PROVINCIAL LECTURING, 1866-1869.
I will take up once more the story of my father's lecturing experiences
in the provinces by telling of the Mayor's attempt to prevent the
delivery of some lectures he had agreed to give in Liverpool, in the
middle of October 1866. The subjects to be dealt with were: "The
Pentateuch: without it Christianity is nothing; with it, Humanity is
impossible;" "The Twelve Apostles," and "Kings, Lords, and Commons."
The bills announcing these particulars were posted all over the
town, and seem to have much alarmed the Mayor. This gentleman was a
Methodist, and held such peculiar ideas concerning the duties of chief
magistrate of so important a place as Liverpool that he preferred,
for example, attending a Scripture Readers' tea-party rather than
the banquet given to the layers of the Atlantic Cable, at which he
was expected. It can be easily understood that such a Mayor would be
greatly disturbed by the possibility of an atheistic criticism of the
Pentateuch and the twelve Apostles. So great was his perturbation that
he consulted with the Chief Constable, Major Greig, with the result
that the latter sent his subordinates to the lessee of the theatre
to explain to him that he must close his doors against the wicked
"Iconoclast." The lessee, hesitating, was carried before the Chief
Constable himself, who, speaking with all the majesty of his office,
told him that the lectures could not be allowed. On Saturday night
(13th October)[96] Mr Bradlaugh's agent, Mr Cowan, called upon the
lessee for the keys, but was informed that he had been ordered not to
permit the meetings to be held. Poor lessee! between the upper and the
nether millstone he got very little peace. Mr Cowan, after considerable
discussion, took him, late at night though it was, to Mr Bradlaugh. Mr
Bradlaugh had gone to bed, but got up at the summons, and all three
went to the Chief Constable's, but nothing was to be done there at
that time of night. In the morning the lessee accepted Mr Bradlaugh's
written indemnity against all consequence, and my father was permitted
to lecture unmolested, although he and his friends were much diverted
to find detectives, police, and magistrates amongst the audience.
[Footnote 96: The lectures were announced for the following day.]
A fortnight later Mr Bradlaugh was due in Glasgow, and on his way
to Scotland made a little halt at Newcastle. For some weeks past a
clergyman, the Rev. David King, sufficiently well known in certain
circles, had been playing the braggart in the north of England. All,
and nothing short of all, the "Infidels" were afraid of him; none dare
meet him in debate--if he had modestly stopped at that, there would
have been little harm done, but to his boasts he added gross slanders
of Freethinkers, both living and dead, individually and in the mass.
My father went up north at the right moment, for on Saturday, 27th
October, this Mr D. King was announced to lecture at Bedlington on
Secularists and their perversions; the Newcastle Freethinkers, who were
highly indignant, asked Mr Bradlaugh to break his journey to Scotland
in order to come and give the reverend slanderer a lesson, and this
he agreed to do. "The news of Iconoclast's coming had spread like
wildfire," said Elijah Copeland in a report he wrote at the time;[97]
and since then I have heard from a Northumberland friend how swiftly
the tidings spread from man to man, and from village to village, that
Iconoclast was coming to teach David King a little truth and modesty.
The excitement was so great that the Lecture Hall at Bedlington was
hardly opened before it was full--but the hour came, and no Iconoclast.
