THE STORMING OF SCHULER’S HALL.
“To Arms!”—Down with Lawlessness—The Giant of Communism rather
Ghostly—Governor Phelps—Mayor Overstolz —General A. J. Smith—The
Mighty Executive Committee—More Phantom than Fact—An Important
Undertaking—Seven Hundred Armed Men—They March to Storm the Hall of
“The Workingmen’s Party of the United States”—Schuler’s Hall
Captured—The Vanquished Commune—A Grand Parade—Prevention Better
than Cure.
The conduct of the riotous mobs, which had excited the citizens so
greatly on Wednesday, and caused the active military preparations spoken
of in a former chapter, was resumed again on the succeeding morning. The
condition of affairs at this time in St. Louis appears to have been
about this: All the shops and manufactories in the city had been closed
at the command of committees sent out by “The Executive Committee,” in
some instances backed by a howling rabble of vicious idlers; the whole
industrial population of the city was idle; the people were in a state
of constant dread of impending disaster; capitalists naturally felt,
since they were special objects of hatred, that a dreadful sword, such
as tormented Damocles, was suspended above their heads; the municipal
authorities were endeavoring to strengthen their position; General
Smith, surrounded by a multitudinous staff of Colonels, was busy at the
Four Courts organizing the citizen-soldiery. The Police Commissioners
were at military headquarters, issuing their instructions to the regular
police force. Sheriff Finn had a small army of deputies, summoning
citizens to serve as a _posse comitatus_; General Jeff. C. Davis, of the
United States Army, was _en-route_ on a Pacific Railway train, with a
body of regular troops, while his Excellency John S. Phelps, Governor of
the State of Missouri, having ordered the shipment of a large number of
muskets and a quantity of ammunition, together with two pieces of
artillery from the State Arsenal, was in person approaching the
mob-disturbed metropolis of the State.
On the other side, that formidable “Executive Committee” had grown in
boldness, and now even ventured to make demands of the Governor and the
Mayor, in a tone that betokened their conviction that they were “men
having authority.” The street urchins, too, amid the tremendous events
of the times, paraded the streets with a newspaper attached to a wand,
on which was the terrible legend, “We don’t want bread, we want cake and
pie, or blood,” thus swelling the tumult in this agitated city.
Thursday, July 28th, dawned upon a city, not free, indeed, from “wars
wild alarms,” but there was a noticeable lull in the movements of the
rioters. This fact was noted at the time, and caused no little
speculation as to the cause. No very large or threatening demonstration
of the strikers, or the rabble, took place. But there was an apparition
of darkness, which appeared to all the people. It was not exactly “Death
on the Pale Horse,” but it was a gigantic colored man, mounted on a
yellow horse, who lead a mob, composed largely of negroes, toward the
northern part of the city, for the purpose of visiting and closing the
shops, mills, and other manufacturing establishments, in that section of
the city. This mob was disposed to indulge in frequent “ugly yells,”
which was well calculated to strike terror into timid souls. The chief
purpose of the Ethiopian on the yellow horse, was, apparently, the
general enforcement of a holiday for all laborers, whether they desired
it or not. In this mission he and his followers were eminently
successful, meeting with no opposition from the laborers themselves, the
police or the military.
One of the mobs, which was headed by two sorry specimens of the
Caucasian race, visited the various carriage shops on St. Charles
street, and requested the workmen to quit. At an agricultural implement
shop and warehouse, the proprietor declined to accede to the demand of
the mob, and with a loaded revolver kept them back. They finally went
away. Such were the character of the men who composed this terrible mob,
that required the services of an army to crush.
Meanwhile “The Executive Committee” were busy writing proclamations and
diplomatic correspondence with Mayor Overstolz and Governor Phelps. One
of the communications addressed to the Governor, is unexampled for
pretension and cool impertinence. This mighty “Executive Committee” of
“The Workingmen’s Party of the United States,” otherwise known as the
“Internationalists,” employs the following language in addressing the
Governor:
“We request your speedy co-operation in convening the legislature, and
calling for the immediate passage of the eight-hour law, its stringent
enforcement and penalty for all violations of same.
“The non-employment of all children under fourteen years of age in
factories, shops or other uses calculated to injure them.
