Reminiscences of Charles Bradlaugh Part 2

Mr. Bradlaugh was perfection itself in examining and cross-examining, and was soon on the windward side of the judge, but his address to the jury was too boisterous. He _felt_ too much. His adversary was not under this disadvantage, and Sir Hardinge Giffard's address to the jury, considered merely as a tactical display, was better than Mr.

Bradlaugh's.

On the second day of the trial (it lasted for three days) there occurred a curious episode. Just before the adjournment for luncheon Mr.

Bradlaugh intimated that when the Court re-a.s.sembled he would call his co-defendants as witnesses. Lord Coleridge replied in a low, suggestive tone, "Do you think it necessary?" Mr. Bradlaugh rose and for the first time I saw him tremble. "My lord," he said, "you put upon me a grave responsibility." "I put no responsibility upon you," said Lord Coleridge, "it is for you to decide." And the stately judge glided away in his robes of office.

If Mr. Bradlaugh put his co-defendants in the witness-box, one of two things might happen. They might decline to give evidence, as every answer would tend to criminate themselves; or they might exculpate Mr.

Bradlaugh and procure their own d.a.m.nation.

I do not blame Lord Coleridge for looking at the matter in this way.

But I naturally looked at it in a different light Mr. Bradlaugh was my general, and I was his lieutenant, and it was clearly my duty to sacrifice myself. I could release him from danger with half a dozen words, and why should I hesitate to say them or he to exact them? I was already in prison, and another conviction could add little to my misfortune, whereas he was still free, and his continued freedom was just then absolutely indispensable to our common cause. For my part, I had not a moment's hesitation. But Lord Coleridge's words sank into Mr.

Bradlaugh's mind, and after luncheon he announced that he would _not_ call his co-defendants. His lordship looked pleased, but how he frowned when Sir Hardinge Giffard complained that _he_ was deprived of an opportunity! Lord Coleridge did not say, but he _looked_--"Have you no sense of decency?" Sir Hardinge Giffard, however, was thick-skinned. He relied on Mr. Bradlaugh's sense of honor, and made it the basis of an artificial grievance. He even pretended that Mr. Bradlaugh was _afraid_ to call his co-defendants. But he overreached himself by this hypocrisy, and obliged Mr. Bradlaugh to put his co-defendants into the witness-box.

We were formally tendered as witnesses, Mr. Bradlaugh going no further, and leaving Sir Hardinge Giffard to do as he would. Of course he was obliged to interrogate us, or look foolish after his braggadocio, and in doing so he ruined his own case by giving us the opportunity! of declaring that Mr. Bradlaugh was never in any way connected with the _Freethinker_.

Mr. Bradlaugh, of course, did not in any sense sacrifice me. It would have been contemptible on my part to let him bear any responsibility for my own deliberate action, in which he was not at all implicated, and if I had not been tendered as a witness I should have tried to tender myself.

After half an hour's deliberation the jury found Mr. Bradlaugh not guilty. Standing up for the verdict, with pale set face, the grateful little "not" fell upon his ear, and his rigidity relaxed. Tears started to _my_ eyes, and I saw the tears in _his_ eyes as I squeezed his hand in speechless congratulation.

My own trial followed Mr. Bradlaugh's, and I was not found guilty. Three members of the jury held out against a verdict that would have disgraced a free country; and as the prosecution despaired of obtaining a verdict while Lord Coleridge presided at the trial, the Attorney-General was asked to allow the abandonment of proceedings. This he granted, the case was struck off the list, and I returned to my prison cell at Holloway.

Let me now go back to the crowning incident of that long struggle between Charles Bradlaugh and the House of Commons. On May 10, 1881, the House pa.s.sed a resolution authorising the Sergeant-at-Arms to prevent Mr. Bradlaugh from entering. On June 20, the jury gave a verdict in Mr.

Newdegate's favor for the 500 penalty and costs. A motion for a new trial failed, and Mr. Bradlaugh appealed to the country. Enthusiastic meetings were held in his behalf, and he prepared a fresh _coup_. It had to be something striking, and it was. On the morning of August 3 Palace Yard and Westminster Hall were thronged with his supporters. Every one was armed with a pet.i.tion, which he had a legal right to take to the House of Commons. Mr. Bradlaugh himself drove up in a hansom cab, and entered the precincts of the House by the private door. He made his way to the door of the House itself and tried to enter by a sudden effort, but he was seized by fourteen officials and stalwart policemen, picked for the work, and thrust back through the private pa.s.sage into Palace Yard. Not expecting such indignity, he contested every inch of the ground. Inspector Denning said he never thought that one man could have offered such resistance. The small muscles of both his arms were ruptured, and a subsequent attack of erysipelas put his life in jeopardy.

