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 walked towards them. When the
boat began to start, the cowardly fellows (knowing that I could not
then return), headed by and instigated thereto by Captain Le Mesurier,
the Harbour Master, an old gentleman whose appearance should have
bespoken better conduct, hissed and yelled with a persistence which
would have done credit to a nobler cause."

The local press endorsed the conduct of the "indignant population"
in their treatment of Mr Bradlaugh by calling it "an act of natural
justice," but the local authorities made no attempt at prosecution.
In consequence of the damage done to the hall, the expenses were
considerable, and receipts there were none; but as Mr Bradlaugh wrote
later on, this was only one of thirty-two lectures given in the first
six months of the year 1861 in which he incurred loss in "extending
Freethought propaganda into new districts."

CHAPTER XIX.

PROVINCIAL ADVENTURES, 1860-1863.

In addition to the more serious opposition which Mr Bradlaugh
encountered at such places as Wigan, Devonport, and Guernsey, there
were countless smaller "incidents" constantly occurring, some
unpleasant, others merely ludicrous. I have noted a few for these
pages; of these, perhaps, the greater number may be thought of minor
importance, but at least they will serve to show the kind of reception
given to heretical opinions in the provinces five-and-thirty years ago.

At Altrincham, one Sunday, early in June 1860, my father had engaged
to deliver two open-air addresses. Several highly religious persons
openly indulged in the fond wish that it might rain hard on Hale Moss;
and as if in direct response to their prayers, "the lightning flashed,
thunder pealed, and the rain poured down in torrents." The lightning
struck a public-house chimney and did considerable damage generally.
The clergyman of St Margaret's, Altrincham, foolishly hoped that this
would prove a warning to people to keep away from Infidel lectures.
Mr Bradlaugh's comment on this was, that it was "a curious warning to
strike a public-house with electricity to frighten people from hearing
the address of a teetotal Infidel." In any case, the "warning" was not
a very thoroughgoing one, for the storm cleared, and in the evening
there was a large and attentive audience. A few months later, Mr
Bradlaugh was again lecturing in Altrincham, and without the help of a
single placard 1000 persons attended in the afternoon, and rather more
in the evening. At the end of the evening lecture a police sergeant
came forward and announced to my father that he was obstructing a
thoroughfare, and must therefore "move on." "Legally he may be right,"
said Mr Bradlaugh afterwards, "but if it is a thoroughfare, grass
grows upon it; it is almost impassable for horse and cart, and is a
direct route to nowhere. My lecture, however, being over, I bowed to
the majesty of the law, as represented by Z 1, and only hope that the
police will always wait, in like manner, till the conclusion of the
proceedings before saying 'move on.'"

In August "Iconoclast" had arranged to visit the village of Shaw. The
prospect created great excitement in the district, which was further
worked up by the _Oldham Standard_ inserting letters of attack but
refusing reply; there was even a rumour that force would be used to
prevent the lectures. No room could be obtained, and so the address had
to be delivered in the open air. Mr Bradlaugh had scarcely commenced
to speak when a Royton Police Sergeant called roughly to him to come
down:--

 ICONOCLAST: "Why?"

 SERGEANT: "Never you mind why! Come down, or I will pull you
 down."

 ICONOCLAST: "You may try if you like, and one of us may come
 down, but I do not think I shall be that one."

The police sergeant was sadly bothered; he tried again; but Iconoclast
quoted legal authorities.

The poor policeman then consulted with those about him, and finding
bullying of no avail, at length retired, leaving Iconoclast and
his audience in possession of the field. It can hardly be called
"undisturbed" possession however, for the Christians, having been
unsuccessful in the matter of police interference, hired a drum and
other noise-creating instruments, and posted them on some adjacent
private ground; but even in this way they failed to break up the
meeting, as they counted without Mr Bradlaugh's powerful voice and
tenacity of purpose. He persisted to the end, and delivered his lecture
to a most orderly audience of some 800 persons. He visited Shaw several
times during the next twelve months; but although he was still unable
to get a room to speak in, the manners of his Christian opponents
improved on each occasion.

When Mr Bradlaugh was unknown, he often had difficulty in finding a
chairman to preside at his meetings. Sometimes he would proceed without
one, and sometimes one would be elected by the audience. A chairman
so elected, however, would occasionally have comical ideas as to the
duties of his position, and regard the chair merely as a privileged
place, from which he might make hostile comments upon the methods and
manner of the lecturer. In such a case the harmony of the meeting was
better preserved without the assistance of a chairman.

But if it was difficult to get a chairman to preside over the meeting,
it was even more difficult in many places to get a hall in which
the meeting could be held. At Sunderland the hall was refused to Mr
Bradlaugh because it could not be let for "such damnable doctrines."
In Rochdale the Public Hall, although let for week-day lectures, was
refused for Sunday discourses. The Rochdale Freethinkers therefore
hired the theatre; but the police authorities, whose functions seemed
to include "the cure of souls," intimated to the lessee that if he kept
to his contract his licence would be in danger. When this was explained
to Mr Bradlaugh, he gave way, and delivered his lectures in the open
air; in the morning on the Butts to about 3000 persons, in the evening
in a large field near Roebuck to a still larger audience. The only
result, therefore, of this endeavour to shut him out of Rochdale on
the Sunday, was really to procure for him larger and more interested
audiences. In January 1861, Mr Bradlaugh went to Leigh, in Lancashire,
where no Freethought speaker had been for twenty years. The thermometer
was below freezing, and the roads like ice. A menagerie, with real wild
beasts who roared and a real elephant who walked the streets, occupied
the thoughts of the town. But worse than new place, icy weather, or
wonderful menagerie, was the bellman of Leigh. This bellman, wrote
my father sorrowfully, was not "a teetotaller, and had offered up
considerable sacrifices to Bacchus. This course of conduct sadly
interfered with the clearness of his articulation, and to fill the cup
of my misery he had also to announce the loss of a donkey. The two
announcements were so jumbled together that little was distinguishable
except the donkey."[67]

[Footnote 67: C. Bradlaugh in _National Reformer_, Jan. 12

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