OTHER FABLES.
There are other fables told about my father which have enjoyed a
popularity almost equal to that of the famous watch episode. There
is the allegation--referred to elsewhere--that he compared God with
a monkey with three tails. This was started by the _Saturday Review_
in 1867, and was for years continually reappearing in all sorts of
unexpected quarters. Indeed, it was repeated as late as 1893 in a book
published by Messrs Macmillan.[36] Perhaps next in order should come
two, which have seen considerable service as arguments in favour of
Christianity. One, which I will call the "cob of coal" story, appeared
for the first time, as far as I am aware, in a Leeds paper in 1870 in
the following form:--
"Some time ago I heard an amusing story about Mr Bradlaugh and one
of his audience at Wigan. After concluding his lecture, Mr Bradlaugh
called upon any of them to reply to any of his arguments. Lancashire
produces a rare crop of shrewd, intelligent working men, and one
of these, a collier, rose and spoke somewhat as follows: 'Maister
Bradlaugh, me and my mate Jim were both Methodys till one of these
infidel chaps cam' this way. Jim turned infidel, and used to badger me
about attending class-meetings and prayer-meetings, but one day in the
pit a large cob of coal came down on Jim's 'yead.' Jim thought he was
killed, and ah! man, but he did holler.' Then turning to Mr Bradlaugh,
with a very whimsical, knowing look, he said, 'Young man, there's
nowt like cobs of coal for knocking infidelity out of a man.' We need
hardly say that the collier carried the audience with him."
[Footnote 36: "National Life and Character," by C. H. Pearson.]
This was copied into some London papers, and in the course of a couple
of years found its way to Belfast; but the scene of action had now
become changed from Wigan to Manchester. Two years later still it
appeared at Hereford, under the auspices of the Rev. J. W. Bardsley.
The "some time ago" of 1870 had contracted to "recently" by 1874, and
there were other small alterations of detail. By 1882, my father said
he had contradicted this anecdote fifty times at least. It never had
the slightest foundation in fact; it is unadulterated fiction from
beginning to end; it is absurdly improbable; and yet there are people
so credulous that it has been repeated year after year, and even since
my father's death. Indeed, the more childish this class of story, the
better it has seemed to satisfy those to whom it was addressed--at
least, if we may judge of its success by the number of its repetitions.
* * * * *
The next is the "old woman" anecdote, which I find first in the
_Christian Age_ for November 1871, put in this way:--
"The other day Mr Bradlaugh was lecturing in a village in the north of
England, and at the close he challenged discussion. Who should accept
the challenge but an old, bent woman, in most antiquated attire, who
went up to the lecturer and said, 'Sir, I have a question to put to
you.' 'Well, my good woman, what is it?' 'Ten years ago,' she said,
'I was left a widow with eight children utterly unprovided for, and
nothing to call my own but this Bible. By its direction, and looking
to God for strength, I have been enabled to feed myself and family.
I am now tottering to the grave; but I am perfectly happy, because I
look forward to a life of immortality with Jesus in heaven. That's
what my religion has done for me: what has your way of thinking done
for you?' 'Well, my good lady,' rejoined the lecturer, 'I don't
want to disturb your comfort, but--' 'Oh! that's not the question,'
interrupted the woman, 'keep to the point, sir; what has your way of
thinking done for you?'
"The infidel endeavoured to shirk the matter again; the feeling of the
meeting gave vent to uproarious applause, and Mr Bradlaugh had to go
away discomfited by an old woman."
This pious fiction is said to have originated with the Rev. Mr
Bradbury, of Openshaw, in the early part of 1871; but then it was Mr
Charles Watts who was the "discomfited infidel," and not Mr Bradlaugh.
From the _Christian Age_ the story was passed on, evidently without the
slightest examination or care for its accuracy. In 1872 it was repeated
in large type by the _Methodist Visitor_, word for word, "the other
day" included. Mr Bradlaugh contradicted this idiotic story again and
again; no such incident ever occurred at any of his lectures. In spite
of all contradiction, however, the "old woman" remained as lively as
ever, and my father was confronted with her year after year, until
I almost wonder he had patience left to write a civil denial of her
existence.
