CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER I.
That
was a terrible night for the great City of New York—the night of
Tuesday, November 3rd, 1896. The city staggered under the blow like
a
huge ocean liner which plunges, full speed, with terrific crash
into
a mighty iceberg, and recoils shattered and trembling like an
aspen.The
people were gathered, light-hearted and confident, at the evening
meal, when the news burst upon them. It was like a thunder bolt out
of an azure sky: “Altgeld holds Illinois hard and fast in the
Democratic line. This elects Bryan President of the United
States!”Strange
to say, the people in the upper portion of the city made no
movement
to rush out of their houses and collect in the public squares,
although the night was clear and beautiful. They sat as if
paralyzed
with a nameless dread, and when they conversed it was with bated
breath and throbbing hearts.In
less than half an hour, mounted policemen dashed through the
streets
calling out: “Keep within your houses; close your doors and
barricade them. The entire East side is in a state of uproar. Mobs
of
vast size are organizing under the lead of Anarchists and
Socialists,
and threaten to plunder and despoil the houses of the rich who have
wronged and oppressed them for so many years. Keep within doors.
Extinguish all lights.”Happily,
Governor Morton was in town, and although a deeper pallor overcame
the ashen hue of age as he spoke, yet there was no tremor in his
voice: “Let the Seventh, Twenty-second and Seventy-first regiments
be ordered under arms.” In a few moments hundreds of messengers
could be heard racing through the silent streets, summoning the
members of these regiments to their Armories.Slowly,
but with astonishing nerve and steadiness, the mobs pushed the
police
northward, and although the force stood the onslaught with
magnificent courage, yet beaten back, the dark masses of infuriated
beings surged up again with renewed fury and strength. Will the
troops be in time to save the city? was the whispered inquiry among
the knots of police officials who were directing the movements of
their men.About
nine o’clock, with deafening outcries, the mob, like a four-headed
monster breathing fire and flame, raced, tore, burst, raged into
Union Square.The
police force was exhausted, but their front was still like a wall
of
stone, save that it was movable. The mob crowded it steadily to the
north, while the air quivered and was rent with mad vociferations
of
the victors: “Bryan is elected! Bryan is elected! Our day has come
at last. Down with our oppressors! Death to the rich man! Death to
the gold bugs! Death to the capitalists! Give us back the money you
have ground out of us. Give us back the marrow of our bones which
you
have used to grease the wheels of your chariots.”The
police force was now almost helpless. The men still used their
sticks, but the blows were ineffectual, and only served to increase
the rage of the vast hordes now advancing upon Madison
Square.The
Fifth Avenue Hotel will be the first to feel the fury of the mob.
Would the troops be in time to save it?A
half cheer, a half cry of joy goes up. It is inarticulate. Men draw
a
long breath; women drop upon their knees and strain their eyes;
they
can hear something, but they cannot see as yet, for the gas houses
and electric plants had been destroyed by the mob early in the
evening. They preferred to fight in the dark, or by the flames of
rich men’s abodes.Again
a cheer goes up, louder and clearer this time, followed by cries of
“They’re coming, they’re coming.”Yes,
they were coming—the Twenty-second down Broadway, the Seventh down
Madison avenue, both on the double quick.In
a moment or so there were a few bugle calls, and a few spoken
commands rang out clear and sharp; and then the two regiments
stretched across the entire square, literally from wall to wall, in
line of battle. The mob was upon them. Would this slender line of
troops, could it hold such a mighty mass of men in check?The
answer was a deafening discharge of firearms, a terrific crack,
such
as some thunder bolts make when they explode. A wall of fire blazed
across the Square. Again and again it blazed forth. The mob halted,
stood fast, wavered, fell back, advanced again. At that moment
there
came a rattle as of huge knives in the distance. It was the gallant
Seventy-first charging up Twenty-third street, and taking the mob
on
the flank. They came on like a wall of iron, bristling with blades
of
steel.There
were no outcries, no cheers from the regiment. It dealt out death
in
silence, save when two bayonets crossed and clashed in bearing down
some doubly-vigorous foe.As
the bells rang out midnight, the last remnants of the mob were
driven
to cover, but the wheels of the dead wagons rattled till
daybreak.And
then the aged Governor, in response to the Mayor’s “Thank God,
we’ve saved the city!” made answer:
“
Aye,
but the Republic——.”
