ARMY LIFE.
But all his debating and writing, all his studying, did not fill my
father's pockets; they, like their owner, grew leaner every day. With
his increasing poverty he fell into debt: it was not much that he owed,
only £4 15s., but small as the sum was, it was more than he could
repay, or see any definite prospect of repaying, unless he could strike
out some new path. My grandfather, Mr Hooper, who knew him then, not
personally, but by seeing and hearing him, used to call him "the young
enthusiast," and many a time in later years recalled his figure as he
appeared in the winter of 1850, in words that have brought tears to
my eyes. Tall, gaunt, white-faced and hollow cheeked, with arms too
long for his sleeves, and trousers too short for his legs, he looked,
what indeed he was, nearly starving. "He looked _hungry_, Hypatia," my
grandfather would say with an expressive shudder; "he looked hungry."
And others have told me the same tale. How _could_ his parents bear to
know that he had come to such a pass!
A subscription was offered him by some Freethinking friends, and
deeply grateful as he was, it yet brought his poverty more alarmingly
before him. One night in December, one of the brothers Barralet met
him looking as I have said, and invited him into a coffee house close
by to discuss some scheme or other. They went in and chatted for some
minutes, but when the waiter had brought the food, it seemed suddenly
to strike the guest that the "scheme" was merely an excuse to give him
a supper, and with one look at his companion, he jumped up and fled out
of the room.
On Sunday, the 15th of December, he was lecturing in Bonner's Fields,
and went home with the sons of Mr Samuel Record to dinner. They tell
that while at dinner he threw his arms up above his head and asked
Mr Record in a jesting tone, "How do you think I should look in
regimentals?" The elder man replied, "My boy, you are too noble for
that." Unfortunately, a noble character could not clothe his long
limbs, or fill his empty stomach, nor could it pay that terrible debt
of £4 15s.
With "soldiering" vaguely in his mind, but yet without a clearly
defined intention of enlisting, he went out two days afterwards,
determined upon doing something to put an end to his present position.
He walked towards Charing Cross, and there saw a poster inviting smart
young men to join the East India Company's Service, and holding out
to recruits the tempting bait of a bounty of £6 10s. This bounty was
an overpowering inducement to the poor lad; his debts amounted to £4
15s.; this £6 10s. would enable him to pay all he owed and stand free
once more. As Mr John M. Robertson justly says in his Memoir,[5] this
incident was typical: "All through his life he had to shape his course
to the paying off of his debts, toil as he would." Mr Headingley[6]
tells that
"With a firm step, resolutely and soberly, Bradlaugh went down some
steps to a bar where the recruiting sergeants were in the habit of
congregating. Here he discerned the very fat, beery, but honest
sergeant, who was then enlisting for the East India Service, and at
once volunteered. Bradlaugh little imagined, when he stepped out of
the cellar and crossed Trafalgar Square once more--this time with
the fatal shilling in his pocket--that after all he would never
go to the East Indies, but remain in England to gather around him
vast multitudes of enthusiastic partisans, who, on that very spot,
would insist on his taking his seat in Parliament, as the member for
Northampton; and this, too, in spite of those heterodox views which,
as yet, had debarred him from earning even the most modest livelihood.
"It happened, however, that the sergeant of the East India Company
had 'borrowed a man' from the sergeant of the 50th Foot, and he
determined honestly to pay back his debt with the person of Bradlaugh;
so that after some hocus-pocus transactions between the two sergeants,
Bradlaugh was surprised to find that he had been duly enrolled in
the 50th Foot, and was destined for home service. Such a trick might
have been played with impunity on some ignorant country yokel; but
Bradlaugh at once rebelled, and made matters very uncomfortable for
all persons concerned.
"Among other persons to whom he explained all his grievances was the
medical officer who examined him. This gentleman fortunately took
considerable interest in the case, and had a long chat with Bradlaugh.