David King commenced his address--full as usual of boasts of himself
and insults to Secularists. Time sped on lightning wings; every moment
intensified the anxiety, every movement, every outside sound increased
the excitement. To many Mr Bradlaugh was known only by fame, and if
a fresh person came into the hall the question, "Is that he?" was
eagerly whispered round the room, only to be answered by those better
informed with a reluctant shake of the head. A little man sitting on
the platform attracted some attention. "Could _that_ be the redoubtable
Iconoclast?" asked some of the anxious ones; no one seemed to know the
stranger, and at last the feeling grew so intense that some one put
the question directly to the unknown man on the platform, and without
surprise he received the obvious answer. The lecture was nearing its
close, and as all danger of the threatened opposition seemed passing
away the lecturer's language grew more and more unrestrained. When,
hark! what was that? A noise outside of many feet, a loud determined
knock, the door thrown open impetuously, letting in a flood of fresh
cold air, and with it the almost-despaired of Iconoclast, who was
greeted with deafening cheers. When the real man came, no one had any
doubt as to his identity--he was recognised at once by all. David
King's tone changed directly, and when the time for discussion came
Mr Bradlaugh gave the lesson he had come to teach, to the unbounded
delight and satisfaction of all the Freethinkers present. After the
discussion came the return drive of twelve or fourteen miles in the
cold and the rain to Newcastle, which was reached at two in the
morning. While my father snatched a couple of hours' sleep, some of
his friends sat and watched in order to rouse him for the Scotch
express, which passed through Newcastle about five o'clock. Arrived
at Edinburgh, my father found he had twenty minutes to wait, so he
thought he would get some breakfast, but "alas!" said he, "it was
Sunday morning, and starvation takes precedence of damnation in the
_unco guid_ city. Instead of drinking hot coffee, I had to shiver in
the cold, admiring the backs of the tumble-down-looking houses in the
high "toon" for want of better occupation. I arrived in Glasgow just
one hour before the time fixed for the morning lecture--dirty, weary,
hungry, thirsty, and sleepy."[98]
[Footnote 97: _National Reformer._]
[Footnote 98: _National Reformer_, November 4 (1866).]
After the evening lecture Mr Bradlaugh had to hurry from the platform
of the Eclectic Hall to catch the train which steamed out of Glasgow
at twenty minutes to nine, so that he might be in time for Monday
morning's business in the city, having spent two nights out of bed,
travelled about 900 miles, and spoken at Bedlington and three times in
Glasgow in less than forty-eight hours.
Four weeks from the day of his Glasgow lectures,[99] my father was
arrested at Huddersfield. Two accounts of this were given in the
_National Reformer_, one from the pen of Mr Bradlaugh, and one from
that of a gentleman who was with him the greater part of the time. It
was a case of "the Devonport blunder" being repeated by "the Religious
Party of Huddersfield."
[Footnote 99: On November 25 (1866).]
The Philosophical Hall, which for some little time previously had
been used as a theatre, had been duly taken for "three lectures by
Iconoclast;" there was a written agreement, the deposit paid, and
a harmonium taken by the Huddersfield Freethought Society into the
Hall. Placards announcing the subjects of the lectures ("Temperance,"
"Reform," and "The Twelve Apostles ") and the name of the lecturer were
posted more than a fortnight beforehand throughout the town and upon
the hall itself. On Saturday, at the eleventh hour, the proprietor,
Mr Morton Price, secretly urged by persons too cowardly to appear
themselves--at least, so it was rumoured--resolved that the lectures
should not take place, and on Sunday morning Mr Bradlaugh "found the
doors of the building locked and barred, and the police authorities on
the alert. I tried," he tells us, "to gain admittance, but the wooden
barriers were far stronger than my shoulders, and after bruising myself
more than the doors, and waiting in the rain for about forty minutes,
while some sort of iron bar was vainly searched for, I returned very
disconsolate to my lodgings. Several members of the Huddersfield
Society begged me to lecture in Senior's schoolroom, but I positively
refused; there were friends in from the country for miles round who
could not be contained in so small a meeting-place. The Yorkshire
energy was roused, and a dozen volunteers started to open the door;
I followed, and came in time to twist a crowbar into curious shapes,
and be arrested by the police and lodged in the station. At first I
was ordered into a cell; my money, watch and chain, keys, toothpick,
and other dangerous weapons being taken from me. As, however, since
Devonport, where the lock-up was damp, I object to cells on principle,
I gently argued the matter, and ultimately the presiding authority
announced that I should be let out _if I could get a magistrate to
become bail_. This was not very probable, and looked like being locked
up for two whole days, but two good friends not only started to arrange
with some local magistrate about bail, but actually succeeded. During
the time they were absent I had, however, effected my own release
from custody without any bail at all.... When the charge was entered
by Superintendent Hannan, who, I am bound to say, behaved in a most
gentleman-like and courteous manner, I again discussed the matter,
and ultimately the stage-manager said he would find bail if I would
agree not to lecture. This I indignantly refused. I came to lecture,
and I meant to lecture; and after many _pour parlers_, I walked out of
custody without any other condition than my word of honour to appear
before the magistrates to answer the charge on the following Tuesday.
