SOCIALISM.
The rest of 1883 passed in the usual way of hard work; the Affirmation
Bill was rejected, and the agitation for Constitutional right grew
steadily; the Liberal Press was won over, and Mr. Bradlaugh was
beginning to earn golden opinions on all sides for his courage, his
tenacity, and his self-control. A successful International Congress at
Amsterdam took some of us over to the Northern Venice, where a most
successful gathering was held. To me, personally, the year has a
special interest, as being the one in which my attention was called,
though only partially, to the Socialist movement. I had heard Louise
Michelle lecture in the early spring; a brief controversy in the
_National Reformer_ had interested me, but I had not yet concerned
myself with the economic basis of Socialism; I had realised that the
land should be public property, but had not gone into the deeper
economic causes of poverty, though the question was pressing with
ever-increasing force on heart and brain. Of Socialist teaching I knew
nothing, having studied only the older English Economists in my
younger days. In 1884 a more definite call to consider 299 these
teachings was to come, and I may perhaps open the record of 1884 with
the words of greeting spoken by me to our readers in the first number
of the _Reformer_ for that year: "What tests 1884 may have for our
courage, what strains on our endurance, what trials of our loyalty,
none can tell. But this we know--that every test of courage
successfully met, every strain of endurance steadily borne, every
trial of loyalty nobly surmounted, leaves courage braver, endurance
stronger, loyalty truer, than each was before. And therefore, for our
own and for the world's sake, I will not wish you, friends, an 1884 in
which there shall be no toil and no battling; but I will wish you,
each and all, the hero's heart and the hero's patience, in the
struggle for the world's raising that will endure through the coming
year."
On February 3rd I came for the first time across a paper called
_Justice_, in which Mr. Bradlaugh was attacked, and which gave an
account of a meeting of the Democratic Federation--not yet the Social
Democratic--in which a man had, apparently unrebuked, said that "all
means were justifiable to attain" working-class ends. I protested
strongly against the advocacy of criminal means, declaring that those
who urged the use of such means were the worst foes of social
progress. A few weeks later the _Echo_ repeated a speech of Mr.
Hyndman's in which a "bloodier revolution" than that of France was
prophesied, and the extinction of "book-learning" seemed coupled with
the success of Socialism, and this again I commented on. But I had the
pleasure, a week later, of reprinting from _Justice_ a sensible
paragraph, condemning the advocacy of violence so long as free
agitation was allowed.
The spring was marked by two events on which I have not time or space
to dwell--the resignation by Mr. Bradlaugh of his seat, on the
reiteration of the resolution of exclusion, and his triumphant return
for the fourth time by an increased majority, a vote of 4,032, a
higher poll than that of the general election; and the release of Mr.
Foote, on February 25th, from Holloway, whence he was escorted by a
procession a quarter of a mile in length. On the 12th of March he and
his fellow-prisoners received a magnificent reception and were
presented with valuable testimonials at the Hall of Science.
Taking up again the thread of Socialism, the great debate in St.
James's Hall, London, between Mr. Bradlaugh and Mr. Hyndman on April
17th, roused me to a serious study of the questions raised. Socialism
has in England no more devoted, no more self-sacrificing advocate than
Henry Hyndman. A man of wide and deep reading, wielding most ably a
singularly fascinating pen, with talents that would have made him
wealthy in any career he adopted, he has sacrificed himself without a
murmur to the people's cause. He has borne obloquy from without,
suspicion and unkindness from those he served, and surrounded by
temptations to betray the people, he has never swerved from his
integrity. He has said rash things, has been stirred to passionate
outbursts and reckless phrases, but love to the people and sympathy
with suffering lay at the root of his wildest words, and they count
but little as against his faithful service. Personally, my debt to him
is of a mixed character; he kept me from Socialism for some time by
his bitter and very unjust antagonism to Mr. Bradlaugh; but it was the
debate at St. James's Hall that, while I angrily resented his
injustice, made me feel that there was something more in practical
Socialism than I had imagined, especially when I read it over
afterwards, away from the magic of Mr. Bradlaugh's commanding
eloquence and personal magnetism. It was a sore pity that English
Socialists, from the outset of their movement, treated Mr. Bradlaugh
so unfairly, so that his friends were set against Socialists ere they
began to examine their arguments. I must confess that my deep
attachment to him led me into injustice to his Socialist foes in those
early days, and often made me ascribe to them calculated malignity
instead of hasty and prejudiced assertion. Added to this, their
uncurbed violence in discussion, their constant interruptions during
the speeches of opponents, their reckless inaccuracy in matters of
fact, were all bars standing in the way of the thoughtful. When I came
to know them better, I found that the bulk of their speakers were very
young men, overworked and underpaid, who spent their scanty leisure in
efforts to learn, to educate themselves, to train themselves, and I
learned to pardon faults which grew out of the bitter sense of
injustice, and which were due largely to the terrible pressure of our
system on characters not yet strong enough--how few are strong
enough!--to bear grinding injustice without loss of balance and of
impartiality. None save those who have worked with them know how much
of real nobility, of heroic self-sacrifice, of constant self-denial,
of brotherly affection, there is among the Social Democrats.