“Your attention is respectfully called to the fact that a prompt
compliance with this, our reasonable demand, and living-wages be paid to
the railroadmen, will at once bring peace and prosperity such as we have
not seen for the last fifteen years. Nothing short of a compliance to
the above just demand, made purely in the interest of our national
welfare, will arrest this tidal wave of revolution. Threats or organized
armies will not turn the toilers of this nation from their earnest
purpose, but rather serve to inflame the passions of the multitude, and
tend to acts of vandalism.”
The same committee addressed a communication to Mayor Overstolz, in
which they say:
“We, the authorized representatives of the industrial population of St.
Louis, have called upon you to request your co-operation in devising
means to procure food for those actually in a destitute condition.
“In order to save a useless waste of your time, it is necessary that we
at once say, that all offers of work during this national strike cannot
be considered by us as a remedy under the present circumstances, for we
are fully determined to hold out until the principles we are contending
for are carried.
“It is the earnest desire of every honest toiler in St. Louis to
accomplish their purpose in as orderly a way as this dire contingency
will allow.
“The contingency of food is already being felt—therefore, to avoid
plunder, arson, or violence by persons made desperate by destitution, we
are ready to concur with your honor in taking timely measures to supply
the immediate wants of the foodless, and respectfully offer the
following suggestions, namely, if it is not in your power to relieve
this distress, we request that a convention of the merchants be called
by you, to meet and confer with us as to the best way to procure food to
our distressed brothers and their families.
“Each member of all labor organizations will hold themselves
individually and collectively responsible to pay for all food procured
by their order.
“That we, the unfortunates, toiling citizens, desire to faithfully
maintain the majesty of the law, whilst we are contending for our
inalienable rights.
“Therefore, we in good faith give you our earnest assurance to assist
you in maintaining order and protecting property. Further, in order to
avoid riot, we have determined to have no large processions until our
organization is so complete as to positively assure the citizens of St.
Louis of a perfect maintenance of order, and full protection to life and
property.”
This is certainly unexampled frankness, so open, indeed, as to have the
appearance of a grim joke, which the Executive Committee was
perpetrating at the expense of the chief magistrates of the city of St.
Louis, and the State of Missouri. It reminds one of the letter addressed
by the Congress of the Internationals at Brussels, to the “League of
Peace and Liberty,” in session at Berne. “There is no longer a reason
for the continued existence of your body in the world. Therefore, we
desire that you dissolve, and resolve yourselves into a section of the
International.” So wrote the Congress of Brussels to another society of
impracticables.
To make it appear that the Workingmen’s Party meant serious business,
this celebrated committee, on the 25th of July, published a notice to
the effect that, “Physicians and Surgeons would be recognized during the
strike by a white badge four inches wide encircling the left upper aim,
bearing a red cross, the bars of which should be one inch wide, and
three inches long.”
“The Executive Committee,” having by its proclamations and diplomatic
correspondence, secured a wide spread notoriety, at this time announced
that the time for talking had passed, that the time for action had
arrived, and that in order to be in complete readiness for any
emergency, and to do which required the sort of vigilance which is the
price of liberty, it was announced that the “Executive Committee” would
remain in session all night at Schuler’s Hall. In accordance with this
announcement, Schuler’s Hall presented a strange scene that night. Grim
men, sun-browned and tawny, acted as sentinels. There was none of the
tinsel—“the pomp and circumstances of glorious war,” to inspire them.
Inside the hall “The Executive Committee” held their conclave. They too,
were a body of sinewy men, toil worn and grim, clad in the rough
garments such as laborers are accustomed to wear. Notwithstanding the
high sounding proclamations and loud declarations of hostile intentions,
the truth is, that as late as Thursday night they had adopted no plan of
action, had collected no arms, had no military organization, and were
perfectly incapable of offering resistance, even to a squad of police.
Their whole clamor, as was made apparent, was a voice, and nothing more.
But they must have found much quiet enjoyment over the furor which their
pronunciamentos had created. For a time, at least, they must have felt
their importance in the city—for a time, indeed, “The Executive
Committee,” perhaps with less than a thousand really earnest yet wholly
unorganized and unarmed adherents, were little less than a council of
kings, who issued orders and they were obeyed, who commanded, and saw
their commands executed; this wonderful “Executive Committee,” composed
as it was of men who had hitherto been buried in the depths of
obscurity, possessing neither social, financial, or political importance
in the community, suddenly rose to the surface, and reigned as princes
in St. Louis. To their demands the richest yielded, at their request
even proprietors of extensive manufactories closed their establishments,
and the municipal authority of the city was paralyzed in their presence.
