Penguin Island — 61 Bk8 - Section 3

From that day onward, anarchist attempts followed one another every week without interruption.

The victims were numerous, and almost all of them belonged to the poorer classes.

These crimes roused public resentment.

It was among domestic servants, hotel-keepers, and the employees of such small shops as the Trusts still allowed to exist, that indignation burst forth most vehemently.

In popular districts women might be heard demanding unusual punishments for the dynamitards.

(They were called by this old name, although it was hardly appropriate to them, since, to these unknown chemists, dynamite was an innocent material only fit to destroy ant-hills, and they considered it mere child’s play to explode nitro-glycerine with a cartridge made of fulminate of mercury.) Business ceased suddenly, and those who were least rich were the first to feel the effects.

They spoke of doing justice themselves to the anarchists.

In the mean time the factory workers remained hostile or indifferent to violent action.

They were threatened, as a result of the decline of business, with a likelihood of losing their work, or even a lock-out in all the factories.

The Federation of Trade Unions proposed a general strike as the most powerful means of influencing the employers, and the best aid that could be given to the revolutionists, but all the trades with the exception of the gilders refused to cease work.

The police made numerous arrests.

Troops summoned from all parts of the National Federation protected the offices of the Trusts, the houses of the multi-millionaires, the public halls, the banks, and the big shops.

A fortnight passed without a single explosion, and it was concluded that the dynamitards, in all probability but a handful of persons, perhaps even still fewer, had all been killed or captured, or that they were in hiding, or had taken flight.

Confidence returned; it returned at first among the poorer classes.

Two or three hundred thousand soldiers, who bad been lodged in the most closely populated districts, stimulated trade, and people began to cry out: “Hurrah for the army!”

The rich, who had not been so quick to take alarm, were reassured more slowly.

But at the Stock Exchange a group of “bulls” spread optimistic rumours and by a powerful effort put a brake upon the fall in prices.

Business improved.

Newspapers with big circulations supported the movement.

With patriotic eloquence they depicted capital as laughing in its impregnable position at the assaults of a few dastardly criminals, and public wealth maintaining its serene ascendency in spite of the vain threats made against it.

They were sincere in their attitude, though at the same time they found it benefited them.

Outrages were forgotten or their occurrence denied.

On Sundays, at the race-meetings, the stands were adorned by women covered with pearls and diamonds.

It was observed with joy that the capitalists had not suffered.

Cheers were given for the multi-millionaires in the saddling rooms.

On the following day the Southern Railway Station, the Petroleum Trust, and the huge church built at the expense of Thomas Morcellet were all blown up.

Thirty houses were in flames, and the beginning of a fire was discovered at the docks.

The firemen showed amazing intrepidity and zeal.

They managed their tall fire-escapes with automatic precision, and climbed as high as thirty storeys to rescue the luckless inhabitants from the flames.

The soldiers performed their duties with spirit, and were given a double ration of coffee.

But these fresh casualties started a panic.

Millions of people, who wanted to take their money with them and leave the town at once, crowded the great banking houses.

These establishments, after paying out money for three days, closed their doors amid mutterings of a riot.

A crowd of fugitives, laden with their baggage, besieged the railway stations and took the town by storm.

Many who were anxious to lay in a stock of provisions and take refuge in the cellars, attacked the grocery stores, although they were guarded by soldiers with fixed bayonets.

The public authorities displayed energy.

Numerous arrests were made and thousands of warrants issued against suspected persons.

During the three weeks that followed no outrage was committed.

There was a rumour that bombs had been found in the Opera House, in the cellars of the Town Hall, and beside one of the Pillars of the Stock Exchange.

But it was soon known that these were boxes of sweets that had been put in those places by practical jokers or lunatics.

One of the accused, when questioned by a magistrate, declared that he was the chief author of the explosions, and said that all his accomplices had lost their lives.

These confessions were published by the newspapers and helped to reassure public opinion.

It was only towards the close of the examination that the magistrates saw they had to deal with a pretender who was in no way connected with any of the crimes.

The experts chosen by the courts discovered nothing that enabled them to determine the engine employed in the work of destruction.

According to their conjectures the new explosive emanated from a gas which radium evolves, and it was supposed that electric waves, produced by a special type of oscillator, were propagated through space and thus caused the explosion.

