had he followed the legal profession, mr. bradlaugh would have easily mounted to the top and earned a tremendous income. i have heard some of the cleverest counsel of our time, but i never heard one to be compared with him in grasp, subtlety and agility. he could examine and cross-examine with consummate dexterity. in arguing points of law he had the tenacity of a bull-dog and the keenness of a sleuth-hound. he always fortified himself with a plethora of "cases." the table in front of him groaned with a weight of law. here as elsewhere he was "thorough." an eminent jurisprudist once remarked to me, "there is little gleaning to be done after bradlaugh."
as a pleader before juries, however, i doubt whether he would have achieved a great success. he was too much of a born orator. he began well, but he soon forgot the limited audience of twelve, and spoke to a wider circle. this is not the way to humor juries. they like to feel their own importance, and he succeeds best who plays upon their weakness. "remember," their looks say, "you are talking to us; the other gentlemen listen accidentally; we make you or damn you."
my first recollection of mr. bradlaugh in the law courts is twenty-two years old. how many survivors are there of the friends who filled that dingy old court at westminster where he argued before a full bench of judges in 1869? he was prosecuted for note giving sureties in the sum of ￡400 against the appearance of blasphemy or sedition in his paper. the law was resuscitated in his single case to crush him; but he fought, as he said he would, to the bitter end, and the gladstone government was glad to repeal the obsolete enactments. the crown retired from the suit with a stet processus, and mr. bradlaugh was left with the laurels—and his costs.
i obtained an hour or two's leave from my employment, and heard a portion of mr. bradlaugh's argument it gave me a new conception of his powers. that is the only impression i retain. the details have dropped out of my memory, but there remains as fresh as ever the masterful figure of charles bradlaugh.
the best view i ever had of mr. bradlaugh in litigation was in the old court of queen's bench on tuesday and wednesday, july 19 and 20, 1881, when he cross-examined poor mr. newdegate. for a good deal of the time i sat beside him, and could watch him closely as well as the case. by raising the point whether the writ against him for penalties had been issued before or after he gave his vote in the house, he-was able to put all the parties to the prosecution into-the witness-box and make them give an account of themselves. mr. newdegate was one of the victims, and the poor man made confessions that furnished mr. bradlaugh with ground for a successful action against him under the law of maintenance. mr. newdegate was a hard-mouthed witness, but he-was saddled, bridled, and ridden to the winning-post. his lips opened literally, making his mouth like the slit of a pillar-box. getting evidence from him was like extracting a rotten cork from the neck of a bottle but it all came out bit by bit, and the poor man must have left the witness-box feeling that he had delivered himself into the hands of that uncircumcised philistine. his cross-examination lasted three hours. it was like flaying alive. once or twice i felt qualms of pity for the old man, he was such an abject figure in the hands-of that terrible antagonist. every card he held had to-be displayed. finally he had to produce the bond of indemnity he had given the common informer clarke against all the expenses he might incur in the suit; when this came out mr. bradlaugh bent down to me and said, "i have him." and he did have him. despite the common notion that the old law of maintenance was obsolete, mr. bradlaugh pursued him under it triumphantly, and instead of ruining "bradlaugh," poor newdegate was nearly ruined himself.
what a contrast to mr. newdegate was mr. bradlaugh! he was the very picture of suppressed fire, of rampant energies held in leash: the nerves of the face playing like the ripple on water, the whole frame quivering, and the eyes ablaze. it was wonderful how he managed to keep his intellect alert and his judgment steady. six hours of such work as he had in court that day were enough to tax the greatest strength. before it was over i saw bodeful blood-rims under his eyes. it did not surprise me, on meeting him at the cobden workmen's club the next evening, to learn that he had been frightfully ill. "mr. bradlaugh," i wrote at the time, "is a wonderfully strong man, but the tories and the bigots are doing their best to kill him, and if this sort of thing is to continue very much longer they may succeed." alas, they did succeed. that terrible struggle killed him. no man ever lived who could have passed through it unbroken.
