REPUBLICANISM AND SPAIN.
As I have said elsewhere, during the early seventies the Republican
movement in England was full of life and activity. There was quite a
ferment of political energy tending towards Republicanism, and this
seemed to be most active in 1873, after the temporary check felt in the
reaction of loyalty evoked by the Prince of Wales' illness. In February
1871, the first of a series of Republican Clubs was inaugurated in
Birmingham by Mr C. C. Cattell, and this was followed by the formation
of others in every direction. By the spring of 1873 there were
clubs in Aberdeen and Plymouth, in Norwich and Cardiff; and between
these extremes were to be found more than fifty others, Yorkshire,
Lancashire, and Northumberland having perhaps the largest number. These
Clubs held their periodic meetings, and the addresses delivered were
often thought of sufficient importance to be reported in the local
press. It may well be asked, What has become of all this Republican
fervour? It is difficult to say. Probably much of the energy and
activity has been diverted into other channels, but, however that may
be, we see little sign of it now: in 1894 England is to all appearance
utterly dead to the aspiration of an ideal Republic. But in the early
part of 1873 the Republican movement was believed to be a growing
one, and it was deemed advisable to call a Conference with a view of
establishing a National Republican Organisation, which should unite
all the heretofore scattered clubs. A circular was sent out by the
Provisional Committee convening the meeting, signed by Mr George Odger
and eleven others, of whom Mr Bradlaugh was one. Seeing my father's
name amongst the signatures, an endeavour was made to injure the cause
of Republicanism by denouncing the conveners as "Atheists," although,
as a matter of fact, the majority were Christians. The conference was
fixed for the 11th and 12th of May, and the use of the Town Hall,
Birmingham, was granted for the meetings.
Shortly before this date the Republic had been declared in Spain,
and some of the English Clubs at once sent their congratulations
to Senor Castelar. In addition to these, it was decided to send a
resolution from the Birmingham Conference, expressing sympathy with
Spain in her struggle to establish a Republican Government, abhorrence
at the atrocities committed by the Carlists, in the interests of a
Monarchical Government, and indignation at the non-recognition of the
Spanish Government by the British Government. A resolution was also
put to the great public meeting, held in the Town Hall on the Monday
evening. This message of sympathy, which was passed with the utmost
unanimity, in a meeting of fully 4500 persons, was, together with the
Conference resolution, entrusted to Mr Bradlaugh to carry to Senor
Emilio Castelar. The proceedings at Birmingham caused considerable
stir; the local papers gave long reports, and notices appeared in
different journals throughout the provinces, and even in Conservative
London itself. The impression created by this quiet and business-like
demonstration may be gathered from a leader which appeared in the
_Examiner_ for May 17, of which the following is a short extract:--
"The Conference of Republicans held at Birmingham on Sunday and
Monday last far exceeded in numbers, importance, as well as in the
intelligence displayed by its members, anything of a similar name
or nature that has been held since the present movement was first
originated. There were fifty-four accredited delegates present,
representing nearly as many of our principal towns, and they came from
every point of the compass--from Norwich, from Bath, from Hastings,
Paisley, and Aberdeen. The proceedings were marked by singular
unanimity, and general abstinence from all hasty and ill-advised
language. This, the least expected feature of the Conference, is
doubtless deeply regretted by its opponents. To openly avow Republican
proclivities is, in the minds of a majority of the 'respectable'
classes, almost synonymous with calling yourself an advocate of
rick-burning, or any other mad devilry; the Conference will go far
towards removing this ridiculous impression, and re-assuring the
timorous. But it must be admitted that a party that can afford to
speak in the moderate but decisive tones adopted by most of the
speakers, convinces us, and, we would fain believe, all thinking
persons, far more of its reality and permanence than had it indulged
in the most savage braggadocio or bombast."
