BOYHOOD.
Now came the time when the little Charles Bradlaugh should put aside
his childhood and make a beginning in the struggle for existence. His
earnings were required to help in supplying the needs of the growing
family; and at twelve years old he was made office boy with a salary
of five shillings a week at Messrs Lepard's, where his father was
confidential clerk. In later years, in driving through London with
him, he has many a time pointed out to me the distances he used to run
to save the omnibus fare allowed him, and how if he had to cross the
water he would run round by London Bridge to save the toll. The money
thus saved he would spend in books bought at second-hand bookstalls,
outside of which he might generally be found reading at any odd moments
of leisure. One red-letter day his firm sent him on an errand to the
company of which Mr Mark E. Marsden was the secretary. Mr Marsden,
whose name will be remembered and honoured by many for his unceasing
efforts for political and social progress, chatted with the lad,
asking him many questions, and finished up by giving him a bun and
half-a-crown. As both of these were luxuries which rarely came in the
office boy's way, they made a great impression on him. He never forgot
the incident, although it quite passed out of Mr Marsden's mind, and he
was unable to recall it when the two became friends in after years.
The errand-running came to an end when my father was fourteen, at
which age he was considered of sufficient dignity to be promoted to
the office of wharf clerk and cashier to Messrs Green, Son, & Jones,
coal merchants at Brittania Fields, City Road, at a salary of eleven
shillings a week. About this time, too, partly impelled by curiosity
and swayed by the fervour of the political movement then going on
around him, but also undoubtedly with a mind prepared for the
good seed by the early talks with old Mr Brand, he went to several
week-evening meetings then being held in Bonner's Fields and elsewhere.
It was in 1847 that he first saw William Lovett, at a Chartist meeting
which he attended. His Sundays were devoted to religion; from having
been an eager and exemplary Sunday school scholar he had now become
a most promising Sunday school teacher; so that although discussions
were held at Bonner's Fields almost continually through the day every
Sunday, they were not for him: _he_ was fully occupied with his duties
at the Church of St Peter's, in Hackney Road.
At this time the Rev. John Graham Packer was incumbent at St Peter's;
and when it was announced that the Bishop of London intended to hold
a confirmation at Bethnal Green, Mr Packer naturally desired to make
a good figure before his clerical superior. He therefore selected
the best lads in his class for confirmation, and bade them prepare
themselves for the important occasion. To this end Charles Bradlaugh
carefully studied and compared the Thirty-nine Articles of the Church
of England and the four Gospels, and it was not long before he found,
to his dismay, that they did not agree, and that he was totally
unable to reconcile them. "Thorough" in this as in all else, he was
anxious to understand the discrepancies he found and to be put right.
He therefore, he tells us, "ventured to write Mr Packer a respectful
letter, asking him for his aid and explanation." Instead of help there
came a bolt from the blue. Mr Packer had the consummate folly to write
Mr Bradlaugh senior, denouncing his son's inquiries as Atheistical,
and followed up his letter by suspending his promising pupil for three
months from his duties of Sunday-school teacher.
This three months of suspension was pregnant with influence for him;
for one thing it gave him opportunities which he had heretofore
lacked, and thus brought him into contact with persons of whom up till
then he had scarcely heard. The lad, horrified at being called an
Atheist, and forbidden his Sunday school, naturally shrank from going
to church. It may well be imagined also that under the ban of his
parents' disapproval home was no pleasant place, and it is little to be
wondered at that he wandered off to Bonner's Fields. Bonner's Fields
was in those days a great place for open-air meetings. Discussions on
every possible subject were held; on the week evenings the topics
were mostly political, but on Sundays theological or anti-theological
discourses were as much to the fore as politics. In consequence of my
father's own theological difficulties, he was naturally attracted to
a particular group where such points were discussed with great energy
Sunday after Sunday. After listening a little, he was roused to the
defence of his Bible and his Church, and, finding his tongue, joined in
the debate on behalf of orthodox Christianity.