It was a strange event in the history of the city, it was an incident in
the development of social life, which is worthy of the most careful
investigation from the students of social science. New men arise in
revolutions whether of a social, commercial, or political character.
Grant grew great as he was wafted on the billows of a terrible
internecine struggle. Politicians and casuists can never be
revolutionists. They belong to the established order of things—they bow
only at the shrine of expediency, even though that involves a surrender
of honesty. Lawyers are conservatives by force of education and habits
of thought; doctors are not in the line of social and political
intrigue; and priests and preachers dwell altogether, or, at least, are
supposed to dwell in thought altogether in the shadowy realm beyond the
tide of time. These cannot be revolutionists. Roussel was out of place
in the Commune of 1871. That was a place only for such men as Raoul
Rigault, Ferre, Garreau, Fouet, and their kind. Roussel was a scholar, a
gentleman, a genius, the others fit for such work as they performed, and
such retribution as overtook them. Well known men never remain long at
the head of affairs in times of great popular disturbances, because men
who have already rendered themselves conspicuous, are restrained by the
fear of committing a blunder, and if not by that, then they are kept
within a certain definable position by certain precedents and
experiences, which wholly unfits them for the position of directors in
events which have no precedents. So when the strikes created an uproar
all over the land, new men came to the surface, men before unknown. Men
like Justus Schwab, and Conroy, and Winter, in New York, and Donahue, at
Hornellsville, and Zepp, at Martinsburg, and Robert Ammon, at
Pittsburgh, and Clynch, Van Patten and Schilling, at Chicago, and
Curtis, Lofgren, Cadell, and Allen, in St. Louis, and Easton and Benton,
in East St. Louis, all of whom were unknown to the general public until
their names became familiar as household words during the reign of the
strikes. Rochefort, the best known, appears not to have been a leader of
the Commune. So in New York, Swinton, the cultivated journalist, and
intellectually the ablest man among the Internationalists, does not
appear to have been so much of a leader as Conroy or Justus Schwab.
But to return to the narrative of events in St. Louis. The operation of
the mob on Thursday consisted in marching about in small bodies, from
mill to mill, from one factory, foundry, or shop, to the next in their
way, and issuing orders, or presenting requests to the proprietors to
close up their business places. By Thursday night, from Bissell’s Point
to the River des Peres, from Wharf to Chettinham, there was not a single
manufacturing establishment, of any importance, that had not been
closed.
Meanwhile, Governor John S. Phelps, accompanied by his private
secretary, had arrived from Jefferson City, and proposed as
Commander-in-Chief of the army of the State, consisting at that time of
some two thousand men, hastily recruited from among the citizens of St.
Louis, to take general command over the movements of the forces. The
Governor, in order to strike terror into the souls of the rioters,
proceeded to issue a proclamation, couched in such terms, as in the mind
of his excellency, appeared best calculated to impress the disorderly
elements with the firmness of his purpose and the solemnity of his
resolution, to overcome their unlawful combination.
In that proclamation, his Excellency proceeded to enumerate the evil
results accomplished by the rioters, among which were these: They had
unlawfully and riotously assembled in the city of St. Louis; they had
unlawfully compelled other men to quit and abandon the pursuits by which
they supported themselves and families; worse than all else, they had
impeded the prosecution of the internal commerce of the country by
assembling in force, thereby preventing the transportation of the
products of the country, which had a bad effect, inasmuch as it enhanced
the cost of support for all persons in a time of financial distress.
Further, his Excellency declared that other disturbances and disorders
were threatened in St. Louis, and elsewhere in the State. Wherefore he,
the Governor of the State, required the aforesaid bands of men,
unlawfully assembled, to disband and return to their usual pursuits and
avocations. By way of parenthesis, it may not be inappropriate to remark
just here, that perhaps his Excellency was not aware of the fact that
some, at least, of the bands unlawfully assembled, were composed largely
of men whose “usual pursuits and avocations” were sneak-thieving. It is
not to be presumed that the Governor understood this fact. But the
Governor of the State of Missouri went further, he required that they
should not further molest the good citizens of the State. And he
earnestly assured the people of Missouri, and especially of St. Louis,
that he was in that city for the purpose of seeing that the laws were
faithfully executed and enforced, and that the rights of all should be
respected; that order should be maintained; that all assemblages of evil
men should be dispersed, and that quiet and tranquility in future should
be preserved, and with the aid of the good people of the State, he
solemnly declared these pledges should be redeemed so far as in his
power as their chief executive, not only for the peace and welfare of
the city, but for every part of the commonwealth.
