Charles Bradlaugh: a Record of His Life and Work, Volume 1 (of 2)

A fortnight later Mr Bradlaugh was due in Glasgow, and on his way to Scotland made a little halt at Newcastle. For some weeks past a clergyman, the Rev. David King, sufficiently well known in certain circles, had been playing the braggart in the north of England. All, and nothing short of all, the "Infidels" were afraid of him; none dare meet him in debate – if he had modestly stopped at that, there would have been little harm done, but to his boasts he added gross slanders of Freethinkers, both living and dead, individually and in the mass. My father went up north at the right moment, for on Saturday, 27th October, this Mr D. King was announced to lecture at Bedlington on Secularists and their perversions; the Newcastle Freethinkers, who were highly indignant, asked Mr Bradlaugh to break his journey to Scotland in order to come and give the reverend slanderer a lesson, and this he agreed to do. "The news of Iconoclast's coming had spread like wildfire," said Elijah Copeland in a report he wrote at the time;97 and since then I have heard from a Northumberland friend how swiftly the tidings spread from man to man, and from village to village, that Iconoclast was coming to teach David King a little truth and modesty. The excitement was so great that the Lecture Hall at Bedlington was hardly opened before it was full – but the hour came, and no Iconoclast. David King commenced his address – full as usual of boasts of himself and insults to Secularists. Time sped on lightning wings; every moment intensified the anxiety, every movement, every outside sound increased the excitement. To many Mr Bradlaugh was known only by fame, and if a fresh person came into the hall the question, "Is that he?" was eagerly whispered round the room, only to be answered by those better informed with a reluctant shake of the head. A little man sitting on the platform attracted some attention. "Could that be the redoubtable Iconoclast?" asked some of the anxious ones; no one seemed to know the stranger, and at last the feeling grew so intense that some one put the question directly to the unknown man on the platform, and without surprise he received the obvious answer. The lecture was nearing its close, and as all danger of the threatened opposition seemed passing away the lecturer's language grew more and more unrestrained. When, hark! what was that? A noise outside of many feet, a loud determined knock, the door thrown open impetuously, letting in a flood of fresh cold air, and with it the almost-despaired of Iconoclast, who was greeted with deafening cheers. When the real man came, no one had any doubt as to his identity – he was recognised at once by all. David King's tone changed directly, and when the time for discussion came Mr Bradlaugh gave the lesson he had come to teach, to the unbounded delight and satisfaction of all the Freethinkers present. After the discussion came the return drive of twelve or fourteen miles in the cold and the rain to Newcastle, which was reached at two in the morning. While my father snatched a couple of hours' sleep, some of his friends sat and watched in order to rouse him for the Scotch express, which passed through Newcastle about five o'clock. Arrived at Edinburgh, my father found he had twenty minutes to wait, so he thought he would get some breakfast, but "alas!" said he, "it was Sunday morning, and starvation takes precedence of damnation in the unco guid city. Instead of drinking hot coffee, I had to shiver in the cold, admiring the backs of the tumble-down-looking houses in the high "toon" for want of better occupation. I arrived in Glasgow just one hour before the time fixed for the morning lecture – dirty, weary, hungry, thirsty, and sleepy."98

After the evening lecture Mr Bradlaugh had to hurry from the platform of the Eclectic Hall to catch the train which steamed out of Glasgow at twenty minutes to nine, so that he might be in time for Monday morning's business in the city, having spent two nights out of bed, travelled about 900 miles, and spoken at Bedlington and three times in Glasgow in less than forty-eight hours.

Four weeks from the day of his Glasgow lectures,99 my father was arrested at Huddersfield. Two accounts of this were given in the National Reformer, one from the pen of Mr Bradlaugh, and one from that of a gentleman who was with him the greater part of the time. It was a case of "the Devonport blunder" being repeated by "the Religious Party of Huddersfield."