But even the ablest chemist could say nothing precise or certain.

At last two policemen, who were passing in front of the Hôtel Meyer, found on the pavement, close to a ventilator, an egg made of white metal and provided with a capsule at each end.

They picked it up carefully, and, on the orders of their chief, carried it to the municipal laboratory.

Scarcely had the experts assembled to examine it, than the egg burst and blew up the amphitheatre and the dome.

All the experts perished, and with them Collin, the General of Artillery, and the famous Professor Tigre.

The capitalist society did not allow itself to be daunted by this fresh disaster.

The great banks re-opened their doors, declaring that they would meet demands partly in bullion and partly in paper money guaranteed by the State.

The Stock Exchange and the Trade Exchange, in spite of the complete cessation of business, decided not to suspend their sittings.

In the mean time the magisterial investigation into the case of those who had been first accused had come to an end.

Perhaps the evidence brought against them might have appeared insufficient under other circumstances, but the zeal both of the magistrates and the public made up for this insufficiency.

On the eve of the day fixed for the trial the Courts of justice were blown up and eight hundred people were killed, the greater number of them being judges and lawyers.

A furious crowd broke into the prison and lynched the prisoners.

The troops sent to restore order were received with showers of stones and revolver shots; several soldiers being dragged from their horses and trampled underfoot.

The soldiers fired on the mob and many persons were killed.

At last the public authorities succeeded in establishing tranquillity.

Next day the Bank was blown up.

From that time onwards unheard-of things took place.

The factory workers, who had refused to strike, rushed in crowds into the town and set fire to the houses.

Entire regiments, led by their officers, joined the workmen, went with them through the town singing revolutionary hymns, and took barrels of petroleum from the docks with which to feed the fires.

Explosions were continual.

One morning a monstrous tree of smoke, like the ghost of a huge palm tree half a mile in height, rose above the giant Telegraph Hall which suddenly fell into a complete ruin.

Whilst half the town was in flames, the other half pursued its accustomed life.

In the mornings, milk pails could be heard jingling in the dairy carts.

In a deserted avenue some old navvy might be seen seated against a wall slowly eating hunks of bread with perhaps a little meat.

Almost all the presidents of the trusts remained at their posts.

Some of them performed their duty with heroic simplicity.

Raphael Box, the son of a martyred multi-millionaire, was blown up as he was presiding at the general meeting of the Sugar Trust.

He was given a magnificent funeral and the procession on its way to the cemetery had to climb six times over piles of ruins or cross upon planks over the uprooted roads.

The ordinary helpers of the rich, the clerks, employees, brokers, and agents, preserved an unshaken fidelity.

The surviving clerks of the Bank that had been blown up, made their way along the ruined streets through the midst of smoking houses to hand in their bills of exchange, and several were swallowed up in the flames while endeavouring to present their receipts.

Nevertheless, any illusion concerning the state of affairs was impossible.

The enemy was master of the town.

Instead of silence the noise of explosions was now continuous and produced an insurmountable feeling of horror.

The lighting apparatus having been destroyed, the city was plunged in darkness all through the night, and appalling crimes were committed.

The populous districts alone, having suffered the least, still preserved measures of protection.

The were paraded by patrols of volunteers who shot the robbers, and at every street corner one stumbled over a body lying in a pool of blood, the hands bound behind the back, a handkerchief over the face, and a placard pinned upon the breast.

It became impossible to clear away the ruins or to bury the dead.

Soon the stench from the corpses became intolerable.

Epidemics raged and caused innumerable deaths, while they also rendered the survivors feeble and listless.

Famine carried off almost all who were left.

A hundred and one days after the first outrage, whilst six army corps with field artillery and siege artillery were marching, at night, into the poorest quarter of the city, Caroline and Clair, holding each other’s hands, were watching from the roof a lofty house, the only one still left standing, but now surrounded by smoke and flame, joyous songs ascended from the street, where the crowd was dancing in delirium.

“To-morrow it will be ended,” said the man, “and it will be better.”

The young woman, her hair loosened and her face shining with the reflection of the flames, gazed with a pious joy at the circle of fire that was growing closer around them.

“It will be better,” said she also.

And throwing herself into the destroyer’s arms she pressed a passionate kiss upon his lips.

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