REMINISCENCES OF CHARLES BRADLAUGH

By G. W. Foote

President of the National Secular Society AND Editor of "TheFreethinker"

LONDON: PROGRESSIVE PUBLISHING COMPANY, 1891. 

INTRODUCTION. 

The following pages are reprinted, with some alterations and additions, from the columns of the _Freethinker_. They are neither methodical norexhaustive. I had the privilege of knowing Mr. Bradlaugh more or lessintimately for twenty years. I have worked with him in the Freethoughtmovement and stood by his side on many political platforms. It seemed tome, therefore, that if I jotted down, even in a disjointed manner, someof my recollections of his great personality, I should be easing my ownmind and conferring a pleasure on many readers. Beyond that I was notambitious. The time for writing Mr. Brad-laugh's life is not yet, but when it arrives my jottings may furnish a point or two to hisbiographer. 

G. W. FOOTE, March 30, 1891. 

REMINISCENCES OF CHARLES BRADLAUGH. 

When I came to London, in January, 1868, I was eighteen years of age. Ihad plenty of health and very little religion. While in my native townof Plymouth I had read and thought for myself, and had gradually passedthrough various stages of scepticism, until I was dissatisfied even withthe advanced Unitarianism of a preacher like the Rev. J. K. Applebee. But I could not find any literature in advance of his position, andthere was no one of whom I could inquire. Secularism and Atheism I hadnever heard of in any definite way, although I remember, when a littleboy, having an Atheist pointed out to me in the street, Naturally Iregarded him as a terrible monster. I did not know what Atheism wasexcept in a very vague way; but I inferred from the tones, expressions, and gestures of those who pointed him out to me, that an Atheist was adevil in human form. 

Soon after I came to London I found out an old school-fellow, and wentto lodge with his family: They were tainted with Atheism, and my oncepious playmate was as corrupt as the rest of them. They took me oneSunday evening to Cleveland Hall, where I heard Mrs. Law knock the Bibleabout delightfully. She was not what would be called a woman of culture, but she had what some devotees of "culchaw" do not possess--a great dealof natural ability; and she appeared to know the "blessed book" fromcover to cover. Her discourse was very different from the Unitariansermons I had heard at Plymouth. She spoke in a plain, honest, straightforward manner, and I resolved to visit Cleveland Hall again. 

Three or four weeks afterwards I heard Mr. Bradlaugh for the first time. It was a very wet Sunday evening, but as 'bus-riding was dearer thenthan it is now, and my resources were slender, I walked about threemiles through the heavy rain, and sat on a backless bench in ClevelandHall, for which I think I paid twopence. I was wet through, but I wasyoung, and my health was flawless. Nor did I mind the discomfort a bitwhen Mr. Bradlaugh began his lecture. Fiery natural eloquence of thatsort was a novelty in my experience. I kept myself warm with applauding, and at the finish I was pretty nearly as dry outside as inside. Fromthat time I went to hear Mr. Bradlaugh whenever I had an opportunity. He became the "god" of my young idolatry. I used to think of himcharging the hosts of superstition, and wish I could be near him in thefight. But it was rather a dream than any serious expectation of such anhonor. 

When the new Hall of Science was opened I became a pretty regularattendant. I heard Mr. Charles Watts, who was then as now a capitaldebater; Mr. G. J. Holyoake, Mr. C. C. Cattell, Mr. Austin Holyoake. And perhaps one or two other lecturers whom I have forgotten. Mr. Austin Holyoake frequently took the chair, especially at Mr. Bradlaugh'slectures, and a capital chairman he was, giving out the notices in apleasant, graceful manner, and pleading for financial support like atrue man. He was working hard for the success of the enterprise himself, and had a right to beg help from others. 

Mr. Bradlaugh, however, was the great attraction in my case. PerhapsI was more impressionable at that time, but I fancy he was then at hisbest as an orator. In later life he grew more cautious under a sense ofresponsibility; he had to think what he should not say as well as whathe should. He cultivated the art of persuasion, and he was right indoing so. But at the earlier period I am writing of he gave a full swingto his passionate eloquence. His perorations were marvellously glowingand used to thrill me to the very marrow. 

Gradually I began to make acquaintances at the Hall. I got to know Mr. Austin Holyoake and his charming wife, Mr. And Mrs. Bayston, Mr. HerbertGilham, Mr. R. O. Smith, and other workers. By and bye I was introducedto Mr. Bradlaugh and shook hands with him. It was the proudest moment ofmy young life. I still remember his scrutinising look. It was keen butkindly, and the final expression seemed to say, "We may see more of eachother. "

In 1870 I wrote my first article in the _National Reformer_. For a yearor two I wrote occasionally, and after that with tolerable frequency. Iwas also engaged in various efforts at the Hall; helping to carry on aSecular Sunday School, a Young Men's Secular Association, etc. NaturallyI was drawn more and more into Mr. Bradlaugh's acquaintance, and when hefound himself unable to continue the Logic Class he had started at theHall he asked me to carry it on for him. Of course I was proud of theinvitation. But the Class did not live long. It was not Logic, but Mr. Bradlaugh, that had brought the members together. Nor do I think theywould have learnt much of the art from Mr. Bradlaugh, except in anempirical way. He had a very logical cast of mind, but as far as I couldsee he had little acquaintance with formal Logic as it is taught byMill and Whately, whom I select as typical masters of Induction andDeduction, without wishing to depreciate the host of other authorities. Mr. Bradlaugh really gave his class lessons in Metaphysics; his talkwas of substance, mode, and attribute, rather than of premises andconclusions. Mr. Bradlaugh and I were brought into closer acquaintanceby the Republican agitation in England after the proclamation ofthe present French Republic. I attended the Republican Conferenceat Birmingham in 1871, when I first met my old friend Dr. Guest ofManchester, Mr. R. A. Cooper of Norwich, Mr. Daniel Baker, Mr. Fergusonthe Glasgow Home Ruler, and other veterans of reform. We held ourConference on Sunday in the old meeting-place of the Secular Society, which was approached by very abrupt steps, and being situated overstables, was not devoid of flavor. On Monday the Conference wascontinued in one of the rooms under the Town Hall. A long politicalprogramme was concocted. I was elected Secretary, and had the honorof speaking at the public meeting in the large hall. It was my firstappearance in such a perilous position. I was apprehensive, and I saidso. But Mr. Bradlaugh put his hand on my shoulder and told me not tofear. His kind looks and words were an excellent tonic. When I roseto speak I thought next to nothing about the audience. I thought "Mr. Bradlaugh is listening, I must do my best. " And now as I am writing, Irecall his encouraging glance as I looked at him, and the applause heled when I made my first point. He was my leader, and he helped me inan elder-brotherly way. Nothing could exceed his considerate generosity. Other people did not see it, but I remember it, and it was typical ofthe man. 

One incident at the Conference is worth noting. It occurred in theafternoon, when Mr. R. A. Cooper (I think) was in the chair. Thequestion of Free Education was being discussed. Mr. Bradlaugh did notquite like it, nor did I. He asked me to go with him into an ante-roomand consider an amendment. What it was I can hardly remember, although Irecollect that Mr. Cooper was very sarcastic about it. Since then my ownopinion has changed, as I dare say Mr. Bradlaugh's had changed; and theincident would not be worth recalling if it did not throw a light uponMr. Bradlaugh's philosophy. He was always in favor of self-help andindividual responsibility, and he was naturally hostile to everythingthat might weaken those precious-elements of English life. 