The Philosophical Hall, which for some little time previously had been used as a theatre, had been duly taken for "three lectures by Iconoclast;" there was a written agreement, the deposit paid, and a harmonium taken by the Huddersfield Freethought Society into the Hall. Placards announcing the subjects of the lectures ("Temperance," "Reform," and "The Twelve Apostles ") and the name of the lecturer were posted more than a fortnight beforehand throughout the town and upon the hall itself. On Saturday, at the eleventh hour, the proprietor, Mr Morton Price, secretly urged by persons too cowardly to appear themselves – at least, so it was rumoured – resolved that the lectures should not take place, and on Sunday morning Mr Bradlaugh "found the doors of the building locked and barred, and the police authorities on the alert. I tried," he tells us, "to gain admittance, but the wooden barriers were far stronger than my shoulders, and after bruising myself more than the doors, and waiting in the rain for about forty minutes, while some sort of iron bar was vainly searched for, I returned very disconsolate to my lodgings. Several members of the Huddersfield Society begged me to lecture in Senior's schoolroom, but I positively refused; there were friends in from the country for miles round who could not be contained in so small a meeting-place. The Yorkshire energy was roused, and a dozen volunteers started to open the door; I followed, and came in time to twist a crowbar into curious shapes, and be arrested by the police and lodged in the station. At first I was ordered into a cell; my money, watch and chain, keys, toothpick, and other dangerous weapons being taken from me. As, however, since Devonport, where the lock-up was damp, I object to cells on principle, I gently argued the matter, and ultimately the presiding authority announced that I should be let out if I could get a magistrate to become bail. This was not very probable, and looked like being locked up for two whole days, but two good friends not only started to arrange with some local magistrate about bail, but actually succeeded. During the time they were absent I had, however, effected my own release from custody without any bail at all… When the charge was entered by Superintendent Hannan, who, I am bound to say, behaved in a most gentleman-like and courteous manner, I again discussed the matter, and ultimately the stage-manager said he would find bail if I would agree not to lecture. This I indignantly refused. I came to lecture, and I meant to lecture; and after many pour parlers, I walked out of custody without any other condition than my word of honour to appear before the magistrates to answer the charge on the following Tuesday. The news spread like wildfire, and I had an enormous audience, crowding the theatre from floor to ceiling, the chiefs of the police honouring us with their presence."

People had come from far and near to hear him lecture – from Dewsbury, Bradford, Leeds, Halifax, Manchester, and elsewhere, and great was the dismay when it was found that the Hall doors were closed against them. When it was known that he would not lecture in the schoolroom, and he had determined to make an effort to force the doors, volunteers for the work immediately stepped forward; they begged him "to keep out of action" until the doors were down; but to look on whilst others got into trouble never came easy to my father. So he took a crowbar and helped with the rest, and the twisted iron was preserved in triumph by some Huddersfield friends until a few years ago. They attacked the pit and gallery door in Bull and Mouth Street, and their united exertions soon threw it open to the crowd impatiently waiting to enter. The Police Office was next door to the Philosophical Hall, so the police were able to watch the proceedings with little trouble to themselves. When they arrested Mr Bradlaugh, so great was the indignation of the crowd that they even threatened to rescue him by main force, and guards of police were hastily put at all weak places. It was, however, Mr Bradlaugh himself who relieved the fears of his captors. He sent a message to his friends, asking them to leave peacefully and without disorder, assuring them that he would be all right. In compliance with his request the people who thronged the hall quietly dispersed, only one person remaining behind to keep possession of the theatre. Messrs Armitage and Mitchell rushed off in a cab to find a magistrate liberal enough to become bail for the imprisoned Atheist, and during their absence – on what seemed an impossible errand – Mr Bradlaugh sent word from the police station to the committee that he would lecture at half-past six. This message was received with the wildest enthusiasm, but since Mr Bradlaugh was still in the hands of the police and it was then four o'clock, it seemed, on reflection, highly improbable. But the first messenger was rapidly followed by a second, bringing word that "Iconoclast" was free once more. On his appearance on the platform of the Philosophical Hall at the appointed time the enthusiasm and excitement were unbounded, and his lecture on "Reform" was said to have been "one of the most splendid and eloquent he had yet delivered."