That same Monday night, with the vote to Senor Castelar in his pocket,
and with the cheers of the crowd ringing in his ears, Mr Bradlaugh
left Birmingham for London, where he arrived at five o'clock on
Tuesday morning. To drive to his Turner Street lodgings, to wash,
pack, breakfast, write some pressing notes, glance at thirty letters,
then to Cannon Street to catch the 7.40 A.M. mail train to
Dover was fairly quick work, but it was accomplished, and he found
himself in Paris the same evening. Dining at the Orleans Station that
night, he found Gambetta, with half-a-dozen friends whom he was seeing
off to Bordeaux, dining at a table quite near to him. Referring to
this incident, Mr Bradlaugh noted that "_Le Diarias_, of Madrid, says
that in passing through Paris I had a long conference with Monsieur
Gambetta. This, like most newspaper paragraphs about me, is a pure
invention." Mr Bradlaugh published an account of his journey to Spain
in the _National Reformer_ at the time. Much of it--which he called
"A fortnight's very rough notes"--was written while on his journey,
and must have been done under very considerable difficulties. In
carrying the message of the English to the Spanish Republicans, he
went at the imminent risk of his life. In Paris and in London it was
currently reported that he was killed. While he was cut off from all
communication with us, we endured an agony of suspense--my mother and
I at Midhurst, my sister at school in Paris; we read in the papers
that he was dead, and received letters of condolence from different
quarters. Indeed, at Midhurst our first intimation of his supposed
death was a letter of sympathy to my mother, written by the Rev. A. J.
Harrison, Mr Bradlaugh's oft-time opponent in debate.
My father gives so vivid a description of his adventures and his
impressions in his "very rough notes" that I give them in his own
words:--
"At 8.15 [Tuesday evening] I started for Spain, my hopes of a direct
journey through that country being a little cooled by the fact that
although the Spanish Consul-General had positively assured me that
the line was clear to Madrid, the Railway Company refused to book me
further than Irun, a small town on the banks of the River Bidassoa,
and just over the French frontier. All information, however, as to the
state of the Spanish lines was refused, ignorance being pleaded." At
Bayonne, "while waiting at the station, I was amused by two Spanish
'gentlemen,' who, after looking carefully at every passenger, came up
to me and inquired if I was the bearer of letters for Marshal Serrano.
Curiously enough, Marshal Serrano, whose ambition seems doomed to just
disappointment, had just fled from Spain in a vessel from Santander.
I replied in the negative, and the two, whom I presume to have been
Spanish detectives, remained watching until the train left Bayonne. At
Irun my troubles commenced: the railway line was completely cut, and
I must either take to the road or turn back. The road was said to be
extremely dangerous, for it was in this district that the vicious and
bloodthirsty curé of Santa Cruz had his band. Some assured me that the
Carlists--who, all agreed, had possession of nearly the entire Basque
district--would not interfere with either English or Americans. Others
were equally certain that the priest of Santa Cruz would show no
mercy to either if he happened to be in a murdering humour. Everybody
advised me not to go alone; but when I found that the only vehicles
for more than two persons were some dirty, ricketty, awful-smelling
omnibuses drawn by nearly broken-down hacks, in which--the direct
route being impossible--nearly twenty miles must be done, at least, in
a burning heat, through a dangerous district, before better conveyance
could be got, I determined to risk the journey by myself. I hired a
small open _calèche_, with two good horses, and having emphatically
explained to the driver that if he stopped voluntarily on meeting
with any Carlists I should fire at him, I cocked my revolver, laid it
on my knees, and off we went at a sharp gallop, which scarcely ever
slackened until we reached San Sebastian. We drove often close to the
railway, which I found had been cut in many places; the telegraph
wires were hanging loose and useless, many of the posts hewn in two.
