THE LEAGUERS AT THE HOME OFFICE
A shadow had fallen upon the engagement of Herrick and Aldwyth
Westwood. The Westwoods were back in Hill Street, and Herrick also had
returned after a long yachting cruise with his cousin, Lord Eastmere.
But although he went frequently to see Aldwyth at Hill Street, and
was disposed to be more than ever a devoted lover, something had come
between them. It puzzled and troubled him. He kept hoping from week
to week that the chill would pass away. He hoped, so far, in vain.
Aldwyth, of course, was conscious that the chill existed. She blamed
herself, and tried to persuade her heart that it ached for nothing more
than the rather ordinary tribute that a rather ordinary young man had
to offer; was not it her plain duty to be happy in her engagement and
in the prospect of marriage that lay not far ahead?
But the fact remained that she was not happy. Hers was a far more
subtle temperament than her lover’s. What satisfied him left her with
a sense of something wanting. She found herself--somewhat to her own
surprise--comparing young Herrick with two other men with whom she had
been brought in contact. One of these was Marcus White, whose powerful
personality had been vividly remembered after that strange interview
at the Folkestone hotel. She had seen no more of him, but his name
was constantly whispered in connection with the demonstrations of the
Leaguers; moreover, she could not forget that there was, as her father
had confessed, an old-standing and ominous antagonism between himself
and this strange man, who had told her that he knew her mother. It
was not that she had any definable feeling for her father’s enemy,
except that his was a strong, exceptional, and interesting personality.
Thus he was often present in her thoughts, and she had an intuitive
conviction that he and she would meet again.
Meanwhile there was Father Francis--his, also, was a personality that
was powerfully influencing her life and feelings. This priest, ascetic
in life as in appearance, in truth was exercising an extraordinary, an
almost hypnotic influence over great numbers of women who belonged to
West End society. At every service at which he officiated, St Stephen’s
Church was packed. His sermons, often appealing, but more frequently
denunciatory, were listened to with rapt attention by crowded
congregations. He, pre-eminently among the clergy of London, had shown
an inspired capacity to deal with the sins and sorrows of the times.
He fiercely attributed the latter to the former, and declared that the
greatest sinners in all the sinful city were those--a multitude of men
and a still greater multitude of women--who lived selfish, idle, and
luxurious lives, untouched with divine compassion for the masses, and
deaf to the prophetic warnings of evil to come.
From the nucleus of the congregation of St Stephen’s, a new society
of women, nearly all of whom were delicately nurtured, was called
into being, and drew vast numbers of adherents. It was called the
Sisterhood of the Kindly Life. There was no conventual establishment
and no monastic rule. The sisters still lived in their own homes; they
were at liberty to marry, and they dressed, if it pleased them, in the
fashion of the hour; but the vast majority discarded the finery and
ornaments which cost so much and had once seemed so essential to their
happiness. A bonnet and cloak as simple as those worn by hospital
nurses became widely adopted as the uniform of the Sisterhood. There
were no actual vows, but two injunctions were solemnly impressed upon
the Sisters by Father Francis, as their warden--self-denial in everyday
life, and the service of others in every way that each Sister’s
circumstances permitted. Every day each Sister was to perform at least
one act of kindness. Of this Sisterhood Aldwyth Westwood became a
member, and, with others of the order, she found much practical scope
for helpfulness in ministering to the great number of unemployed men
who in the early winter weeks marched into London from great distances
in the vain hope of enlisting help from the ruling powers in Church and
State.
These marches from provincial centres had assumed most remarkable, and,
indeed, dangerous proportions. The great bulk of those who joined in
such demonstrations from the provinces were sober, well-conducted, but
unlucky beings. Footsore and weary, they tramped through the suburbs
into London, and were charitably provided for in halls and schools,
where the Sisters attended to their wants; only to leave the capital
after a few days with no improvement in their prospects. Long ago
the foreigner had been allowed to get a grip on our industries. So
complex had the position become that England could no longer support
her own sons on English soil. Even the old soldiers, always numerous
in these provincial contingents--men who had fought and bled for their
country on far-off battlefields, where pluck and endurance had been
lauded in the hour of triumph--were now forgotten and unprovided for
in their maturity or old age. The bitter feeling engendered by the
failure of successive Governments to grapple with the problem of the
unemployed, on statesman-like lines of national policy, now bore fruit.