On the following Tuesday Mr Bradlaugh had to appear before the Huddersfield magistrates. Though there were five upon the Bench – only two, G. Armitage, Esq., and S.W. Haigh, Esq. – heard the case. Naturally enough, the Court was densely crowded, and many were unable to obtain admission. Mr Nehemiah Learoyd prosecuted. This attorney was defined as "a gentleman according to Act of Parliament," though it does not appear that he had any other claim to the title. In the case against Mr Bradlaugh he conducted himself with such effrontery and coarseness as to make it more than ever evident that Acts of Parliament have their limitations. My father was charged with doing damage to the door of the Huddersfield Theatre to the amount of twenty-four shillings: after this charge was read another charge of committing a breach of the peace was brought forward. Mr Bradlaugh suggested that each charge should be gone into separately: Mr Learoyd would have them taken together, and the magistrates decided in his favour. The case for the prosecution was opened and witnesses called. Mr Bradlaugh raised an objection to the jurisdiction of the Court, and after some argument and some further examination of witnesses, the magistrates retired to consider the point. After an interval of ten minutes they returned, having decided in Mr Bradlaugh's favour that they had no jurisdiction. Mr Learoyd then, with unblushing effrontery, wished to proceed with the second charge – the breach of the peace; but he had elected at the outset to take both charges together, and by that he was compelled to abide. The decision of the magistrates was greeted with instant applause, which was of course rebuked by the Court. The case was reported at length by the Huddersfield Examiner and the Huddersfield Chronicle, and gained for Mr Bradlaugh many friends in Huddersfield and the surrounding districts. And thus for once was bigotry frustrated.

On the following Sunday Mr Bradlaugh was lecturing at Newcastle, and many people, women as well as men, came in distances of fifteen and twenty miles to hear him. One man told how he had come thirty-eight miles "to get a grip" of my father's hand. Two days after this he was at Northampton, where he found himself becoming quite "respectable," and, "to the horror of the saints and my own surprise," he said, he was permitted the use of the Mechanics' Institute for his discourses. A week or so later he was lecturing in the great Free Trade Hall, Manchester, on behalf of the widow and family of his late colleague, John Watts. He gave himself no rest in body or mind, nor did he seem to relax the strain for a moment. The old year closed, and 1867 opened with a course of lectures at the City Road Hall, at one of which, by the by, it is interesting to note that Mr Bradlaugh defended Mr Gladstone from an attack made upon his sincerity of purpose, "believing him to be the most able and honest statesman whom the people have on their side."

Notwithstanding all his lecturing, the great quantity of literary work he was then engaged upon, the Reform Demonstrations, and harassing private business, Mr Bradlaugh yet found time in the spring of 1867 to engage in a six nights' debate with the Rev. J. M'Cann, M.A., curate of St Paul's, Huddersfield. The discussion was arranged to take place in the theatre, or Philosophical Hall, which had been forcibly closed against the Freethinkers only a few months before. The preliminaries to the debate were a little ominous: in the first place Mr Bradlaugh was obliged to agree to the terms dictated by his religious antagonist (or his committee), otherwise there would have been no discussion; and above and beyond this the Rev. Mr M'Cann "refused to debate if the name Iconoclast be used, and therefore it will be Charles Bradlaugh who answers for the shortcomings of Iconoclast, despite the injury in business caused by the wide publicity recently given to the name and thus repeated."100

The debate arose out of some "Anti-Secularist lectures" which Mr M'Cann had been delivering in Huddersfield, presumably inspired thereto by the sensation caused by the theatre episode of the previous November. The subjects of these lectures were to be discussed for six nights, three hours each night, Mr Bradlaugh attacking and Mr M'Cann defending. Mr M'Cann, who was an Irishman, and who from the active part he was taking in the Literary and Scientific Society and other institutions of the town, was regarded as a "rising young man," rather disappointed many of the Freethinkers after the first two nights' discussion. Immovably confident in the ability of their own representative, they were anxious to see him meet someone worthy of his steel. Mr Bradlaugh's opinion, expressed at the conclusion of the six nights, was that Mr M'Cann was a fluent, ready speaker, honest and earnest, although no great debater.101

The year 1868 was a terribly busy one: the Irish question (of which I will speak later), the first Government prosecution of the National Reformer, and his first Parliamentary candidature for Northampton, kept my father constantly hard at work. During the year he lectured frequently in London, besides visiting Grimsby, Bedlington, Newcastle, Hull, West Bromwich, Birmingham, Kettering, Northampton, Huddersfield, Bradford, Sheffield, Ashton, Manchester, Bury, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Keighley, Sunderland, Plymouth, and other towns.

