LOOTING IN THE SUBURBS.
While famished men crept into Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens and there
expired under the trees of absolute hunger, and starving women with
babes at their breasts sank upon doorsteps and died, the more robust
Londoners had, on hearing of the enemy's march on the metropolis, gone
south to augment the second line of defence. For several weeks huge
barricades had been thrown up in the principal roads approaching London
from the south. The strongest of these were opposite the Convalescent
Home on Kingston Hill, in Coombe Lane close to Raynes Park Station, in
the Morden Road at Merton Abbey, opposite Lynwood in the Tooting Road;
while nearer London, on the same road, there was a strong one with
machine guns on the crest of Balham Hill, and another in Clapham Road.
At Streatham Hill, about one hundred yards from the hospital, earthworks
had been thrown up, and several guns brought into position; while at
Beulah Hill, Norwood, opposite the Post Office at Upper Sydenham, at the
Half Moon at Herne Hill, and in many of the roads between Honor Oak and
Denmark Hill, barricades had been constructed and banked up with bags
and baskets filled with earth.
Though these defences were held by enthusiastic civilians of all
classes,--professional men, artisans, and tradesmen,--yet our second
line of defence, distinct, of course, from the local barricades, was a
very weak one. We had relied upon our magnificent strategic positions on
the Surrey Hills, and had not made sufficient provision in case of a
sudden reverse. Our second line, stretching from Croydon up to South
Norwood, thence to Streatham and along the railway line to Wimbledon and
Kingston, was composed of a few battalions of Volunteers, detachments of
Metropolitan police, Berks and Bucks constabulary, London firemen and
postmen, the Corps of Commissionaires--in fact, every body of drilled
men who could be requisitioned to handle revolver or rifle. These were
backed by great bodies of civilians, and behind stood the barricades
with their insignificant-looking but terribly deadly machine guns.
The railways had, on the first news of the enemy's success at
Leatherhead and Guildford, all been cut up, and in each of the many
bridges spanning the Thames between Kingston and the Tower great charges
of gun-cotton had been placed, so that they might be blown up at any
instant, and thus prevent the enemy from investing the city.
Day dawned again at last--dull and grey. It had rained during the night,
and the roads, wet and muddy, were unutterably gloomy as our civilian
defenders looked out upon them, well knowing that ere long a fierce
attack would be made. In the night the enemy had been busy laying a
field telegraph from Mitcham to Kingston, through which messages were
now being continually flashed.
Suddenly, just as the British outposts were being relieved, the French
commenced a vigorous attack, and in a quarter of an hour fighting
extended along the whole line. Volunteers, firemen, policemen,
Commissionaires, and civilians all fought bravely, trusting to one hope,
namely, that before they were defeated the enemy would be outflanked and
attacked in their rear by a British force from the Surrey Hills. They
well knew that to effectually bar the advance of this great body of
French was out of all question, yet they fought on with creditable tact,
and in many instances inflicted serious loss upon the enemy's infantry.
Soon, however, French field guns were trained upon them, and amid the
roar of artillery line after line of heroic Britons fell shattered to
earth. Amid the rattle of musketry, the crackling of the machine guns,
and the booming of 16-pounders, brave Londoners struggled valiantly
against the masses of wildly excited Frenchmen; yet every moment the
line became slowly weakened, and the defenders were gradually forced
back upon their barricades. The resistance which the French met with was
much more determined than they had anticipated; in fact, a small force
of Volunteers holding the Mitcham Road, at Streatham, fought with such
splendid bravery, that they succeeded alone and unaided in completely
wiping out a battalion of French infantry, and capturing two field guns
and a quantity of ammunition. For this success, however, they, alas!
paid dearly, for a quarter of an hour later a large body of cavalry and
infantry coming over from Woodlands descended upon them and totally
annihilated them, with the result that Streatham fell into the hands of
the French, and a few guns placed in the high road soon made short work
of the earthworks near the hospital. Under the thick hail of bursting
shells the brave band who manned the guns were at last compelled to
abandon them, and the enemy were soon marching unchecked into Stockwell
and Brixton, extending their right, with the majority of their
artillery, across Herne Hill, Dulwich, and Honor Oak.
In the meantime a desperate battle was being fought around Kingston. The
barricade on Kingston Hill held out for nearly three hours, but was at
last captured by the invaders, and of those who had manned it not a man
survived. Mitcham and Tooting had fallen in the first hour of the
engagement, the barricade at Lynwood had been taken, and hundreds of the
houses in Balham had been looted by the enemy in their advance into
Clapham.
Nearly the whole morning it rained in torrents, and both invaders and
defenders were wet to the skin, and covered with blood and mud.
Everywhere British pluck showed itself in this desperate resistance on
the part of these partially-trained defenders. At the smaller
barricades in the suburban jerry-built streets, Britons held their own
and checked the advance with remarkable coolness; yet, as the dark,
stormy day wore on, the street defences were one after another broken
down and destroyed.
Indeed, by three o'clock that afternoon the enemy ran riot through the
whole district, from Lower Sydenham to Kingston. Around the larger
houses on Sydenham Hill one of the fiercest fights occurred, but at
length the defenders were driven down into Lordship Lane, and the houses
on the hill were sacked, and some of them burned. While this was
proceeding, a great force of French artillery came over from Streatham,
and before dusk five great batteries had been established along the
Parade in front of the Crystal Palace, and on Sydenham Hill and One Tree
Hill; while other smaller batteries were brought into position at Forest
Hill, Gipsy Hill, Tulse Hill, Streatham Hill, and Herne Hill; and
further towards London about twenty French 12-pounders and a number of
new quick-firing weapons of long range and a very destructive character
were placed along the top of Camberwell Grove and Denmark Hill.
The defences of London had been broken. The track of the invaders was
marked by ruined homes and heaps of corpses, and London's millions knew
on this eventful night that the enemy were now actually at their doors.
In Fleet Street, in the Strand, in Piccadilly, the news spread from
mouth to mouth as darkness fell that the enemy were preparing to launch
their deadly shells into the City. This increased the panic. The people
were in a mad frenzy of excitement, and the scenes everywhere were
terrible. Women wept and wailed, men uttered words of blank despair, and
children screamed at an unknown terror.
The situation was terrible. From the Embankment away on the Surrey side
could be seen a lurid glare in the sky. It was the reflection of a great
fire in Vassall Road, Brixton, the whole street being burned by the
enemy, together with the great block of houses lying between the Cowley
and Brixton Roads.
London waited. Dark storm-clouds scudded across the moon. The chill wind
swept up the river, and moaned mournfully in doors and chimneys.
At last, without warning, just as Big Ben had boomed forth one o'clock,
the thunder of artillery shook the windows, and startled the excited
crowds. Great shells crashed into the streets, remained for a second,
and then burst with deafening report and appalling effect.
In Trafalgar Square, Fleet Street, and the Strand the deadly projectiles
commenced to fall thickly, wrecking the shops, playing havoc with the
public buildings, and sweeping hundreds of men and women into eternity.
Nothing could withstand their awful force, and the people, rushing madly
about like frightened sheep, felt that this was indeed their last hour.
In Ludgate Hill the scene was awful. Shots fell with monotonous
regularity, bursting everywhere, and blowing buildings and men into
atoms. The French shells were terribly devastating; the reek of melinite
poisoned the air. Shells striking St. Paul's Cathedral brought down the
right-hand tower, and crashed into the dome; while others set on fire a
long range of huge drapery warehouses behind it, the glare of the
roaring flames causing the great black Cathedral to stand out in bold
relief.
The bombardment had actually commenced! London, the proud Capital of the
World, was threatened with destruction!