Having accomplished this important work, his Excellency rested from his
labors, and awaited the ripening of the harvest of his sowing. It was a
brilliant assemblage of notables at the Four Courts that evening.
Mayor Overstolz, on the same day, issued a proclamation couched in
reasonable terms, and concilliatory language, requesting a resumption of
business, and desiring all laboring men, and all others to abstain, as
much as possible, from congregating on the streets. He prohibited any
interference by intimidation or otherwise with the employes or employers
of any mill, factory, business, or other establishment. He asserted the
right of labor to quit their employment if dissatisfied. He declared
that the responsibility for collisions would rest with those who
persistently violated the law.
At the Four Courts all was bustle and hurry. General A. J. Smith, with
his numerous staff of Colonels, were all kept busy. It was astonishing
how much had been accomplished. Order had been brought out of chaos. The
recruits had been drilled and disciplined, the veterans had resumed the
war-like habit, and were “fighting their battles o’er again.” Guards
slowly paced to and fro before the stately building. That vicinity, at
least, wore the aspect of “grim-visaged war.” The veterans who had
“dared death in the deadly breach,” and met the leaden storm on a
hundred battlefields, had forgotten their ancient proficiency, and had
fallen, in knowledge of tactics and skill as warriors, far below the
intellectual knights who had rushed to the front to meet the terrible
soldiers of “The Executive Committee” whoever and whatever they might
be, only a day before.
Friday, July 27th, 1877, dawned much like other days. There were some
clouds, and some indication that a summer shower might fall almost any
hour. The weather was hot and murky. The streets were comparatively
quiet. There were no such crowds as were visible on the preceding
Wednesday. Indeed, the city was unusually free from tumult and noises.
It seemed as if a sort of Sabbath spirit hovered over the place. Mayor
Overstolz had declared that no more public meetings should be held, the
Governor had proclaimed his purpose to compel men to return to “their
pursuits and avocations,” and “The Executive Committee” was meeting at
Schuler’s Hall. General Smith and his staff were at the Four Courts in
readiness to meet any emergency with the forces at his command. His
Excellency, Governor John S. Phelps, had supplied arms and ammunition,
and St. Louis had contributed the men and the military genius to create
an army. The authorities now felt strong, more especially since it was
evident that the followers of “The Executive Committee” were growing
fewer in numbers. There was a lull on Thursday, and on Friday morning it
was apparent that the rioters were still less boisterous. But St. Louis
had been shaken by a mighty wind, “created by a disturbance of the
electrical equilibrium in consequence of the development of the gaseous
body” known as The Executive Committee, and the ponderous men who decide
all important matters in St. Louis, had not recovered from the
trepidation endured when the storm was at its height. For these and
sundry other reasons, the minds of the numerous Pillycamps of which St.
Louis can boast, were not easy. That dreadful Executive Committee was
still in existence, and in session at Schuler’s Hall, surrounded by they
knew not how great an army, supplied with they knew not what terrible
implements of war, such as mitrailleuses, Gatling guns, Columbiads,
torpedoes, Greek fire, shells, and what else they could not form the
least conception, but something dreadful they shrewdly suspected it must
be.
It was Friday morning when the Board of Police Commissioners, headed by
the Vice President, Colonel David H. Armstrong, concluded that the
police authorities had waited full long to undertake to maintain good
order in the streets. There had been meetings appointed by the
“Executive Committee” at Carondelet avenue and Barton street, Hyde Park,
and at Lucas Market. At Hyde Park, a company gathered, numbering perhaps
three hundred or four hundred persons. To this meeting, Captain Burgess,
of the Police, was ordered to accept an invitation. Leaving his squad of
officers out of sight, the Captain went alone into the meeting, and told
them that they could not hold a meeting, and that he had a sufficient
force at hand to compel obedience. The crowd thereupon stood not upon
the order of their going, but went at once. At Barton street, no
collection of the people could be found. At Lucas Market a few people,
looking way-worn and wearied, presented themselves, but Sergeant Daly
with a small squad of police officers went and dispersed them.
