CHAPTER XX

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.