LUNATICS.
I suppose that all public men are more or less troubled with lunatic
correspondents and lunatic visitors, so that in this respect Mr
Bradlaugh was in no way singular; but perhaps they gave him more
trouble than most men because he was so easy of access. Any one who
wished to see him had only to knock at the door, to ask, and to be
admitted if my father were at home.
Letters from insane persons were of constant occurrence, but they were
soon disposed of--the wastepaper basket was large and was always at
hand. There was one man, however, who wrote my father daily for years;
indeed, sometimes he would write twice in a day. His letters were
without coherence, written on scraps of paper of all shapes and sizes,
and I do not remember that he ever gave either his name or his address.
But if there was the ever-hospitable wastepaper basket ready to receive
a lunatic's letters, a lunatic visitor needed to be treated more
discreetly. This was especially the case at Turner Street, where the
room was small, and there was not much space in which to move about.
When a visitor called he was usually requested to be seated at the side
of the writing-table opposite my father. The chairs were few, and if
the visitors were many, some had to sit on piles of books or pamphlets.
One day a man called at Turner Street, and was asked to sit down in the
customary way. My father inquired his business, and without going much
into detail the visitor explained, with a queer, uncertain look in his
eyes, that he had "a mission from God" to kill him; and thereupon he
drew out a formidable-looking knife. Mr Bradlaugh examined the man's
face, and saw that it was no foolish hoax being played upon him. There
was a quiet determination about his would-be murderer that was anything
but reassuring.
The chair in which my father always sat was an old-fashioned,
high-backed oaken chair, with arms, and from the back at the right
hand hung, suspended by a strap, his heavy Colt's revolver; between
himself and the lunatic was the small writing-table, 27 inches wide. My
father carefully felt behind him until he felt the revolver under his
fingers, and then he quietly asked the man if he was quite sure that
God had given him this mission. Yes, the man said; he was "quite sure."
"Have you consulted any one about it?" "No," was the reply. "Don't you
think it would be better to do so?" gently insinuated Mr Bradlaugh; "I
should be inclined to talk it over with some one--with the Archbishop
of Canterbury, for instance--were I in your place. You see it might
be rather awkward afterwards if there should happen to be any mistake
about the matter."
This apparently was a view of the case which had not previously
occurred to the lunatic, but he promptly accepted it, and announced
his determination to go to Lambeth Palace forthwith; and it was with
a perceptible feeling of relief that my father heard the street door
close upon his visitor. He knew that there was no danger to the
Archbishop, as there was no probability of such a man being allowed to
see him.
Mr Bradlaugh had had a case a little before this of which the
circumstances were rather peculiar. A man named John Sladen came
up from his home in Cheshire on Thursday, March 31st, 1870, and in
the evening he went to the New Hall of Science in Old Street, where
a social gathering was about to be held to commemorate the tenth
anniversary of the publication of the _National Reformer_. Before
the proceedings commenced, John Sladen made himself known to Mr
Austin Holyoake, to whom he was previously an entire stranger, and
asked him if he could speak with Mr Bradlaugh for a few minutes. Mr
Holyoake introduced him to Mr Bradlaugh, who took him into a private
room. In the course of conversation Sladen informed my father that he
had determined to kill the Queen, giving as his chief reason (if my
memory serves me) that she wanted to marry him. Mr Bradlaugh returned
to Mr Holyoake, and explained the state of affairs to him, and they
both agreed that the police ought to be informed, so my father went
to the police station and saw the inspector, who sent an officer in
plain clothes to the Hall. In order to avoid any disturbance amongst
the people present, Sladen was allowed to remain until ten o'clock,
when, as Mr Holyoake said, the police officer "very adroitly got him
away." Sladen was so sensible on most matters that at first the police
were disinclined to believe in his madness, but before the night was
out they had more than sufficient proof. On the following morning Mr
Bradlaugh telegraphed to Sladen's friends, and went himself to the
police station to see that he was properly cared for. Eventually he
was sent to Hanwell Asylum, and on the earliest opportunity he wrote
reproaching my father. Of course he did not think he was mad, and he
told Mr Bradlaugh that as he had been the means of putting him in the
Asylum, it was his duty to get him out, or at any rate to send him
papers to read. Later on my father communicated with Dr Bayley, the
physician to the Asylum, who assured him that Sladen was not fit to
be released, and that any political reading would be calculated to
excite him and retard his cure. But a few years later I believe he was
allowed to have the _National Reformer_. My father never lost sight of
him; he used to send to the Asylum to make enquiries, and Sladen also
wrote to him occasionally; he always felt Sladen's to be a sad case,
and was oppressed by a feeling of responsibility in the matter just
because he was the one to hand him over to the police. Of course there
was a small public sensation about the matter, which the newspapers did
their best to fan into a big one at Mr Bradlaugh's expense. The east
end of London was posted with large placards announcing "A Threat to
murder the Queen at the New Hall of Science."[21] An evening paper[22]
giving a report of the proceedings, told how Sladen "heard Mr Bradlaugh
lecture" at the Hall of Science, and _after the lecture_ told Mr
Bradlaugh of his determination to kill the Queen. The next morning
this report was repeated, but with additional embellishments. Now it
was said that Sladen "went to hear a lecture by Mr Bradlaugh, and soon
afterwards burst into threats of such violence towards Her Majesty that
he was taken into custody as a dangerous lunatic."[23] That there was
no lecture at the Hall that evening, that there was no bursting out
into threats of violence, that Sladen spoke to Mr Bradlaugh _before_,
and not _after_, the commencement of the evening's proceedings, were
of course matters of mere detail, without value when compared with the
opportunity of raising a prejudice against Mr Bradlaugh. Similarly,
when the lad O'Connor tried to frighten the Queen with an empty pistol,
it was said that probably a large "share of the mischief was caused
by the lad's attendance on the lectures of a notorious Infidel and
Republican lecturer, whose inflammatory discourses, falling on a weak,
excitable, untrained mind, produced the natural effect and goaded him
on to mischief."[24] That there was no evidence that the lad had ever
attended any such lectures was apparently of small importance.
[Footnote 21: This was done by the _Eastern Post_.]
[Footnote 22: The _Pall Mall Gazette_. Mr Austin Holyoake wrote a short
letter contradicting this report, and giving the simple facts of the
case, but his letter was not inserted.]
[Footnote 23: _Daily News._]
[Footnote 24: _City Press._]
* * * * *
At Circus Road I can recall several mad visitors: one in shirt sleeves
and leather apron, who offered to reveal a secret to Mr Bradlaugh
whereby he might become possessed of millions; another, a little
old lady, who told with a mysterious air how she was "the Secret
History;" another, who was so noisy that he had to be put out, and who
then remained in the street below shouting out that Mr Bradlaugh had
ill-used him, till he brought out all the neighbours to their doors,
and the commotion he raised threatened to hinder the traffic. Then
there were some who claimed to be descendants of one or other of the
Brunswicks, and as such entitled to the Crown; but provided they were
quietly listened to, these gave little trouble save in the time they
wasted.