The Siege of London (Posteritas)/Chapter 6
GREAT RIOT IN LONDON.—COLLISION BETWEEN THE TROOPS AND THE PEOPLE.—DESTRUCTION OF MONUMENTS OF MR. GLADSTONE.—TERRIBLE SLAUGHTER.—TERRIFIC NAVAL BATTLE AT PLYMOUTH.—THE FRENCH IRONCLADS BEATEN OFF WITH GREAT LOSS.—PLYMOUTH PARTLY DESTROYED.—GREAT NAVAL ATTACK ON DOVER.—EXPLOSION OF THE MAGAZINE THROUGH FENIAN TREACHERY.—DISABLEMENT OF THE EIGHTY-TON GUN ON THE ADMIRALTY PIER.—LANDING OF A FRENCH FORCE.
THE news that a French force had actually gained a footing on British soil was looked upon as a hoax by the people of London, but a very few hours served to confirm the news. Then ensued a scene such as had never before been witnessed in England. A panic set in, and from every den and alley, from every rookery and slum in the great city there poured a countless multitude of the off-scourings and scum of both sexes. Like a howling pack of fiends let loose from hell, this maddened rabble tore through the streets, leaving havoc and ruin in their wake. But one of the most significant of the wanton acts they committed was the destruction of every public statue of Mr. Gladstone. On the splendid Boulevard of the Thames Embankment was a full-length effigy of the right hon. gentleman. It was the work of a celebrated Italian sculptor, and on one of the faces of the pedestal had been carved an extract from a speech made by Mr. Gladstone during the time that he was Prime Minister in 1884. The extract ran as follows:—
"If ever you hear weak-minded people speak of the actual or possible decay of the Empire, do not listen for a moment to such dreams and such fables. The strength of the British Empire is increasing, and, so far as human judgment can anticipate, will increase. If other European countries have grown in power, this country has yet more grown in power."
The brutal mob, with yells and execrations, and demoniacal shouts of wrath, hurled this magnificent work of art to the ground, and then uttering fierce oaths and blasphemous revilings, they beat the senseless marble to powder with iron bars and staves. Next they tore up the seats and trees that adorned the Embankment, and, making a huge bonfire, danced round it in savage glee, and scattered the powder in the flames.
Contemporary writers agree in describing this remarkable scene as resembling similar outbursts of popular fury that had so frequently disgraced Paris. It is spoken of as being terribly weird and grotesque, and horrible beyond the power of words to depict. It was a stupendous outburst of the worst of human passions. Women went mad, and absolutely in their excitement threw themselves into the fierce flames. Men, seized with the ferocious rage of disappointed wild beasts, committed the most unheard-of outrages, and children of tender years were tossed about like balls, and then trampled to death in the gutters. A strong body of troops and Volunteers were sent against the mob; but the people had ransacked the gun-shops, and had by some means procured a nine-pounder howitzer, and they succeeded in beating the troops back. At last two cannon were placed in position near the Houses of Parliament, and the wretched people were enfiladed with grape-shot. The slaughter was horrible. Thousands of the rioters of both sexes were slain. Blood poured down the channels like water after a storm of rain, and mangled limbs were everywhere strewn about. Night fell upon this scene of unspeakable horror; and during those terrible hours of darkness the work of clearing the Embankment went on. The wounded were carefully attended to, and the dead were piled into carts pressed into the service, and were taken away to a large piece of waste ground at Beckenham, where huge pits were hastily dug and the mangled corpses were shot in without any ceremony.
It is somewhat remarkable that this outbreak of public anger was confined to London. The measures taken to suppress the riot were admittedly sternly harsh; but the authorities had no alternative, and there is no doubt the example set, awful as it was, had a good effect.
Throughout the land the general feeling expressed at the startling news was that of stern determination, so characteristic of the English race. An invader had dared to set his foot upon the soil, and he must be cut to pieces to the last man. For years it had been known that the northern coasts of Scotland were in a weak and defenceless state, but no one dreamed that an enemy would have the daring to slip into the country by those rocky barren shores. When the war was declared, the most strenuous efforts were made to protect the mouth of the Thames, as it was deemed certain that an attempt would be made to destroy the tremendous arsenal of Woolwich, and blow up the magazines at Purfleet In order, therefore, to prevent this, a number of gunboats were stationed in the Thames, and the first line of defence was rows of sunk torpedoes. But the French never came near the Thames. They utterly ignored it, for they knew perfectly well that it would be absolutely impossible to approach London by that means. They therefore fell back upon the bold and extraordinary plan of effecting a landing in the most vulnerable part of the British kingdom. That is, vulnerable to a determined enemy, in spite of the stormy, rock-bound coast. This plan of the French for invading the enemy's country will ever rank as one of the most brilliant strategical feats the world has known. The French commanders were aware that if they could only effect a landing in the extreme north, they could march almost as far south as Edinburgh without meeting with any serious obstacles. While, by carefully guarding their lines of communication, they could draw supplies from their fleet, and if beaten be able to retreat again to the North. There is little doubt that this plan must have been studied out for years; and in order to make it successful when the time of action came, the French had disposed a powerful fleet round the southern shores of England, in order to divert attention and keep the English fleet occupied. In the meantime they covered the northern sea with well-armed cruisers and several floating batteries, and while they made feints in the south, they embarked at Brest a strong force, which was carried in remarkably swift and powerful vessels, heavily armed; and besides this they were convoyed by four floating batteries of tremendous power. This wonderful fleet stole out of Brest Harbour under cover of darkness of a November night, and steaming into the Atlantic, and favoured by heavy fogs that enveloped the British Islands, crept north, or rather sped, for their vessels were capable of steaming twenty-five knots an hour. They made the Sutherlandshire coast without being detected; and by means of specially-constructed rafts they succeeded in landing 10,000 men in the Kyle of Scow, where they immediately intrenched themselves to wait for reinforcements. The news of the successful carrying out of the operations was signalled at once to Brest by means of a line of small steamers cruising about at intervals of ten miles. The pioneer force having thus effected a landing, a still larger force was despatched, while a naval attack was made against Plymouth, the result of which we deal with further on. The effect of this landing on English minds was that of an electric shock. The dream of insular security was rudely dispelled, and the question was, Could the foe be beaten back? Ireland had caused a tremendous drain on the regular Army, and the Volunteers and Militia were largely occupied in other parts of the kingdom. But, nevertheless, 100,000 men of all arms, chiefly Volunteers, were despatched north with all speed, and the London and North-Western, the Midland, and Great Northern lines of railway sent away train-load after train-load of troops as fast as they could be moved out of the stations.