During the years immediately after the opening of the Hall of Science, Mr. Bradlaugh was there a good deal. Sometimes he attended theweek-night entertainments and gave a reading from Shelley or Whittieror some other poet. The audience applauded as a matter of course. Theyalways applauded Mr. Bradlaugh. But he was no reader. He deliveredhis lines with that straightforward sincerity which characterisedhis speeches. He cultivated none of the graces or dexterities of theelocutionist. Besides, he was too original to be a successful echo ofother men. I think he only did justice to Shelley's lines "To the Men ofEngland. " But this is a piece of simple and vigorous declamation; veryfine, no doubt but rather rhetoric than poetry. 

Mr. Bradlaugh was anything but a cold man. I should say he was electric. But his tastes, so far as I could discover, did not lie in the directionof poetry. Certainly I heard him once, in those old days, read a greatpart, if not the whole of Shelley's "Sensitive Plant. " He loved Shelley, however, as an Atheist and a Republican, and I suppose he took Shelley'spoetry on trust. But I do not think, though I speak under correction, that he cared very much for poetry _as such_. I could never discoverfrom his conversation or writings that he had read a line ofShakespeare--the god of Colonel Ingersoll. His mind was of the practicalorder, like Oliver Cromwell's. He had a genius for public affairs. Hewas not only a born orator, but a born ruler of men. Naturally he had, as the French say, the defects of his qualities. And it may be that theterrible stress of his life tended to repress the poetical side ofhis nature, and less developed his subtlety than his strength. Yethis feelings were deep, and his heart was easily touched. When WilliamO'Brien delivered that great speech in the House of Commons after hisimprisonment by Mr. Balfour, with all its needless indignities, therewere two men who could not restrain their tears. One was an Irishmember. The other was Charles Bradlaugh. One who witnessed the scenetold me it was infinitely pathetic to see that gigantic man, deemed sohard by an ignorant world, wiping away his tears at the tale of a braveman's unmerited suffering. 

Mr. Bradlaugh used to attend the social parties pretty often in thoseold days. He did not dance and he stood about rather awkwardly. It musthave been a great affliction, but he bore it with exemplary fortitude. Once or twice I saw Mrs. Bradlaugh there. She had a full-blown matronlyfigure. Miss Alice and Miss Hypatia came frequently. They were notthen living in the enervating air of London, and they looked extremelyrobust. I also remember the boy Charles, of whom Mr. Bradlaugh seemedvery proud. He was a remarkably bright lad, and full of promise. But hewas carried off by a fever. Only a day or two after the lad's death Mr. Bradlaugh had to lecture at the Hall. I was away, and I wondered whetherhe would fulfil the engagement. He did fulfil it. A friend wrote to methat Mr. Bradlaugh walked through the hall and mounted the platform witha face as white and rigid as that of a statue. He made no reference orallusion to his loss, but all could see he carried a bleeding heart. His lecturing in such circumstances was characteristic. Weaker men wouldhave indulged their grief; he was made of sterner stuff, and would notlet it interfere with what he deemed his duty. 

Splendid as was his eloquence at that time, Mr. Bradlaugh did not drawthe large audiences that flocked around him a few years later. The Hallof Science was at first but half its present size, the platform standingon the right as you entered, with a small gallery on the opposite side. Its holding capacity could not have been more than half what it is atpresent, yet I have seen the place far from full. But the audiences grewlarger and larger, and eventually the hall was increased to its presentproportions, although for a long time there was not cash enough to puton a proper roof, and the building was defaced by a huge unsightly beam, on each side of which there was an arch of corrugated iron. 

Those were glorious times. Difficulties were great, but there was aspirit at the Hall that laughed at them. How the foremost men about theplace did work! Mr. R. O. Smith and Mr. Trevilion, senior, could a taleunfold. Whenever Freethinkers are at all dejected they should have achat with one of those gentleman. Perhaps it would make them ashamed oftheir dejection, and fill them with the spirit of the heroic days. 

Friends have told me with what energy Mr. Bradlaugh fought the battlesof the old Reform League. I _know_ with what energy he threw himselfinto the Republican agitation that followed the downfall of NapoleonIII. He tried to get to Paris but failed. Jules Favre and his friendsdid not want him. Favre himself was an eloquent historion, and no doubthe felt afraid of a man like Mr. Bradlaugh. But if Mr. Bradlaugh couldnot get to Paris he fought hard for France in London. Meetings at theHall of Science did not suffice. There was money from French sources andSt. James's Hall was taken for a big demonstration. 

The Positivists shared in the proceedings. Their chief man was Mr. Frederic Harrison. Mr. Bradlaugh and he were a tremendous contrast. Infact a London paper (I think the _Echo_) remarked that Mr. Bradlaughspoke as well as Mr. Harrison wrote, and Mr. Harrison spoke as badlyas Mr. Bradlaugh wrote. There was some truth in this, though like mostepigrams it was not all true. Mr. Bradlaugh was a born orator, but nota born writer. Yet he often wrote with a forthright power, naked andunadorned, which could dispense with the aid of literary artifices. During this English agitation on behalf of France, held firmly underGerman feet, Mr. Bradlaugh came into contact with a French countess, who, I believe, either supplied or was the channel of supplying thenecessary funds. As the lady is mentioned in Mr Headingley's _Life ofCharles Bradlaugh_, which was published with Mr. Bradlaugh's sanction, there is no reason why I should not refer to her. She came several timesto the Hall of Science, and I was introduced to her. She had been abeauty, and although time was beginning to tell on her, she retained agood deal of charm and distinction, which, like a true Frenchwoman, sheheightened by the art of dressing. Then as now, of course, foul tongueswagged in foolish heads, and Mr. Bradlaugh's enemies were not slowto point to the French countess with prurient grimaces. Unable tounderstand friendship between man and woman, owing to their Puritantraining or incurable rankness, they invited the orthodox in religionand politics to note this suspicious connection. Something of thismalicious folly must have reached Mr. Brad-laugh's ears, but I imaginehe was too proud and self-contained to let it disturb him. 

After the Birmingham meeting, and the founding of the Republican League, of which Mr. Bradlaugh became president, and I secretary, he visitedSpain on private business, taking with him a message from the Conferenceto Senor Castelar, the leading spirit of the short-lived SpanishRepublic. I remember writing out the message in a clear, bold hand, andaddressing the foolscap envelope in the same way. When Mr. Bradlaughfell among the Carlists he cursed my caligraphy. Happily, however, theofficer who scrutinised that envelope could not read at all, and Mr. Bradlaugh escaped the consequences of being known to carry about lettersaddressed to the devilish Castelar. 

During Mr. Bradlaugh's first visit to America I was a frequentcontributor to his journal, and I corresponded with him privately. Iwent down to Northampton and delivered a lecture at his request, underthe auspices of his electoral committee. The old theatre--a dirty, ramshackle place as I recollect it--was crowded, and I had my firsttaste of the popularity of Mr. Bradlaugh in the borough. Every mentionof his name excited the wildest enthusiasm. 