He could not engage him for India, as he belonged to the home forces,
but he invited him to look out of the window, where the sergeants were
pacing about, and select the regiment he might prefer. As a matter of
fact, Bradlaugh was not particularly disappointed at being compelled
to remain in England; he objected principally to the lack of respect
implied in trifling with his professed intentions. He was, therefore,
willing to accept the compromise suggested by the physician. So long
as his right of choice was respected, it did not much matter to him in
which regiment he served.
"After watching for a little while the soldiers pacing in front of the
window, his choice fell on a very smart cavalry man, and, being of the
necessary height, he determined to join his corps."
[Footnote 5: Labour and Law, by Charles Bradlaugh. With Memoir by John
M Robertson.]
[Footnote 6: Biography of Charles Bradlaugh.]
The regiment he elected to join proved to be the 7th (Princess Royal's)
Dragoon Guards, and thus, through the kindly assistance of the doctor,
at the age of "17-3/12 years," he found himself a "full private"
belonging to Her Majesty's forces.
After he enlisted he sent word, not to the father and mother who had
treated him so coldly, but to the grandmother who loved him so dearly.
She sent her daughter Mary to tell the parents of this new turn in
their son's affairs, and the news seems to have been conveyed and
received in a somewhat tragic manner. A day or so before Christmas Day
she came with a face of gloomy solemnity to tell something so serious
about Charles that the daughter Elizabeth, who happened to be there,
was ordered out of the room. She remained weeping in the passage during
the whole time of the family conclave, thinking that her brother must
have done something very dreadful indeed.
Then the father went to see his son at Westminster, and obtained
permission for the new recruit to spend the Christmas Day with his
family. It is only natural to suppose that this semi-reconciliation
must have afforded them all some sort of comfort, while I have a very
strong personal conviction that the whole affair preyed upon the
father's mind, and that the harshness he showed his son was really
foreign to his general temper. Anyhow, his character underwent a great
change after he let himself come under the influence of Mr Packer. He
who before never went inside a church, now never missed a Sunday; he
became concentrated and, to a certain extent, morose, and at length, on
the 19th August 1852, some twenty months after his son's enlistment,
he was taken suddenly ill at his desk in Cloak Lane. He was brought
home in a state of unconsciousness, from which he was only aroused to
fall into violent delirium, and so continued without once recovering
his senses until the hour of his death, which was reached on Tuesday
the 24th. He was only forty-one years of age, and had always had good
health previously, never ailing anything; and I feel quite convinced
that the agony of mind which he must have endured from the time when
his son was first denounced to him as an "Atheist" was mainly the cause
of his early death.
The 7th Dragoon Guards was at that time quartered in Ireland, and Mr
A. S. Headingley tells at length the tragic-comic adventures the new
recruit met with at sea on the three days' journey from London to
Dublin:--
"The recruits who were ordered to join their regiment were marched
down to a ship lying in the Thames which was to sail all the way to
Ireland. Bradlaugh was the only recruit who wore a black suit and a
silk hat. The former was very threadbare, and the latter weak about
the rim, but still to the other recruits he seemed absurdly attired;
and as he looked pale and thin and ill conditioned, it was not long
before some one ventured to destroy the dignity of his appearance by
bonneting him. The silk hat thus disposed of, much to the amusement
of the recruits, who considered horse play the equivalent of wit, a
raid was made upon Bradlaugh's baggage. His box was ruthlessly broken
open, and when it was discovered that a Greek lexicon and an Arabic
vocabulary were the principal objects he had thought fit to bring into
the regiment, the scorn and derision of his fellow soldiers knew no
bounds.
"A wild game of football was at once organized with the lexicon,
and it came out of the scuffle torn and unmanageable. The Arabic
vocabulary was a smaller volume, and it fared better. Ultimately,
Bradlaugh recovered the book, and he keeps it still on his shelf,
close to his desk, a cherished and useful relic of past struggles and
endeavours.