At Huddersfield he was always welcomed with the utmost enthusiasm, although some of the inhabitants still seemed determined to resist his visits. As the theatre was too small to accommodate all his auditors, the Huddersfield Committee took the circus for some addresses which he had arranged to deliver in the town in March. The Improvement Commissioners, however, eager to imitate the conduct of Mr Morton Price of a year and a half before, drew back from their agreement to let. Then a curious thing happened. When he was aware of the behaviour of the Commissioners, Mr Morton Price himself offered the Huddersfield Freethinkers the use of the theatre; and not only did he let it to them, but he gave a special advertisement of the meetings. The advertisement was so peculiarly and significantly worded that I reproduce it:

"Theatre Royal, Huddersfield.

"Mr Morton Price begs to inform the nobility, gentry, and general public of Huddersfield that, finding his efforts to preserve his theatre from Atheism and Profanity so appreciative and remunerative, he has let the said theatre for a series of lectures by Mr Bradlaugh, the 'Iconoclast,' on Sunday next, March 15th, 1868."

In connection with the Manchester lectures also an amusing incident took place. It may be remembered that a man named William Murphy was about this time lecturing in different parts of England on behalf of the Protestant Church in Ireland, and his conduct had been so strange, and his language so inflammatory, that in the north he had been the cause of some very serious "No Popery" riots. In Manchester he was arrested, and his lectures practically prohibited. My father going to Manchester just after this prohibition, it occurred to certain good Christians that this might perhaps be turned to account against him. Consequently, when he arrived in Manchester on the Saturday night (September 5th) prior to his Sunday lectures, he found all kinds of rumours in circulation, friends even telling him that there were warrants out for his arrest. This was much exaggerated, and what really had happened was this: On the Friday, at the City Police Court, before the stipendiary magistrate, Mr Fowler, an application had been made by Mr Bennett, solicitor, for proceedings to be taken against Mr Charles Bradlaugh, then announced to deliver a series of lectures in the Free Trade Hall on Sunday. "The sworn information of a respectable householder, living in Boundary Street, Chorlton-on-Medlock," was forthcoming that the lectures could not take place "without giving rise to a breach of the peace." There was no contention that any overt acts of violence had ever been committed on account of these lectures; nevertheless, "the respectable householder" – whose name was afterwards stated to be Smith – thought they ought to be prohibited, "as in the case of Mr Murphy." Mr Fowler argued the cases were very different, and suggested that Mr Bennett should look up his law, and then, if he thought his position satisfactory, he could attend on the following morning with his witnesses. So much, indeed, Mr Bradlaugh had gathered from the London papers read on his journey northwards. Arrived at his journey's end, he was still in suspense as to what had happened that day, and the friends who met the train could not set his anxieties at rest. However, from an evening paper he learned that Mr Bennett had not found any further support in law for his application, which the magistrate told him must consequently fail. He said further:

"You say this case is similar to that of William Murphy, whose case was heard in this Court on Tuesday last. But it appears to me very different. We must be very careful indeed as magistrates not to interfere in any way with the freedom of discussion, and in no way by the decision of Tuesday, as far as I can see, have we done so. In the case before us on Tuesday it was proved on oath that William Murphy was about to deliver a series of lectures, which he had already given in other towns, where, from his own conduct, and the threatening attitude he assumed by producing a revolver, and other acts, very serious riots had arisen, followed by great destruction of property and even danger to life; and from what was proved before us as to what had already taken place in this city since the announcement of these lectures, it appeared there was every probability of the same thing occurring here. To prevent this – exercising the power which as magistrates, in my opinion, we undoubtedly have – we called upon the defendant, William Murphy, to enter upon his recognisances for his good behaviour; you mark the words, 'good behaviour,' Mr Bennett. That, of course, includes keeping the peace; and under similar circumstances to those proved before us, we should certainly do the same whether the defendant was Roman Catholic, Protestant, or of any other denomination. Now, I think you have entirely failed to show in the application you made yesterday that any such result has ensued, or is likely to ensue, from the lectures about to be given by the person against whom you apply. Therefore the application is refused."

The upshot of this application at the Police Court was a wide advertisement of the lectures, an intense excitement, and anxiety to hear the lecturer. The Saturday Review, true to the feelings of bitter animosity which it cherished against Mr Bradlaugh, thought that

"it might perhaps be plausibly argued that the same reasons which weighed with them [the magistrates] when they refused to restrain Mr Iconoclast Bradlaugh from attacking and insulting all religions, might also have influenced them when they were asked to restrain Murphy from insulting one form of the Christian faith."