At this time also I met George Bernard Shaw, one of the most brilliant
of Socialist writers and most provoking of men; a man with a perfect
genius for "aggravating" the enthusiastically earnest, and with a
passion for representing himself as a scoundrel. On my first
experience of him on the platform at South Place Institute he
described himself as a "loafer," and I gave an angry snarl at him in
the _Reformer_, for a loafer was my detestation, and behold! I found
that he was very poor, because he was a writer with principles and
preferred starving his body to starving his conscience; that he gave
time and earnest work to the spreading of Socialism, spending night
after night in workmen's clubs; and that "a loafer" was only an
amiable way of describing himself because he did not carry a hod. Of
course I had to apologise for my sharp criticism as doing him a
serious injustice, but privately felt somewhat injured at having been
entrapped into such a blunder. Meanwhile I was more and more turning
aside from politics and devoting myself to the social condition of the
people I find myself, in June, protesting against Sir John Lubbock's
Bill which fixed a twelve-hour day as the limit of a "young person's"
toil. "A 'day' of twelve hours is brutal," I wrote; "if the law fixes
twelve hours as a 'fair day' that law will largely govern custom. I
declare that a 'legal day' should be eight hours on five days in the
week and not more than five hours on the sixth. If the labour is of an
exhausting character these hours are too long." On every side now the
Socialist controversy grew, and I listened, read, and thought much,
but said little. The inclusion of John Robertson in the staff of the
_Reformer_ brought a highly intellectual Socialist into closer touch
with us, and slowly I found that the case for Socialism was
intellectually complete and ethically beautiful. The trend of my
thought was shown by urging the feeding of Board School children,
breaking down under the combination of education and starvation, and I
asked, "Why should people be pauperised by a rate-supported meal, and
not pauperised by, state-supported police, drainage, road-mending,
street-lighting, &c? "Socialism in its splendid ideal appealed to my
heart, while the economic soundness of its basis convinced my head.
All my life was turned towards the progress of the people, the helping
of man, and it leaped forward to meet the stronger hope, the lofty
ideal of social brotherhood, the rendering possible to all of freer
life; so long had I been striving thitherward, and here there opened
up a path to the yearned-for goal! How strong were the feelings
surging in my heart may be seen in a brief extract from an article
published second week of January, 1885: "Christian charity? We know
its work. It gives a hundred-weight of coal and five pounds of beef
once a year to a family whose head could earn a hundred such doles if
Christian justice allowed him fair wage for the work he performs. It
plunders the workers of the wealth they make, and then flings back at
them a thousandth part of their own product as 'charity.' It builds
hospitals for the poor whom it has poisoned in filthy courts and
alleys, and workhouses for the worn-out creatures from whom it has
wrung every energy, every hope, every joy. Miss Cobbe summons us to
admire Christian civilisation, and we see idlers flaunting in the
robes woven by the toilers, a glittering tinselled super-structure
founded on the tears, the strugglings, the grey, hopeless misery of
the poor."
This first month of January, 1885, brought on me the first attack for
my Socialistic tendencies, from the pen of Mr. W.P. Ball, who wrote
to the _Reformer_ complaining of my paragraph, quoted above, in which
I had advocated rate-supported meals for Board School children. A
brief controversy thus arose, in which I supported my opinion, waiving
the question as to my being "at heart a Socialist." In truth, I
dreaded to make the plunge of publicly allying myself with the
advocates of Socialism, because of the attitude of bitter hostility
they had adopted towards Mr. Bradlaugh. On his strong, tenacious
nature, nurtured on self-reliant individualism, the arguments of the
younger generation made no impression. He could not change his methods
because a new tendency was rising to the surface, and he did not see
how different was the Socialism of our day to the Socialist dreams of
the past--noble ideals of a future not immediately realisable in
truth, but to be worked towards and rendered possible in the days to
come. Could I take public action which might bring me into collision
with the dearest of my friends, which might strain the strong and
tender tie so long existing between us? My affection, my gratitude,
all warred against the idea of working with those who wronged him so
bitterly. But the cry of starving children was ever in my ears; the
sobs of women poisoned in lead works, exhausted in nail works, driven
to prostitution by starvation, made old and haggard by ceaseless work.
I saw their misery was the result of an evil system, was inseparable
from private ownership of the instruments of wealth production; that
while the worker was himself but an instrument, selling his labour
under the law of supply and demand, he must remain helpless in the
grip of the employing classes, and that trade combinations could only
mean increased warfare--necessary, indeed, for the time as weapons of
defence--but meaning war, not brotherly co-operation of all for the
good of all. A conflict which was stripped of all covering, a conflict
between a personal tie and a call of duty could not last long, and
with a heavy heart I made up my mind to profess Socialism openly and
work for it with all my energy. Happily, Mr. Bradlaugh was as tolerant
as he was strong, and our private friendship remained unbroken; but he
never again felt the same confidence in my judgment as he felt before,
nor did he any more consult me on his own policy, as he had done ever
since we first clasped hands.