mr. bradlaugh was clearly right on the point raised, but the jury went against him, apparently out of sheer prejudice. when he went out into westminster hall he was loudly cheered by a crowd of sympathisers, who, as the times sneered, "applauded as lustily as though their champion had won." precisely so. their applause would have greeted him in the worst defeat. he was not a champion on whom they had "put their money." he represented their principles, and the times forgot, if it ever knew, that men are devoted to leaders in proportion to the depth of the interests they espouse. conviction "bears it out even to the edge of doom."
now let me mention something that shows mr. bradlaugh's tact and consideration. my work on the freethinker brought me no return. i had just read the proof of an article for mr. bradlaugh's paper. while we were waiting for the jury's verdict he referred to the article, and guessing my need he said, "shall i give you the guinea now?" my answer was an expressive shrug and a motion of the eye-brows.
taking the two coins out of his pocket, he wrapt them in a piece of paper under the table, and presently slipped the packet into my hand. the whole proceeding touches me deeply as i recall it. he might well have thought only of himself in that time of suspense; but he thought of me too, and the precautions he took against being seen to pay me money were expressive of his inbred delicacy. reader do not say the incident is trivial. these little things reveal the man.
little did i dream, as i watched mr. bradlaugh fighting bigotry in the law courts, that the time would come when he and i would be included in a common indictment and stand in a criminal dock together. but as the french say, it is always the unexpected that happens. early in july, 1882, i was served with a summons from the lord mayor of london, ordering me to appear at the mansion house on the following tuesday and take my trial on a charge of blasphemy. two other gentlemen were included in the summons, and all three of us duly appeared. we were all members of the national secular society, and mr. bradlaugh attended to render any possible assistance. the case was adjourned to the following monday, by which time a summons had been served on mr. bradlaugh, who took his place beside us in the dock. after an animated day's proceedings we were committed for trial at the old bailey.
the object of this prosecution was, of course, to stab mr. bradlaugh in the back. he had fought all the bigots face to face, and held them all at bay; so they put a stiletto into sir hardinge giffard's hands, and paid him his blood-money to attack the hero from behind.
mr. bradlaugh had to play the fox again. he wanted to gain time, and he wanted to be tried, if at all, in the court of queen's bench. he always told me that being tried at the old bailey was going like a lamb to the slaughter, and that a verdict of guilty there would certainly mean twelve months' imprisonment. the obvious resource, therefore, was to obtain a writ of certiorari removing our indictment to the superior court. happily it was in the long vacation, and application had to be made to a judge in chambers. by another piece of good luck, it was mr. justice stephen who sat behind the table on the fatal morning when the writ had to be finally granted or refused. it was obtained on july 29, 1882. poor mr. maloney, who represented the prosecution, was no match for mr. bradlaugh, who treated him like a child, and only let him say a word now and then as a special favor.
roaming the law courts with mr. bradlaugh, i was able to see his intimate knowledge of legal practice. he threaded the labyrinth with consummate ease and dexterity. we went from office to office, where everything seemed designed to baffle suitors conducting their own cases. our case, too, was somewhat peculiar; obsolete technicalities, only half intelligible even to experts, met us at every turn; and when we got out into the open air i felt that the thing was indeed done, but that it would puzzle omniscience to do it in exactly the same way again. seven pounds was spent on stamps, documents, and other items, and securities for costs had to be given to the extent of six hundred pounds. as i walked home i pondered the great truth that england is a free country. i had seen with my own eyes that there is one law for rich and poor. but i could not help reflecting that only the rich could afford it, and that the poor might as well have no law at all.
mr. bradlaugh next moved to quash the indictment. he argued that the public prosecutor's fiat was bad, as it did not name the persons who were to be proceeded against, and thus resembled a general warrant, which in the famous wilkes case the judges had held to be invalid. on this point, however, two judges, one of them being sir james stephen, gave judgment against him. the case was argued on mr. bradlaugh's part, the judges said, with "great power and learning." for my part, i think he showed a greater knowledge of "cases" than both the legal luminaries on the bench, who laid their heads close together over many a knotty point of the argument.
