[223] A peer in support contended that otherwise a Jew might become Lord Chancellor. "Why not?" asked Lord Lyndhurst, in an undertone. "Daniel would have made a very good one!" (Atlay's "Victorian Chancellors," vol. i. p. 61.) [224] Failure to take the oath only prevents a member from sitting within the Bar, voting in divisions, and taking part in debate. It does not disqualify him from the other privileges of membership, nor does it render his seat vacant. The refusal of Quakers and atheists to take the oath disturbed for many years the peace of mind of Parliament, and was the subject of frequent legislation. In 1832 the Quaker Pease was elected for a Durham division, and claimed the right of affirming instead of taking the oath. A Committee was appointed to consider the validity of such an affirmation, and came to the conclusion that this form might be substituted harmlessly for the more usual oath. The case of the atheist Bradlaugh, which lasted for nearly ten years, was a much more complicated affair, and presented endless difficulties to the parliamentary mind. We have grown more broad-minded during the last fifty years, and the story of Bradlaugh's persecution sounds incredible to modern ears. This unfortunate man was hounded and harassed with a degree of intolerance which was almost mediæval in its ferocity. Politicians of every grade combined to insult and bait him; he became the butt of Parliament, and evoked from men who had hitherto shown but little zeal in their faith a religious ardour of the most fanatical and bigoted description. Bradlaugh was returned to Parliament as member for Northampton in 1880. As an atheist it was against his principles to swear upon the Bible. When, therefore, he presented himself in the House of Commons with the intention of taking his seat, he asked to be allowed to affirm instead of taking the oath. The fact of his being entirely devoid of any religious beliefs or scruples rendered an affirmation in the form usual in Parliament practically valueless. His request was accordingly refused, and when he declined to withdraw from the House, he was committed to the custody of the Sergeant-at-Arms. Many members of the House of Commons were determined to prevent such a man from taking his seat, and for a long time its doors remained closed against him. Lord Randolph Churchill made a violent attack upon him on the 24th of May, in the course of which he read an extract from Bradlaugh's book, "The Impeachment of the House of Brunswick," hurling the offensive volume on the floor and trampling it underfoot. The House of Commons has always disliked anything that borders upon melodrama, and this action, more suited to the boards of the Adelphi than to the stage of Parliament, fell as flat as Burke's famous dagger.[225] But the spirit that prompted it was the popular one, and it long seemed impossible for an atheist to sit in the House.