* * * * *
"His luggage broken open, his books scattered to the winds, his hat
desecrated and ludicrously mis-shaped by the rough hands of his fellow
recruits, Bradlaugh certainly did not present the picture of a future
leader of men. Yet, even at this early stage of his military life an
opportunity soon occurred which turned the tables entirely in his
favour.
"The weather had been looking ugly for some time, and now became more
and more menacing, till at last a storm broke upon the ship with a
violence so intense that the captain feared for her safety. It was
absolutely necessary to move the cargo, and his crew were not numerous
enough to accomplish, unaided, so arduous a task. Their services
also were urgently required to man[oe]uvre the ship. The captain,
therefore, summoned the recruits to help, and promised that if they
removed the cargo as he indicated, he would give them £5 to share
among themselves. He further encouraged them by expressing his hope
that if the work were well and promptly done, the ship would pull
through the storm.
"The proposition was greeted with cheers, and Bradlaugh, in spite of
his sea-sickness, helped as far as he was able in moving the cargo.
The ship now rode the waves more easily, and in due time the storm
subsided; and, the danger over, the soldiers thought the hour of
reckoning was at hand. The recruits began to inquire about the £5
which had been offered as the reward of their gallant services; but,
with the disappearance of the danger, the captain's generosity had
considerably subsided. He then hit on a mean stratagem to avoid the
fulfilment of his promise. He singled out three or four of the leading
men, the strongest recruits, and gave them two half-crowns each,
calculating that if the strongest had a little more than their share,
they would silence the clamours of the weaker, who were altogether
deprived of their due.
"The captain had not, however, reckoned on the presence of Bradlaugh.
The pale, awkward youth, who as yet had only been treated with jeers
and contempt, was the only person who dared stand up and face him. To
the unutterable surprise of every one, he delivered a fiery, menacing,
unanswerable harangue, upbraiding the captain in no measured terms,
exposing in lucid language the meanness of his action, and concluding
with the appalling threat of a letter to the _Times_. To this day
Bradlaugh remembers, with no small sense of self-satisfaction, the
utter and speechless amazement of the captain at the sight of a person
so miserable in appearance suddenly becoming so formidable in speech
and menace.
"Awakened, therefore, to a consciousness of his own iniquity by
Bradlaugh's eloquence, the captain distributed more money. The
soldiers on their side at once formed a very different opinion of
their companion, and, from being the butt, he became the hero of the
troop. Every one was anxious to show him some sort of deference, and
to make some acknowledgment for the services he had rendered."
While serving with his regiment Mr Bradlaugh was a most active advocate
of temperance; he began, within a day or so of his arrival in Ireland,
upon the quarter-master's daughters. He had been ordered to do some
whitewashing for the quarter-master, and that officer's daughters
saw him while he was at work, and took pity on him. I have told how
he looked; and it is little wonder that his appearance aroused
compassion. They brought him a glass of port wine, but this my father
majestically refused, and delivered to the amused girls a lecture
upon the dangers of intemperance, emphasising his remarks by waves of
the whitewash brush. He has often laughed at the queer figure he must
have presented, tall and thin, with arms and legs protruding from his
clothes, and raised up near to the ceiling on a board, above the two
girls, who listened to the lecture, wineglass in hand. Later on, when
he had gained a certain amount of popularity amongst his comrades, he
used to be let out of the barrack-room windows when he could not get
leave of absence, by means of blankets knotted together, in order to
attend and speak at temperance meetings in Kildare. But the difficulty
was not so much in getting out of barracks as in getting in again; and
sometimes this last was not accomplished without paying the penalty
of arrest. The men of his troop gave him the nickname of "Leaves,"
because of his predilection for tea and books; his soldier's knapsack
contained a Greek lexicon, an Arabic vocabulary, and a Euclid, the
beginnings of the library which at last numbered over 7000 volumes. Mr
Bradlaugh remained a total abstainer for several years--until 1861. At
that time he was in bad health, and was told by his physician that he
was drinking too much tea; he drank tea in those days for breakfast,
dinner, and tea, and whenever he felt thirsty in between. From that
time until 1886 he took milk regularly for breakfast, and in 1886 he
varied this regimen by adding a little coffee to his milk, with a
little claret or hock for dinner or supper, and a cup of tea after
dinner and at teatime. It has been said that he had a "passion for
tea," but that is a mere absurdity. If he had been out, he would ask
on coming in for a cup of tea, as another man would ask for a glass of
beer or a brandy and soda, but he would take it as weak as you liked to
give it him.
