Читать книгу The Life & Work of Charles Bradlaugh - J. M. Robertson - Страница 20

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ITALY.

Full of sympathy for Italy, my father spoke much on behalf of Garibaldi and Italian emancipation. When Garibaldi made his "famous Marsala effort," money was collected from all parts of the United Kingdom and sent to his assistance, mainly through the agency of W.H. Ashhurst, Esq. And men went as well as money. "Excursionists" was the name given to these volunteers, amongst whom not a few Freethinkers were numbered. It was always my father's pride to remember that in 1860 he sent Garibaldi 100 guineas. For if he had an empty purse, he had a full heart and an eloquent tongue, and with these he minted the gold to send to Garibaldi and Italy. I have tried, as a matter of interest, to collect together a list of the towns where these Garibaldi lectures were given, but I have not traced more than about half. At Sheffield he earned £20, and Oldham, Holmfirth, Halifax, Nottingham, Rochdale, Northampton, Mexbro', also furnished funds, each town according to its rate of prejudice against the speaker or its ardour for the cause he advocated. In some towns the enthusiasm was so great that hall proprietor and bill printer refused payment in order that their fees should swell the funds; in other places piety and prejudice was so strong that the audiences were not large enough to furnish the actual expenses. On receiving the money Garibaldi wrote my father a letter with his own hand, thanking him for the services he was then rendering to Italy. I am, unfortunately, not able to give the text of this letter, which my father received on July 20th, 1861, for although I have a distinct recollection of having seen it, it has either passed into other hands or become accidentally destroyed.

Mr. Bradlaugh became acquainted with Mazzini about 1858, when he was living at Onslow Terrace, Brompton, under the name of Signor Ernesti. From the first he won my father's heart, and to the end—although on certain matters their opinions became widely divergent—he placed him high above most men, reverencing in him his single-mindedness, his purity of purpose, his steadfastness and courage. After Mazzini's death Mr. Bradlaugh wrote of him:[44] "He was one of the few men who impress you first and always with the thorough truthfulness and incorruptibility of their natures. Simple in his manners, with only one luxury, his cigar, he had that fulness of faith in his cause which is so contagious, and by the sheer force of personal contact he made believers in the possibility of Italian unity even amongst those who were utter strangers to his thought and hope."

A framed portrait of Mazzini always hung in my father's room. At Sunderland Villa it hung in his little study; but at Circus Road, where the crowding books rapidly usurped almost every inch of available space, the picture hung in his bedroom. Subscriptions received for the emancipation of Italy were acknowledged on the back of signed photographs of Mazzini, or on specially engraved forms dated from Caprera, but bearing Mazzini's characteristic signature. There are doubtless many people who still retain such acknowledgments received through Mr. Bradlaugh, and just before his death, Mr. Joseph Gurney, of Northampton, very kindly gave me two that he had received in this way.

At the conclusion of his Autobiography Mr. Bradlaugh wrote: "In penning the foregoing sketch I had purposely to omit many facts connected with branches of Italian, Irish, and French politics," because "there are secrets which are not my own alone, and which may not bear telling for many years to come." My father died with these secrets still untold. For all three countries he risked his life or liberty; but, beyond knowing this and a few anecdotes—told by him at the supper table at the end of a day's lecturing—I know very little that is definite. I have two letters of Mazzini's to my father without date or address; but although they suggest many possibilities, they tell nothing:—

"My Dear Sir—I do not think you can do anything for me in the three places you mention. Of course, I shall always be glad to see you.—Yours faithfully,

Jos. Mazzini.

"Friday."

"My dear Mr. Bradlaugh,

"Can you? Will you?

"Ever faithfully yours,

Jos. Mazzini."

"Thursday.

Mr. Bradlaugh first visited Naples in November 1861, and some of his impressions as to Naples and Rome were recorded in the National Reformer at the time, and more than twenty years later he wrote a description of Ischia for Our Corner. I have the passport issued to him by "John, Earl Russell," on the 11th November 1861, lying before me now; it is stamped and marked all over till there is scarcely a clear space anywhere on it, back or front. Naples 1861, France 1861, Germany 1863, Geneva 1866, Rome 1866, France 1871, Germany (?) 1871, Spain 1873, Portugal 1873, and other places, the stamps of which are now quite illegible. There is hardly a stamp on it that does not suggest the possibility, nay, the certainty, of some story we would give much to know. Naples—Rome—these bring up the thoughts of the struggle for Italian freedom, linked with the names of Garibaldi and Mazzini; France—the War, the Commune, and the Republic; Spain—the War, the Republic and Castelar, the failure. Looking at this passport with its covering of names and dates legible and illegible, I realise to the full how little I know, and how feebly I am able to portray the great events of my father's life; to say that I do my best seems almost a mockery when we know that this "best" is so poor and so fragmentary.

While he was at Naples in 1861, Mr. Bradlaugh was diligently watched by the police, and his bedroom at the hotel was frequently overhauled. For instance, an English book he was reading, and marking with his pencil as he read, disappeared for a day or so, and on its return bore traces—to the keen eye of its owner at least—of having been carefully examined.

A story, which I have slightly amended from Mr. Headingley's biography,[45] will give some idea as to how closely he was observed and what risks he ran.

