CHAPTER VI. — A FOREIGN INVASION
Thus was the question of the new paper and its quarters settled. The shop, as I had hoped, did well enough for our purposes. True, the district in which it lay was neither salubrious nor beautiful, and the constant and inevitable encounters with loquacious Mrs. Wattles and her satellites something of a trial; but we were absorbed in our work, absorbed in our enthusiasms, utterly engrossed in the thought of the coming revolution which by our efforts we were speeding on.
During the first months, besides writing and editing the Tocsin, I was very busily employed in learning how to set type, and print, and the various arts connected with printing—and as I grew more proficient at the work my share of it grew in proportion.
The original staff of the Tocsin consisted of Armitage, Kosinksi, and myself, with Short occupying the well-nigh honorary post of printer, aided by occasional assistance or hindrance from his hangers-on. But our staff gradually increased in number if not in efficiency; old M'Dermott was a frequent and not unwelcome visitor, and as time went on he gradually settled down into an inmate of the office, helping where he could with the work, stirring up lagging enthusiasms, doing odd cobbling jobs whenever he had the chance, and varying the proceedings with occasional outbursts of Shakespearian recitation. These recitations were remarkable performances, and made up in vigour for what they perhaps lacked in elegance and finesse. Carter would at times put in an appearance, mostly with a view to leaning up against a type-rack or other suitable article of furniture, and there between one puff and another at his pipe would grumble at the constitution of the universe and the impertinent exactions of landlords. Another Englishman who in the earlier days frequented the Tocsin was a tall, thoughtful man named Wainwright, belonging to the working-classes, who by the force of his own intelligence and will had escaped from the brutishness of the lowest depths of society in which he had been born.
Thus with little real outside assistance we worked through the spring and early summer months. Besides bringing out our paper we printed various booklets and pamphlets, organised Anarchist meetings, and during some six weeks housed a French Anarchist paper and its staff, all of whom had fled precipitately from Paris in consequence of a trial.
The lively French staff caused a considerable revolution in Lysander Grove, which during several weeks rang with Parisian argot and Parisian fun. Many of these Frenchmen were a queer lot. They seemed the very reincarnation of Murger's Bohemians, and evidently took all the discomforts and privations of their situation as a first-class joke. Kosinksi detested them most cordially, though, spite of himself, he was a tremendous favourite in their ranks, and the unwilling victim of the most affectionate demonstrations on their part: and when, with a shrug of his shoulders and uncompromising gait, he turned his back on his admirers, they would turn round to me, exclaiming fondly—
"Comme il est drole, le pauvre diable!"
They could not understand his wrath, and were obstinately charmed at his least charming traits. When he was singularly disagreeable towards them, they summed him up cheerfully in two words, Quel original! They soon learned, however, not to take liberties with Kosinski, for when one sprightly little man of their number, who affected pretty things in the way of cravats and garters, presumed to dance him round the office, the Russian, for once almost beside himself, seized his persecutor by the shoulders and dropped him over the balustrade below, amid the cheers of all present.