The little group of Freethinkers to which Mr Bradlaugh was thus drawn
were energetic and enthusiastic disciples of Richard Carlile. Their
out-door meetings were mostly held at Bonner's Fields or Victoria Park,
and the in-door meetings at a place known as Eree's Coffee House. In
the year 1848 it was agreed that they should subscribe together and
have a Temperance Hall of their own for their meetings. To this end
three of them, Messrs Barralet, Harvey, and Harris, became securities
for the lease of No. 1 Warner Place, then a large old-fashioned
dwelling-house; and a Hall was built out at the back. As the promoters
were anxious to be of service to Mrs Sharples Carlile, who after the
death of Richard Carlile was left with her three children in very poor
circumstances, they invited her to undertake the superintendence of the
coffee room, and to reside at Warner Place with her daughters Hypatia
and Theophila and her son Julian.
When my father first met her, Mrs Sharples Carlile, then about
forty-five years of age, was a woman of considerable attainments.
She belonged to a very respectable and strictly religious family at
Bolton; was educated in the Church with her two sisters under the Rev.
Mr Thistlethwaite; and, to use an expression of her own, was "quite an
evangelical being, sang spiritual songs, and prayed myself into the
grave almost." Her mind, however, was not quite of the common order,
and perhaps the excess of ardour with which she had thrown herself into
her religious pursuits made the recoil more easy and more decided.
Be this as it may, it is nevertheless remarkable that, surrounded
entirely by religious people, reading no anti-theological literature,
she unaided thought herself out of "the doctrines of the Church." After
some two-and-a-half-years of this painful evolution, accident made her
acquainted with a Mr Hardie, a follower of Carlile's. He seems to have
lent her what was at that time called "infidel literature," and so
inspired her with the most ardent enthusiasm for Richard Carlile, and
in a less degree for the Rev. Robert Taylor. On the 11th January 1832,
whilst Carlile was undergoing one of the many terms of imprisonment
to which he was condemned for conscience' sake, Miss Sharples came to
London, and on the 29th of the same month she gave her first lecture at
the Rotunda.
On the 11th of February this young woman of barely twenty-eight
summers, but one month escaped from the trammels of life in a country
town, amidst a strictly religious environment, started a "weekly
publication" called _Isis_, dedicated to "The young women of England
for generations to come or until superstition is extinct." The _Isis_
was published at sixpence, and contains many of Miss Sharples'
discourses both on religious and political subjects. In religion she
was a Deist; in politics a Radical and Republican; thus following
in the footsteps of her leader Richard Carlile. I have been looking
through the volume of the _Isis_; it is all very "proper" (as even
Mrs Grundy would have to confess), and I am bound to say that the
stilted phrases and flowery turns of speech of sixty years ago are to
me not a little wearisome; but with all its defects, it is an enduring
record of the ability, knowledge, and courage of Mrs Sharples Carlile.
She reprints some amusing descriptions of herself from the religious
press; and were I not afraid of going too much out of my way, I would
reproduce them here with her comments in order that we might picture
her more clearly; but although this would be valuable in view of the
evil use made of her name in connection with her kindness to my father,
it would take me too far from the definite purpose of my work. In her
preface to the volume, written in 1834, she thus defends her union with
Richard Carlile:--
"There are those who reproach my marriage. They are scarcely worth
notice; but this I have to say for myself, that nothing could have
been more pure in morals, more free from venality. It was not only a
marriage of two bodies, but a marriage of two congenial spirits; or
two minds reasoned into the same knowledge of true principles, each
seeking an object on which virtuous affection might rest, and grow, and
strengthen. And though we passed over a legal obstacle, it was only
because it could not be removed, and was not in a spirit of violation
of the law, nor of intended offence or injury to any one. A marriage
more pure and moral was never formed and continued in England. It was
what marriage should be, though not perhaps altogether what marriage is
in the majority of cases. They who are married equally moral, will not
find fault with mine; but where marriage is merely of the law or for
money, and not of the soul, there I look for abuse."[2]
[Footnote 2: In the _Gauntlet_ for Sept. 22nd, 1833, Carlile, who had
been formally separated from his wife nine months previously, says:--
"Many months did not elapse before we stood pledged to a moral
marriage, and to a resolution to avow that marriage immediately after
my liberation. I took the first opportunity of doing it, as I now take
the first of explaining the introduction. As a public man, I will be
associated with nothing that is to be concealed from the public. Many,
I know, will carp upon my freedom as to divorce and marriage; and to
such persons I say, if they are worth a word, that I do so because I
hate hypocrisy, because I hate everything that is foul and indecent,
because I will not deceive any one. I have led a miserable wedded life
through twenty years, from disparity of mind and temper; and, for
the next twenty, I have resolved to have a wife in whom I may find a
companion and helpmate.... I will make one woman happy, and I will not
make any other woman unhappy. RICHARD CARLILE.