A series of articles in _Our Corner_ on the "Redistribution of
Political Power," on the "Evolution of Society," on "Modern
Socialism," made my position clear. "Over against those who laud the
present state of Society, with its unjustly rich and its unjustly
poor, with its palaces and its slums, its millionaires and its
paupers, be it ours to proclaim that there is a higher ideal in life
than that of being first in the race for wealth, most successful in
the scramble for gold. Be it ours to declare steadfastly that health,
comfort, leisure, culture, plenty for every individual are far more
desirable than breathless struggle for existence, furious trampling
down of the weak by the strong, huge fortunes accumulated out of the
toil of others, to be handed down to those who had done nothing to
earn them. Be it ours to maintain that the greatness of a nation
depends not on the number of its great proprietors, on the wealth of
its great capitalists, or the splendour of its great nobles, but on
the absence of poverty among its people, on the education and
refinement of its masses, on the universality of enjoyment in life....
Enough for each of work, of leisure, of joy; too little for none, too
much for none--such is the Social ideal. Better to strive after it
worthily and fail, than to die without striving for it at all."
Then I differentiated the methods of the Socialist and the Radical
Individualist, pleading for union among those who formed the wings of
the army of Labour, and urging union of all workers against the
idlers. For the weakness of the people has ever been in their
divisions, in the readiness of each section to turn its weapons
against other sections instead of against the common foe. All
privileged classes, when they are attacked, sink their differences and
present a serried front to their assailants; the people alone fight
with each other, while the battle between themselves and the
privileged is raging.
I strove, as so many others were striving, to sound in the ears of the
thoughtless and the careless the cry of the sufferings of the poor,
endeavouring to make articulate their misery. Thus in a description of
Edinburgh slums came the following: "I saw in a 'house' which was made
by boarding up part of a passage, which had no window, and in which it
was necessary to burn an oil lamp all day, thus adding to the burden
of the rent, a family of three--man, wife, and child--whose lot was
hardly 'of their own making.' The man was tall and bronzed, but he was
dying of heart disease; he could not do hard work, and he was too
clumsy for light work; so he sat there, after two days' fruitless
search, patiently nursing his miserable, scrofulous baby in his dim
and narrow den. The cases of individual hopeless suffering are
heartbreaking. In one room lay a dying child, dying of low fever
brought on by want of food. 'It hae no faither,' sobbed the mother;
and for a moment I did not catch the meaning that the father had left
to the mother all the burden of a child unallowed by law. In another
lay the corpse of a mother, with the children round her, and
hard-featured, gentle-hearted women came in to take back to their
overcrowded beds 'the mitherless bairns.' In yet another a woman,
shrunken and yellow, crouched over a glimmer of fire; "I am dying of
cancer of the womb," she said, with that pathetic resignation to the
inevitable so common among the poor. I sat chatting for a few minutes.
'Come again, deary,' she said as I rose to go; 'it's gey dull sitting
here the day through.'"
The article in which these, among other descriptions, occurred was
closed with the following: "Passing out of the slums into the streets
of the town, only a few steps separating the horror and the beauty, I
felt, with a vividness more intense than ever, the fearful contrasts
between the lots of men; and with more pressing urgency the question
seemed to ring in my ears, 'Is there no remedy? Must there always be
rich and poor?' Some say that it must be so; that the palace and the
slum will for ever exist as the light and the shadow. Not so do I
believe. I believe that the poverty is the result of ignorance and of
bad social arrangements, and that therefore it may be eradicated by
knowledge and by social change. I admit that for many of these adult
dwellers in the slums there is no hope. Poor victims of a civilisation
that hides its brutality beneath a veneer of culture and of grace, for
them individually there is, alas! no salvation. But for their
children, yes! Healthy surroundings, good food, mental and physical
training, plenty of play, and carefully chosen work--these might save
the young and prepare them for happy life. But they are being left to
grow up as their parents were, and even when a few hours of school are
given them the home half-neutralises what the education effects. The
scanty aid given is generally begrudged, the education is to be but
elementary, as little as possible is doled out. Yet these children
have each one of them hopes and fears, possibilities of virtue and of
crime, a life to be made or marred. We shower money on generals and on
nobles, we keep high-born paupers living on the national charity, we
squander wealth with both hands on army and navy, on churches and
palaces; but we grudge every halfpenny that increases the education
rate and howl down every proposal to build decent houses for the poor.