The Committee of Safety determined to attack Schuler’s Hall. Generals
Smith and Marmaduke protested against such an enterprise. General
Marmaduke was very positive in his opposition to the movement.
The result of the conference was a determination to attack. The command
of the expeditionary forces was entrusted to General John D. Stevenson,
the friend of Mayor Overstolz. As to the forces necessary to accomplish
the undertaking, there was some diversity of opinion, but finally it was
concluded that the police officers, who were to lead the attack, should
be supported by an infantry and cavalry force of about six hundred men,
with two pieces of artillery.
The command of the police battalion, by a special order of Chief
McDonough, was conferred on Captain William Lee. The capture of “the
violators of law” at Schuler’s Hall, was mentioned as a particular
service, the battalion under command of Captain Lee was expected to
perform. If they encountered any resistance in effecting the arrest of
the Schuller’s Hall meeting the police were commanded to open fire on
the people. The soldiers were there, it appears, to assist in marshaling
the prisoners and escorting them to the Four Courts.
Schuler’s Hall, the scene of the most important military achievement of
the combined forces of the citizen-soldiery and police, is a dingy
structure, situated at the intersection of Fifth and Biddle streets, and
extending from Fifth street to Broadway, it being near the junction of
these two thoroughfares. It is a small hall, and has been frequently
used as a meeting place for political clubs of the old tenth ward, now
the fourth.
During the forenoon of that eventful day, “The Executive Committee” were
in session, what they were doing, what plans they were concocting, has
not as yet been revealed. A crowd, not very demonstrative, composed
largely of employes of neighboring manufactories which had been closed
in consequence of the strikers, lounged about the street corners, and on
the door steps in the vicinity. These people seemed to be in total
ignorance of the aims and purposes of “The Executive Committee.” In the
hall, there were not more than a hundred and fifty or two hundred
persons at one time during the day, and these seemed to be little better
informed in regard to what was being developed in the room occupied by
the Executive Committee, than the crowd which loitered on the outside.
They all appeared to be workingmen, and did not appear very war-like.
They had no arms, and “The Executive Committee” was provokingly slow in
furnishing them with death dealing instruments.
Meanwhile, all was in commotion at the Four Courts. The notes of busy
preparation plainly heard. There was hurry, bustle and buzzing, such as
might be expected from a gallant army setting forth on a perilous
expedition, with thoughts only of victory to animate them to the
performance of heroic deeds. The companies were marshaled, the officers
were at their respective posts; the artillery was hauled out, the police
battalion was mustered; General John D. Stevenson mounted his war-steed,
Mayor Overstolz, Colonel Armstrong, and Chief of Police McDonough,
assumed their appropriate places, and on the afternoon of Friday, July
27th, 1877, the combined forces of the police and citizens, soldiery,
marched out from the Four Courts to storm and capture the headquarters
of “The Executive Committee,” a mile away, at Fifth and Biddle streets.
The combined forces numbered about seven hundred men of all arms. A
little before three o’clock the head of the column marched up Fifth
street to the vicinity of Schuler’s Hall.
How the attack was made, we shall proceed to relate. The scene presented
at this time, was a striking and a novel one. About Wash street, two
blocks below the hall, the police cavalry, led by Captain Fox and
Sergeant Floreich, came northward at a moderate gait, occupying nearly
the full width of the street. Just behind them the two files of foot
police, led by Captain Lee, mounted, and by Captain Huebler and
Sergeants Boyd and Powell, afoot, occupied the middle of the street,
moving with quick step, their bayoneted muskets at a “carry arms.” The
cannon showed grimly near the middle of the force. The rear of this
company was brought up by Mayor Overstolz and three citizens, who
marched well, regardless of mud.
A half block behind these, the soldiery, with their forest of bayonets,
advanced with regular, measured tread, presenting a very pretty column.
The formidable procession was flanked on either side by an immense crowd
of citizens, who overflowed the sidewalks, and pushed and jostled in
most tumultuous fashion in their eagerness to get forward and witness
the trouble which they thought was about to occur.