Two or three times my driver turned to me and said, 'Los Carlistos,'
pointing to some men in blue carrying guns and hurrying across the
field towards us. Our rate, which on these occasions he accelerated
by sharp whipping, carried us on without encounter. Passing near a
village on the River Bidassoa, about midway between Irun and San
Sebastian, some very rough and ragged-looking men ran up to the
carriage, and one, armed with a long knife in his sash, got hold of
the door, and addressed me in Basque; but as I did not understand a
word, I simply pointed the pistol at his head and waved him sharply
away. My driver continued to gallop, whipping his horses, and the
other men who shouted to the driver, apparently to stop, having fallen
in the rear, my friend with the knife, who appeared a little out of
breath and not to like the look of the pistol barrel, followed their
example. When we got about two miles ahead, my driver explained to
me in French that these were only thieves, and not Carlists. I had
afterwards reason to doubt whether this was not a distinction without
a difference. The man who drove me into San Sebastian refused to go
any further, alleging that between San Sebastian and Vittoria the road
was too dangerous. Finding that it was a thirteen hours' ride, and
that the necessary relays of horses and oxen for the mountains were
prepared, and could only be obtained for the diligence which started
at four next morning, I at once booked a place for the _coupé_ of an
antiquated machine, which appeared to have lain by ever since the
introduction of railroads, and to have been dragged out hastily, and
without repairs, in consequence of the sudden interruption of the
railway traffic. The clerk who took my money quietly told me that
the proprietors could not be responsible for my luggage.... At three
o'clock on Thursday morning I was awakened out of a terribly sound
sleep, for, not having been in bed since Sunday night, Nature had
overcome will; I was more fatigued than I had imagined. At a quarter
to four I was seated in the diligence, heavily freighted with luggage,
with one fellow-passenger in the _coupé_ [Senor Everisto de Churruca,
a Spanish civil engineer, who not only spoke French but Basque], four
in the interior, and three in the _banquette_, or open-hooded seat
behind the driver. All these passengers, except one, we dropped at
early stages of our journey. The first steep hill we went down at a
gallop; but our breaks, old and rusty, would not work; the almost
overweighted diligence swerving to and fro--and if we had had a bishop
on board we must have capsized; as it was, your light-hearted servant
just saved his neck. The diligence came to a standstill at the bottom
of the hill, and after great shouting some olive oil was procured,
and the screw was twisted backwards and forwards until it forgot its
rust in its unwonted oil bath. Again we started, this time at even a
greater pace, to make up for lost time....
"The first bodily testimony of the fear of the Carlists was at Tolosa,
an old Spanish city, Mauresque in its surroundings, which was
fortified with wooden stockades fitted with loopholes for guns. It
was well garrisoned with a few regular troops and provincial militia.
The volunteers were, on the whole, a soldierly-looking body of men.
At Allegria the Town Hall or Public Court House was fortified by the
doors and windows being blocked up with rough stones coarsely mortared
in, the necessary loopholes being left for firing through. This being
in the centre of the town evidenced the fear that the outer works
might not be strong enough to resist the Carlist assailants. Between
Allegria and Villafranca I came upon a shocking sight. The Carlists
had cut the line close to the mouth of a railway tunnel, which they
had also partially blown up. The next train from San Sebastian came
on with its usual freight of peaceful ordinary passengers, and no
friendly warning was given to stay the mad, confiding rush into
the arms of death. Two carriages over the side of the embankment,
and the guard's van smashed underneath, three carriages on the
line crushed into one another, still are there, with the ghastly,
sickening, dull, dried traces on them to show how well the bloody
work was done. And these are Carlist doings--work by followers of the
Divine-right-Bourbon! Prayers are said for these infamous scoundrels
in Paris, and subscriptions are advertised for them in the London
_Times_. If they had been Communists instead of Carlists, what then?...