We cover our heartlessness and indifference with fine phrases about
sapping the independence of the poor and destroying their
self-respect. With loathsome hypocrisy we repair a prince's palace for
him, and let him live in it rent-free, without one word about the
degradation involved in his thus living upon charity; while we refuse
to 'pauperise' the toiler by erecting decent buildings in which he may
live--not rent-free like the prince, but only paying a rent which
shall cover the cost of erection and maintenance, instead of one which
gives a yearly profit to a speculator. And so, year after year, the
misery grows, and every great city has on its womb a cancer; sapping
its vitality, poisoning its life-blood. Every great city is breeding
in its slums a race which is reverting through the savage to the
brute--a brute more dangerous in that degraded humanity has
possibilities of evil in it beyond the reach of the mere wild beast.
If not for Love's sake, then for fear; if not for justice or for human
pity, then for sheer desire of self-preservation; I appeal to the wise
and to the wealthy to set their hands to the cure of social evil, ere
stolidity gives place to passion and dull patience vanishes before
fury, and they
"'Learn at last, in some wild hour, how much the wretched dare.'"
Because it was less hotly antagonistic to the Radicals than the two
other Socialist organisations, I joined the Fabian Society, and worked
hard with it as a speaker and lecturer. Sidney Webb, G. Bernard Shaw,
Hubert and Mrs. Bland, Graham Wallas--these were some of those who
gave time, thought, incessant work to the popularising of Socialist
thought, the spreading of sound economics, the effort to turn the
workers' energy toward social rather than merely political reform. We
lectured at workmen's clubs wherever we could gain a hearing, till we
leavened London Radicalism with Socialist thought, and by treating the
Radical as the unevolved Socialist rather than as the anti-Socialist,
we gradually won him over to Socialist views. We circulated questions
to be put to all candidates for parliamentary or other offices,
stirred up interest in local elections, educated men and women into an
understanding of the causes of their poverty, won recruits for the
army of propagandists from the younger of the educated middle class.
That the London working classes to-day are so largely Socialist is
greatly due to the years of work done among them by members of the
Fabian Society, as well to the splendid, if occasionally too militant,
energy of the Social Democratic Federation, and to the devotion of
that noble and generous genius, William Morris.
During this same year (1885) a movement was set on foot in England to
draw attention to the terrible sufferings of the Russian political
prisoners, and it was decided at a meeting held in my house to form a
society of the friends of Russia, which should seek to spread accurate
and careful information about the present condition of Russia. At that
meeting were present Charles Bradlaugh, "Stepniak," and many others,
E.R. Pease acting as honorary secretary. It is noteworthy that some
of the most prominent Russian exiles--such as Kropotkin--take the view
that the Tzar himself is not allowed to know what occurs, and is very
largely the victim of the bureaucracy that surrounds him.
Another matter, that increased as the months went on, was the attempt
of the police authorities to stop Socialist speaking in the open air.
Christians, Freethinkers, Salvationists, agitators of all kinds were,
for the most part, left alone, but there was a regular crusade against
the Socialists. Liberal and Tory journals alike condemned the way in
which in Dod Street, in September, the Socialists' meetings were
attacked. Quiet persistence was shown by the promoters--members of the
Social Democratic Federation--and they were well supported by other
Socialists and by the Radical clubs. I volunteered to speak on October
4th (my first Sunday in London after the summoning and imprisoning of
the speakers had commenced), but the attitude of the people was so
determined on the preceding Sunday that all interference was
withdrawn.
Herbert Burrows stood for the School Board for the Tower Hamlets in
the November of this year, and I find a paragraph in the _Reformer_ in
which I heartily wished him success, especially as the first candidate
who had put forward a demand for industrial education. In this, as in
so many practical proposals, Socialists have led the way. He polled
4,232 votes, despite the furious opposition of the clergy to him as a
Freethinker, of the publicans to him as a teetotaler, of the
maintainers of the present social system to him as a Socialist. And
his fight did much to make possible my own success in 1888.
With this autumn, too, began, in connection with the struggle for the
right of meeting, the helping of the workmen to fair trial by
providing of bail and legal defence. The first case that I bailed out
was that of Lewis Lyons, sent to gaol for two months with hard labour
by Mr. Saunders, of the Thames Police Court. Oh, the weary, sickening
waiting in the court for "my prisoner," the sordid vice, the revolting
details of human depravity to which my unwilling eyes and ears were
witnesses. I carried Lyons off in triumph, and the Middlesex
magistrates quashed the conviction, the evidence being pronounced by
them to be "confusing, contradictory, and worthless." Yet but for the
chance of one of us stepping forward to offer bail and to provide the
means for an appeal (I acted on Mr. Bradlaugh's suggestion and advice,
for he acted as counsellor to me all through the weary struggles that
lasted till 1888, putting his great legal knowledge at my disposal,
though he often disapproved my action, thinking me Quixotic)--but for
this, Lewis Lyons would have had to suffer his heavy sentence.
The general election took place this autumn, and Northampton returned
Mr. Bradlaugh for the fifth time, thus putting an end to the long
struggle, for he took the oath and his seat in the following January,
and at once gave notice of an Oaths Bill, to give to all who claimed
it, under all circumstances, the right to affirm. He was returned with
the largest vote ever polled for him--4,315--and he entered Parliament
with all the prestige of his great struggle, and went to the front at
once, one of the recognised forces in the House. The action of Mr.