The news spread like wildfire, and I had an enormous audience, crowding
the theatre from floor to ceiling, the chiefs of the police honouring
us with their presence."
People had come from far and near to hear him lecture--from Dewsbury,
Bradford, Leeds, Halifax, Manchester, and elsewhere, and great was the
dismay when it was found that the Hall doors were closed against them.
When it was known that he would not lecture in the schoolroom, and he
had determined to make an effort to force the doors, volunteers for
the work immediately stepped forward; they begged him "to keep out of
action" until the doors were down; but to look on whilst others got
into trouble never came easy to my father. So he took a crowbar and
helped with the rest, and the twisted iron was preserved in triumph by
some Huddersfield friends until a few years ago. They attacked the pit
and gallery door in Bull and Mouth Street, and their united exertions
soon threw it open to the crowd impatiently waiting to enter. The
Police Office was next door to the Philosophical Hall, so the police
were able to watch the proceedings with little trouble to themselves.
When they arrested Mr Bradlaugh, so great was the indignation of the
crowd that they even threatened to rescue him by main force, and guards
of police were hastily put at all weak places. It was, however, Mr
Bradlaugh himself who relieved the fears of his captors. He sent a
message to his friends, asking them to leave peacefully and without
disorder, assuring them that he would be all right. In compliance
with his request the people who thronged the hall quietly dispersed,
only one person remaining behind to keep possession of the theatre.
Messrs Armitage and Mitchell rushed off in a cab to find a magistrate
liberal enough to become bail for the imprisoned Atheist, and during
their absence--on what seemed an impossible errand--Mr Bradlaugh sent
word from the police station to the committee that he would lecture at
half-past six. This message was received with the wildest enthusiasm,
but since Mr Bradlaugh was still in the hands of the police and it was
then four o'clock, it seemed, on reflection, highly improbable. But
the first messenger was rapidly followed by a second, bringing word
that "Iconoclast" was free once more. On his appearance on the platform
of the Philosophical Hall at the appointed time the enthusiasm and
excitement were unbounded, and his lecture on "Reform" was said to have
been "one of the most splendid and eloquent he had yet delivered."
On the following Tuesday Mr Bradlaugh had to appear before the
Huddersfield magistrates. Though there were five upon the Bench--only
two, G. Armitage, Esq., and S.W. Haigh, Esq.--heard the case. Naturally
enough, the Court was densely crowded, and many were unable to obtain
admission. Mr Nehemiah Learoyd prosecuted. This attorney was defined
as "a gentleman according to Act of Parliament," though it does not
appear that he had any other claim to the title. In the case against Mr
Bradlaugh he conducted himself with such effrontery and coarseness as
to make it more than ever evident that Acts of Parliament have their
limitations. My father was charged with doing damage to the door of
the Huddersfield Theatre to the amount of twenty-four shillings: after
this charge was read another charge of committing a breach of the peace
was brought forward. Mr Bradlaugh suggested that each charge should be
gone into separately: Mr Learoyd would have them taken together, and
the magistrates decided in his favour. The case for the prosecution was
opened and witnesses called. Mr Bradlaugh raised an objection to the
jurisdiction of the Court, and after some argument and some further
examination of witnesses, the magistrates retired to consider the
point. After an interval of ten minutes they returned, having decided
in Mr Bradlaugh's favour that they had no jurisdiction. Mr Learoyd
then, with unblushing effrontery, wished to proceed with the second
charge--the breach of the peace; but he had elected at the outset to
take both charges together, and by that he was compelled to abide. The
decision of the magistrates was greeted with instant applause, which
was of course rebuked by the Court. The case was reported at length
by the _Huddersfield Examiner_ and the _Huddersfield Chronicle_,
and gained for Mr Bradlaugh many friends in Huddersfield and the
surrounding districts. And thus for once was bigotry frustrated.
On the following Sunday Mr Bradlaugh was lecturing at Newcastle, and
many people, women as well as men, came in distances of fifteen and
twenty miles to hear him. One man told how he had come thirty-eight
miles "to get a grip" of my father's hand. Two days after this he was
at Northampton, where he found himself becoming quite "respectable,"
and, "to the horror of the saints and my own surprise," he said, he
was permitted the use of the Mechanics' Institute for his discourses.