The stories of the energetic comment of the 300 dragoons upon the
sermon of the Rev. Mr Halpin at Rathmines Church, and the assertion of
a right of way by "Private Charles Bradlaugh, C. 52, VII D. G.," have
both been graphically told by Mr Headingley[7] and by Mrs Besant.[8]
[Footnote 7: Biography of Charles Bradlaugh.]
[Footnote 8: Review of Reviews, March 1891.]
"On Sundays," relates Mr Headingley, "when it was fine, the regiment
was marched to Rathmines Church, and here, on one occasion--it was
Whit-Sunday--the Rev. Mr Halpin preached a sermon which he described
as being beyond the understandings of the military portion of his
congregation. This somewhat irritated the Dragoon Guards, and
Bradlaugh, to their great delight, wrote a letter to the preacher, not
only showing that he fully understood his sermon, but calling him to
account for the inaccuracy of his facts and the illogical nature of
his opinions.
"It was anticipated that an unpleasant answer might be made to this
letter, and on the following Sunday the Dragoons determined to be
fully prepared for the emergency. Accordingly, they listened carefully
to the sermon. The Rev. Mr Halpin did not fail to allude to the letter
he had received, but at the first sentence that was impertinent and
contemptuous in its tone three hundred dragoons unhooked their swords
as one man, and let the heavy weapons crash on the ground. Never had
there been such a noise in a church, or a preacher so effectively
silenced.
"An inquiry was immediately ordered to be held, Bradlaugh was
summoned to appear, and serious consequences would have ensued; but,
fortunately, the Duke of Cambridge came to Dublin on the next day, the
review which was held in honour of his presence diverted attention,
and so the matter dropped."
I give the right-of-way incident in Mrs Besant's words. While the
regiment was at Ballincollig, she says--
"A curiously characteristic act made him the hero of the Inniscarra
peasantry. A landowner had put up a gate across a right-of-way,
closing it against soldiers and peasants, while letting the gentry
pass through it. 'Leaves' looked up the question, and found the
right-of-way was real; so he took with him some soldiers and some
peasants, pulled down the gate, broke it up, and wrote on one of the
bars, 'Pulled up by Charles Bradlaugh, C. 52, VII D. G.' The landowner
did not prosecute, and the gate did not reappear."
The landlord did not prosecute, because when he made his complaint
to the officer commanding the regiment, the latter suggested that he
should make quite certain that he had the law on his side, for Private
Bradlaugh generally knew what he was about. The peasants, whose rights
had been so boldly defended, did not confine their gratitude to words,
but henceforth they kept their friend supplied with fresh butter,
new-laid eggs, and such homely delicacies as they thought a private in
a cavalry regiment would be likely to appreciate.
After speaking of the difficulties into which my father might have got
over the Rathmines affair, Mrs Besant[9] tells of another occasion in
which his position
"was even more critical. He was orderly room clerk, and a newly
arrived young officer came into the room where he was sitting at work,
and addressed to him some discourteous order. Private Bradlaugh took
no notice. The order was repeated with an oath. Still no movement.
