Though these defences were held by enthusiastic civilians of all classes,—professional men, artisans, and tradesmen,—yet our second line of defence, distinct, of course, from the local barricades, was a very weak one. We had relied upon our magnificent strategic positions on the Surrey Hills, and had not made sufficient provision in case of a sudden reverse. Our second line, stretching from Croydon up to South Norwood, thence to Streatham and along the railway line to Wimbledon and Kingston, was composed of a few battalions of Volunteers, detachments of Metropolitan police, Berks and Bucks constabulary, London firemen and postmen, the Corps of Commissionaires—in fact, every body of drilled men who could be requisitioned to handle revolver or rifle. These were backed by great bodies of civilians, and behind stood the barricades with their insignificant-looking but terribly deadly machine guns.
The railways had, on the first news of the enemy's success at Leatherhead and Guildford, all been cut up, and in each of the many bridges spanning the Thames between Kingston and the Tower great charges of gun-cotton had been placed, so that they might be blown up at any instant, and thus prevent the enemy from investing the city.
Day dawned again at last—dull and grey. It had rained during the night, and the roads, wet and muddy, were unutterably gloomy as our civilian defenders looked out upon them, well knowing that ere long a fierce attack would be made. In the night the enemy had been busy laying a field telegraph from Mitcham to Kingston, through which messages were now being continually flashed.
Suddenly, just as the British outposts were being relieved, the French commenced a vigorous attack, and in a quarter of an hour fighting extended along the whole line. Volunteers, firemen, policemen, Commissionaires, and civilians all fought bravely, trusting to one hope, namely, that before they were defeated the enemy would be outflanked and attacked in their rear by a British force from the Surrey Hills. They well knew that to effectually bar the advance of this great body of French was out of all question, yet they fought on with creditable tact, and in many instances inflicted serious loss upon the enemy's infantry.
Soon, however, French field guns were trained upon them, and amid the roar of artillery line after line of heroic Britons fell shattered to earth. Amid the rattle of musketry, the crackling of the machine guns, and the booming of 16-pounders, brave Londoners struggled valiantly against the masses of wildly excited Frenchmen; yet every moment the line became slowly weakened, and the defenders were gradually forced back upon their barricades. The resistance which the French met with was much more determined than they had anticipated; in fact, a small force of Volunteers holding the Mitcham Road, at Streatham, fought with such splendid bravery, that they succeeded alone and unaided in completely wiping out a battalion of French infantry, and capturing two field guns and a quantity of ammunition. For this success, however, they, alas! paid dearly, for a quarter of an hour later a large body of cavalry and infantry coming over from Woodlands descended upon them and totally annihilated them, with the result that Streatham fell into the hands of the French, and a few guns placed in the high road soon made short work of the earthworks near the hospital. Under the thick hail of bursting shells the brave band who manned the guns were at last compelled to abandon them, and the enemy were soon marching unchecked into Stockwell and Brixton, extending their right, with the majority of their artillery, across Herne Hill, Dulwich, and Honor Oak.
In the meantime a desperate battle was being fought around Kingston. The barricade on Kingston Hill held out for nearly three hours, but was at last captured by the invaders, and of those who had manned it not a man survived. Mitcham and Tooting had fallen in the first hour of the engagement, the barricade at Lynwood had been taken, and hundreds of the houses in Balham had been looted by the enemy in their advance into Clapham.
Nearly the whole morning it rained in torrents, and both invaders and defenders were wet to the skin, and covered with blood and mud. Everywhere British pluck showed itself in this desperate resistance on the part of these partially-trained defenders. At the smaller barricades in the suburban jerry-built streets, Britons held their own and checked the advance with remarkable coolness; yet, as the dark, stormy day wore on, the street defences were one after another broken down and destroyed.
Indeed, by three o'clock that afternoon the enemy ran riot through the whole district, from Lower Sydenham to Kingston. Around the larger houses on Sydenham Hill one of the fiercest fights occurred, but at length the defenders were driven down into Lordship Lane, and the houses on the hill were sacked, and some of them burned. While this was proceeding, a great force of French artillery came over from Streatham, and before dusk five great batteries had been established along the Parade in front of the Crystal Palace, and on Sydenham Hill and One Tree Hill; while other smaller batteries were brought into position at Forest Hill, Gipsy Hill, Tulse Hill, Streatham Hill, and Herne Hill; and further towards London about twenty French 12-pounders and a number of new quick-firing weapons of long range and a very destructive character were placed along the top of Camberwell Grove and Denmark Hill.
The defences of London had been broken. The track of the invaders was marked by ruined homes and heaps of corpses, and London's millions knew on this eventful night that the enemy were now actually at their doors. In Fleet Street, in the Strand, in Piccadilly, the news spread from mouth to mouth as darkness fell that the enemy were preparing to launch their deadly shells into the City. This increased the panic. The people were in a mad frenzy of excitement, and the scenes everywhere were terrible. Women wept and wailed, men uttered words of blank despair, and children screamed at an unknown terror.
The situation was terrible. From the Embankment away on the Surrey side could be seen a lurid glare in the sky. It was the reflection of a great fire in Vassall Road, Brixton, the whole street being burned by the enemy, together with the great block of houses lying between the Cowley and Brixton Roads.