ARMY LIFE CONCLUDED.
When his father died in 1852 Private Charles Bradlaugh came home on
furlough to attend the funeral. He was by this time heartily sick of
soldiering, and under the circumstances was specially anxious to get
home to help in the support of his family. (This, one writer, without
the slightest endeavour to be accurate even on the simplest matters,
says is nonsense, because his family only numbered _two_, his mother
and his brother!) His great-aunt, Elizabeth Trimby, promised to buy
him out, and he went back to his regiment buoyed up by her promise.
In September he was in hospital, ill with rheumatic fever, and after
that he seems to have had more or less rheumatism during the remainder
of his stay in Ireland; for in June 1853, in writing to his sister,
apologising for having passed over her birthday without a letter,
he says: "I was, unfortunately, on my bed from another attack of
the rheumatism, which seized my right knee in a manner anything but
pleasant, but it is a mere nothing to the dose I had last September,
and I am now about again."
The letters I have by me of my father's, written home at this time,
instead of teeming with fiery fury and magniloquent phrases as to
shooting his officers,[11] are just a lad's letters; the sentences
for the most part a little formal and empty, with perhaps the most
interesting item reserved for the postscript; now and again crude
verses addressed to his sister, and winding up almost invariably with
"write soon." After the father's death Mr Lepard, a member of the firm
in which he had been confidential clerk for upwards of twenty-one
years, used his influence to get the two youngest children, Robert and
Harriet, into Orphan Asylums. While the matter was yet in abeyance
Elizabeth seems to have written her brother asking if any of the
officers could do anything to help in the matter, and on March 14th he
answers her from Ballincollig:--
[Footnote 11: Whether rightly or wrongly, my father thought he was
treated with exceptional severity by his Captain during the first part
of the time he was in the army; and this has been exaggerated into a
story of how in his letters to his mother during the latter part of
his army life he was "_constantly_ informing her" that "unless she
obtained his discharge he would put a bullet through this officer."
The story, I need hardly say, is quite untrue, and to any one who knew
my father must seem almost too absurd to need refutation. During Mr
Bradlaugh's illness in 1889 Captain Walker, then General Sir Beauchamp
Walker, called twice to inquire at Circus Road. My father was very dull
and depressed one day as he lay in bed, and, thinking to cheer him. I
mentioned the names of persons who I knew he would like to hear had
inquired; and when I read the name from the card, and said that General
Walker had told the maid to "tell Mr Bradlaugh that his old Captain
had called," he was delighted beyond measure, and was for the moment
the boy private again, with the private's feelings for his superior
officer. The visit gratified him almost as much as if it had been one
from Mr Gladstone himself.]
"I am very sorry to say that you have a great deal more to learn of
the world yet, my dear Elizabeth, or you would not expect to find
an officer of the army a subscriber to an Orphan Asylum. There may
be a few, but the most part of them spend all the money they have
in hunting, racing, boating, horses, dogs, gambling, and drinking,
besides other follies of a graver kind, and have little to give to the
poor, and less inclination to give it even than their means."
My father's great-aunt, Miss Elizabeth Trimby, died in June 1853, at
the age of eighty-five. She died without having fulfilled her promise
of buying her nephew's discharge; but as the little money she left,
some £70, came to the Bradlaugh family, they had now the opportunity
of themselves carrying out her intention, or, to be exact, her precise
written wishes.[12]
[Footnote 12: _National Reformer_, Feb. 10, 1884.]
The mother, in her heart, wanted her son home: she needed the comfort
of his presence, and the help of his labour, to add to their scanty
women's earnings; but she was a woman slow to forgive, and her son had
set his parents' commands at defiance, and gone out into the world
alone, rather than bow his neck to the yoke his elders wished to put
upon him. She talked the matter over with her neighbours, and if it
was a kindly, easy-going neighbour, who said, "Oh, I should have
him home," then she allowed her real desires to warm her heart a
little, and think that perhaps she would; if, on the other hand, her
neighbour dilated upon the wickedness of her son, and the enormity of
his offences, then she would harden herself against him. Her daughter
Elizabeth wanted him home badly; and whilst her mother was away at
Mitcham, attending the funeral, and doing other things in connection
with the death of Miss Trimby, Elizabeth wrote to her brother, asking
what it would cost to buy him out. He was instructed to write on a
separate paper, as she was afraid of her mother's anger when she saw
it, and wished to take the favourable opportunity of a soft moment to
tell her. She was left in charge at home, and thinking her mother safe
at Mitcham for a week, she had timed the answer to come in her absence.
One day she had to leave the house to take home some work which she
had been doing. On her return, much to her dismay, her mother met her
at the door perfectly furious. The letter had come during the girl's
short absence, and her mother had come home unexpectedly! "How dared
she write her brother? How dared she ask such a question?" the mother
demanded, and poor Elizabeth was in sad disgrace all that day, and for
some time afterwards. This was the answer her brother sent, on June
22nd, from Cahir--
"As you wish, I send on this sheet what it would cost to buy me off;
but I would not wish to rob you and mother like that.
For the Discharge £30 0 0
Compensation for general clothing 0 17 6
Passage money home 1 16 0
--------
£32 13 6
or about £33.
"I could come home in regimentals, because clothes could be bought
cheaper in London, and I would work like a slave; but do not think, my
dear sister, I want to take the money from you and mother, though I
would do anything to get from the army.
"We are under orders to march into the county of Clare to put down the
rioters at Six Mile Bridge, in the coming election, and expect some
fighting there."