The police, as I have said, were soon put on the alert when Mr. Bradlaugh arrived in Italy, and evidently kept a keen watch over his every movement. Thus it was ascertained that while at Naples, a few days after Bomba's fall, he had received a packet of political letters. It has been said that walls have ears. In this case they evidently possessed eyes.

He was in the room of his hotel, alone, and, as he thought, safe from all observation. A friend then entered, and without any conversation of a nature that could be overheard, gave him the packet which he had volunteered to take over to England with him. Though as a rule not devoid of prudence, he so little suspected any danger on this occasion that he took no special precaution. He left Naples in a steamboat sailing under the flag of the two Sicilies, and all went smoothly, excepting the ship, till they reached Civitâ Vecchia. Here, to the surprise, if not to the alarm, of the passengers, a boat-load of Papal gendarmes came on board. Even at this moment Mr. Bradlaugh was not yet on his guard, and had the gendarmes at once made for his portmanteau, they might possibly have seized the despatches.

The sub-officer preferred, however, resorting to what he doubtless considered a very clever stratagem. He politely inquired for Mr. Bradlaugh, whom he discovered with so little difficulty that it is probable he knew perfectly well the principal characteristics of his general appearance. With much politeness, this officer informed him that the British Consul wished to see him on shore. This at once put my father on his guard. If he went on shore he would be on Roman soil, subject to the Papal laws, and there was no guarantee for his safety. On the other hand, he did not know the English Consul, and had no business with him. Evidently this was but a mere trap, so Mr. Bradlaugh, with equal politeness, refused to land.

The officer, joined by the full force of the Papal gendarmes, proceeded this time with less ceremony. They ordered him to show his luggage, and evidently knew that it contained the secret dispatches. My father now understood that he had been betrayed. Yet no one at Naples could have seen him when he received the letters, and the walls alone could have seen the transactions, unless a hole had been made through them, and a watch kept on all his actions. This, in fact, is the only explanation that can be given of the circumstance.

In answer to the demand for his luggage, Mr. Bradlaugh at once produced his English passport, and assumed that this would suffice to shield him from further annoyance. The document was, however, treated with the profoundest contempt, and the Papal police now prepared to break open the portmanteau. In vain Mr. Bradlaugh protested that he was under the flag of the two Sicilies, that he was not under nor subject to the Papal laws; the Papal gendarmes were undeterred by any such arguments. The position was becoming desperate, and Mr. Bradlaugh found himself terribly outnumbered; but he had learned the value of coolness, determination, and audacity.

Without any more argument, he set himself against his portmanteau, drew a heavy six-chambered naval revolver from his coat pocket, cocked, and aimed at the nearest Papal gendarme. He then simply and quietly promised to blow out the brains of the first individual who attempted to touch his luggage. In spite of this threat matters might have gone badly with him, for he was surrounded by foes, and there was the danger of an attack from behind. But at this juncture an American, who had been watching the whole incident with considerable interest, was so delighted at the "Britisher's pluck" that he suddenly snatched up a chair, and springing forward, took up a firm stand back to back with the Englishman, crying, while waving the chair about with fearful energy: "I guess I'll see fair play. You look after those in front, I'll attend to those behind!"

This turn of events somewhat disconcerted the Papal gendarmes. They did not like the look of Mr. Bradlaugh's formidable weapon, and the American had destroyed all chance of seizing him by surprise from behind. They hesitated for some time how to proceed. At last they resolved to put the responsibility on others, and go on shore for further instructions. The moment they had left the ship Mr. Bradlaugh employed this reprieve in bringing all the pressure possible to bear upon the captain, who was, after some trouble, persuaded to put on steam and sail out to sea before the gendarmes had time to return. A few days later my father reached London in safety, and had the satisfaction of delivering the letters.

Another story told in Mr. Headingley's book[46] is very amusing; and although it has no bearing upon Mr. Bradlaugh's political work, yet shows his resourcefulness and coolness in emergency.

"His experience with the Papal gendarmes had taught him the advantage of carrying a revolver when travelling in Italy, though this, it appears, was strictly against the Italian law, and on one occasion nearly resulted in serious consequences. The diligence in which Bradlaugh was travelling [between, as he often said with a wry face, two fat priests smelling strongly of garlic] from Nunziatella to Civitâ Vecchia had been entirely cleared out on the previous evening by a band of brigands. Bradlaugh consequently put his revolver in the pocket of the diligence door, where he thought it would be more readily accessible in case of attack. When, however, they stopped at Montalbo for the examination of the luggage and passports, the police discovered the revolver and were about to confiscate it. Bradlaugh at once tried to snatch the weapon back, and got hold of it by the barrel, while the policeman held tight to the butt—by far the safest side. In this position a fierce discussion ensued, Bradlaugh expostulating that so long as the Government were unable to protect travellers from brigands they should not object to persons who sought to defend themselves. This argument only drew reinforcements to the policeman's assistance, and Bradlaugh was seized and held tightly on all sides. Finally, Bradlaugh urged that it was his duty to the Life Assurance Company where he had insured himself to carry weapons, and protect his life by every possible means. This novel argument produced an unexpected and profound impression, particularly when he informed them that he was connected with the Sovereign and Midland Assurance Companies. The police respectfully and with minute care noted these names down. What they thought they meant Bradlaugh has never been able to explain; but they at once let him loose, and he triumphantly walked away, carrying with him his cherished revolver."