. Bradlaugh taken the oath with the rest of the Members when first
introduced to the House, or had he, after refusing to take it, behaved
with less violence, I doubt if he would have made any name in
Parliament. The House was determined to fight Bradlaugh, and it is not
to be wondered at, for he paraded his atheism, and his views on other
matters, in the most repulsive manner possible. But Bradlaugh did not
run the risk of fighting down mere prejudice. Had he taken the oath, he
would only have won the ear of the House by proving himself a great
politician. This he was not, though he was a hard-working one, and a
model Member from a constituency's point of view. But the only big
question he mastered was his own right to take his seat. Once he got it,
he became a respectable and respected Member of Parliament, and nothing
more. So, with the wisdom of the serpent, he did not enter the House
quietly to fight a wearisome and impossible battle against the
inveterate prejudices of the Members. No, Bradlaugh defied the House of
Commons; he horrified it, he insulted it, he lectured it, he laughed at
it, he tricked it, he shamed it, he humiliated it, he conquered it. He
brought to their knees the men who howled at him--as no other man has
ever been howled at before--by sheer force of character.

[Illustration: BRADLAUGH TRIUMPHANT. _From "Punch."_]

Bradlaugh's bitter struggle would fill a volume. Select Committees were
appointed, and they declared against him. Ignoring them, Bradlaugh
marched up to the table and demanded to be sworn. The Fourth Party would
not let him touch the Testament. Three days followed of angry debate on
Bradlaughism, with more scenes. A new Committee reversed the decision of
its predecessor, and said that Bradlaugh might affirm. Two days were
consumed in discussing this, and the present Lord Chancellor, then Sir
Hardinge Giffard, swayed the House against the report of the Committee.
Nothing daunted, Mr. Bradlaugh the very next day was back at the table
of the House, clamouring to be allowed to address the House on his case.
A scene of wild confusion resulted, Mr. Bradlaugh endeavouring to speak,
the House howling to prevent him. Eventually he was ordered below the
Bar--that is, nominally outside the House, although within the four
walls. After much acrimonious chatter from all sides, he was allowed to
make his speech. His hour had come. He stood like a prisoner pleading
before a single judge and a jury of