"_P.S._--I would not have intruded this matter upon the public notice
had it not been intended that the lady, as well as myself, will
continue to lecture publicly. We are above deception. Our creed is
truth, and our morals nothing but is morally and reasonably to be
defended. Priestcraft hath no law for us; but every virtue, everything
that is good and useful to human nature in society, has its binding law
on us. We will practise every virtue and war with every vice. This is
our moral marriage and our bond of union. Who shall show against it any
just cause or impediment?"]
Of course, all this happened long before Mr Bradlaugh became acquainted
with Mrs Carlile; when he knew her, sixteen or seventeen years later,
she was a broken woman, who had had her ardour and enthusiasm cooled by
suffering and poverty, a widow with three children, of whom Hypatia,
the eldest, could not have been more than fourteen or fifteen years old
at the most. I have been told by those who knew Mrs Carlile in those
days that in spite of all this she still had a most noble presence,
and looked and moved "like a queen." Her gifts, however, they said,
with smiles, certainly did not lie in attending to the business of the
coffee room--at that she was "no good." She was quiet and reserved, and
although Christians have slandered her both during her lifetime and up
till within this very year on account of her non-legalised union with
Richard Carlile, she was looked up to and revered by those who knew
her, and never was a whisper breathed against her fair fame.
Amongst the frequenters of the Warner Street Temperance Hall I find
the names of Messrs Harvey, Colin Campbell, the brothers Savage,[3] the
brothers Barralet, Tobias Taylor, Edward Cooke, and others, of whom
most Freethinkers have heard something. They seem to have been rather
wild, compared with the sober dignity of the John Street Institution,
especially in the way of lecture bills with startling announcements,
reminding one somewhat of the modern Salvation Army posters. The
neighbourhood looked with no favourable eye upon the little hall, and I
am told that one night, when a baby was screaming violently next door,
a rumour got about that the "infidels" were sacrificing a baby, and
the place was stormed by an angry populace, who were with difficulty
appeased.
[Footnote 3: There were three of these brothers, all remarkable for
their courage, pertinacity, or ability. One of them, John Savage,
refused to pay taxes in 1833. The best of his goods were seized and,
in spite of Mr Savage's protests, carried away in a van. There was so
much feeling about the taxes at the time that no sooner did the people
living in the neighbourhood (Circus Street, Marylebone) hear of the
seizure than they collected in great numbers. The van was followed,
taken possession of, and brought back to Circus Street. The goods were
removed, the horse taken out of the shafts, and the van demolished.
After the news spread throughout the metropolis the excitement became
so great that the Horse Guards at the Regent's Park Barracks were put
under arms. They had lively times sixty years ago.]
It was to this little group of earnest men that the youth Charles
Bradlaugh was introduced in 1848, as one eager to debate, and
enthusiastically determined to convert them all to the "true religion"
in which he had been brought up. He discussed with Colin Campbell,
a smart and fluent debater; he argued with James Savage, a man of
considerable learning, a cool and calm reasoner, and a deliberate
speaker, whose speech on occasion was full of biting sarcasms; and
after a discussion with the latter upon "The Inspiration of the
Bible," my father admitted that he was convinced by the superior
logic of his antagonist, and owning himself beaten, felt obliged to
abandon his defence of orthodoxy. Nevertheless, he did not suddenly
leap into Atheism: his views were for a little time inclined to
Deism; but once started on the road of doubt, his careful study
and--despite his youth--judicial temper, gradually brought him to
the Atheistic position. With the Freethinkers of Warner Place he
became a teetotaller, which was an additional offence in the eyes of
the orthodox; and while still in a state of indecision on certain
theological points, he submitted Robert Taylor's "Diegesis" to his
spiritual director, the Rev. J. G. Packer.