A week or so later he was lecturing in the great Free Trade Hall,
Manchester, on behalf of the widow and family of his late colleague,
John Watts. He gave himself no rest in body or mind, nor did he seem
to relax the strain for a moment. The old year closed, and 1867 opened
with a course of lectures at the City Road Hall, at one of which,
by the by, it is interesting to note that Mr Bradlaugh defended Mr
Gladstone from an attack made upon his sincerity of purpose, "believing
him to be the most able and honest statesman whom the people have on
their side."
Notwithstanding all his lecturing, the great quantity of literary work
he was then engaged upon, the Reform Demonstrations, and harassing
private business, Mr Bradlaugh yet found time in the spring of 1867 to
engage in a six nights' debate with the Rev. J. M'Cann, M.A., curate
of St Paul's, Huddersfield. The discussion was arranged to take place
in the theatre, or Philosophical Hall, which had been forcibly closed
against the Freethinkers only a few months before. The preliminaries
to the debate were a little ominous: in the first place Mr Bradlaugh
was obliged to agree to the terms dictated by his religious antagonist
(or his committee), otherwise there would have been no discussion; and
above and beyond this the Rev. Mr M'Cann "refused to debate if the
name Iconoclast be used, and therefore it will be Charles Bradlaugh
who answers for the shortcomings of Iconoclast, despite the injury in
business caused by the wide publicity recently given to the name and
thus repeated."[100]
[Footnote 100: C. Bradlaugh in _National Reformer_, March 1867.]
The debate arose out of some "Anti-Secularist lectures" which Mr M'Cann
had been delivering in Huddersfield, presumably inspired thereto by
the sensation caused by the theatre episode of the previous November.
The subjects of these lectures were to be discussed for six nights,
three hours each night, Mr Bradlaugh attacking and Mr M'Cann defending.
Mr M'Cann, who was an Irishman, and who from the active part he was
taking in the Literary and Scientific Society and other institutions
of the town, was regarded as a "rising young man," rather disappointed
many of the Freethinkers after the first two nights' discussion.
Immovably confident in the ability of their own representative,
they were anxious to see him meet someone worthy of his steel. Mr
Bradlaugh's opinion, expressed at the conclusion of the six nights,
was that Mr M'Cann was a fluent, ready speaker, honest and earnest,
although no great debater.[101]
[Footnote 101: No verbatim report of this discussion was ever
published.]
The year 1868 was a terribly busy one: the Irish question (of which I
will speak later), the first Government prosecution of the _National
Reformer_, and his first Parliamentary candidature for Northampton,
kept my father constantly hard at work. During the year he lectured
frequently in London, besides visiting Grimsby, Bedlington, Newcastle,
Hull, West Bromwich, Birmingham, Kettering, Northampton, Huddersfield,
Bradford, Sheffield, Ashton, Manchester, Bury, Edinburgh, Glasgow,
Keighley, Sunderland, Plymouth, and other towns.
At Huddersfield he was always welcomed with the utmost enthusiasm,
although some of the inhabitants still seemed determined to resist his
visits. As the theatre was too small to accommodate all his auditors,
the Huddersfield Committee took the circus for some addresses which
he had arranged to deliver in the town in March. The Improvement
Commissioners, however, eager to imitate the conduct of Mr Morton
Price of a year and a half before, drew back from their agreement
to let. Then a curious thing happened. When he was aware of the
behaviour of the Commissioners, Mr Morton Price himself offered the
Huddersfield Freethinkers the use of the theatre; and not only did he
let it to them, but he gave a special advertisement of the meetings.
The advertisement was so peculiarly and significantly worded that I
reproduce it:
"Theatre Royal, Huddersfield.
"Mr Morton Price begs to inform the nobility, gentry, and general
public of Huddersfield that, finding his efforts to preserve his
theatre from Atheism and Profanity so _appreciative and remunerative_,
he has let the said theatre for a series of lectures by Mr Bradlaugh,
the 'Iconoclast,' on Sunday next, March 15th, 1868."