The discharge was applied for in August, but I gather that Mr Lepard,
who assisted my grandmother in the little legal matters arising out of
Miss Trimby's death, was not very favourable to the project, and seems
to have required some guarantee as to my father's character,[13] before
he would remit the money.
[Footnote 13: Amongst some letters my father gave me some long time ago
is one which must have satisfied even Mr Lepard. It is as follows:--
"Cahir Barracks, September 23rd, 1853.
"SIR,--Having been informed by Private Charles Bradlaugh
of the 7th Dragoon Guards, that you require some testimonials as to
character, I beg to inform you that during the time this man has been
in the regiment (since December 1850) his conduct has been extremely
good, and I beg also to add that he is always considered to be a
clever, well-informed, and steady young man. Should you require
any further information, I shall be most happy to give [all] in my
power.--I am, Sir, your obedient Servant,
"E. T. DOWBIGGIN,
"J. Lepard, Esq. Lieut. and Adjutant, 7th Dragoon Guards.
"_P.S._--I may observe that during the last eighteen months this man
has been occupying rather a prominent situation in the regiment, being
that of orderly room clerk, and has consequently been immediately
under my notice."]
However, it was at length definitely arranged that the aunt's promise
should be kept, and that her money should purchase the discharge
according to her intentions. A thoroughly boyish letter gives
expression to Private Bradlaugh's sentiments on hearing the good news.
It is dated from "Cahir, 6th October 1853:--
"MY DEAR MOTHER,--When I opened your letter, before reading
it I waved it three times round my head, and gave a loud 'hurra'
from pure joy, for then I felt assured that all this was not a mere
dream, but something very like reality. The £30 has not yet made its
appearance on the scene. I shall be glad to see it, as I shall not
feel settled till I get away. I am, however, rather damped to hear of
your ill-health, but hope for something better. I have made inquiries
about butter, but it is extremely dear, 1s. to 14d. per lb. in this
county.
"When the £30 arrives I will write to let you know the day I shall be
home. Till then, believe me, my dearest mother, your affectionate Son,
CHARLES BRADLAUGH.
"Love to Elizabeth, Robert, and Harriet."
He did not have to wait long for the appearance of the £30 "on
the scene," which speedily resulted in the following "parchment
certificate:"--
"7th (Princess Royal's) Regiment of Dragoon Guards.
"These are to certify that Charles Bradlaugh, Private, born in the
Parish of Hoxton, in or near the Town of London, in the County of
Middlesex, was enlisted at Westminster for the 7th Dragoon Guards, on
the 17th December 1850, at the age of 17-3/12 years. That he served
in the Army for two years and 301 days. That he is discharged in
consequence of his requesting the same, on payment of £30.
"C. F. AINSLIE, Hd. Commanding Officer.
"Dated at Cahir, 12th October 1853.
"Adjutant General's Office, Dublin.
"Discharge of Private Charles Bradlaugh confirmed.
"14th October 1853. J. EDEN,[14] 7th D. G.
"Character: Very Good.
"C. F. AINSLIE, 7th D. Guards."
The merely formal part of the discharge is made out in his own
handwriting as orderly room clerk.
[Footnote 14: This signature is almost illegible.]
* * * * *
These three years of army life were of great value to my father. First
of all physically: for a little time before he enlisted he had been
half starved, and his health was being undermined by constant privation
just at a time when his great and growing frame most needed nourishing.
In the army he had food, which although it might be of a kind to be
flouted by an epicure, was sufficiently abundant, and came at regular
intervals. The obnoxious drill which he had to go through must have
helped to broaden his chest (at his death he was forty-six-and-a-half
inches round the chest) and harden his muscles, and so gave him the
strength which served him so well in the later years of his life. He
learned to fence and to ride, and both accomplishments proved useful
in latter days. Fencing was always a favourite exercise with him and,
in after days, when alone, he would also often exercise his muscles by
going through a sort of sword drill with the old cavalry sabre, which
is hanging on my wall to-day. Riding he at first abhorred, and probably
any London East End lad would share his sentiments when first set upon
a cavalry charger with a hard mouth; he was compelled to ride until the
blood ran down his legs, and before these wounds had time to heal he
had to be on horseback again. When he was orderly room clerk, and was
not compelled to ride so often, then he took a liking for it, and then
he really learned to sit and manage his horse. Often and often during
the last years of his life he longed to be rich enough to keep a horse,
so that he might ride to the House and wherever his business might
take him within easy distance, and thus get the exercise of which he
stood so urgently in need.
It was, too, while with his regiment in Ireland that Mr Bradlaugh
first became acquainted with James Thomson, an acquaintance which soon
ripened into a friendship which lasted for five-and-twenty years. In
the quiet nights, whilst the private was on sentry duty, he and the
young schoolmaster would have long serious talks upon subjects a little
unusual, perhaps, amongst the rank and file; or in the evening, when
Thomson's work was done, and Private Bradlaugh could get leave, they
would go for a ramble together. They each became the confidant of the
other's troubles and aspirations, and each was sure of a sympathetic
listener.
That his regiment happened to be stationed in Ireland during the whole
time he belonged to it was of immense importance to him. He learned the
character and the needs of the Irish peasantry as he could have learned
it in no other way. The sights he saw and the things he heard whilst
he was in Ireland, as the story I cited a few pages back will show,
produced in him such a profound feeling of tenderness and sympathy for
the Irish people, that not all the personal enmity which was afterwards
shown him by Irishmen could destroy or even weaken.