While Mr. Bradlaugh was lecturing in the States a general election tookplace in England. It was impossible for him to return in time, but hisfriends looked after his interests. A committee was formed at the Hallof Science to raise the necessary funds, and Mr. Charles Watts and Iwent down to Northampton to conduct the election. We addressed outdoormeetings in the day, and crowded indoor meetings at night. 

Again I saw what a hold Mr. Bradlaugh had on his Northampton followers. They sang "Bradlaugh for Northampton" in the Circus with all the fervorof Scotch Covenanters on their hillsides "rolling the psalm to wintryskies. "

Mr. Watts and I did not win the seat for Mr. Bradlaugh, nor did he winit himself at the next election, but we managed to increase his vote, and he expressed his pleasure at the result. 

Soon after the election Mr. Bradlaugh returned to England. Mr. Watts andI went down with him to Northampton. There was a crowded public meeting, I believe in the Circus; and I saw Mr. Bradlaugh, for the first time, in the presence of his future constituents. They were simply intoxicatedwith excitement. The shouts of "Bradlaugh" and "Charley" were deafening. Hats and handkerchiefs were waved in the air. The multitude rose toits feet and gave its hero a splendid welcome. Then we settled down tospeech-making, but all that followed was somewhat tame and flat afterthat first glorious outburst of popular devotion. 

The next election came quickly. It resulted in the return of a Torymajority for Benjamin Disraeli, and Mr. Gladstone went off to sulkin his tent. Two Tories were returned for Radical Northampton. Mr. Bradlaugh let them in. He was determined to have one of the Northamptonseats. To get it he had to make himself inevitable. He had to prove thatif Northampton wanted two Liberal members, one of them must be CharlesBradlaugh. It took him thirteen years to demonstrate this, but hesucceeded, as he succeeded in most things. At last, in 1880, he ran asofficial Liberal candidate with Mr. Labouchere, and both were returned. I assisted Mr. Bradlaugh during his second (1874) election. It was thenthat I first saw Mrs. Besant. She had not yet taken to the platform, but she was writing for the _National Reformer_, and her pen was activeduring the contest. Mr. Watts was also there. Another figure Iremember was Mr. George Odger, who labored among the Trade Unionistsof Northampton in Mr. Bradlaugh's interest. George Odger was one of theablest of all the working-class leaders I have ever met. He came from myown county, Devonshire, being born at Horrabridge, on the road betweenPlymouth and Tavistock. He was honest to the heart's core, as well asvery able, but he was incurably indolent. You never could be sure ofhim at a public meeting. He had to be looked up beforehand, or hemight forget the engagement and spend his time more agreeably. He waspassionately fond of the theatre, and could talk by the hour onfamous performances of old actors and actresses. During the daytime atNorthampton I had long chats with him. He objected to fine hotels, and he objected to walking; so I had to sit with him in the garden ofa semi-rural public-house, where our conversation was altogether outof proportion to our liquor. Odger liked beer; not much of it, butjust enough; it suited his palate and his purse; and as I drank next tonothing, the landlord must have thought us unprofitable customers. 

Mr. Bradlaugh had rooms at the George Hotel. It was the Tory house, buthe preferred it, and Mrs. Besant, Mr. Watts, and the rest of us, fed andslept there during the election. This gave rise to a good deal of sillytalk among Mr. Bradlaugh's enemies. . One evening we were returning froma Town Hall meeting, and the Tories had been holding a small meetingat the "George. " As we reached the foot of the stairs, we encountered aknot of Tories. One of them was Mr. Merewether, the Tory candidate. He was nearly of the same height as Mr. Bradlaugh, and well built. Hisfriends were holding him back, but he broke from them, exclaiming, "Hang it! I _will_ have a look at him. " He stood at the very foot of thestaircase and looked hard at Mr. Bradlaugh ascending. His expression wasone of good-tempered insolence. After a long look at Mr. Bradlaugh, he returned to his friends, shouting, "Well, I'm damned if he's asbad-looking as I thought. "

I left Northampton before the close of the poll, Mr. Bradlaugh wasleaving the same night for America, having barely time to catch the boatat Liverpool. I drove round with him before leaving, on a visit to someof the polling stations. He had paid me a modest sum for my services, but he found he had hardly enough to take him across the Atlantic, andhe asked me to lend him what money I had. I fished seven or nine poundsout of my pocket--I forget which--and handed it to him. It was paid backto me by his order a few weeks subsequently; and the incident wouldnot be worth mentioning if it did not throw a light on the libellousnonsense of Mr. Bradlaugh's enemies that he was rolling in wealth. 

While at Northampton with Mr. Bradlaugh, and on other occasions, Isaw something of his personal tastes and habits. He struck me as anabstemious man. He was far from a great eater, and I never noticedhim drink anything at dinner but claret, which is not an intoxicatingbeverage. On the whole, I should say, it is less injurious to thestomach and brain than tea or coffee. He was rather fond of a cup oftea seventeen years ago, and latterly his fondness for it developed intosomething like a passion. More than once I found him at St. John's Wooddrinking a big cup of pretty strong tea, and was seduced by his genialinvitation into joining him in that reckless indulgence. 

He used to smoke too in the old days, but he afterwards gave up thepractice for several years. About seven years ago, however, he resumedit. I do not think he ever attained to the dignity of a pipe. He smokedcigars. Some time in April, 1889, I spent an hour with him at theHouse of Commons. He got the Speaker's leave to take me into the lowersmoke-room, and we "discussed" a cigar and some claret while discussingsome Freethought business. The claret he seemed indifferent to, but hepuffed the cigar with an air of enjoyment. 

During the Northampton election times I used to take a good stiff dailywalk. All through my youth I had plenty of exercise in the open air, andI still grow desperately fusty without a brisk tramp at least oncein the twenty-four hours. Mr. Bradlaugh generally took a drive, and Iremember telling him with youthful audacity that he ought to walk forhis health's sake. Of course it was difficult for him to walk in thestreets. His stature and bulk made him too noticeable, and mobbing wasvery unpleasant. But he might have driven out of town and trudged a mileor two on the country roads. My opinion is that his neglect of physicalexercise helped to shorten his life. Occasional bouts of fishing werevery well in their way, but _daily_ exercise is the necessary thing. I do not forget the tremendous labor, physical as well as mental, oflecturing on burning questions to large audiences. All that, however, goes on in hot, crowded rooms, full of vitiated air; and it gives noproper exercise to the legs and loins or the lower vital organs. Afterone of my remonstrances Mr. Bradlaugh invited me to play a game ofbilliards. It was the only time I ever played with him. His style withthe cue was spacious and splendid; The balls went flying about theboard, and I chaffed him on his flukes. He had not the temperament of abilliard-player. Still, I have heard that he played a fair game at St. Stephen's; but I can hardly believe it without first-hand testimony. I am willing to believe, however, that he was a good chess-player. Certainly he had a head for it But chess is a vile game for abrain-worker, whose recreations should never involve a mental strain. 