beaten on the main issue, mr. bradlaugh was successful, however, on the subsidiary one. two counts were struck out of the indictment. the excision made no difference to me, but a great deal of difference to him. two numbers of the freethinker were thus disposed of bearing the imprint of the freethought publishing company—under which name mr. bradlaugh and mrs. beasant traded—and owing to the lapse of time it was impossible to open a fresh indictment. of course i saw what mr. bradlaugh was driving at, and i could not but admire the way in which he made light of this point, arguing it baldly as a formal matter on which, as their lordships would see at a glance, he was absolutely entitled to a judgment. they would see that he was still open to all the other counts of the indictment, and therefore it might make very little difference, but right was right and law was law. under the spell of his persuasive speech, it was amazing to see the judges smoothing their wrinkled fronts. i fancy they gave him his second point the more readily because they were against him on the first; indeed, they seemed to think it a pity, if not a shame, that all his learning and ability should be displayed for nothing.
our indictment went into the list of crown cases reserved, and did not come on for trial till the following april. meanwhile i was prosecuted again, and failing to get a writ of certiorari, owing to the flagrant bigotry of baron huddleston and justice north, i was tried at the old bailey, and sentenced to twelve months' imprisonment like a common thief—as mr. bradlaugh had predicted.
during my trouble mr. bradlaugh lent me every assistance, furnishing me with legal books and advice and visiting me in newgate between the first and second trials, while judge north's underlings were preparing a more pliant jury than the one which had declined to return a verdict of guilty.
in holloway gaol i lost sight of mr. bradlaugh and everyone else, except persons i had no desire to see. but one morning, early in april, 1883, the governor informed me that mr. bradlaugh was going to pay me a visit, having the home secretary's order to see me on urgent business. the same afternoon i was marched from my cell into one of the governor's offices, where mr. bradlaugh was wailing. compared with the pale prisoners i saw day by day, he looked the very picture of health. fresh, clean-shaven, neatly dressed, he was a most refreshing sight to eyes accustomed to rough faces and the brown convict's garb. and it was a friend too, and i could take his hand and exchange human speech with him. how vivid is my recollection of him at that moment! he seemed in the prime of life, little the worse for his terrible struggles, only the gray a trifle more decided about the temples, but the eyes full of light, and the mobile mouth full of vitality. and now he is dead! dead! it is hard to realise. but i rang the muffled bell as he lay fighting his last battle, and i followed his corpse to the grave; and i know that the worm is busy about those leonine features, and the rain trickles through with a scent of faded flowers. yes, it is true; he is dead. dead like the king and dead like the clown; yet living truly beyond the dust of death in the lives of others, an inextinguishable light, a vivifying fire, a passionate hope, an ardent aspiration.
till the future dares
forget the past, his fate and fame shall be
an echo and a light unto eternity.
on the morning of april 10, 1883, i put on my own clothes and was driven in a four-wheeler from holloway gaol to the law courts, in company with warder smith, who superintended the wing of the prison in which a grateful country lodged and boarded me at its own expense. it was lovely spring weather, and i felt like a man new-born.
inside the court where the great blasphemy case was to be tried i found mr. bradlaugh with his usual load of law books. the court was crowded with friends of the defendants and legal gentlemen anxious to witness the performance.
mr. bradlaugh applied for a separate trial, on the ground that as there was no charge of conspiracy it was unjust to prejudice his case by evidence admitted against his co-defendants; and lord coleridge, who obviously meant to see fair play, granted the application.
mr. bradlaugh's position was, in one sense, the most perilous he had ever stood in. just as his long litigation with respect to his seat in parliament was drawing to a close, and as he believed to a successful close, he had to defend himself against a charge which, if he were proved guilty, would entail upon him the penalty of imprisonment. of course it would not have been such imprisonment as i was suffering, for queen's bench prisoners are generally sent to the civil side of holloway gaol. but any imprisonment at such a moment gravely imperilled his prospects of success in the mighty struggle with wealth, bigotry, and political prejudice. a sense of this fact weighed heavily upon him, but it did not impair his energy or intellectual alertness; indeed, he was one of those rare men whose faculties are sharpened by danger.
i need not dwell upon the evidence of the prosecution. it was most unsatisfactory, and failed to connect mr. bradlaugh with the freethinker. sir hardinge giffard, therefore, almost entirely confined himself to playing upon the prejudices of the jury.
