BOMB OUTRAGES IN LONDON.
On that never-to-be-forgotten Sunday, scenes were witnessed in the
metropolis which were of the most disgraceful character. The teeming
city, from dawn till midnight, was in a feverish turmoil, the throngs in
its streets discussing the probable turn of affairs, singing patriotic
songs, and giving vent to utterances of heroic intentions interspersed
with much horse play.
In Trafalgar Square, the hub of London, a mass meeting of Anarchists and
Socialists was held, at which the Government and military authorities
were loudly denounced for what was termed their criminal apathy to the
interests and welfare of the nation. The Government, it was contended,
had betrayed the country by allowing the secret of the German alliance
to fall into the hands of its enemies, and the Ministers, adjudged
unworthy the confidence of the nation, were by the resolutions adopted
called upon to resign immediately. The crisis was an excuse for
Anarchism to vent its grievances against law and order, and, unshackled,
it had spread with rapidity through the length and breadth of the land.
In "The Square" the scarlet flag and the Cap of Liberty were everywhere
in evidence, and, notwithstanding the presence of the police, the
leaders of Anarchy openly advocated outrage, incendiarism, and murder.
At length the police resolved to interfere, and this was the signal for
a terrible uprising. The huge mob, which in the mellow sunset filled
the great Square and blocked all its approaches, became a seething,
surging mass of struggling humanity. The attack by the police, who were
ordered to disperse them, only incensed them further against the
authorities, whom they blamed for the catastrophe that had befallen our
country. Angry and desperate they fought with the police, using both
revolvers and knives.
The scene was terrible. The scum of the metropolis had congregated to
wage war against their own compatriots whom they classed among enemies,
and for an hour in the precincts of the Square the struggle was for
life. Dozens of constables were shot dead, hundreds of Anarchists and
Socialists received wounds from batons, many succumbing to their
injuries, or being trampled to death by the dense mob. It was a
repetition of that historic day known as "Bloody Sunday," only the fight
was more desperate and the consequences far worse, and such as would
disgrace any civilised city.
Before sundown the police had been vanquished; and as no soldiers could
be spared, Anarchism ran riot in the Strand, Pall Mall, St. Martin's
Lane, Northumberland Avenue, and Parliament Street. Pale, determined
men, with faces covered with blood, and others with their clothes in
shreds, shouted hoarse cries of victory, as, headed by a torn red flag,
they rushed into Pall Mall and commenced breaking down the shutters of
shops and looting them. Men were knocked down and murdered, and the
rioters, freed from all restraint, commenced sacking all establishments
where it was expected spoil could be obtained. At one bank in Pall Mall
they succeeded, after some difficulty, in breaking open the strong room
with explosives, and some forty or fifty of the rebels with eager
greediness shared the gold and notes they stole.
At the Strand corner of the Square a squad of police was being formed,
in order to co-operate with some reinforcements which were arriving,
when suddenly there was a terrific explosion.
A bomb filled with picric acid had been thrown by an Anarchist, and when
the smoke cleared, the shattered remains of thirty-four constables lay
strewn upon the roadway!
This was but the first of a series of dastardly outrages. The advice of
the Anarchist leaders in their inflammatory speeches had been acted
upon, and in half an hour a number of bomb explosions had occurred in
the vicinity, each doing enormous damage, and killing numbers of
innocent persons. After the petard had been thrown in Trafalgar Square a
loud explosion was almost immediately afterwards heard in Parliament
Street, and it was soon known that a too successful attempt had been
made to blow up the Premier's official residence in Downing Street. The
programme of the outrages had apparently been organised, for almost
before the truth was known another even more disastrous explosion
occurred in the vestibule of the War Office in Pall Mall, which wrecked
the lower part of the building, and blew to atoms the sentry on duty,
and killed a number of clerks who were busy at their important duties in
the apartments on the ground floor.
Through Pall Mall and along Whitehall the mob ran, crying "Down with the
Government! Kill the traitors! Kill them!" About three thousand of the
more lawless, having looted a number of shops, rushed to the Houses of
Parliament, arriving there just in time to witness the frightful havoc
caused by the explosion of two terribly powerful bombs that had been
placed in St. Stephen's Hall and in Westminster Abbey.