When I first knew Mr. Bradlaugh he was living at Tottenham. I nevervisited him there, but I often called on him at his later lodgings inTurner-street, Commercial-road. He occupied the ground floor, consistingof two rooms. The back was his bedroom, and the front his library andworkshop. It was what the Americans call a one-horse affair. Shelves allround the room were filled with books. Mr. Bradlaugh sat at a desk withhis back to the fireplace. On his right was the door communicating withhis bedroom facing him the door opening on the passage, and on his right(? left) the street window. The room itself could hardly have been morethan twelve or thirteen feet square. I once told him he was too near thefireplace, and he said it was sometimes good to have the poker handy. Atthat I stared, and he told me the following story. 

One day a gentleman called on him and was invited to take a chair. Hesat down facing Mr. Bradlaugh, and explained that he wanted advice on avery particular matter. God Almighty had told him to kill someone, andhe had a difficulty in selecting a victim. Mr. Bradlaugh put his handbehind him and quietly grasped the poker. The inspired gentleman put theproblem as a knotty one, and begged the assistance of the cleverIconoclast. "Well, " said Mr. Bradlaugh, keeping quite cool, "what do yousay to the Archbishop of Canterbury?" "The very man!" exclaimed theinspired gentleman. He got Mr. Bradlaugh to give him the Archbishop'saddress, and said, "Good-day, " with a profusion of thanks. Mr. Bradlaughwent to the door to look for a policeman, but none was visible, and theinspired gentleman was soon out of sight. 

"So you see, " said Mr. Bradlaugh, "It's good to have the poker handy. Inever saw or heard of the man again, and I knew he couldn't get near theArchbishop. There are too many flunkeys in the way. "

Those were my struggling days, and Mr. Bradlaugh was very kind to me. Iremember the Sunday evening when I told him I thought of taking to theFreethought platform. He pointed out the hard and thorny path I shouldhave to tread, but when he saw I was resolved on the attempt, he put hishand on my shoulder and said, "There is no young man in the movement Iwould sooner welcome. "

In the very same room, on another Sunday evening a little later, Ifirst saw James Thomson. He came down to the Hall of Science with Mr. Bradlaugh, in whose employment he then was, and I gave him the article Ihad brought for the _National Reformer_. He shook hands very cordially, and I was delighted to meet one for whose poetry I had a profoundadmiration. 

It was also at the Hall of Science, about the same time, that I met theeccentric Mr. Turberville, brother to Mr. Blackmore, the novelist. Hewas a man of parts with a bee in his bonnet. He claimed kinship withTurberville, a minor poet of the sixteenth century, and he loved totalk of poetry. His knowledge of Shakespeare was profound and minute. He admired Mr. Bradlaugh's perorations immensely, as well as his bolddefence of Freethought. He made out a will in Mr. Bradlaugh's favor, but he subsequently made another will, and died in circumstances thatnecessitated an inquest. By agreement, however, Mr. Bradlaugh obtained£2, 500 from the estate, and the windfall came opportunely, for hisstruggles and litigations had involved him in considerable debt. Iknow he often had to borrow money on heavy interest. One day, atTurner-street, he told me that a creditor of this species had coollyinvited him to dinner. "Hang it, " he said, "you can't dine with a manwho charges you sixty per cent. "

Another recollection I have of Mr. Bradlaugh is in connexion with thefuneral of Mr. Austin Holyoake. The death of this gentleman was a greatloss to the Freethought cause. He was highly respected by all who knewhim. The geniality of his disposition was such that he had many friendsand not a single enemy. For some years he was Mr. Bradlaugh's printerand publisher, and a frequent contributor to his journal. He wasforemost in every good work, but he was one of those modest men whonever get the credit of their labors. He died at 17 Johnson's-court, Fleet-street, in an upstairs room above the printing office, where hisdevoted wife had for many weeks nursed his flickering life. The funeralwas a notable event. Those of us who could afford it rode in theundertaker's coaches, and the rest walked in procession to HighgateCemetery. I can still see Mr. Bradlaugh in my mind's eye, bustling abouton the ground floor, taking everything as usual on his own shoulders. Hesorted us in fours for the coaches, my _vis ą vis_ being James Thomson. At the graveside, after the reading of Austin Holyoake's own funeralservice by Mr. Charles Watts, Mr. Bradlaugh delivered a brief addresswhich he had written for the occasion. On the whole it was too much acomposition, but one sentence was true "Bradlaugh, " and it sounds in myears still:--"Twenty years of friendship lie buried in that grave. "

How such scenes are impressed on one's memory! As I write I see the setface of Charles Bradlaugh. I behold the sob-shaken back and bowedhead of Herbert Gilham just in front of me. I hear and feel the cool, rustling wind, like a plaintive requiem over the dead. 

Once again, years afterwards, I saw Mr. Bradlaugh in the same cemetery, supporting the helpless figure of Mrs. Ernestine Rose as she left theopen grave of the dear partner of her long life of labor for the causeof human redemption. 

Owing to circumstances, into which I need not enter, I saw little of Mr. Bradlaugh between 1875 and 1880. When he was returned for NorthamptonI rejoiced, and when he was committed to the Clock Tower I saw my dutysun-clear. It was to participate as I could, and might, in the struggle. My contributions to Mr. Bradlaugh's journal were resumed, and I spokeat meetings in his behalf. In May, 1881, I started the _Freethinker_, myoldest living child. Mr. Bradlaugh acted with his natural generosity. He advertised my bantling gratuitously in his own journal, and gave itevery possible facility. This was not known at the time, but I ought tostate it now. 

Throughout that long, terrible struggle with the House of Commons I waswith Mr. Bradlaugh on every point. If he made a single mistake Ihave yet to see it indicated. My article in the first number of the_Freethinker_ was entitled "Mr. Bradlaugh's Advisers. " Its object was toshow the absurdity of the plentiful advice offered him, and the absolutejustice of the course he was pursuing. 

Three weeks afterwards the bigots convened a ticket meeting at ExeterHall. The chief promoters were Earl Percy, Sir Bartle Frere, and butcherVarley. Mr. Bradlaugh was afraid the meeting would have a pre-judicialeffect on public opinion in the provinces. The fact of the _tickets_would be kept back, and the report would go forth that a vote wasunanimously passed against him at a big London demonstration. It wasnecessary, therefore, that the meeting should be _spoiled_. And it_was_. Mr. Bradlaugh gave me the task of moving an amendment. We hada chat in his library at St. John's Wood, and as we parted he said, "Irely on you, Foote. " He looked at me steadily, holding my eyes as thoughto read the depths. 

We got tickets somehow. But the Protestant Alliance smelt mischief, andMr. Bradlaugh's supporters had to fight their way in. Two hundred andfifty police were not enough to keep them all out. I was naturally amarked man, and fighting had to be supplemented by diplomacy. Whenthe noble Smithson (Earl Percy), had drivelled for a few minutes aschairman, and the resolution against Mr. Bradlaugh had been proposedand seconded by Sir John Kennaway and Canon Taylor, I rose to move anamendment. But the amendment was refused. The resolution was put, andthe Christians stood up and voted, while the organ played "God Save theQueen. " Then, at a signal, our people jumped on the forms, and rent theair with cheers for "Bradlaugh. " At another signal they all troopedout, went off to Trafalgar-square with the big crowd outside, and passedresolutions in Mr. Bradlaugh's favor. The bigots' meeting was completelyspoiled. They had to barricade the doors and keep out their own peopleas well as the enemy; the hall was never half full, and their resolutionwas passed after refusing an amendment, amidst loud execrations. Such alesson was taught the bigots that they never made another attempt. Mr. Bradlaugh had trusty lieutenants and stern supporters, and the bigotsknew he would spoil every _private_ meeting that professed to be_public_. He acted with wisdom and determination, and the result showedhe knew the stake he was playing for when he said, "I rely on you, " withthat steady Napoleonic look. 

