presided at the trial, the Attorney-General was
asked to allow the abandonment of proceedings. This he granted, the case
was struck off the list, and I returned to my prison cell at Holloway.

Let me now go back to the crowning incident of that long struggle
between Charles Bradlaugh and the House of Commons. On May 10, 1881, the
House passed a resolution authorising the Sergeant-at-Arms to prevent
Mr. Bradlaugh from entering. On June 20, the jury gave a verdict in Mr.
Newdegate's favor for the L500 penalty and costs. A motion for a new
trial failed, and Mr. Bradlaugh appealed to the country. Enthusiastic
meetings were held in his behalf, and he prepared a fresh _coup_. It had
to be something striking, and it was. On the morning of August 3 Palace
Yard and Westminster Hall were thronged with his supporters. Every one
was armed with a petition, which he had a legal right to take to the
House of Commons. Mr. Bradlaugh himself drove up in a hansom cab, and
entered the precincts of the House by the private door. He made his way
to the door of the House itself and tried to enter by a sudden effort,
but he was seized by fourteen officials and stalwart policemen, picked
for the work, and thrust back through the private passage into Palace
Yard. Not expecting such indignity, he contested every inch of the
ground. Inspector Denning said he never thought that one man could
have offered such resistance. The small muscles of both his arms
were ruptured, and a subsequent attack of erysipelas put his life in
jeopardy.

When he was finally thrust on to the pavement in Palace Yard his coat
was torn and the rest of his garments were disarranged. His face was
livid with the intense exertion when I saw him a minute afterwards.
There he stood, a great mass of panting, valiant manhood, his features
set like granite, and his eyes fixed upon the doorway before him. He
seemed to see nothing but that doorway. I spoke to him, and he seemed
not to hear. I believe a mighty struggle was going on within him,
perhaps the greatest struggle of his life. He had suffered a frightful
indignity, he must have been tempted to avenge it, and he had but to
hold up his hand to bring around and behind him the myriads who stood
outside the railings. The action would have been impolitic, but what a
temptation he crushed down, and what an effort it necessitated. Never
was his heroic nature more sorely tried. He justified his mastery of
others by his mastery of hi