"At Beasain I found that the fine railway bridge was cut by the
Carlists, several feet being taken out of the flooring on either side,
so that any train coming might be utterly dashed to pieces in a leap
to the depths underneath. When coming near Zumarraga we had two yoke
of oxen added to our horses, to drag us up the steep hillside, our
ascent being upon one of the small range of mountains that apparently
link on to the Pyrenees. Here I began to think the danger was passed,
as we found men engaged in repairing the permanent way, although the
strong guard of soldiers protecting the workmen showed that this was
not quite the opinion of the authorities.
"At Mondragon a new style of fortification met my view. All these
cities are built with very narrow streets, and here, in the centre
of the principal street, a chamber had been run across from window
to window of opposite houses, built shot-proof, and loop-holed each
side and underneath. This clearly proved that in this neighbourhood
the Carlists were looked upon as likely to enter the town itself. At
Arichavaletta, where the regular troops were stronger than usual, I
was much puzzled by the conduct of the sentries, who first signalled
us to stop, and who--when the horses were pulled up to a walk--crossed
bayonets to prevent our progress. It turned out that the Commanding
Officer had broken his meerschaum pipe, and our important mission was
actually to take it to Vittoria to be mended. More fortunate than some
of the baggage we carried, it actually arrived at its destination.
At Ezcarriaza, a small open town where we made our last change of
horses, I noticed that most of the houses were deserted, and the doors
and shutters fastened. The remaining inhabitants stared at us with a
pitying kind of curiosity, as though they knew not what fate was in
store for us. Candidly speaking, as we had now safely done more than
four-fifths of our journey to Vittoria, I began to think that there
was now scarcely any risk, and the more especially so as all advices
of the Carlists placed them much to the north of where we then were.
My judgment was inaccurate; the sting of the serpent was in its tail,
the last fifth part of our journey was worse than all the rest. When
we arrived at the _Cuesta de Salinas_, where two roads branched off, a
rather good-looking young man, in a blue cap and blue blouse sort of
uniform, armed with a rifle, a revolver in his sash attached by a ring
to a cord slung round his neck, and with a bayonet sword by his side,
waved his hand to our driver in the direction of the lower road. This
road our diligence now took, our driver saying something we could not
hear, and my companion adding to me, 'At last, the Carlists!' About
half a mile further, up started in the middle of the road as rough
a specimen of the human family as one could wish to meet. Armed and
dressed like the previous one, he evidently called on our driver to
halt, and as the diligence came to a standstill, two others, worse
dressed and badly armed with indifferent guns, joined the first, and I
cocked my revolver, keeping it however underneath my coat. Our driver
chatted to the Carlists familiarly in the Basque tongue, but too low
for my fellow-traveller to catch a word. The last of the Carlists who
appeared was probably a deserter, as he wore part of the uniform of a
private of the Twenty-ninth Regiment. Whether the three did not feel
strong enough to attack us, or whether, as is more likely, they had
orders to let us pass into the trap carefully laid at the other end
of the road, I do not know; what is certain is, that again our driver
gathered up the reins, and away we galloped. I uncocked my pistol,
and began to believe that the Carlists were a much maligned body of
men. About a mile further, a house still in flames, with traces of a
severe struggle close to it, again awakened our attention, and in the
distance blue uniforms could be seen.
"At the _fuente de Certaban_, close to Ullsbarri Gamboa, in the
province of Alava, we fairly fell into the Carlists' hands, like fish
taken in a net. A party of twelve stopped the roadway, while two kept
sentry on the heights close to the road, and some others, whom we
could not see but whom we could hear, were close at hand. Our driver
descended, and his first act was to give the leader of the Carlist
party an ordinary traveller's satchel bag with shoulder-strap, which
had evidently been brought intentionally from one of the towns we
had passed, and which seemed to give pleasure to the recipient, who
at once donned it, two or three admiringly examining it. Approaching
me, the leader then asked, in the name of his Majesty Carlos VII.,
in a mixture of French and Spanish, if I had anything contraband?