*****

Mr. Bradlaugh's legal exploits, if properly recorded, would fill agood-sized volume. When his life is adequately written, as it will besome day, this department will have to be entrusted to a skilled lawyer. No other person could do anything like justice to a most important partof the career of one whom the Tories used to call "that litigious man, "when they were trying to ruin him in the law courts and he was onlydefending himself against their base attacks. 

Those who had only known Mr. Bradlaugh as a platform orator had somedifficulty in recognising him when they first met him in one of our"halls of justice. " His whole manner was changed. He was polite, insinuating, and deferential. His attitude towards the judges wasadmirably calculated to conciliate their favor. I do not mean that _he_calculated. He had quite a superstitious veneration for judges. It wasperfectly sincere and it never wavered. He would not hear a word againstthem. When he pleaded before them his personal sentiments ran in a linewith his best interests; for although judges are above most temptations, their vanity is often sensitive, and Mr. Bradlaugh's manner wasintensely flattering. 

Had he followed the legal profession, Mr. Bradlaugh would have easilymounted to the top and earned a tremendous income. I have heard some ofthe cleverest counsel of our time, but I never heard one to becompared with him in grasp, subtlety and agility. He could examine andcross-examine with consummate dexterity. In arguing points of law he hadthe tenacity of a bull-dog and the keenness of a sleuth-hound. He alwaysfortified himself with a plethora of "cases. " The table in front of himgroaned with a weight of law. Here as elsewhere he was "thorough. " Aneminent jurisprudist once remarked to me, "there is little gleaning tobe done after Bradlaugh. "

As a pleader before juries, however, I doubt whether he would haveachieved a great success. He was too much of a born orator. He beganwell, but he soon forgot the limited audience of twelve, and spoke toa wider circle. This is not the way to humor juries. They like tofeel their own importance, and he succeeds best who plays upon theirweakness. "Remember, " their looks say, "you are talking to _us_; theother gentlemen listen accidentally; _we_ make you or damn you. "

My first recollection of Mr. Bradlaugh in the law courts is twenty-twoyears old. How many survivors are there of the friends who filled thatdingy old court at Westminster where he argued before a full bench ofjudges in 1869? He was prosecuted for note giving sureties in the sum of£400 against the appearance of blasphemy or sedition in his paper. Thelaw was resuscitated in his single case to crush him; but he fought, ashe said he would, to the bitter end, and the Gladstone Government wasglad to repeal the obsolete enactments. The Crown retired from thesuit with a _stet processus_, and Mr. Bradlaugh was left with thelaurels--and his costs. 

I obtained an hour or two's leave from my employment, and heard aportion of Mr. Bradlaugh's argument It gave me a new conception of hispowers. That is the only impression I retain. The details have droppedout of my memory, but there remains as fresh as ever the masterfulfigure of Charles Bradlaugh. 

The best view I ever had of Mr. Bradlaugh in litigation was in the oldCourt 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 timeI sat beside him, and could watch _him_ closely as well as the case. Byraising the point whether the writ against him for penalties had beenissued before or after he gave his vote in the House, he-was able to putall the parties to the prosecution into-the witness-box and make themgive an account of themselves. Mr. Newdegate was one of the victims, andthe poor man made confessions that furnished Mr. Bradlaugh with groundfor a successful action against him under the law of Maintenance. Mr. Newdegate was a hard-mouthed witness, but he-was saddled, bridled, andridden to the winning-post. His lips opened literally, making hismouth like the slit of a pillar-box. Getting evidence from him was likeextracting a rotten cork from the neck of a bottle but it all came outbit by bit, and the poor man must have left the witness-box feelingthat he had delivered himself into the hands of that uncircumcisedPhilistine. His cross-examination lasted three hours. It was likeflaying 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 thebond of indemnity he had given the common informer Clarke againstall 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 verypicture of suppressed fire, of rampant energies held in leash: thenerves of the face playing like the ripple on water, the whole framequivering, and the eyes ablaze. It was wonderful how he managed to keephis intellect alert and his judgment steady. Six hours of such workas 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 didnot surprise me, on meeting him at the Cobden Workmen's Club the nextevening, to learn that he had been frightfully ill. "Mr. Bradlaugh, " Iwrote at the time, "is a wonderfully strong man, but the Tories and thebigots are doing their best to kill him, and if this sort of thing is tocontinue very much longer they may succeed. " Alas, they _did_ succeed. That terrible struggle killed him. No man ever lived who could havepassed through it unbroken. 

Mr. Bradlaugh was clearly right on the point raised, but the jury wentagainst him, apparently out of sheer prejudice. When he went out intoWestminster Hall he was loudly cheered by a crowd of sympathisers, who, as the _Times_ sneered, "applauded as lustily as though their championhad won. " Precisely so. Their applause would have greeted him in theworst defeat. He was not a champion on whom they had "put their money. "He represented their principles, and the _Times_ forgot, if it everknew, that men are devoted to leaders in proportion to the depth of theinterests they espouse. Conviction "bears it out even to the edge ofdoom. "

Now let me mention something that shows Mr. Bradlaugh's tact andconsideration. My work on the _Freethinker_ brought me no return. I hadjust read the proof of an article for Mr. Bradlaugh's paper. While wewere waiting for the jury's verdict he referred to the article, andguessing my need he said, "Shall I give you the guinea now?" My answerwas an expressive shrug and a motion of the eye-brows. 

Taking the two coins out of his pocket, he wrapt them in a piece ofpaper _under the table_, and presently slipped the packet into my hand. The whole proceeding touches me deeply as I recall it. He might wellhave thought only of himself in that time of suspense; but he thought ofme too, and the precautions he took against being seen to pay me moneywere expressive of his inbred delicacy. Reader do not say the incidentis trivial. These little things reveal the man. 

Little did I dream, as I watched Mr. Bradlaugh fighting bigotry in thelaw courts, that the time would come when he and I would be included ina common indictment and stand in a criminal dock together. But as theFrench 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 Tuesdayand take my trial on a charge of Blasphemy. Two other gentlemen wereincluded in the summons, and all three of us duly appeared. We were allmembers of the National Secular Society, and Mr. Bradlaugh attended torender any possible assistance. The case was adjourned to the followingMonday, by which time a summons had been served on Mr. Bradlaugh, who took his place beside us in the dock. After an animated day'sproceedings we were committed for trial at the Old Bailey. 

The object of this prosecution was, of course, to stab Mr. Bradlaugh inthe back. He had fought all the bigots face to face, and held them allat bay; so they put a stiletto into Sir Hardinge Giffard's hands, andpaid him his blood-money to attack the hero from behind. 