During all this time Mr Packer had not been idle. He obtained a
foothold in my father's family, insisted on the younger children
regularly attending Church and Sunday School, rocked the baby's cradle,
and talked over the father and mother to such purpose that they
consented to hang all round the walls of the sitting-room great square
cards, furnished by him, bearing texts which he considered appropriate
to the moment. One, "The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God,"
was hung up in the most prominent place over the fireplace, and just
opposite the place where the victim sat to take his meals. Such stupid
and tactless conduct would be apt to irritate a patient person, and
goad even the most feeble-spirited into some kind of rebellion; and I
cannot pretend that my father was either one or the other. He glowered
angrily at the texts, and was glad enough to put the house door between
himself and the continuous insult put upon him at the instigation of
Mr Packer. In 1860, the rev. gentleman wrote a letter described later
by my father as "mendacious," in which he sought to explain away his
conduct, and to make out that he had tried to restrain Mr Bradlaugh,
senior. In illustration thereof, he related the following incident:--
"The father, returning home one evening, saw a board hanging at the
Infidels' door announcing some discussion by Bradlaugh, in which
my name was mentioned not very respectfully, which announcement so
enraged the father that he took the board down and carried it home
with him, the Infidels calling after him, and threatening him with a
prosecution if he did not restore the placard immediately.
"When Mr Bradlaugh, senior, got home, and had had a little time for
reflection, he sent for me and asked my advice, and I urged him
successfully immediately to send [back] the said placard."
That little story, like certain other little stories, is extremely
interesting, but unfortunately it has not the merit of accuracy. The
facts of the case have been told me by my father's sister (Mrs Norman),
who was less than two years younger than her brother Charles, and who,
like him, is gifted with an excellent, almost unerring memory. Her
story is this. One autumn night (the end of October or beginning of
November) Mr Packer came to the house to see her father. He had not yet
come home from his office, so Mr Packer sat down and rocked the cradle,
which contained a fewdays-old baby girl. After some little time,
during which Mr Packer kept to his post as self-constituted nurse, Mr
Bradlaugh, sen., returned home. The two men were closeted together for
a few minutes, and then went out together. It was a wild and stormy
night, and Mr Bradlaugh wore one of those large cloaks that are I think
called "Inverness" capes. After some time he came home, carrying under
his cape two boards which he had taken away from the Warner Place Hall.
He behaved like a madman, raving and stamping about, until the monthly
nurse, who had long known the family, came downstairs to know what was
the matter. He showed her the boards, and told her he was going to burn
them. Mrs Bailey, the nurse, begged him not to do so, talked to him
and coaxed him, and reminded him that he might have an action brought
against him for stealing, and at length tried to induce him to let her
take them back. By this time the stress of his rage was over, and she,
taking his consent for granted, put on her shawl, and hiding the boards
beneath it, went out into the rain and storm to replace them outside
the Hall. The inference Mrs Norman drew from these proceedings was that
Mr Packer had urged on her father to do what he dared not do himself.
It is worthy of note that when Mrs Norman told me the story neither she
nor I had read Mr Packer's version, and did not even know that he had
written one.
When Mr Packer received the "Diegesis" he seems to have looked upon the
sending of it as an insult, and, exercising all the influence he had
been diligently acquiring over the mind of Mr Bradlaugh, sen., induced
him to notify Messrs Green & Co., the coal merchants and employers of
his son, that he would withdraw his security if within the space of
three days his son did not alter his views. Thus Mr Packer was able to
hold out to his rebellious pupil the threat that he had three days in
which "to change his opinions or lose his situation."