When he was finally thrust on to the pavement in Palace Yard his coat was torn and the rest of his garments were disarranged. His face was livid with the intense exertion when I saw him a minute afterwards.

There he stood, a great ma.s.s of panting, valiant manhood, his features set like granite, and his eyes fixed upon the doorway before him. He seemed to see nothing but that doorway. I spoke to him, and he seemed not to hear. I believe a mighty struggle was going on within him, perhaps the greatest struggle of his life. He had suffered a frightful indignity, he must have been tempted to avenge it, and he had but to hold up his hand to bring around and behind him the myriads who stood outside the railings. The action would have been impolitic, but what a temptation he crushed down, and what an effort it necessitated. Never was his heroic nature more sorely tried. He justified his mastery of others by his mastery of himself. How small in comparison seemed the mob of his enemies! I never admired him more than at that moment. He was superb, sublime. They had wound their meshes about him, and the lion had burst them. One swift, daring stroke had frustrated all their plans. He who was to be quietly suppressed by resolutions of the House had cut the knot of their policy asunder, made himself the hero of the hour, and fixed the nation's eyes on his splendid audacity.

Reaction set in after that terrible struggle, and he accepted a chair that was brought him. Several members pa.s.sed as he sat there. One of them was the coward, Frank Hugh O'Donnell. He had a lady on his arm, and he pa.s.sed with her between himself and Mr. Bradlaugh, so that her dress trailed over the hero's feet. It was a wretched display of insolence and cowardice. But the lady must be exonerated. She looked annoyed, her cheeks reddened, and her eyelids fell. It is so hard for a woman to resist the attraction of courage, and the coward by her side must have suffered in her estimation.

There was a crowded meeting that evening at the Hall of Science, at which I had the honor of speaking, Mr. Bradlaugh's greeting was tremendous. Two days afterwards he was seriously ill.

During that great const.i.tutional struggle I was present at many "Bradlaugh" meetings, and I never witnessed such enthusiasm as he excited. No man of my time had such a devoted following.

The last "Bradlaugh" demonstration I attended was on February 15, 1883, in Trafalgar-square. Seventy or eighty thousand people were present.

There were four speakers, and three of them are dead, Joseph Arch being the sole survivor. Mr. Adams, of Northampton, lived to see his old friend take his seat and do good work in the House of Commons, became himself Mayor of Northampton, and died universally respected by his fellow-townsmen; William Sharman, a brave, true man, is buried at Preston; and Charles Bradlaugh sleeps his long sleep at Woking.

For another twelve months I attended no public meetings except the silent ones on the exercise ground of Holloway Gaol, But I saw Mr.

Bradlaugh at several demonstrations on various subjects after my imprisonment, and I could perceive no abatement of his popularity. He had his enemies and detractors, but the spontaneous outburst of feeling at his death proved his hold on the popular heart.

I must now leap forward to that dreadful illness which left him a broken man. Years before, in 1882, when we were roaming the Law Courts together, he tapped his chest as he coughed, and seeing my anxious expression he told me that he brought up a good deal of phlegm in the morning, and that strangers who heard him clearing his chest would fancy he was very ill. But he looked so well that I soon dismissed the unpleasant fact, though it returned before his breakdown when I saw he was obliged to cancel engagements. I heard in 1884, though not from himself, that he had some heart trouble. But I was far from prepared for the shattering illness that laid him low in October, 1889.

When I called to see him after his partial recovery I was shocked by his appearance. He looked twenty years older, grey, and infirm. I sat down half-dazed. Theoretically I knew he was mortal, but I did not realise it as a fact until I saw him thin and pale from the valley of the shadow of death. His mind was clear enough, however; and although everything about him was pathetic he was quite self-collected.

One thing he said to me I shall never forget. There had been talk of his wavering in his Freethought, and as he referred to this folly he spoke in grave impressive tones. Pointing to the humble bed, he said, "When I lay there and all was black the thing that troubled me least was the convictions of my life."

Words and accents were alike solemn. The cold shadow of death seemed to linger in the room. A moment or two later he said with a broken voice, "The Freethought party is a party that I love."

The memory of that interview will always be a precious possession. I treasure it with the sacred things of my life. I had seen and touched the naked sincerity of a great soul.