Speaker Peel promptly put an end to an attempted obstruction. Sir
Michael Hicks Beach, Mr. Cecil Raikes, and Sir John Hennaway had
written to the Speaker asking his interference, but the Speaker
declared that he had no authority, no right to stand between a duly
elected member and the duty of taking the oath prescribed by statute.
Thus ended the constitutional struggle of six years, that left the
victor well-nigh bankrupt in health and in purse, and sent him to a
comparatively early grave. He lived long enough to justify his
election, to prove his value to the House and to his country, but he
did not live long enough to render to England all the services which
his long training, his wide knowledge, his courage, and his honesty so
eminently fitted him to yield.
[Illustration: NORWICH BRANCH OF THE SOCIALIST LEAGUE.]
_Our Corner_ now served as a valuable aid in Socialist propaganda, and
its monthly "Socialist Notes" became a record of Socialist progress in
all lands. We were busy during the spring in organising a conference
for the discussion of "The Present Commercial System, and the Better
Utilisation of National Wealth for the Benefit of the Community," and
this was successfully held at South Place Institute on June 9th, 10th,
11th, the three days being given respectively, to the "Utilisation of
Land," the "Utilisation of Capital," and the "Democratic Policy." On
the 9th Mr. Bradlaugh spoke on the utilisation of waste lands, arguing
that in a thickly populated country no one had the right to keep
cultivable land uncultivated, and that where land was so kept there
should be compulsory expropriation, the state taking the land and
letting it out to cultivating tenants. Among the other speakers were
Edward Carpenter, William Morris, Sidney Webb, John Robertson, William
Saunders, W. Donnisthorpe, Edward Aveling, Charlotte Wilson, Mrs.
Fenwick Miller, Hubert Bland, Dr. Pankhurst, and myself--men and women
of many views, met to compare methods, and so help on the cause of
social regeneration.
Bitter attacks were made on me for my Socialist advocacy by some of
the Radicals in the Freethought party, and looking back I find myself
condemned as a "Saint Athanasius in petticoats," and as possessing a
"mind like a milk-jug." This same courteous critic remarked, "I have
heard Mrs. Besant described as being, like most women, at the mercy of
her last male acquaintance for her views on economics." I was foolish
enough to break a lance in self-defence with this assailant, not
having then learned that self-defence was a waste of time that might
be better employed in doing work for others. I certainly should not
now take the trouble to write such a paragraph as the following: "The
moment a man uses a woman's sex to discredit her arguments, the
thoughtful reader knows that he is unable to answer the arguments
themselves. But really these silly sneers at woman's ability have lost
their force, and are best met with a laugh at the stupendous 'male
self-conceit' of the writer. I may add that such shafts are specially
pointless against myself. A woman who thought her way out of
Christianity and Whiggism into Freethought and Radicalism absolutely
alone; who gave up every old friend, male and female, rather than
resign the beliefs she had struggled to in solitude; who, again, in
embracing active Socialism, has run counter to the views of her
nearest 'male friends'; such a woman may very likely go wrong, but I
think she may venture, without conceit, to at least claim independence
of judgment. I did not make the acquaintance of one of my present
Socialist comrades, male or female, until I had embraced Socialism." A
foolish paragraph, as are all self-defences, and a mischievous one, as
all retort breeds fresh strife. But not yet had come the self-control
that estimates the judgments of others at their true value, that recks
not of praise and blame; not yet had I learned that evil should not be
met with evil, wrath with wrath; not yet were the words of the Buddha
the law to which I strove to render obedience: "Hatred ceases not by
hatred at any time; hatred ceases by love." The year 1886 was a
terrible one for labour, everywhere reductions of wages, everywhere
increase of the numbers of the unemployed; turning over the pages of
_Our Corner_, I see "Socialist Notes" filled, month after month, with
a monotonous tale, "there is a reduction of wages at" such and such a
place; so many "men have been discharged at -----, owing to the
slackness of trade." Our hearts sank lower and lower as summer passed
into autumn, and the coming winter threatened to add to starvation the
bitter pains of cold. The agitation for the eight hours' day increased
in strength as the unemployed grew more numerous week by week "We
can't stand it," a sturdy, quiet fellow had said to me during the
preceding winter; "flesh and blood can't stand it, and two months of
this bitter cold, too." "We may as well starve idle as starve
working," had said another, with a fierce laugh. And a spirit of
sullen discontent was spreading everywhere, discontent that was wholly
justified by facts. But ah! how patient they were for the most part,
how sadly, pathetically patient, this crucified Christ, Humanity;
wrongs that would set my heart and my tongue afire would be accepted
as a matter of course. O blind and mighty people, how my heart went
out to you; trampled on, abused, derided, asking so little and needing
so much; so pathetically grateful for the pettiest services; so loving
and so loyal to those who offered you but their poor services and
helpless love. Deeper and deeper into my innermost nature ate the
growing desire to succour, to suffer for, to save. I had long given up
my social reputation, I now gave up with ever-increasing surrender
ease, comfort, time; the passion of pity grew stronger and stronger,
fed by each new sacrifice, and each sacrifice led me nearer and nearer
to the threshold of that gateway beyond which stretched a path of
renunciation I had never dreamed of, which those might tread who were
ready wholly to strip off self for Man's sake, who for Love's sake
would surrender Love's return from those they served, and would go out
into the darkness for themselves that they might, with their own souls
as fuel, feed the Light of the World.
