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.