Mr. Bradlaugh had to play the fox again. He wanted to gain time, and hewanted to be tried, if at all, in the Court of Queen's Bench. He alwaystold me that being tried at the Old Bailey was going like a lamb tothe slaughter, and that a verdict of guilty there would certainly meantwelve months' imprisonment. The obvious resource, therefore, was toobtain a writ of _certiorari_ removing our indictment to the superiorcourt. Happily it was in the long vacation, and application had to bemade 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 thewrit had to be finally granted or refused. It was obtained on July 29, 1882. Poor Mr. Maloney, who represented the prosecution, was no matchfor Mr. Bradlaugh, who treated him like a child, and only let him say aword now and then as a special favor. 

Roaming the law courts with Mr. Bradlaugh, I was able to see hisintimate knowledge of legal practice. He threaded the labyrinth withconsummate ease and dexterity. We went from office to office, whereeverything seemed designed to baffle suitors conducting their own cases. Our case, too, was somewhat peculiar; obsolete technicalities, only halfintelligible even to experts, met us at every turn; and when we got outinto the open air I felt that the thing was indeed done, but that itwould puzzle omniscience to do it in exactly the same way again. Sevenpounds was spent on stamps, documents, and other items, and securitiesfor costs had to be given to the extent of six hundred pounds. As Iwalked home I pondered the great truth that England is a free country. Ihad seen with my own eyes that _there is_ one law for rich and poor. ButI could not help reflecting that only the rich could afford it, and thatthe poor might as well have no law at all. 

Mr. Bradlaugh next moved to quash the indictment. He argued that thepublic prosecutor's fiat was bad, as it did not name the persons whowere to be proceeded against, and thus resembled a general warrant, which in the famous Wilkes case the judges had held to be invalid. Onthis 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 thinkhe showed a greater knowledge of "cases" than both the legal luminarieson the bench, who laid their heads close together over many a knottypoint of the argument. 

Beaten on the main issue, Mr. Bradlaugh was successful, however, onthe subsidiary one. Two counts were struck out of the indictment. Theexcision made no difference to me, but a great deal of difference tohim. Two numbers of the _Freethinker_ were thus disposed of bearingthe imprint of the Freethought Publishing Company--under which name Mr. Bradlaugh and Mrs. Beasant traded--and owing to the lapse of time itwas 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 hemade light of this point, arguing it baldly as a formal matter on which, as their lordships would see at a glance, he was absolutely entitledto a judgment. They would see that he was still open to all the othercounts of the indictment, and therefore it might make very littledifference, but right was right and law was law. Under the spell ofhis persuasive speech, it was amazing to see the judges smoothing theirwrinkled fronts. I fancy they gave him his second point the more readilybecause they were against him on the first; indeed, they seemed to thinkit a pity, if not a shame, that all his learning and ability should bedisplayed for _nothing_. 

Our indictment went into the list of Crown Cases Reserved, and did notcome on for trial till the following April. Meanwhile I was prosecutedagain, and failing to get a writ of _certiorari_, owing to the flagrantbigotry of Baron Huddleston and Justice North, I was tried at the OldBailey, and sentenced to twelve months' imprisonment like a commonthief--as Mr. Bradlaugh had predicted. 

During my trouble Mr. Bradlaugh lent me every assistance, furnishingme with legal books and advice and visiting me in Newgate between thefirst and second trials, while Judge North's underlings were preparing amore pliant jury than the one which had declined to return a verdict ofguilty. 

In Holloway Gaol I lost sight of Mr. Bradlaugh and everyone else, exceptpersons 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 sameafternoon I was marched from my cell into one of the Governor's offices, where Mr. Bradlaugh was wailing. Compared with the pale prisoners I sawday by day, he looked the very picture of health. Fresh, clean-shaven, neatly dressed, he was a most refreshing sight to eyes accustomed torough faces and the brown convict's garb. And it was a friend too, and Icould take his hand and exchange human speech with him. How vivid ismy 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 moredecided about the temples, but the eyes full of light, and the mobilemouth 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 Ifollowed his corpse to the grave; and I know that the worm is busy aboutthose leonine features, and the rain trickles through with a scent offaded flowers. Yes, it is true; he _is_ dead. Dead like the king anddead like the clown; yet living truly beyond the dust of death inthe lives of others, an inextinguishable light, a vivifying fire, apassionate 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 drivenin a four-wheeler from Holloway Gaol to the Law Courts, in companywith Warder Smith, who superintended the wing of the prison in which agrateful country lodged and boarded me at its own expense. It was lovelyspring weather, and I felt like a man new-born. 

Inside the court where the great Blasphemy case was to be tried I foundMr. Bradlaugh with his usual load of law books. The court was crowdedwith friends of the defendants and legal gentlemen anxious to witnessthe performance. 

Mr. Bradlaugh applied for a separate trial, on the ground that as therewas no charge of conspiracy it was unjust to prejudice his case byevidence admitted against his co-defendants; and Lord Coleridge, whoobviously meant to see fair play, granted the application. 

Mr. Bradlaugh's position was, in one sense, the most perilous he hadever stood in. Just as his long litigation with respect to his seat inParliament was drawing to a close, and as he believed to a _successful_close, he had to defend himself against a charge which, if he wereproved guilty, would entail upon him the penalty of imprisonment. Ofcourse it would not have been such imprisonment as I was suffering, forQueen's Bench prisoners are generally sent to the civil side of HollowayGaol. But _any_ imprisonment at such a moment gravely imperilled hisprospects of success in the mighty struggle with wealth, bigotry, andpolitical prejudice. A sense of this fact weighed heavily upon him, butit did not impair his energy or intellectual alertness; indeed, he wasone of those rare men whose faculties are sharpened by danger. 

I need not dwell upon the evidence of the prosecution. It wasmost unsatisfactory, and failed to connect Mr. Bradlaugh with the_Freethinker_. Sir Hardinge Giffard, therefore, almost entirely confinedhimself 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 thejury was too boisterous. He _felt_ too much. His adversary was notunder this disadvantage, and Sir Hardinge Giffard's address to thejury, considered merely as a tactical display, was better than Mr. Bradlaugh's. 

On the second day of the trial (it lasted for three days) thereoccurred a curious episode. Just before the adjournment for luncheon Mr. Bradlaugh intimated that when the Court re-assembled he would call hisco-defendants as witnesses. Lord Coleridge replied in a low, suggestivetone, "Do you think it necessary?" Mr. Bradlaugh rose and for the firsttime I saw him tremble. "My lord, " he said, "you put upon me agrave responsibility. " "I put no responsibility upon you, " said LordColeridge, "it is for you to decide. " And the stately judge glided awayin his robes of office. 

If Mr. Bradlaugh put his co-defendants in the witness-box, one of twothings might happen. They might decline to give evidence, as everyanswer 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 wasmy general, and I was his lieutenant, and it was clearly my duty tosacrifice myself. I could release him from danger with half a dozenwords, and why should I hesitate to say them or he to exact them? Iwas already in prison, and another conviction could add little to mymisfortune, whereas he was still free, and his continued freedom wasjust then absolutely indispensable to our common cause. For my part, Ihad 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 frownedwhen Sir Hardinge Giffard complained that _he_ was deprived of anopportunity! Lord Coleridge did not say, but he _looked_--"Have you nosense of decency?" Sir Hardinge Giffard, however, was thick-skinned. Herelied on Mr. Bradlaugh's sense of honor, and made it the basis of anartificial 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 wasobliged to interrogate us, or look foolish after his braggadocio, andin doing so he ruined his own case by giving us the opportunity! ofdeclaring that Mr. Bradlaugh was never in any way connected with the_Freethinker_. 