As the suffering deepened with the darkening months, the meetings of
the unemployed grew in number, and the murmurs of discontent became
louder. The Social Democratic Federation carried on an outdoor
agitation, not without making blunders, being composed of human
beings, but with abundant courage and self-sacrifice. The policy of
breaking up Socialist meetings went on while other meetings were
winked at, and John Williams, a fiery speaker, but a man with a record
of pathetic struggle and patient heroism, was imprisoned for two
months for speaking in the open air, and so nearly starved in gaol
that he came out with his health broken for life.
1887 dawned, the year that was to close so stormily, and Socialists
everywhere were busying themselves on behalf of the unemployed, urging
vestries to provide remunerative work for those applying for relief,
assailing the Local Government Board with practicable proposals for
utilising the productive energies of the unemployed, circulating
suggestions to municipalities and other local representative bodies,
urging remedial measures. A four days' oral debate with Mr. Foote, and
a written debate with Mr. Bradlaugh, occupied some of my energies, and
helped in the process of education to which public opinion was being
subjected. Both these debates were largely circulated as pamphlets. A
series of afternoon debates between representative speakers was
organised at South Place Institute, and Mr. Corrie Grant and myself
had a lively discussion, I affirming "That the existence of classes
who live upon unearned incomes is detrimental to the welfare of the
community, and ought to be put an end to by legislation." Another
debate--in this very quarrelsome spring of 1887--was a written one in
the _National Reformer_ between the Rev. G.F. Handel Rowe and myself
on the proposition, "Is Atheism logically tenable, and is there a
satisfactory Atheistic System for the guidance of Human Conduct." And
so the months went on, and the menace of misery grew louder and
louder, till in September I find myself writing: "This one thing is
clear--Society must deal with the unemployed, or the unemployed will
deal with Society. Stormier and stormier becomes the social outlook,
and they at least are not the worst enemies of Society who seek to
find some way through the breakers by which the ship of the
Commonwealth may pass into quiet waters."
Some amusement turned up in the shape of a Charing Cross Parliament,
in which we debated with much vigour the "burning questions" of the
day. We organised a compact Socialist party, defeated a Liberal
Government, took the reins of office, and--after a Queen's Speech in
which her Majesty addressed her loyal Commons with a plainness of
speech never before (or since) heard from the throne--we brought in
several Bills of a decidedly heroic character. G. Bernard Shaw, as
President of the Local Government Board, and I, as Home Secretary,
came in for a good deal of criticism in connection with various
drastic measures. An International Freethought Congress, held in
London, entailed fairly heavy work, and the science classes were ever
with us. Another written debate came with October, this time on the
"Teachings of Christianity," making the fifth of these set discussions
held by me during the year. This same month brought a change, painful
but just: I resigned my much-prized position as co-editor of the
_National Reformer,_ and the number for October 23rd bore Charles
Bradlaugh's name alone. The change did not affect my work on the
paper, but I became merely a subordinate, though remaining, of course,
joint proprietor. The reason cannot be more accurately given than in
the paragraph penned at the time: "For a considerable time past, and
lately in increasing number, complaints have reached me from various
quarters of the inconvenience and uncertainty that result from the
divided editorial policy of this paper on the question of Socialism.
Some months ago I proposed to avoid this difficulty by resigning my
share in the editorship; but my colleague, with characteristic
liberality, asked me to let the proposal stand over and see if matters
would not adjust themselves. But the difficulty, instead of
disappearing, has only become more pressing; and we both feel that our
readers have a right to demand that it be solved.
"When I became co-editor of this paper I was not a Socialist; and,
although I regard Socialism as the necessary and logical outcome of
the Radicalism which for so many years the _National Reformer_ has
taught, still, as in avowing myself a Socialist I have taken a
distinct step, the partial separation of my policy in labour questions
from that of my colleague has been of my own making, and not of his,
and it is, therefore, for me to go away. Over by far the greater part
of our sphere of action we are still substantially agreed, and are
likely to remain so. But since, as Socialism becomes more and more a
question of practical politics, differences of theory tend to produce
differences in conduct; and since a political paper must have a single
editorial programme in practical politics, it would obviously be most
inconvenient for me to retain my position as co-editor. I therefore
resume my former position as contributor only, thus clearing the
_National Reformer_ of all responsibility for the views I hold."