In connection with the Manchester lectures also an amusing incident
took place. It may be remembered that a man named William Murphy was
about this time lecturing in different parts of England on behalf of
the Protestant Church in Ireland, and his conduct had been so strange,
and his language so inflammatory, that in the north he had been the
cause of some very serious "No Popery" riots. In Manchester he was
arrested, and his lectures practically prohibited. My father going to
Manchester just after this prohibition, it occurred to certain good
Christians that this might perhaps be turned to account against him.
Consequently, when he arrived in Manchester on the Saturday night
(September 5th) prior to his Sunday lectures, he found all kinds of
rumours in circulation, friends even telling him that there were
warrants out for his arrest. This was much exaggerated, and what
really had happened was this: On the Friday, at the City Police Court,
before the stipendiary magistrate, Mr Fowler, an application had been
made by Mr Bennett, solicitor, for proceedings to be taken against Mr
Charles Bradlaugh, then announced to deliver a series of lectures in
the Free Trade Hall on Sunday. "The sworn information of a respectable
householder, living in Boundary Street, Chorlton-on-Medlock," was
forthcoming that the lectures could not take place "without giving
rise to a breach of the peace." There was no contention that any overt
acts of violence had ever been committed on account of these lectures;
nevertheless, "the respectable householder"--whose name was afterwards
stated to be Smith--thought they ought to be prohibited, "as in the
case of Mr Murphy." Mr Fowler argued the cases were very different,
and suggested that Mr Bennett should look up his law, and then, if he
thought his position satisfactory, he could attend on the following
morning with his witnesses. So much, indeed, Mr Bradlaugh had gathered
from the London papers read on his journey northwards. Arrived at his
journey's end, he was still in suspense as to what had happened that
day, and the friends who met the train could not set his anxieties at
rest. However, from an evening paper he learned that Mr Bennett had
not found any further support in law for his application, which the
magistrate told him must consequently fail. He said further:
"You say this case is similar to that of William Murphy, whose case
was heard in this Court on Tuesday last. But it appears to me very
different. We must be very careful indeed as magistrates not to
interfere in any way with the freedom of discussion, and in no way
by the decision of Tuesday, as far as I can see, have we done so.
In the case before us on Tuesday it was proved on oath that William
Murphy was about to deliver a series of lectures, which he had already
given in other towns, where, from his own conduct, and the threatening
attitude he assumed by producing a revolver, and other acts, very
serious riots had arisen, followed by great destruction of property
and even danger to life; and from what was proved before us as to
what had already taken place in this city since the announcement of
these lectures, it appeared there was every probability of the same
thing occurring here. To prevent this--exercising the power which as
magistrates, in my opinion, we undoubtedly have--we called upon the
defendant, William Murphy, to enter upon his recognisances for his
good behaviour; you mark the words, 'good behaviour,' Mr Bennett.
That, of course, includes keeping the peace; and under similar
circumstances to those proved before us, we should certainly do the
same whether the defendant was Roman Catholic, Protestant, or of any
other denomination. Now, I think you have entirely failed to show in
the application you made yesterday that any such result has ensued, or
is likely to ensue, from the lectures about to be given by the person
against whom you apply. Therefore the application is refused."
The upshot of this application at the Police Court was a wide
advertisement of the lectures, an intense excitement, and anxiety to
hear the lecturer. The _Saturday Review_, true to the feelings of
bitter animosity which it cherished against Mr Bradlaugh, thought that
"it might perhaps be plausibly argued that the same reasons which
weighed with them [the magistrates] when they refused to restrain Mr
Iconoclast Bradlaugh from attacking and insulting all religions, might
also have influenced them when they were asked to restrain Murphy from
insulting one form of the Christian faith."
The _Saturday Review_ elsewhere spoke of Manchester as having been
"the theatre of riots" in consequence of Murphy's behaviour and of the
"savage brutality" exhibited. No sort of disturbance could be alleged
as resulting from Mr Bradlaugh's lectures, but anything was "plausible"
to the _Saturday Review_ as against him.
Of course this rushing about from, city to city, and several hours'
speaking in crowded halls sandwiched in between the long railway
journeys, meant a great physical strain.