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

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

My own trial followed Mr. Bradlaugh's, and I was not found guilty. Threemembers of the jury held out against a verdict that would have disgraceda free country; and as the prosecution despaired of obtaining a verdictwhile Lord Coleridge presided at the trial, the Attorney-General wasasked to allow the abandonment of proceedings. This he granted, the casewas 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 strugglebetween Charles Bradlaugh and the House of Commons. On May 10, 1881, theHouse passed a resolution authorising the Sergeant-at-Arms to preventMr. 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 newtrial failed, and Mr. Bradlaugh appealed to the country. Enthusiasticmeetings were held in his behalf, and he prepared a fresh _coup_. It hadto be something striking, and it was. On the morning of August 3 PalaceYard and Westminster Hall were thronged with his supporters. Every onewas armed with a petition, which he had a legal right to take to theHouse of Commons. Mr. Bradlaugh himself drove up in a hansom cab, andentered the precincts of the House by the private door. He made his wayto the door of the House itself and tried to enter by a sudden effort, but he was seized by fourteen officials and stalwart policemen, pickedfor the work, and thrust back through the private passage into PalaceYard. Not expecting such indignity, he contested every inch of theground. Inspector Denning said he never thought that one man couldhave offered such resistance. The small muscles of both his armswere ruptured, and a subsequent attack of erysipelas put his life injeopardy. 

When he was finally thrust on to the pavement in Palace Yard his coatwas torn and the rest of his garments were disarranged. His face waslivid with the intense exertion when I saw him a minute afterwards. There he stood, a great mass of panting, valiant manhood, his featuresset like granite, and his eyes fixed upon the doorway before him. Heseemed to see nothing but that doorway. I spoke to him, and he seemednot to hear. I believe a mighty struggle was going on within him, perhaps the greatest struggle of his life. He had suffered a frightfulindignity, he must have been tempted to avenge it, and he had but tohold up his hand to bring around and behind him the myriads who stoodoutside the railings. The action would have been impolitic, but what atemptation he crushed down, and what an effort it necessitated. Neverwas his heroic nature more sorely tried. He justified his mastery ofothers by his mastery of himself. How small in comparison seemed themob of his enemies! I never admired him more than at that moment. He wassuperb, sublime. They had wound their meshes about him, and the lion hadburst them. One swift, daring stroke had frustrated all their plans. Hewho was to be quietly suppressed by resolutions of the House had cutthe knot of their policy asunder, made himself the hero of the hour, andfixed the nation's eyes on his splendid audacity. 

Reaction set in after that terrible struggle, and he accepted a chairthat was brought him. Several members passed as he sat there. One ofthem 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 thather dress trailed over the hero's feet. It was a wretched display ofinsolence and cowardice. But the lady must be exonerated. She lookedannoyed, her cheeks reddened, and her eyelids fell. It is so hard fora woman to resist the attraction of courage, and the coward by her sidemust 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 wastremendous. 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 heexcited. 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 beingthe sole survivor. Mr. Adams, of Northampton, lived to see his oldfriend take his seat and do good work in the House of Commons, becamehimself Mayor of Northampton, and died universally respected by hisfellow-townsmen; William Sharman, a brave, true man, is buried atPreston; and Charles Bradlaugh sleeps his long sleep at Woking. 

For another twelve months I attended no public meetings except thesilent ones on the exercise ground of Holloway Gaol, But I saw Mr. Bradlaugh at several demonstrations on various subjects after myimprisonment, and I could perceive no abatement of his popularity. Hehad his enemies and detractors, but the spontaneous outburst of feelingat his death proved his hold on the popular heart. 

I must now leap forward to that dreadful illness which left him abroken man. Years before, in 1882, when we were roaming the Law Courtstogether, he tapped his chest as he coughed, and seeing my anxiousexpression he told me that he brought up a good deal of phlegm in themorning, and that strangers who heard him clearing his chest wouldfancy he was very ill. But he looked so well that I soon dismissed theunpleasant fact, though it returned before his breakdown when I sawhe was obliged to cancel engagements. I heard in 1884, though not fromhimself, that he had some heart trouble. But I was far from prepared forthe shattering illness that laid him low in October, 1889. 

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

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

Words and accents were alike solemn. The cold shadow of death seemed tolinger 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. Itreasure it with the sacred things of my life. I had seen and touchedthe naked sincerity of a great soul. 

When Mr. Bradlaugh returned from India I called on him, and found himgreatly improved by his voyage. I waited for him a few minutes in hislibrary, as he was at lunch, and the doctors attached great importanceto regularity in his meals. He came into the room with a most genialsmile. 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 goodlook at him, which satisfied and yet dissatisfied me. He was certainlybetter, but I could not help feeling that his constitution wasirrecoverably broken. Never again could I hope to see the grandBradlaugh of the old fighting days. His mind was as brave and alert asever, 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 kindnesshe had experienced on every side. His reception in India had exceededhis highest anticipations, and he was looking forward to work in theHouse of Commons on behalf of our great Dependency. 

Speaking of his financial prospects, he told me he had received offersof work from several magazine editors. But he added, "one doesn't knowhow long it will last; 'tis a precarious business. " His face clouded fora 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, butI 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 ifhe had been less scrupulous. There was nothing very dishonourable inaccepting 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 totake it, and when wealthy natives were calling on him, he always tookthe precaution to have an English friend in the room. 

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

He lived like the old Bradlaugh, and he went under. He took to theplatform again to earn a livelihood, and it killed him, as his doctorshad foreseen. I implored him at the time not to resume the lecturing. Hewas going to fulfil an old-standing engagement at Manchester in thevast St. James's Hall, and I begged him to cancel it. He replied that hecould 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 tobe bent by advice. 

On Sunday morning, February 16, 1890, Mr. Bradlaugh resigned hispresidency of the National Secular Society, which he had held for somany years. The Hall of Science was packed with members, chiefly fromthe 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 foughtaround him for thirty years, and the farewell was a mutilation of theirvery lives. Tears were streaming down strong faces; and they courseddown the strongest face of all, the face of Charles Bradlaugh, andplashed on the table before him. For a while he let them fall, and thenhe 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 timehe rose and failed. But the third time his strong will prevailed, and hebegan 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 swayedthe meeting for a full half-hour, as easily and universally as the windbillows a cornfield. 

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

Resigning the Presidency did not mean retirement from the NationalSecular Society. At his own suggestion Mr. Bradlaugh was elected alife-member. He was thus a member of the Society up to the last momentof his life. Nor was he an inactive one. I frequently had occasion toconsult him, and one of his last bits of work was the drawing up of along document for the Society on Secular Burials. 

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

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 behalfof the Forder Testimonial Fund. I believe that was the last lecture hedelivered there, if not the last lecture he delivered anywhere. He dealtwith the Evidences of Christianity, in reference to Archdeacon Watkins'lectures on the Fourth Gospel, and assuredly he was as firmly scepticalas ever. At the close of the lecture he spoke of his theologicalposition, and declared that he could not conceive of any such change ofmind as glib gossipers were asserting of him. 