When Mr. Bradlaugh returned from India I called on him, and found him greatly improved by his voyage. I waited for him a few minutes in his library, as he was at lunch, and the doctors attached great importance to regularity in his meals. He came into the room with a most genial smile. His air was fresh and buoyant, and he walked over to me quickly, holding out his hand all the way. I took it heartily, and had a good look at him, which satisfied and yet dissatisfied me. He was certainly better, but I could not help feeling that his const.i.tution was irrecoverably broken. Never again could I hope to see the grand Bradlaugh of the old fighting days. His mind was as brave and alert as ever, but the body was too obviously disabled.

He showed me some of his Indian presents, of which he was justly proud, and then we sat down to chat. He was full of his voyage and the kindness he had experienced on every side. His reception in India had exceeded his highest antic.i.p.ations, and he was looking forward to work in the House of Commons on behalf of our great Dependency.

Speaking of his financial prospects, he told me he had received offers of work from several magazine editors. But he added, "one doesn't know how long it will last; 'tis a precarious business." His face clouded for a moment, and I saw he was more troubled than he cared to say.

One thing he told me which I had no right to repeat while he lived, but I may repeat it without a breach of confidence now that he is dead.

During his brief stay in India he could have had plenty of money if he had been less scrupulous. There was nothing very dishonourable in accepting money from rich Hindoos, for he was poor and broken in health, and he was fighting for their best interests. But he was too proud to take it, and when wealthy natives were calling on him, he always took the precaution to have an English friend in the room.

"No," he said to me, "I cannot do that. I'll live like the old Bradlaugh, or I'll go under."

He lived like the old Bradlaugh, and he went under. He took to the platform again to earn a livelihood, and it killed him, as his doctors had foreseen. I implored him at the time not to resume the lecturing. He was going to fulfil an old-standing engagement at Manchester in the vast St. James's Hall, and I begged him to cancel it. He replied that he could not afford to forfeit twenty pounds. "What is that to your life?"

I asked. He only smiled grimly. His mind was made up, and he was not to be bent by advice.

On Sunday morning, February 16, 1890, Mr. Bradlaugh resigned his presidency of the National Secular Society, which he had held for so many years. The Hall of Science was packed with members, chiefly from the London district, but many of them from the provinces.

The scene was infinitely pathetic. One sentiment reigned in every heart.

The Old Guard was taking leave of its General. Some of them had fought around him for thirty years, and the farewell was a mutilation of their very lives. Tears were streaming down strong faces; and they coursed down the strongest face of all, the face of Charles Bradlaugh, and plashed on the table before him. For a while he let them fall, and then he controlled his grief and rose to speak. But the words would not come.

His frame shook with a great sob, and he sat down again. A second time he rose and failed. But the third time his strong will prevailed, and he began to speak in low, trembling tones.

Never was I so struck with his oratorical powers as on this occasion.

Without once lifting his voice above the note of conversation, he swayed the meeting for a full half-hour, as easily and universally as the wind billows a cornfield.

In resigning the presidency he thought it his duty to nominate a successor, and his choice was ratified by the meeting. He handed me the president's hammer after a solemn, impressive apostrophe, in which he expressed his hope that he might thank me, after many years, for good, loyal work as leader; and when I had acknowledged the lofty honor he rose to vacate the chair. Naturally I declined to let him do anything of the kind, and for a moment the two Presidents stood together in friendly altercation. But for once he gave way, and Charles Bradlaugh filled the chair to the last.

Resigning the Presidency did not mean retirement from the National Secular Society. At his own suggestion Mr. Bradlaugh was elected a life-member. He was thus a member of the Society up to the last moment of his life. Nor was he an inactive one. I frequently had occasion to consult him, and one of his last bits of work was the drawing up of a long doc.u.ment for the Society on Secular Burials.

Months rolled by, and the evening came for the great debate on the Eight flours Bill between Mr. Bradlaugh and Mr. Hyndman. St. James's Hall was packed to suffocation. I sat on the platform near my old leader, and I saw how the effort was telling on him. His opponents in the meeting behaved with incredible brutality. Some of them laughed aloud when he said, "Believe me, this has tried me more than I had thought." But now the hero they laughed at is dead, and they _know_ that he spoke the truth.

The last time I saw Mr. Bradlaugh in public was on Wednesday evening, December 10, 1890, when he lectured at the Hall of Science on behalf of the Forder Testimonial Fund. I believe that was the last lecture he delivered there, if not the last lecture he delivered anywhere. He dealt with the Evidences of Christianity, in reference to Archdeacon Watkins'

lectures on the Fourth Gospel, and a.s.suredly he was as firmly sceptical as ever. At the close of the lecture he spoke of his theological position, and declared that he could not conceive of any such change of mind as glib gossipers were a.s.serting of him.