Unacquainted with the tariff regulations of this Bourbon bandit
chief, I gave a polite negative, and was about to descend from the
_coupé_ to see more accurately our new visitors, when, on a signal
from the chief, they all laid their guns against a bank, one of the
sentries descending to stand guard over the weapons. Curious guns they
were--English Brown Bess, old Prussian muzzle-loader, ancient Italian
regulation muzzle-loader, converted breech loader, and blunderbuss,
were represented. All who wore revolvers had new ones, perhaps bought
by the funds subscribed by the London Committee.
"The diligence, which only contained one passenger besides myself and
Senor de Churruca, was now literally taken by storm; and at present,
seeing that there were no signs of fighting, I preserved an armed
neutrality, keeping my revolver cocked, but still carefully out of
sight under my coat, only moving the pistol-case on the strap, so
as to have it ready for almost instantaneous use. The first search
appeared to be for letters, and I began to quake for one directed in
Mr Foote's[165] best handwriting to Senor Castelar, and of which I
was the bearer. I soon found that only the chief could read at all,
and I much doubt if he could read anything but print. The principle
of natural selection seemed governed by the appropriation of thick
and large epistles; and even these, after being turned about, were
restored to the driver, who, with a slight shrug of his shoulders,
looked on as though he had but little concern in the matter.
[Footnote 165: Mr Foote was Secretary to the Committee convening the
Republican Conference.]
"Presently a cry of triumph came from the top of the diligence.
Thinking it was my poor black bag containing the Castelar letter,
I pressed forward, but was stopped, and a sentry placed in charge
of me. His gun was a treasure, and I consider that if he had meant
shooting, there would have been nearly as much danger in the discharge
to the shooter as to the shot. The triumphal shout had been caused
by the discovery of two saddles and bridles, which were at once
confiscated by his Majesty's customs collectors as contraband, and
despite an energetic protest from the conductor, were carried off
behind the rising ground. The next thing seized was a military cap in
its oilskin case; uncovered, it was a thing of beauty--a brigadier's
cap, thickly overlaid with silver lace. The Carlist commander took
possession of this with almost boyish delight, giving his own cap to
one of his followers, who had hitherto been decorated with a dirty
rag for head-piece. The oilskin covering of the new cap was thrown to
the ground, and one of the band, who seemed to have a sudden attack
of madness, drew his bayonet and rushed at the poor cover, furiously
digging the bayonet through and through, and crying out in Basque
that he wished that he had the nigger, its master, there to serve in
the same manner. Suddenly and menacingly he turned to me, and angrily
asked in Basque whether the cap was mine. When Senor de Churruca
translated this into French, it was too much for my gravity, already
disturbed by the mad onslaught on the unoffending oilskin. My thick
skull is of tolerably large size, this cap was small enough to have
perched on the top of my head. My reply was a hearty laugh, and it
seems to have been the best answer I could have made, my interlocutor
grinning approbation. Bayonets were now called into work to break
open the portmanteaus of which the owners were absent, and also to
open certain wooden cases containing merchandise belonging to the
third passenger. Boots appeared to be contraband of war, and liable
to instant confiscation. One pair of long cavalry boots did us good
service, for the chief determined to get into them at once, and
luckily they were so tight a fit that they occupied his time and
attention for nearly twenty minutes, during which period the searchers
came to my black bag, and found the official-looking envelope
containing the vote of sympathy from the Birmingham meeting. As I
was in a Catholic country, and the Carlists were pious Catholics, I
adopted the views of the equally pious Eusebius, and shouted lustily,
'_Io Inglese, esta mia passeporta._' The man who held it looked at
it, holding the writing upside down, and returned it to its place.