* * * * *
An anecdote, reported[37] to have been told by the Rev. H. W.
Webb-Peploe at a meeting of the Bible Society at Stroud in 1875, has at
least the merit of being amusing, and certainly came as news to no one
more than to the persons chiefly concerned. It was said that Spurgeon
"went to Bradlaugh's Hall to reply to the Infidel," and to that end
"read two or three texts from the Scriptures.... This seems to have
astonished Bradlaugh, for he arose, and as he went out of the room, he
said, 'What the devil is to be done with that man? he is in earnest.'"
If the Rev. Charles Spurgeon ever, by any chance, _did_ go to
"Bradlaugh's Hall," he carefully concealed his visit from "Bradlaugh."
[Footnote 37: _Stroud News_, May 28.]
* * * * *
Fictions concerning my father's treatment of various members of his
family have been very common. By a painful coincidence, my little
brother had only been a few days in his grave when my father was asked
to contradict a statement that he had "about twelve months ago deserted
his wife and children." Six months after, the story ran that he had
"caused his mother to die of a broken heart," had been "drummed out of
the army," and was "a man whose morality is of no higher stamp than
to suffer himself to be the father of an illegitimate child." It is
an interesting point in the study of the evolution of slanders, that
this most persistent one of Mr Bradlaugh having caused his mother to
die of a broken heart should have been started during his mother's
lifetime.[38] The allegation of deserting his children, and throwing
them upon the parish, was published by Mr Edmund Yates in the _World_
in 1875. A little later Mr Yates announced that Mr Bradlaugh had
written him contradicting this, and suggesting that if on inquiry Mr
Yates found his allegation untrue, he should contribute £5 to the
Masonic Boys' School. The editor of the _World_ formally expressed
his regret, "unreservedly" withdrew his accusation, and contributed
the £5. The suggestion was really the result of the intervention of a
mutual friend, as Mr Yates himself acknowledged in 1891, at the same
time admitting that the paragraph complained of would have afforded Mr
Bradlaugh "ample grounds for appealing to the law, with the likelihood
of recovering a large amount in damages."
[Footnote 38: Mrs Bradlaugh died in April 1871.]
But the slander thus floated by the _World_ could not be effaced from
the public mind, even by Mr Yates' "unreserved withdrawal," and later
in the same year it turned up in full vigour at Oxford. A Mr Bendall
went to the shop of a grocer and town councillor named Laker to make
some purchases, and in the course of conversation he mentioned that
he was going to London. Mr Laker asked if he was going to hear Moody
and Sankey, but Mr Bendall said that he was not; he was going to hear
Mr Bradlaugh. The man Laker then said, "Bradlaugh! he was had up for
neglecting his family, and leaving them chargeable to the Union. I read
it in the _Daily Telegraph_." Mr Bendall denied this, and bet Laker £50
to 5s. that it was not true. Laker took the bet, and Mr Bendall then
wrote out the statement, which they both signed. The paper was sent to
Mr Bradlaugh, who eventually brought an action against Mr Laker.[39]
[Footnote 39: Tried 25th April 1876 at Nisi Prius, before Mr Justice
Field and a special jury.]
The defendant pleaded "Not guilty," but did not attempt to justify his
statement or to offer any apology, although Mr Bradlaugh said that, if
during the course of the trial an apology had been offered, he should
have been quite content.
Mr Grantham, the counsel for the defence, was very coarse in his
remarks. He scouted the idea that "Bradlaugh" could be injured by
any slander, and told the jury that, if they did give him a verdict,
a farthing damages would be "far too much" at which to estimate the
damage "Bradlaugh" had sustained. As usual, an endeavour was made to
play upon the religious feelings of the jury, and when Mr Bendall was
in the witness-box he was questioned as to his belief in Christianity,
the Bible, and Jesus Christ, until Mr Justice Field, who heard the
case, interfered and reproved the counsel for importing these questions
into the case. Mr Grantham suggested the whole thing was a "plant,"
but this accusation, the judge later on pointed out, might rightfully
increase the damages awarded.