The weather was extremely foggy, and Mr. Bradlaugh was ill. He oughtnot to have been there at all. After struggling painfully through thelecture, he sat down and waited for discussion. A Christian opponentrose, and Mr. Bradlaugh replied; but, being in the chair, I would notallow a second speech, and I was glad to see him well wrapt-up, and oncemore in the care of his devoted daughter. 

*****

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

I have already referred to Mr. Bradlaugh's extraordinary knowledgeof the law. This was strikingly illustrated after the so-calledTrafalgar-square riots. The Tories made a wanton aggression on the rightof public meeting in London, and found a ready instrument of tyrannyin Sir Charles Warren. No doubt there is much to be said againstpromiscuous meetings in Trafalgar-square at all hours of the day andnight, but it was a high-handed act of brutality to prohibit _all_meetings directly it was known that the London Radicals were conveninga Sunday demonstration on the Irish question. While the Radicals werechafing under this insult they held several stormy meetings to discusstheir best policy, and at last a Committee was appointed to find out, ifpossible, the legal rights, of the people and the Crown. I was a memberof that committee, and I am able to state that although we waited onseveral eminent lawyers, it was only from Mr. Bradlaugh that we obtainedany 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 Crownproperty, its control was vested in the Commissioner of Works, and atany moment it could be absolutely closed to the British public. 

This had escaped the other lawyers, who did not find it in the Statutesat Large, from which the Trafalgar-square Act, probably as being aprivate one, had been excluded. Nor was it known to the Government whenSir Charles Warren issued his first proclamation, As Chief Commissionerof Police he had no authority-over the Square, and until he obtainedthe order of its proper guardians, which he did a week later, hisproclamation was only a piece of waste paper, Mr. Bradlaugh saw this, though he said nothing, when the demonstration committee called upon hima few days before Bloody Sunday. He told them that he had anengagement in the provinces on that day, but if they would postpone thedemonstration until the following Sunday he would himself lead it toTrafalgar-square. His offer was not accepted, however; for the committeeresented the condition he stipulated, namely, that he should haveabsolute control of the arrangements. They thought he was taking toomuch upon himself. They did not reflect that if he who takes powerwithout responsibility is a despot, he who takes responsibility withoutpower 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 hisway. But it is due to his memory that it should be put on record, sothat posterity may know the extent of his generous courage. 

There can be no doubt, I think, that Mr. Bradlaugh was less popular withthe working-classes in London after he took peaceable possession of hisseat in Parliament. The London masses love a fighter, and while he wasbattling for his seat he was, in my opinion, the most popular figure inthe metropolis. The Radical workmen never tired of his demonstrations. He could bring fifty or a hundred thousand of them together at a fewdays' notice. And the other speakers were, for the most part, onlypadding 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 whenhe had done they dispersed. And on such occasions he was magnificent. Noone can conceive the power of the man who never saw him at one ofthese demonstrations. He stood like a Pharos, and the light of his facekindled the crests of the living waves around him. 

But he was out of sympathy with the Socialist movement, which began tospread just as he took his seat; and being assiduous in Parliament, he was drawn more and more from "the Clubs, " where his libellersand detractors wagged their tongues to some purpose. His strongindividualism, as well as his practical good sense, made him bitterlyhostile to the mildest proposals for putting the people's industrialinterests into the hands of Government departments. And being a man ofmost positive quality, it was natural that he should excite the hatredof the more fanatical Socialists; a sentiment which, I cannot helpthinking, he exasperated by his apparent denial of the generosity oftheir aims. There are men in the Socialist camp (and I say it withoutbeing a Socialist) who are neither "poets" nor "fools"--though it isno disgrace to be the former; men who have studied with severityand sincerity, who have made sacrifices for conviction, and who weresometimes hurt by his antipathy. But, on the other hand, he was bitterlygoaded by Socialist adversaries, who denied his honesty, and held him upto undeserved scorn as the hireling of "the classes"--a charge which themore sensitive among them must now repent, for his death has revealedhis poverty. 

Mr. Bradlaugh was naturally irritable, but the irritability was only onthe surface. The waves were easily raised, but there was plenty of quietsea beneath. Though giants are often phlegmatic, his big frame embeddedhighly-strung nerves. When he was put out he could storm, and he wasmisunderstood by those who took the mood for the man. Had they seen himin the melting mood they would have learnt that Charles Bradlaugh was amore composite personality than they imagined. 

During the last year or two of his life he underwent a wonderfulsoftening. A beautiful Indian-summer light rested upon him. He was likea granite rock, which the sweet grass has overgrown, and from whosecrevices peep lovely wild flowers. 

*****

As President of the National Secular Society he did a great work. I donot think he had a pronounced faculty for organisation. But he was afirm, sagacious leader, with the personal magnetism to attract devotion. That he was never overbearing I will not affirm. But it is easy toorganise sheep. One good dog will do it. Mr. Bradlaugh had to holdtogether a different species, with leaping legs, butting horns, and aless gregarious tendency. 

He was a splendid chairman to push through a mass of business, but heshone less on ordinary occasions. An ideal chairman, when not promotinghis own schemes, should be like a midwife; he should aim at a quickdelivery and a safe birth. Mr. Bradlaugh did not always observe thisrule. But every man has the defects of his qualities, and even the sunmust be taken with its spots. 

Mr. Bradlaugh's speeches at the annual Conferences of the NationalSecular Society are better reading than his political speeches. Beingless 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 metaphorsflashed like jewels in the sword of his orations. It was a signal proofof his power, that after a whole day's exhausting work, both to himselfand his audience, he never failed to rouse the wildest enthusiasm. 

Now that Mr. Bradlaugh is dead I do not hesitate to repeat what I saidduring his lifetime, that his Freethought work was the most fecund andimportant. Even his great battle against the House of Commons wasfor religious freedom against bigotry, and his one great legislativeachievement was the Act dealing with Oaths and Affirmation. Hisstaunchest political supporters were his Freethought followers. Hislectures, his personal influence, and his reputation, leavened thepublic mind more than his orthodox enemies suspected, and he createda vast quantity of raw material to be utilised by his successors inSecular organisation. 

*****

In the foregoing pages I have attempted no complete sketch of CharlesBradlaugh. I have written, not a monograph, but a number of roughjottings. Yet I hope I have conveyed an impression of the man, in somedegree faithful, to those who may have been imperfectly acquainted withhim; 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 ofCharles Bradlaugh is his _heroism_. His was cast in a great mould ofmind and character, as well as body. Like every hero the world has everseen, he had his defects and failings, for it is given to no man to beperfect. But positive excellence, with all its drawbacks, is far abovenegative 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, anddare, and do. The beaten path of mediocrity had no attraction for thatpotent spirit. He belonged to the heroic type which seeks perilous waysand 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 wasone of the select few, not of those who enrich the world with greatdiscoveries, or new principles, or subtle perceptions of beauty--butthose who appeal to the heroism of man's nature, without which he isat best but a splendid beast, and who minister to that sense of dignitywhich 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!"