In front of the building was a small crowd, but a little to the north,
occupying Biddle street, and well up along the market-house on Fifth
street an awe-struck multitude stood gazing southward. It was composed
largely of the lower classes, but there were also many Broadway and
Fifth street merchants in it. The crowd was wonderfully still, evidently
expecting that some terrible event was about to happen.
The troops marched with little noise, and there was in fact, nothing to
indicate to the people on the third floor that anything was about to
happen.
When within about fifty yards of the hall, the cavalrymen put spurs to
their horses and moved forward at a brisk trot, charging directly for
the crowd which blocked the street. They did not stop at the hall, but
the crowd opened and retreated before them, and they kept on their
course till they passed the north line of Biddle street, when they
stopped. They were cheered by some, and cursed and mocked by others, but
paid no attention to it. Presently the crowd began to show an unruly
spirit, and to press forward beyond the limits. Then the cavalry made
things lively beyond description. They dashed hither and thither
regardless of sidewalks and gutters, and drove the crowd before them
without distinction.
Every charge occasioned a loud yell, and a collision sometimes seemed
imminent. This sudden uproar, after such a remarkable quiet, carried
consternation to those who remained on the upper floors in fancied
security, and there was a panic which words cannot picture. Some jumped
from the third-story porch on the south side of the building upon the
roof of the adjoining building, and running over a couple of roofs, made
a descent. Many shinned down the pillars of the porches. A score of
others got upon the second floor balcony at the east side of the
building, and letting themselves down their full length, dropped upon
the sidewalk, all in a heap. Several of these jumpers suffered serious
sprains. A numbers of others, afraid to drop or jump, stood trembling on
the balcony until the cavalry charged around on that side to corral the
building. The officers pointed their revolvers at those who stood up
there, and called on them to surrender and come down, which they did,
amid the wildest confusion.
The main part of the work of arrest devolved upon the police who were
afoot. When they reached the entrance to the hall stairway, Captain Lee,
in a low tone, ordered a halt, and, leaping from his horse, he drew his
sword and led the way up stairs. Captain Huebler and a number of men
took possession of the second floor and Captain Lee and Detective Hugh
O’Neil, who was rigged out as one of the workingmen, went on up stairs
and did the work in the main hall without other assistance.
It was an easily accomplished task. Captain Lee, sword in hand, burst
into the room and roared out, “Let every man in this room consider
himself my prisoner.” There were a few groans, and some appeals for
leniency, as the wretches whose escape had been cut off, heard this
order and hauled in their heads.
The Captain looked savage, and the reporter fell right into line at the
head of the crowd, not knowing but what he, too, would get a blistering
slap with the steel, or worse. In a moment, the crowd numbering between
twenty and thirty, formed as orderly a double file as any body could
desire, and the next moment came the order, “forward, march.”
Hughey O’Neil and Sergeant Fox marshaled the miserable crew, and they
marched down stairs as though going down to death.
The exploit was accomplished, the headquarters of “The Executive
Committee” had been invaded—captured, without the loss of a single man.
The forces of the Communists were placed in line as prisoners, together
with a number of unfortunate idlers, who had been captured on the
streets in the neighborhood. It was not a large force. Seventy-three
prisoners in all. Marshaling their prisoners, the seven hundred armed
men who had marched up Fifth street to Schuler’s Hall, marched up to
Eleventh street, then South to the Four Courts again. Twenty-four of the
seventy-three prisoners were found to be employes of various
manufacturing establishments in the neighborhood, which were temporarily
closed—men who had not struck, and who had taken no part in the
proceedings of the Internationalists. These were released. There were
forty-nine left, but it was soon discovered that a number of these were
mechanics and artisans, who were at the hall to gratify their curiosity,
and these were in no long time released. In fact, it soon became a
painfully apparent fact that the fruits of victory were no better than
apples of Sodom in the grasp of the victors.
This was the last formidable appearance of that remarkable “Executive
Committee” which had kept St. Louis in a fever of excitement for several
days.
The next day was quiet, the citizen-soldierly were still on duty, but
there were no foes to face. The great strike drew to a close. The page
of history was made up. The merchants brigade, General John B. Gray’s
command, the citizens forces, General Smith and his staff of Colonels
having well performed their part, were about to lay aside the implements
of war. The streets were quiet. The war had closed. Monday the long
lines of volunteers presented themselves as the defenders of the city,
received the applause of fair women and brave men—then all was over.