Fortunately I had no spare boots, and my Carlist friends had no taste
for shirts, so I got leave to fasten up my bag. My fellow-traveller,
who had a fine military-looking appearance, and who had just come
from Porto Rico, underwent a searching cross-examination, and I began
to think he was to be walked off into the mountains. Fortunately, he
not only talked Basque well, but had considerable presence of mind,
and after exchanging cigars with the second in command (the first
was still struggling into his boots, one of which resolutely refused
to go on), he was allowed to move about uninterfered with. No. 3
passenger was in sore trouble; he had about thirty umbrellas, and was
required to pay 2-1/2 reals for each, and also duties on some other
articles, which he said amounted to more than their value. Senor de
Churruca expostulated with the Carlists in their native tongue, while
I reasoned with passenger number three in French. His difficulty was
very simple: the Carlists wanted more money than he had got, and he
looked bewailingly at his broken boxes and soiled goods. I got him to
offer about thirty pesetas; these were indignantly refused, violent
gesticulation was indulged in, our driver now really taking active
part on our side, but occasionally breaking off and running up to the
top of the nearest hill, as though looking for some one. At last the
guns were picked up and pointed at us, everybody talked at once, and
it looked as if it would come to a free fight after all, when suddenly
some cry came from a distance--at first faintly, then more clearly;
and whether some other prey approached, or whether the soldiers were
coming along the road we had left, I know not, but number three's
pesetas were hurriedly taken, and this sample of the army of Carlos
VII. hastily disappeared, leaving us the unpleasant task of repacking
the luggage on the diligence as best we could, with the cords which
they had recklessly cut when too hurried to untie. Senor de Churruca
stated that the Carlists claimed to have no less than 3000 men well
armed in the Montanas de Arlaban, round which the road passed, of whom
500 they said could be brought on the spot by signal in a few minutes.
We resumed our route, pleased and disgusted--pleased at our lucky
escape, and disgusted because the more than two hours and a half's
delay would render us too late for the night express to Madrid.
"The road, too, was now more dangerous for the horses, as the
telegraph wires lying across the road in curls made traps for their
legs, and driving at a gallop was occasionally difficult. At last
we came in sight of Vittoria. Outside, in the road, we came across
a large body of armed regulars playing pitch and toss, and next a
volunteer, in full equipment, driving a pig." From Vittoria "at
eleven on the morning of Friday we started for Miranda, the train
being escorted by nearly a regiment. The first railway station after
leaving Vittoria--Nanclares--had been turned into a veritable fortress
by hastily constructed stone barricades, and was full of troops; but
we had no novelties until we reached Miranda at 1·30, except that an
officer of the 12th Regiment had with him a little baby about twelve
months old. Strange baggage in time of war! At the stations a private
came and nursed it. I dared not make any inquiry as to his little
companion, fearing I might give offence." At the Miranda station
a couple of detachments of prisoners were brought in, of all ages
from twelve to sixty-five. "The whole of these prisoners were to be
sent to Cuba, to fight there for the Government against the Cuban
insurrectionists. I could not help thinking that this practice of
expatriating these Carlists was as impolitic as it is most certainly
illegal. The practice was commenced by Senor Zorilla, and the present
ministry have unfortunately followed in his footsteps." Between
Miranda and Burgos four railway stations burned to the ground showed
where the Carlists had been. "From Burgos I had a weary night's ride
to Madrid, morning dawn showing me, on the left of the line, about
twenty miles from the capital, the famous Escorial, chronicled amongst
the wonders of the world. Just after, in a deep cutting through the
rocks near Las Rozas, we pulled up with a sudden jerk and jump, which
threw us off our seats. On descending hastily from the train, I found
that these priest-ridden Carlist savages had planned here our total
destruction. Some wood and iron had been fixed in two places on the
rails, and an empty rubbish truck had been turned upside down right
on our track. Fortunately our train kept the rails, and although
mischief was done to the engine, we all escaped unhurt, save for a
rough shaking. A few of us hastily climbed the rocks, and I confess
it was almost a disappointment to find no one in sight. I felt in my
anger a desire to take vengeance with my own hand. If the train had
gone off the line, we should have been pounded against the rocks,
and nothing could have saved the bulk of us from death or frightful
injury."