Then it came again with some foul words added. The young soldier rose,
drew himself to his full height, and, walking up to the officer, bade
him leave the room, or he would throw him out. The officer went, but
in a few minutes the grounding of muskets was heard outside, the door
opened, and the Colonel walked in, accompanied by the officer. It was
clear that the private soldier had committed an act for which he might
be court-martialled, and as he said once, 'I felt myself in a tight
place.' The officer made his accusation, and Private Bradlaugh was
bidden to explain. He asked that the officer should state the exact
words in which he had addressed him, and the officer who had, after
all, a touch of honour in him, gave the offensive sentence word for
word. Then Private Bradlaugh said, addressing his Colonel, that the
officer's memory must surely be at fault in the whole matter, as he
could not have used language so unbecoming an officer and a gentleman.
The Colonel turned to the officer with the dry remark, 'I think
Private Bradlaugh is right; there _must_ be some mistake,' and he left
the room."
[Footnote 9: See Character Sketch _Charles Bradlaugh_.--Review of
Reviews, March 1891.]
Many are the stories that might be told of these his soldier's days.
One incident that I have often heard him give, and which may well come
in here, is referred to in Mr Robertson's interesting _Memoir_ appended
to my father's last book, "Labour and Law." This was an experience
gained at Donnybrook Fair, the regiment being then quartered near "that
historic village." "When Fair time came near the peasantry circulated
a well-planned taunt to the effect that the men of the Seventh would
be afraid to present themselves on the great day. The Seventh acted
accordingly. Sixteen picked men got a day's leave--and shillelaghs. 'I
was the shortest of the sixteen,'" said Mr Bradlaugh, as he related the
episode, not without some humorous qualms, and _he_ stood 6 feet 1-1/2
inches. "The sixteen just 'fought through,' and their arms and legs
were black for many weeks, though their heads, light as they clearly
were, did not suffer seriously. But," he added, with a sigh, as he
finished the story, "I _couldn't_ do it now."
A further experience of a really tragic and terrible kind I will relate
in my father's own words, for in these he most movingly describes a
scene he himself witnessed, and a drama in which he took an unwilling
part.
"Those of you who are Irishmen," he begins,[10] "will want no
description of that beautiful valley of the Lee which winds between
the hills from Cork, and in summer seems like a very Paradise, green
grass growing to the water side, and burnished with gold in the
morning, and ruddy to very crimson in the evening sunset. I went there
on a November day. I was one of a troop to protect the law officers,
who had come with the agent from Dublin to make an eviction a few
miles from Inniscarra, where the river Bride joins the Lee. It was a
miserable day--rain freezing into sleet as it fell--and the men beat
down wretched dwelling after wretched dwelling, some thirty or forty
perhaps. They did not take much beating down; there was no flooring
to take up; the walls were more mud than aught else; and there was
but little trouble in the levelling of them to the ground. We had got
our work about three parts done, when out of one of them a woman ran,
and flung herself on the ground, wet as it was, before the Captain
of the troop, and she asked that her house might be spared--not for
long, but for a little while. She said her husband had been born in
it; he was ill of the fever, but could not live long, and she asked
that he might be permitted to die in it in peace. Our Captain had
no power; the law agent from Dublin wanted to get back to Dublin;
his time was of importance, and he would not wait; and that man was
carried out while we were there--in front of us, while the sleet was
coming down--carried out on a wretched thing (you could not call
it a bed), and he died there while we were there; and three nights
afterwards, while I was sentry on the front gate at Ballincollig
Barracks, we heard a cry, and when the guard was turned out, we found
this poor woman there a raving maniac, with one dead babe in one arm,
and another in the other clinging to the cold nipple of her lifeless
breast. And," asked my father, in righteous indignation, "if you had
been brothers to such a woman, sons of such a woman, fathers of such
a woman, would not rebellion have seemed the holiest gospel you could
hear preached?"
[Footnote 10: _National Reformer_, November 16, 1873. A speech on the
Irish Question delivered in New York; reprinted from the _New York
Tribune_ of October 7th.]