterious death of Myers had alarmed and disquieted
it, and heavy sentences were generally invoked against the prisoners.
That the whole conspiracy was a got-up affair between Jacob Myers and
the police was evident. Neither Banter nor O'Flynn was a dangerous
man; a little loud and exaggerated talk was the utmost extent of their
harmfulness. Neither of them was any better capable of making a bomb
than of constructing a flying-machine, and they were less capable of
throwing it than of flying. But political detectives would have a slow
time of it in this country unless they occasionally made a vigorous
effort on their own behalf, and an unscrupulous and impecunious man like
Myers proved a valuable tool to help such gentlemen along, and fools of
the Banter type suitable victims.
And thus it was that these two men now found themselves in the dock with
twelve serious-minded tradesmen sitting in solemn conclave to consider
their crimes.
The trial itself was a ridiculous farce. Jacob Myers, who would have
been the one witness of any importance, was not subpoenaed; he had in
fact discreetly quitted the country under his wife's escort. The police,
with imperturbable gravity, brought ginger-beer bottles into court which
had been found in O'Flynn's apartment, and which, they averred, could be
converted into very formidable weapons of offence. Many gaseous speeches
made by the prisoners, or attributed to them, were solemnly brought up
against them, and a shudder ran through the court at the mention of such
phrases as "wholesale assassination" and "war to the death."
The evidence, however, sufficed to impress the jury with the extreme
gravity of the case and to alarm the public, and the prisoners were
found guilty.
I well recollect the last day of the trial, which I attended
throughout in more or less remote regions of the Old Bailey, recruiting
recalcitrant witnesses, sending food in to the defendants, &c. Two other
cases were being tried at the same time, one of which was a particularly
revolting murder, for which three persons were on trial. The prisoners'
relatives were waiting below in a state of painful excitement. "Guilty
or not guilty," was on all their lips, "release or penal servitude, life
or death, which was it to be?" Friends were constantly running in and
out of the court giving the women news of the progress of the trials.
"It is looking black for the prisoners!" "There is more hope!" "There is
no hope!" and finally "guilty" in all the cases was reported. The wife
of a horrible German murderer who had strangled his employer's wife,
while a female accomplice played the piano to divert her children's
attention from her cries, swooned away at the news. O'Flynn's old mother
went into hysterics and became quite uncontrollable in her grief when,
a few minutes later the news, "Five years' penal servitude," was brought
down.