The Saturday Review elsewhere spoke of Manchester as having been "the theatre of riots" in consequence of Murphy's behaviour and of the "savage brutality" exhibited. No sort of disturbance could be alleged as resulting from Mr Bradlaugh's lectures, but anything was "plausible" to the Saturday Review as against him.

Of course this rushing about from, city to city, and several hours' speaking in crowded halls sandwiched in between the long railway journeys, meant a great physical strain.

In February my father tells how he had travelled on the previous Saturday in a tremendous storm to Morpeth for Bedlington, arriving at Morpeth (five or six miles from Bedlington) at the very hour at which he ought to have been on the platform. "A rapid wash while horses were being got ready; no time for tea, and off we sped to our destination, where we found the little hall crowded with an eager and appreciative audience, some of whom had walked many miles to be present." A midnight return drive with storm most furiously raging, and then to Newcastle, where three lectures were delivered on the Sunday. "In forty-eight hours I travelled nearly 630 miles, delivered four lectures, and came back to that daily toil for that life-subsistence which is so hard to win. I need hardly add that the mere travelling expenses on such a journey swallow up all profit derivable from the lectures." The Glasgow and Edinburgh lectures in the beginning of August meant "one thousand miles and four lectures in two days and three nights, and back to business by ten on Monday." At the end of August another visit to Newcastle meant "another six hundred miles and three lectures in one day and a half and two nights, following upon no less than three open-air addresses at Northampton."

In the following year my father continued to do a great deal of public speaking. His home troubles were growing greater, and his business life in the city was daily becoming more difficult, but this seemed only to make him toil the harder in that cause of religious and political progress which lay so near his heart. At the new Hall of Science, 142 Old Street, which had just been leased in the interests of the Freethought party, Mr Bradlaugh delivered in the year upwards of forty lectures, for none of which he received a single penny, devoting the whole of the proceeds towards paying the debt upon the building. He did not allow any one month to pass without giving one or more Sundays to the New Hall. He lectured several times also at the hall in Cleveland Street; and in the latter part of the year, for the most part, he visited thirty or more provincial towns, at many of which he gave three discourses on the Sunday. In 1869 also Mr Bradlaugh took part in an examination into alleged spiritualistic phenomena held by the London Dialectical Society, but without any satisfactory results. Undoubtedly the chief event of the year for him was his final defeat of the Government in their prosecution of the National Reformer, and through this the repeal of the odious Security laws. He was involved in another law-suit, which, as we shall see later, led to the amending of the laws relating to evidence.

Matters went rather more smoothly with my father's provincial lecturing this year; no town seemed to be sufficiently encouraged by the course of affairs in Devonport and Huddersfield to follow their example very closely. But still he met with some rebuff. For instance, when he was at Blyth on April 3rd, the innkeepers there were all so pious that none would give him food or shelter. April 3rd was a Saturday, not a Sunday, so there was not even the lame excuse of keeping the Sabbath Day holy by refusing to harbour an Atheist. The people of Blyth who undertook to provide for the creature comforts of the inhabitants and visitors must have been bigoted to the last degree, for in the week before Mr Bradlaugh's visit, a coffee-house keeper had refused to supply with tea some persons who were rash enough to admit that they had attended Mrs Law's lectures. Happily, such churlish bigotry was by no means universal, for the Blyth Lecture Hall was so crowded when Mr Bradlaugh arrived that he had to gain admittance through a back window. He afterwards related how "one hearty fellow and two or three Unitarians volunteered to give me a night's shelter, but I was unaware of this until I had made my arrangements for a midnight walk in the dark to Bedlington under escort of half a dozen stalwart fellows." This is the occasion to which Mr Thomas Burt referred in his article in the Primitive Methodist Quarterly Review for July 1891. Mr Burt there says that all the ordinary halls and schoolrooms were refused to Mr Bradlaugh, but that a gentleman, Mr Richard Fynes, who had recently purchased a chapel, and was a true lover of free speech, granted the use of his building to the Bedlington Secular Society. Mr Burt, who had gone from curiosity to hear Mr Bradlaugh, at the close of the meeting asked him and some friends home to supper. His people were rather horror-stricken, but, with true courtesy, allowed nothing of it to appear to their guest, and the supper passed off quite smoothly, Mr Bradlaugh making himself very agreeable. It is rather curious that Mr Burt had no idea how àpropos his hospitality was. It was not until after he had given his invitation that he learned that in all Blyth there was no place of refreshment that would open its doors to the Atheist.