For, while patient endurance was the characteristic of most of the
provincial demonstrators, there was a considerable minority ripe for
resentful action against the ruling classes. Great numbers of these men
having come to London, stayed there, and the magnetism of a powerful
organisation attached them practically, if not admittedly, to the
forces of the League. The old soldiers, in particular, were welcomed
and well paid on account of their experience in discipline, and the
qualifications which many of them possessed for marshalling bodies of
recruits.
After the riotous proceedings at the Mansion House there was a short
respite; but when the Leaguers next loomed prominently into public
notice, it was obvious that, instead of being more or less of a
disordered rabble, their ranks partook of the character of an organised
force.
Fearful of public disturbance on a more extensive scale, the Government
now arranged for a postponement of the trial of the Hyde Park
incendiaries. A public application was made at the Central Criminal
Court and granted as a matter of course. As soon as this was known,
the Leaguers showed their hand. Five thousand strong, they marched
to Whitehall and peremptorily demanded an interview with the Home
Secretary. That timid functionary was, or was said to be, absent from
the building, and a more courageous official--an under-secretary--was
put forward to receive a deputation from the serried ranks that filled
the thoroughfare. Never since an unhappy king stepped forth from
Whitehall Palace, to meet, in the face of an awed and awful multitude,
the death to which he was condemned by regicides, had the great street
of England’s Government witnessed so convincing a manifestation of
popular power.
The demand of the deputation was plain and unmistakable. The prisoners
awaiting trial must be released. A like claim was made on behalf of
those who were still in custody on various charges arising out of
the riot at the Mansion House. The under-secretary, with carefully
prepared notes in his hand, did his best to temporize. He was wordy
but indefinite. It was not in his power to interfere with the course
of justice. If a case for special intervention could be made out in
writing it should be duly considered. The clemency of his Majesty the
King could only be exercised in a constitutional manner on the advice
of the Home Secretary. The Home Secretary, in a matter of such grave
import, would have to consult the whole body of Cabinet ministers, but
Ministers were out of town. Meanwhile, if he could tender advice, he
would strongly urge the deputation to use all possible influence in the
interests of peace and quietness----
“Are you going to set ’em free?” roughly interposed a shoemaker named
Raggett, one of the spokesmen--the same who had been seen on the roof
near the Mansion House.
“I?--impossible!” stammered the under-secretary.
Raggett turned his back contemptuously upon the Government official,
and held a whispered colloquy with the other members of the deputation.
He was extraordinary, alike in his physical deformity and in intellect.
He nourished, it was said, the bitterest hate against the State, for
having confined him, improperly as he alleged, in a lunatic asylum.
“Gentlemen----” began the under-secretary, but his appeal for
attention was unheeded. Raggett and his colleagues finished their
whispered conversation, and without another word or sign marched
out of the Government building. There was a call for silence in the
street, instantly obeyed, and then the half-crazed shoemaker, mounted
on the topmost of a flight of steps, reported in a few terse and
savage sentences the failure of the deputation. Revolutionary action
invariably brings to the front men who are prepared to out-Herod Herod,
followers who become leaders, cranks who establish an ascendency which
no one could have foreseen at the outset of the movement. Such a man
was Raggett, whose power with a large section of the Leaguers was
immediately manifested by the response to the keynote of his brief
harangue. A sullen growl arose from those nearest to the demagogue;
it spread and swelled in volume, until, from the great concourse
stretching southward along Parliament Street, and northward towards
Trafalgar Square, a terrifying roar of wrath went up from some five
thousand throats. It rose and fell, and rose again, reaching its
culminating savagery when suddenly each Leaguer raised both arms above
his head. Then, as at a signal, ten thousand fists, many grasping
cudgels and other rough-and-ready weapons, were shaken in the air.
This united menace, that seemed to include the Home Office, the
Treasury, Downing Street, and the very Houses of Parliament, was
terrible in its volume and intensity.
So appalling was the tumult, and so electrifying the excitement, that
the horses of the troopers in the Horse Guard Shelters reared and
plunged forward into the close ranks of the Leaguers who were standing
on the pavement. Shouts of anger and fear now rent the air. One horse
slipped upon the flagstones and threw its rider heavily among the
crowd. The other, entirely beyond the trooper’s control, tore wildly
through the fleeing mob towards Westminster.