While this was being done a great battle. Forts versus Ironclads, was being fought at Plymouth. A most daring and determined attempt had been made by a French squadron to effect a landing in the neighbourhood. Five tremendous ironclads, attended by two light-draught steamers, approached under cover of night. The tenders steamed close in shore, and were actually in the act of disembarking several boat-loads of marines, when they were discovered by means of the electric light. Instantly all the forts within range opened a withering fire. One of the tenders was sunk and every soul drowned, but the other effected its escape. The fire was returned by the ironclads, which by skilful manoeuvring were enabled to effect terrible destruction without at first suffering themselves to any appreciable degree.
The scene is described as awful and weird. The night was dark and the sea rough, but the electric light both from ships and forts threw a ghastly glare over the black waters. From the land there seemed to leap one continuous sheet of blood-red flame, and the roar of the cannon, mingling with the thunder of the sea, made the night hideous with tumult. For hours the ships pounded away. Their ponderous shells, although necessarily fired wildly, caused fearful havoc. Several of these shells burst in the centre of the town, maiming and slaying hundreds of the panic-stricken inhabitants, and laying whole streets in crumbling ruins, while the antiquated citadel fort was knocked to pieces and its magazine exploded. The magnificent breakwater, which had been erected at such enormous cost and labour, was seriously damaged, as it was purposely fired at by the ironclads; and Smeaton's wonderful lighthouse, that had been erected on it when the new Eddystone was built, was shivered to atoms. But, in spite of this hellish storm of fire, a little band of devoted men stole from behind the breakwater in a torpedo boat, and in the heat of the battle managed to escape observation until close to one of the French ironclads. A rain of bullets from machine-guns was instantly directed against the boat; but it was too late; she had got too near, and although that withering rain of fire must have destroyed her crew, the torpedo touched the side of the iron monster, and the next moment the boiling sea was strewn with her fragments, amongst which many of her crew struggled in the throes of death, and their cries of agony were wafted to the shore. The destruction was appalling, and it is doubtful if a single soul was saved, as the other vessels were too far off to render assistance. Just as the grey light of dawn was creeping over the heaving sea, two well-directed shots from the fort on Drake Island struck one of the three remaining ironclads, named La Gloire, close to the water-line, and almost in the same spot. A fearful gash was ripped in the vessel's side, and it was at once seen that she was in sore straits. The other ships came to her assistance, and the crew of La Gloire—or, at any rate, a large number of them—escaped in their boats; but, in about a quarter of an hour after being struck, she suddenly heeled over, and, throwing up her bows, sank beneath the waves. Her sister ships continued to cruise about for a short time to pick up any survivors there might be, and then steamed away, each of them showing signs of being severely damaged. It was now seen that the French plan of action was that of a brilliant series of dashes, executed at various points, almost simultaneously. It was evident, too, that the enemy was kept well informed of all that was passing in England, and knowing that a tremendous drain had been made upon the military resources by the strong force that had been sent north; and while public attention was diverted by the attack on Plymouth, a powerful fleet steamed out of Calais and Boulogne harbours, where it had been moored for some time, and opened fire on Dover and Folkestone. In spite of the tremendous fire from the battery on the Admiralty Pier at Dover, and from the castle and forts on the heights, the French ships set the two towns on fire, and by a chance shot they disabled the turret on the Pier so that it would not revolve, and thus it became useless. It was soon after this that the earth was shaken as if by a tremendous earthquake, and the magazine of the Castle blew up. It has never been determined how the disaster occurred, but there is ample proof warranting the assertion that it was due to treachery on the part of some of the Irish artillerymen stationed there. The destruction was frightful. At least a thousand men lost their lives, and the greater part of the defensive works were shattered into ruins. Taking advantage of the consternation and excitement thus produced, the French, under cover of the ships' guns, proceeded to land a large force of marines and blue-jackets, who, by a bold dash, and with little or no opposition, gained possession of the Castle.
On the success of this operation the French had set their hopes of being able to gain an entrance into the country by the south. They were perfectly well aware that if their army in the north of Scotland was to be effective, it must be aided by the simultaneous movements of one in the south, and that the two armies must, by concerted action, converge upon London. Dover once in the hands of an enemy, and if the communications could be kept open, unlimited supplies of men could be poured in. For their attack on Dover the French had long been preparing, and the attacking vessels had been specially selected for the work, on account of their power. The French losses during this memorable battle were tremendously heavy. One of their vessels was sunk, and another effectually disabled and placed hors de combat while several of the others were severely battered. The loss of life, however, on the vessels that escaped was comparatively slight, as it did not exceed five hundred men. All the vessels were most skilfully handled, and their concentrated fire was so fearful that they did tremendous execution. But it is in the highest degree probable that they would never have effected a landing had it not been for the damage to the Pier Battery and the blowing up of the Castle Magazine, which no doubt had been prearranged.