To this Mr. Bradlaugh added the following:--
"I need hardly add to this how very deeply I regret the necessity for
Mrs. Besant's resignation of the joint editorship of this Journal, and
the real grief I feel in accepting this break in a position in which
she has rendered such enormous service to the Freethought and Radical
cause. As a most valued contributor I trust the _National Reformer_
may never lose the efficient aid of her brain and pen. For thirteen
years this paper has been richer for good by the measure of her
never-ceasing and most useful work. I agree with her that a journal
must have a distinct editorial policy; and I think this distinctness
the more necessary when, as in the present case, every contributor has
the greatest freedom of expression. I recognise in the fullest degree
the spirit of self-sacrifice in which the lines, to which I add these
words, have been penned by Mrs. Besant. "CHARLES BRADLAUGH."
It was a wrench, this breaking of a tie for which a heavy price had
been paid thirteen years before, but it was just. Any one who makes a
change with which pain is connected is bound, in honour and duty, to
take that pain as much as possible on himself; he must not put his
sacrifice on others, nor pay his own ransom with their coin. There
must be honour kept in the life that reaches towards the Ideal, for
broken faith to that is the only real infidelity.
And there was another reason for the change that I dared not name to
him, for his quick loyalty would then have made him stubbornly
determined against change. I saw the swift turning of public opinion,
the gradual approach to him among Liberals who had hitherto held
aloof, and I knew that they looked upon me as a clog and a burden, and
that were I less prominently with him his way would be the easier to
tread. So I slipped more and more into the background, no longer went
with him to his meetings; my use to him in public was over, for I had
become hindrance instead of help. While he was outcast and hated I had
the pride of standing at his side; when all the fair-weather friends
came buzzing round him I served him best by self-effacement, and I
never loved him better than when I stood aside. But I continued all
the literary work unaltered, and no change of opinions touched his
kindness to me, although when, a little later, I joined the
Theosophical Society, he lost his trust in my reasoning powers and
judgment.
In this same month of October the unemployed began walking in
procession through the streets, and harshness on the part of the
police led to some rioting. Sir Charles Warren thought it his duty to
dragoon London meetings after the fashion of Continental prefects,
with the inevitable result that an ill-feeling grew up between the
people and the police.
At last we formed a Socialist Defence Association, in order to help
poor workmen brought up and sentenced on police evidence only, without
any chance being given them of proper legal defence, and I organised a
band of well-to-do men and women, who promised to obey a telegraphic
summons, night or day, and to bail out any prisoner arrested for
exercising the ancient right of walking in procession and speaking. To
take one instance: Mr. Burleigh, the well-known war correspondent, and
Mr. Winks were arrested and "run in" with Mr. J. Knight, a workman,
for seditious language. I went down to the police-station to offer
bail for the latter: Chief-Constable Howard accepted bail for Messrs.
Burleigh and Winks, but refused it for Mr. Knight. The next day, at
the police-court, the preposterous bail of £400 was demanded for Mr.
Knight and supplied by my faithful band, and on the next hearing Mr.
Poland, solicitor to the Treasury, withdrew the charge against him for
lack of evidence!
Then came the closing of Trafalgar Square, and the unexpected and
high-handed order that cost some men their lives, many their liberty,
and hundreds the most serious injuries. The Metropolitan Radical
Federation had called a meeting for November 13th to protest against
the imprisonment of Mr. O'Brien, and as Mr. Matthews, from his place
in the House, had stated that there was no intention of interfering
with _bonâ fide_ political meetings, the Radical clubs did not expect
police interference. On November 9th Sir Charles Warren had issued an
order forbidding all meetings in the Square, but the clubs trusted the
promise of the Home Secretary. On Saturday evening only, November
12th, when all arrangements were completed, did he issue a peremptory
order, forbidding processions within a certain area. With this trap
suddenly sprung upon them, the delegates from the clubs, the Fabian
Society, the Social Democratic Federation, and the Socialist League,
met on that same Saturday evening to see to any details that had been
possibly left unsettled. It was finally decided to go to the Square as
arranged, and, if challenged by the police, to protest formally
against the illegal interference, then to break up the processions and
leave the members to find their own way to the Square. It was also
decided to go Sunday after Sunday to the Square, until the right of
public meetings was vindicated.