In February my father tells how he had travelled on the previous
Saturday in a tremendous storm to Morpeth for Bedlington, arriving at
Morpeth (five or six miles from Bedlington) at the very hour at which
he ought to have been on the platform. "A rapid wash while horses were
being got ready; no time for tea, and off we sped to our destination,
where we found the little hall crowded with an eager and appreciative
audience, some of whom had walked many miles to be present." A midnight
return drive with storm most furiously raging, and then to Newcastle,
where three lectures were delivered on the Sunday. "In forty-eight
hours I travelled nearly 630 miles, delivered four lectures, and came
back to that daily toil for that life-subsistence which is so hard
to win. I need hardly add that the mere travelling expenses on such
a journey swallow up all profit derivable from the lectures." The
Glasgow and Edinburgh lectures in the beginning of August meant "one
thousand miles and four lectures in two days and three nights, and
back to business by ten on Monday." At the end of August another visit
to Newcastle meant "another six hundred miles and three lectures in
one day and a half and two nights, following upon no less than three
open-air addresses at Northampton."
In the following year my father continued to do a great deal of public
speaking. His home troubles were growing greater, and his business life
in the city was daily becoming more difficult, but this seemed only
to make him toil the harder in that cause of religious and political
progress which lay so near his heart. At the new Hall of Science,
142 Old Street, which had just been leased in the interests of the
Freethought party, Mr Bradlaugh delivered in the year upwards of forty
lectures, for none of which he received a single penny, devoting the
whole of the proceeds towards paying the debt upon the building. He did
not allow any one month to pass without giving one or more Sundays to
the New Hall. He lectured several times also at the hall in Cleveland
Street; and in the latter part of the year, for the most part, he
visited thirty or more provincial towns, at many of which he gave three
discourses on the Sunday. In 1869 also Mr Bradlaugh took part in an
examination into alleged spiritualistic phenomena held by the London
Dialectical Society, but without any satisfactory results. Undoubtedly
the chief event of the year for him was his final defeat of the
Government in their prosecution of the _National Reformer_, and through
this the repeal of the odious Security laws. He was involved in another
law-suit, which, as we shall see later, led to the amending of the laws
relating to evidence.
Matters went rather more smoothly with my father's provincial
lecturing this year; no town seemed to be sufficiently encouraged
by the course of affairs in Devonport and Huddersfield to follow
their example very closely. But still he met with some rebuff. For
instance, when he was at Blyth on April 3rd, the innkeepers there were
all so pious that none would give him food or shelter. April 3rd was
a Saturday, not a Sunday, so there was not even the lame excuse of
keeping the Sabbath Day holy by refusing to harbour an Atheist. The
people of Blyth who undertook to provide for the creature comforts of
the inhabitants and visitors must have been bigoted to the last degree,
for in the week before Mr Bradlaugh's visit, a coffee-house keeper had
refused to supply with tea some persons who were rash enough to admit
that they had attended Mrs Law's lectures. Happily, such churlish
bigotry was by no means universal, for the Blyth Lecture Hall was
so crowded when Mr Bradlaugh arrived that he had to gain admittance
through a back window. He afterwards related how "one hearty fellow and
two or three Unitarians volunteered to give me a night's shelter, but
I was unaware of this until I had made my arrangements for a midnight
walk in the dark to Bedlington under escort of half a dozen stalwart
fellows." This is the occasion to which Mr Thomas Burt referred in his
article in the _Primitive Methodist Quarterly Review_ for July 1891.
Mr Burt there says that all the ordinary halls and schoolrooms were
refused to Mr Bradlaugh, but that a gentleman, Mr Richard Fynes, who
had recently purchased a chapel, and was a true lover of free speech,
granted the use of his building to the Bedlington Secular Society. Mr
Burt, who had gone from curiosity to hear Mr Bradlaugh, at the close of
the meeting asked him and some friends home to supper. His people were
rather horror-stricken, but, with true courtesy, allowed nothing of it
to appear to their guest, and the supper passed off quite smoothly, Mr
Bradlaugh making himself very agreeable. It is rather curious that Mr
Burt had no idea how _àpropos_ his hospitality was. It was not until
after he had given his invitation that he learned that in all Blyth
there was no place of refreshment that would open its doors to the
Atheist.