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-assembled 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 damnation.
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 passed 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 petition, 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 passage 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 mass 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 passed as he sat there. one of them was the coward, frank hugh o'donnell. he had a lady on his arm, and he passed 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 constitutional 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 constitution 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 anticipations, 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 document 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 assuredly 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 asserting 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 illustrated 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 bloody 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-classes in london after he took peaceable possession of his seat in parliament. the london masses 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 multitude 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 assiduous 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 classes"—a charge which the more sensitive among them must now repent, for his death has revealed his poverty.
mr. bradlaugh was naturally irritable, but the irritability was only on the surface. the waves were easily raised, but there was plenty of quiet sea beneath. though giants are often phlegmatic, his big frame embedded highly-strung nerves. when he was put out he could storm, and he was misunderstood by those who took the mood for the man. had they seen him in the melting mood they would have learnt that charles bradlaugh was a more composite personality than they imagined.
during the last year or two of his life he underwent a wonderful softening. a beautiful indian-summer light rested upon him. he was like a granite rock, which the sweet grass has overgrown, and from whose crevices peep lovely wild flowers.
as president of the national secular society he did a great work. i do not think he had a pronounced faculty for organisation. but he was a firm, sagacious leader, with the personal magnetism to attract devotion. that he was never overbearing i will not affirm. but it is easy to organise sheep. one good dog will do it. mr. bradlaugh had to hold together a different species, with leaping legs, butting horns, and a less gregarious tendency.
he was a splendid chairman to push through a mass of business, but he shone less on ordinary occasions. an ideal chairman, when not promoting his own schemes, should be like a midwife; he should aim at a quick delivery and a safe birth. mr. bradlaugh did not always observe this rule. but every man has the defects of his qualities, and even the sun must be taken with its spots.
mr. bradlaugh's speeches at the annual conferences of the national secular society are better reading than his political speeches. being less in the world of practice there, and more in the world of principle, he gave play to his ideal nature, his words took color, and metaphors flashed like jewels in the sword of his orations. it was a signal proof of his power, that after a whole day's exhausting work, both to himself and his audience, he never failed to rouse the wildest enthusiasm.
now that mr. bradlaugh is dead i do not hesitate to repeat what i said during his lifetime, that his freethought work was the most fecund and important. even his great battle against the house of commons was for religious freedom against bigotry, and his one great legislative achievement was the act dealing with oaths and affirmation. his staunchest political supporters were his freethought followers. his lectures, his personal influence, and his reputation, leavened the public mind more than his orthodox enemies suspected, and he created a vast quantity of raw material to be utilised by his successors in secular organisation.
in the foregoing pages i have attempted no complete sketch of charles bradlaugh. i have written, not a monograph, but a number of rough jottings. yet i hope i have conveyed an impression of the man, in some degree faithful, to those who may have been imperfectly acquainted with him; and i trust the features i have presented, however baldly outlined, will be recognised by those who knew and loved him.
when all is said and done, i think the final impression one retains of charles bradlaugh is his heroism. his was cast in a great mould of mind and character, as well as body. like every hero the world has ever seen, he had his defects and failings, for it is given to no man to be perfect. but positive excellence, with all its drawbacks, is far above negative merit. "thou shalt" is loftier virtue than "thou shalt not," and the hero is superior to the saint.
charles bradlaugh was a colossus of manhood. he was one to design, and dare, and do. the beaten path of mediocrity had no attraction for that potent spirit. he belonged to the heroic type which seeks perilous ways and fresh conquests. like the hero of one of browning's poems, he was "ever a fighter." in stormy times he naturally rose to the top. he was one of the select few, not of those who enrich the world with great discoveries, or new principles, or subtle perceptions of beauty—but those who appeal to the heroism of man's nature, without which he is at best but a splendid beast, and who minister to that sense of dignity which is the supreme necessity of our race.
the elements so mixed in him, that
nature might stand up
and say to all the world,
"this was a man!"