A section of the exultant rioters had gained access to the National
Gallery, where they carried on ruthless destruction among the priceless
paintings there. Dozens of beautiful works were slashed with knives,
others were torn down, and many, cut from their frames, were flung to
the howling crowd outside. Suddenly some one screamed, "What do we want
with Art? Burn down the useless palace! Burn it! Burn it!"
This cry was taken up by thousands of throats, and on every hand the
rebels inside the building were urged to set fire to it. Intoxicated
with success, maddened by anger at the action of the police, and
confident that they had gained a signal victory over the law, they piled
together a number of historic paintings in one of the rooms, and then
ignited them. The flames leaped to the ceiling, spread to the woodwork,
and thence, with appalling rapidity, to the other apartments. The
windows cracked, and clouds of smoke and tongues of fire belched forth
from them.
It had now grown dusk. The furious, demoniacal rabble surging in the
Square set up loud, prolonged cheering when they saw the long dark
building burning. In delight they paused in their work of destruction,
watching the flames growing brighter as they burst through the roof,
licking the central dome; and while the timber crackled and the fire
roared, casting a lurid glare upon the tall buildings round and lighting
up the imposing facade of the Grand Hotel, they cheered vociferously and
sang the "Marseillaise" until the smoke half choked them and their
throats grew hoarse.
These denizens of the slums, these criminal crusaders against the law,
were not yet satiated by their wild reckless orgies. Unchecked, they had
run riot up and down the Strand, and there was scarcely a man among them
who had not in his pocket some of the spoils from jewellers' or from
banks. In the glare of the flames the white bloodstained faces wore a
determined expression as they stood collecting their energies for some
other atrocious outrage against their so-called enemies, the rich.
At the first menace of excesses, dwellers in the locality had left their
houses and fled headlong for safety to other parts of the city. The
majority escaped, but many fell into the hands of the rioters, and were
treated with scant humanity. Men and women were struck down and robbed,
even strangled or shot if they resisted. The scene was frightful--a
terrible realisation of Anarchist prophecies that had rendered the
authorities absolutely helpless. On the one hand, an enemy had landed on
our shores with every chance of a successful march to London, while on
the other the revolutionary spirit had broken out unmistakably among the
criminal class, and lawlessness and murder were everywhere rife.
The homes of the people were threatened by double disaster--by the
attack of both enemy and "friend." The terrible bomb outrages and their
appalling results had completely disorganised the police, and although
reinforcements had been telegraphed for from every division in London,
the number of men mustered at Scotland Yard was not yet sufficient to
deal effectually with the irate and rapidly increasing mob.
As evening wore on the scenes in the streets around the Square were
terrible. Pall Mall was congested by the angry mob who were wrecking the
clubs, when suddenly the exultant cries were succeeded by terrified
shrieks mingled with fierce oaths. Each man fought with his neighbour,
and many men and women, crushed against iron railings, stood half
suffocated and helpless. The National Gallery was burning fiercely,
flames from the great burning pile shot high in the air, illuminating
everything with their flood of crimson light, and the wind, blowing down
the crowded thoroughfare, carried smoke, sparks, and heat with it.
Distant shrieks were heard in the direction of the Square, and suddenly
the crowd surged wildly forward. Gaol-birds from the purlieus of Drury
Lane robbed those who had valuables or money upon them, and committed
brutal assaults upon the unprotected. A moment later, however, there was
a flash, and the deafening sound of firearms at close quarters was
followed by the horrified shrieks of the yelling mob. Again and again
the sound was repeated. Around them bullets whistled, and men and women
fell forward dead and wounded with terrible curses upon their lips.
The 10th Hussars had just arrived from Hounslow, and having received
hurried orders to clear away the rioters, were shooting them down like
dogs, without mercy. On every hand cries of agony and despair rose above
the tumult. Then a silence followed, for the street was thickly strewn
with corpses.