The weather was extremely foggy, and Mr. Bradlaugh was ill. He ought not to have been there at all. After struggling painfully through the lecture, he sat down and waited for discussion. A Christian opponent rose, and Mr. Bradlaugh replied; but, being in the chair, I would not allow a second speech, and I was glad to see him well wrapt-up, and once more in the care of his devoted daughter.

Having concluded my reminiscences of Charles Bradlaugh in relation to the _events_ of his life, I shall wind up with a little personal talk of a more general character.

I have already referred to Mr. Bradlaugh's extraordinary knowledge of the law. This was strikingly ill.u.s.trated after the so-called Trafalgar-square riots. The Tories made a wanton aggression on the right of public meeting in London, and found a ready instrument of tyranny in Sir Charles Warren. No doubt there is much to be said against promiscuous meetings in Trafalgar-square at all hours of the day and night, but it was a high-handed act of brutality to prohibit _all_ meetings directly it was known that the London Radicals were convening a Sunday demonstration on the Irish question. While the Radicals were chafing under this insult they held several stormy meetings to discuss their best policy, and at last a Committee was appointed to find out, if possible, the legal rights, of the people and the Crown. I was a member of that committee, and I am able to state that although we waited on several eminent lawyers, it was only from Mr. Bradlaugh that we obtained any light. The others talked vaguely about the right of public meeting, and the primary and secondary uses of public thoroughfares, but Mr.

Bradlaugh gave us the _facts_ of the case. Trafalgar-square was Crown property, its control was vested in the Commissioner of Works, and at any moment it could be absolutely closed to the British public.

This had escaped the other lawyers, who did not find it in the Statutes at Large, from which the Trafalgar-square Act, probably as being a private one, had been excluded. Nor was it known to the Government when Sir Charles Warren issued his first proclamation, As Chief Commissioner of Police he had no authority-over the Square, and until he obtained the order of its proper guardians, which he did a week later, his proclamation was only a piece of waste paper, Mr. Bradlaugh saw this, though he said nothing, when the demonstration committee called upon him a few days before b.l.o.o.d.y Sunday. He told them that he had an engagement in the provinces on that day, but if they would postpone the demonstration until the following Sunday he would himself lead it to Trafalgar-square. His offer was not accepted, however; for the committee resented the condition he stipulated, namely, that he should have absolute control of the arrangements. They thought he was taking too much upon himself. They did not reflect that if he who takes power without responsibility is a despot, he who takes responsibility without power is a fool. It was their action, and not his, that lost the battle.

Mr. Bradlaugh made no public parade of his brave offer. It was not his way. But it is due to his memory that it should be put on record, so that posterity may know the extent of his generous courage.

There can be no doubt, I think, that Mr. Bradlaugh was less popular with the working-cla.s.ses in London after he took peaceable possession of his seat in Parliament. The London ma.s.ses love a fighter, and while he was battling for his seat he was, in my opinion, the most popular figure in the metropolis. The Radical workmen never tired of his demonstrations.

He could bring fifty or a hundred thousand of them together at a few days' notice. And the other speakers were, for the most part, only padding to fill up the time. It was "Bradlaugh" the mult.i.tude came for.

They waited to hear him speak, they applauded him to the skies, and when he had done they dispersed. And on such occasions he was magnificent. No one can conceive the power of the man who never saw him at one of these demonstrations. He stood like a Pharos, and the light of his face kindled the crests of the living waves around him.

But he was out of sympathy with the Socialist movement, which began to spread just as he took his seat; and being a.s.siduous in Parliament, he was drawn more and more from "the Clubs," where his libellers and detractors wagged their tongues to some purpose. His strong individualism, as well as his practical good sense, made him bitterly hostile to the mildest proposals for putting the people's industrial interests into the hands of Government departments. And being a man of most positive quality, it was natural that he should excite the hatred of the more fanatical Socialists; a sentiment which, I cannot help thinking, he exasperated by his apparent denial of the generosity of their aims. There are men in the Socialist camp (and I say it without being a Socialist) who are neither "poets" nor "fools"--though it is no disgrace to be the former; men who have studied with severity and sincerity, who have made sacrifices for conviction, and who were sometimes hurt by his antipathy. But, on the other hand, he was bitterly goaded by Socialist adversaries, who denied his honesty, and held him up to undeserved scorn as the hireling of "the cla.s.ses"--a charge which the more sensitive among them must now repent, for his death has revealed his poverty.