Whether it was ever intended that this threat should be carried out
it is now impossible to determine. Mr Bradlaugh, who seldom failed
to find a word on behalf of those who tried to injure him--even for
Mr Newdegate and Lord Randolph Churchill he could find excuses when
any of us resented their bigoted or spiteful persecution--said in his
"Autobiography," written in 1873, that he thought the menace was used
to terrify him into submission, and that there was no real intention of
enforcing it. Looking at the whole circumstances, and from a practical
point of view, this seems likely. One is reluctant to believe that a
father would permit himself to be influenced by his clergyman to the
extent of depriving his son of the means of earning his bread. His own
earnings were so scanty that he could ill afford to throw away his
son's salary, especially if he would have to keep him in addition.
The one strong point in favour of the harsher view is that when the
son took the threat exactly to the letter, the father never called
him back or made a sign from which might be gathered that he had been
misunderstood; and he suffered the boy to go without one word to show
that the ultimatum had been taken too literally.
At the time, at any rate, my father had no doubt as to the full import
of the threat. He took it in all its naked harshness--three days in
which to change his opinions or lose his situation. To a high-spirited
lad, to lose his situation under such circumstances meant of course
to lose his home, for he could not eat the bread of idleness at such
a cost, even had the father been willing to permit it. On the third
day, therefore, he packed his scanty belongings, parted from his dear
sister Elizabeth, with tears and kisses and a little parting gift,
which she treasures to this hour, and thus left his home. From that
day almost until his death his life was one long struggle against the
bitterest animosity which religious bigotry could inspire. In the face
of all this he pursued the path he had marked out for himself without
once swerving, and although the cost was great, in the end he always
triumphed in his undertakings--up to the very last, when the supreme
triumph came as his life was ebbing away in payment for it, and when he
was beyond caring for the good or evil opinion of any man.
It is now the fashion to make Mr Packer into a sort of scapegoat: his
harsh reception of his pupil's questions and subsequent ill-advised
methods of dealing with him are censured, and he is in a manner made
responsible for my father's Atheism. If no other Christian had treated
Mr Bradlaugh harshly; if every other clergyman had dealt with him in
kindly fashion; if he had been met with kindness instead of slanders
and stones, abuse and ill-usage, then these censors of Mr Packer
might have some just grounds on which to reproach him for misusing
his position; as it is, they should ask themselves which among them
has the right to cast the first stone. The notion that it was Mr
Packer's treatment of him that drove my father into Atheism is, I am
sure, absolutely baseless. Those who entertain this belief forget that
Mr Bradlaugh had already begun to compare and criticise the various
narratives in the four Gospels, and that it was on account of this (and
therefore after it) that the Rev. J. G. Packer was so injudicious as to
denounce him as an Atheist, and to suspend him from his Sunday duties.
This harsh and blundering method of dealing with him no doubt hastened
his progress towards Atheism, but it assuredly did not induce it. It
set his mind in a state of opposition to the Church as represented
by Mr Packer, a state which the rev. gentleman seems blindly to have
fostered by every means in his power; and it gave him the opportunity
of the Sunday's leisure to hear what Atheism really was, expounded by
some of the cleverest speakers in the Freethought movement at that
time. But in spite of all this, he was not driven pell-mell into
Atheism; he joined in the religious controversy from the orthodox
standpoint, and was introduced into the little Warner Place Hall as an
eager champion on behalf of Christianity.
Those persons too who entertain this idea of Mr Packer's responsibility
are ignorant of, or overlook, what manner of man Mr Bradlaugh was.
He could not rest with his mind unsettled or undecided; he worked
out and solved for himself every problem which presented itself to
him. He moulded his ideas on no man's: he looked at the problem on
all sides, studied the pros and cons, and decided the solution for
himself. Therefore, having once started on the road to scepticism,
kindlier treatment would no doubt have made him longer in reaching the
standpoint of pure Rationalism, but in any case the end would have been
the same.