e horse police
charged in squadrons at a hand-gallop, rolling men and women over like
ninepins, while the foot police struck recklessly with their
truncheons, cutting a road through the crowd that closed immediately
behind them. I got on a waggonette and tried to persuade the driver to
pull his trap across one of the roads, and to get others in line, so
as to break the charges of the mounted police; but he was afraid, and
drove away to the Embankment, so I jumped out and went back to the
Square. At last a rattle of cavalry, and up came the Life Guards,
cleverly handled but hurting none, trotting their horses gently and
shouldering the crowd apart; and then the Scots Guards with bayonets
fixed marched through and occupied the north of the Square. Then the
people retreated as we passed round the word, "Go home, go home." The
soldiers were ready to fire, the people unarmed; it would have been
but a massacre. Slowly the Square emptied and all was still. All other
processions were treated as ours had been, and the injuries inflicted
were terrible. Peaceable, law-abiding workmen, who had never dreamed
of rioting, were left with broken legs, broken arms, wounds of every
description. One man, Linnell, died almost immediately, others from
the effect of their injuries. The next day a regular court-martial in
Bow Street Police Court, witnesses kept out by the police, men dazed
with their wounds, decent workmen of unblemished character who had
never been charged in a police-court before, sentenced to imprisonment
without chance of defence. But a gallant band rallied to their rescue.
William T. Stead, most chivalrous of journalists, opened a Defence
Fund, and money rained in; my pledged bail came up by the dozen, and
we got the men out on appeal. By sheer audacity I got into the
police-court, addressed the magistrate, too astounded by my profound
courtesy and calm assurance to remember that I had no right there, and
then produced bail after bail of the most undeniable character and
respectability, which no magistrate could refuse. Breathing-time
gained, a barrister, Mr. W.M. Thompson, worked day after day with
hearty devotion, and took up the legal defence. Fines we paid, and
here Mrs. Marx Aveling did eager service. A pretty regiment I led out
of Millbank Prison, after paying their fines; bruised, clothes torn,
hatless, we must have looked a disreputable lot. We stopped and bought
hats, to throw an air of respectability over our _co