The procession I was in started from Clerkenwell Green, and walked
with its banner in front, and the chosen speakers, including myself,
immediately behind the flag. As we were moving slowly and quietly
along one of the narrow streets debouching on Trafalgar Square,
wondering whether we should be challenged, there was a sudden charge,
and without a word the police were upon us with uplifted truncheons;
the banner was struck down, and men and women were falling under a
hail of blows. There was no attempt at resistance, the people were too
much astounded at the unprepared attack. They scattered, leaving some
of their number on the ground too much injured to move, and then made
their way in twos and threes to the Square. It was garrisoned by
police, drawn up in serried rows, that could only have been broken by
a deliberate charge. Our orders were to attempt no violence, and we
attempted none. Mr. Cunninghame Graham and Mr. John Burns, arm-in-arm,
tried to pass through the police, and were savagely cut about the head
and arrested. Then ensued a scene to be remembered; the horse police
charged in squadrons at a hand-gallop, rolling men and women over like
ninepins, while the foot police struck recklessly with their
truncheons, cutting a road through the crowd that closed immediately
behind them. I got on a waggonette and tried to persuade the driver to
pull his trap across one of the roads, and to get others in line, so
as to break the charges of the mounted police; but he was afraid, and
drove away to the Embankment, so I jumped out and went back to the
Square. At last a rattle of cavalry, and up came the Life Guards,
cleverly handled but hurting none, trotting their horses gently and
shouldering the crowd apart; and then the Scots Guards with bayonets
fixed marched through and occupied the north of the Square. Then the
people retreated as we passed round the word, "Go home, go home." The
soldiers were ready to fire, the people unarmed; it would have been
but a massacre. Slowly the Square emptied and all was still. All other
processions were treated as ours had been, and the injuries inflicted
were terrible. Peaceable, law-abiding workmen, who had never dreamed
of rioting, were left with broken legs, broken arms, wounds of every
description. One man, Linnell, died almost immediately, others from
the effect of their injuries. The next day a regular court-martial in
Bow Street Police Court, witnesses kept out by the police, men dazed
with their wounds, decent workmen of unblemished character who had
never been charged in a police-court before, sentenced to imprisonment
without chance of defence. But a gallant band rallied to their rescue.
William T. Stead, most chivalrous of journalists, opened a Defence
Fund, and money rained in; my pledged bail came up by the dozen, and
we got the men out on appeal. By sheer audacity I got into the
police-court, addressed the magistrate, too astounded by my profound
courtesy and calm assurance to remember that I had no right there, and
then produced bail after bail of the most undeniable character and
respectability, which no magistrate could refuse. Breathing-time
gained, a barrister, Mr. W.M. Thompson, worked day after day with
hearty devotion, and took up the legal defence. Fines we paid, and
here Mrs. Marx Aveling did eager service. A pretty regiment I led out
of Millbank Prison, after paying their fines; bruised, clothes torn,
hatless, we must have looked a disreputable lot. We stopped and bought
hats, to throw an air of respectability over our _cortège_, and we
kept together until I saw the men into train and omnibus, lest, with
the bitter feelings now roused, conflict should again arise. We formed
the Law and Liberty League to defend all unjustly assailed by the
police, and thus rescued many a man from prison; and we gave poor
Linnell, killed in Trafalgar Square, a public funeral. Sir Charles
Warren forbade the passing of the hearse through any of the main
thoroughfares west of Waterloo Bridge, so the processions waited there
for it. W.T. Stead, R. Cunninghame Graham, Herbert Burrows, and
myself walked on one side the coffin, William Morris, F. Smith, R.
Dowling, and J. Seddon on the other; the Rev. Stewart D. Headlam, the
officiating clergyman, walked in front; fifty stewards carrying long
wands guarded the coffin. From Wellington Street to Bow Cemetery the
road was one mass of human beings, who uncovered reverently as the
slain man went by; at Aldgate the procession took three-quarters of an
hour to pass one spot, and thus we bore Linnell to his grave, symbol
of a cruel wrong, the vast orderly, silent crowd, bareheaded, making
mute protest against the outrage wrought.
It is pleasant to put on record here Mr. Bradlaugh's grave approval of
the heavy work done in the police-courts, and the following paragraph
shows how generously he could praise one not acting on his own lines:
"As I have on most serious matters of principle recently differed very
widely from my brave and loyal co-worker, and as the difference has
been regrettably emphasised by her resignation of her editorial
functions on this Journal, it is the more necessary that I should say
how thoroughly I approve, and how grateful I am to her for, her
conduct in not only obtaining bail and providing legal assistance for
the helpless unfortunates in the hands of the police, but also for her
daily personal attendance and wise conduct at the police-stations and
police-courts, where she has done so much to abate harsh treatment on
the one hand and rash folly on the other. While I should not have
marked out this as fitting woman's work, especially in the recent very
inclement weather, I desire to record my view that it has been bravely
done, well done, and most usefully done, and I wish to mark this the
more emphatically as my views and those of Mrs. Besant seem wider
apart than I could have deemed possible on many of the points of
principle underlying what is every day growing into a most serious
struggle." Ever did I find Charles Bradlaugh thus tolerant of
difference of opinion, generously eager to approve what to him seemed
right even in a policy he disapproved.
The indignation grew and grew; the police were silently boycotted, but
the people were so persistent and so tactful that no excuse for
violence was given, until the strain on the police force began to
tell, and the Tory Government felt that London was being hopelessly
alienated; so at last Sir Charles Warren fell, and a wiser hand was
put at the helm.