But unfortunately it was not only to Mr Bradlaugh himself that violence
was used or threatened: those who attended his lectures or who were
suspected of sympathising with his opinions sometimes ran considerable
risk. For instance, he had been lecturing at Portsmouth on Monday,
May 10th, on the Irish Church and the Land Question, and his lecture
created considerable excitement in the town. Shortly afterwards a
"converted clown" was holding forth on Portsea Common, and a man
suspected to be in sympathy with Mr Bradlaugh stayed to listen. The
converted one frequently addressed the new-comer as an "unhappy infidel
animal," and so worked upon his pious listeners that in the end they
turned upon the "infidel," who was "hissed, hooted, kicked, cuffed, and
knocked about so unmercifully that he sought protection" in flight. The
whole brutal mob pursued and overtook him, "his clothes were almost
torn from him, and but for the assistance of several passers-by--some
of whom also received rough treatment--he would probably have been
killed."[102]
[Footnote 102: _West Sussex Gazette_, June 24th. And _these_ are the
people who affect to believe in Mr Bradlaugh's violence and coarseness!
"Even so ye outwardly appear righteous unto men, but within ye are full
of hypocrisy and iniquity."]
True, everywhere he went my father met with hate and scorn; yet
everywhere he went he also met with a trust and love such as falls to
the lot of few men to know. The hate and scorn passed over him, scarce
leaving a trace, but the love and trust went deep into his heart,
making up, as he said, for "many disappointments." At Keighley "two
veterans, one eighty and one seventy-three, walked eleven miles to
hear me lecture; and at Shipley another greeted me, seventy-six years
old, asking for one more grip of the hand before he died."[103] On Mr
Bradlaugh's return journey from Yorkshire, at every station between
Leeds and Keighley men and women came to bid him good-bye; from a dozen
districts round they came, "old faces and young ones, men, women, and
smiling girls," and he was moved to the utmost depths of his nature to
see how their love for him grew with his every visit.
[Footnote 103: C. Bradlaugh, in _National Reformer_, July 1869.]
Summer or winter, fair weather or foul, people would come many and
many a mile to hear him speak. At Over Darwen, where he had some fine
meetings that October, he found that some of the poor folk had come in
from a distance of "twenty-three miles; many had come ten to sixteen
miles, some walking steadily over the 'tops' through the mist and rain,
and having to leave home as early as six in the morning in order to get
to us; one sturdy old man declaring that he never missed when I was
within twenty-five miles of his home."[104]
[Footnote 104: Of these Darwen lectures all the Preston papers gave
long reports. The Conservative _Preston Herald_ thought that "the
burning words of eulogium [on Mr Gladstone] that fell from the lips of
the clever advocate" laid Mr Bradlaugh "open to the suspicion of having
accepted a retainer and a brief from the astute statesman"! About 1200
persons attended each lecture, and the "quiet village of Darwen was
rendered as throng as a fair" by the influx of people from so many of
the surrounding villages.]
I should like also to note here the open-mindedness shown about this
time by a Catholic priest at Seghill. Mr Bradlaugh was to lecture
in the colliery schoolroom on "The Land, the People, and the Coming
Struggle," but almost at the last moment the authorities would have
none of such a wicked man. Upon hearing this a Catholic priest named
Father O'Dyer allowed the lecture to take place in his chapel at
Annitsford, and he himself took the chair. Mr Bradlaugh, of course,
greatly appreciated this unlooked-for kindness on the part of Father
O'Dyer, though in his surprise at such unwonted conduct he might
humorously comment "the age of miracles has recommenced."
In December Mr Bradlaugh was in Lancashire--one Saturday at Middleton,
the next day at Bury, where considerable excitement had been created
by the burning of the _National Reformer_ in the Bury Reform Club by
one of the members; on Monday at Accrington, where the lecture was
followed by a three hours' drive in the night across country, over bad
and slippery roads, to Preston to catch the London train. At Preston
the station was locked up, but Mr Bradlaugh managed to get inside the
porters' room, where there was happily a fire, by which he dozed until
the train was due. Then six hours' rail in the frosty night, and back
to city work for Tuesday morning. "Who will buy our bishopric?" he
asked. But to this there was no reply.