Mr Justice Field, in summing up, complimented Mr Bradlaugh on the
temperate manner in which he had stated his case, and warned the jury
not to allow their judgments to be warped by topics of prejudice which
had been introduced into the defendant's case. The jury returned a
verdict for Mr Bradlaugh, with £40 damages, which my father at once
handed over to a charity.
But even this did not quite kill the slander, and a few years later it
began again to show signs of life.
* * * * *
There was no limit of any kind to the fictions circulated about my
father, nothing was too vile, nothing too absurd, and nothing too
wildly impossible to say about him. As an example of the last, I think
it would be difficult to find anything to compare with one written by
the London correspondent of the _New York Herald_, during the illness
of the Prince of Wales from typhoid fever. I discovered an allusion to
this story in looking over a file of the _Newcastle Weekly Chronicle_
for 1872; reference was made to the _Pall Mall Gazette_, from which
I learned that the London correspondent of the _New York Herald_
professed that he had been informed by a mysterious person "well
posted" as to the doing of the different European Secret Societies,
that "a certain leader of the English Revolutionists whom he designated
'The English Delescluze,' has over and over again declared from public
platforms that the Prince should never sit on the throne, and that
lately, when Queen Victoria was seriously ill, the same man had said
in an interview with the reporter for a London paper, that although
the event of the Sovereign's death occurring just then would without
any doubt find the Society not quite prepared to act, yet that they
could never lose such an opportunity to advance their cause." "This,"
commented the _Pall Mall Gazette_, "is, of course, an atrocious libel
on Mr Bradlaugh." "The poison," continued the informant to his gaping
listener, the _Herald's_ London correspondent, "was a new and most
subtle one. How the Prince was actually dosed he did not pretend to
know. The emissary of the International charged with the execution of
the sentence of death was left to himself, and was simply bidden to
take as few innocent lives in carrying it out as possible; but it was
suggested to him to mix the poison with the contents of the Prince's
pocket flask, and this it was probable he had succeeded in doing."
This marvellous story was received in England with the condemnation
and ridicule it deserved, and I only give it here now to show to what
lengths prejudice and a disordered imagination will lead a man.
I suppose it is only in the natural course of things that an Irish
paper[40] should have the funniest story, and one too that seems really
original. This journal discovered that in the summer, when Republican
agitation was slack, Mr Bradlaugh took up "the more useful--if less
profitable--occupation of a bagman." Presumably this was intended to be
severely sarcastic; it was only ridiculous and untrue.
[Footnote 40: _Belfast Times_, April 8, 1872.]
At intervals throughout my father's career he has, of course, been
constantly accused of being in the pay of some one or other. This
kind of accusation is common to most public men, so it was not likely
that he would escape. In 1872, when it was asserted that "Bradlaugh
and Odger" were sold to "Gladstone and Morley," the _Saturday Review_
thought it no shame to suggest that "perhaps after all there is some
truth in the story."[41] A few months before, said my father, it was
"Bradlaugh was sold to the Tories, now it is the Whigs who have made
the purchase;" and he mockingly regretted "that neither party have
even paid a deposit." At other times he was charged with being in the
pay of the Prince Napoleon, of the Commune, of Sir Charles Dilke, of
the Carlists, and, last of all, in that of the Maharajah of Cashmere.
This was so much believed in, that a gentleman belonging to a prominent
Liberal Club actually told me that it was a good thing my father died
poor and in debt, as it, at least, discredited that rumour.
[Footnote 41: _Saturday Review_, September 14, 1872.]
I do not profess to have by any means exhausted the list of fables
associated with Mr Bradlaugh's name. I have merely taken a few of the
more persistent or more remarkable as examples of the whole.
* * * * *
To expose the misstatements and the travesties of Mr Bradlaugh's
opinions would require a whole volume. What he thought and what he
taught on theological, political, and social questions will be found
in his own writings, and his own words must necessarily be the most
effective contradiction or confirmation of the "hearsays" of prejudice.