The Honorable Peter Stirling and What People Thought of HimFord, Paul Leicester
General
The Honorable Peter Stirling and What People Thought of Him
Ford, Paul Leicester
Labor movement -- Fiction; Love stories; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Political fiction; Tenement houses -- Fiction
“No. Yet I wish we had orders to clear the Park now, while there are
comparatively few here, or else to go back to our armories, and let
them have their meeting in peace. Our being here will only excite
them.”
“Hear that,” said Ray, as the crowd gave a great roar as another
regiment came up Park Place, across the Park and spread out so as to
cover Broadway.
As they sat, New Yorkers began to rise and begin business. But many
seemed to have none, and drifted into the Park. Some idlers came from
curiosity, but most seemed to have some purpose other than the mere
spectacle. From six till ten they silted in imperceptibly from twenty
streets. As fast as the crowd grew, regiments appeared, and taking up
positions, lay at ease. There was something terrible about the quiet
way in which both crowd and troops increased. The mercury was not high,
but it promised to be a hot morning in New York. All the car lines took
off their cars. Trucks disappeared from the streets. The exchanges and
the banks closed their doors, and many hundred shops followed their
example. New York almost came to a standstill as order and anarchy
faced each other.
While these antagonistic forces still gathered, a man who had been
yelling to his own coterie of listeners in that dense crowd, extracted
himself, and limped towards Peter.
“Mr. Stirling,” he shouted, “come out from those murderers. I want to
tell you something.”
Peter went forward. “What is it, Podds?” he asked.
Podds dropped his voice. “We’re out for blood to-day. But I don’t want
yours, if you do murder my fellow-men. Get away from here, quick. Hide
yourself before the people rise in their might.”
Peter smiled sadly. “How are Mrs. Podds and the children?” he asked
kindly.
“What is a family at such a moment?” shrieked Podds.
“The world is my family. I love the whole world, and I’m going to
revolutionize it. I’m going to give every man his rights. The gutters
shall reek with blood, and every plutocrat’s castle shall be levelled
to the soil. But I’ll spare you, for though you are one of the classes,
it’s your ignorance, not your disposition, that makes you one. Get away
from here. Get away before it’s too late.”
Just then the sound of a horse’s feet was heard, and a staff officer
came cantering from a side street into the square. He saluted Peter and
said, “Colonel Stirling, the governor has issued a proclamation
forbidding the meeting and parade. General Canfield orders you to clear
the Park, by pushing the mob towards Broadway. The regiments have been
drawn in so as to leave a free passage down the side streets.”
“Don’t try to move us a foot,” screamed Podds, “or there’ll be blood.
We claim the right of free meeting and free speech.”
Even as he spoke, the two regiments formed, stiffened, fixed bayonets,
and moved forward, as if they were machines rather than two thousand
men.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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