On rejoining my colleagues of the _Oracle of Reason_, I proceeded to
issue an address to our readers. The substance of it, which was as
follows, comprises some additional facts of my prison experience:--
'My Friends,--It is now six months since cut and hacked, "I fell," not
merely in the language of the parable but literally, "among thieves." Of
those who caused that contact, I am afraid I must say, as William Hutton
said of an untoward sweetheart--"There was little love between us
at first, and heaven has been pleased to decrease it on a further
acquaintance." Christians profess to draw men to Jesus with "cords of
love," but were it not for their judicious foresight in telling us that
they axe "cords of love," few would find it out.
'To friends in Gloucester,* Cheltenham, Birmingham, London,** and other
places, I owe many thanks for what has been contributed for my support,
and for that of my family, during my imprisonment.
* To Gloucester two special acknowledgments are due. First
to a young lady, the niece of the Innkeeper, in whose house
I resided, when awaiting Trial, both at the sessions and
assises. With no other knowledge of me than these occasions
afforded, and with no prepossession in favour of my
opinions, but simply from that generous sympathy women often
display, she frequently brought me refreshments to the gaol,
and was a medium of communication with my friends, and often
answered inquiries of my family which the restrictions of
the gaol sometimes rendered it impossible for me even to
know. In the romance of incident, she afterwards became the
wife of my friend Mr. Chilton. The other instance was that
of Mrs. Price, a woman in humble circumstances, who, during
the latter part of my imprisonment, brought me dinner every
Sunday. Both Mrs. Price and her husband were utterly
unknown to me.
** At the time of the death of Madeline, Mrs. Ralph Thomas,
of London, sent to Mrs. Holyoake L3, subscribed by herself
and personal friends.
For their attentions I believe no thanks were asked and none are wished.
Yet I am concerned to make acknowledgments, because a man always values
highly the kindness he does not expect. When the words were spoken which
led to my prosecution, I expected that the cautious would think that
I had gone "too far"--that the prudent would think that I had been too
rash--that my friends would be afraid for me, and that the timid would
be afraid for themselves. But I held with Polydamus, that
To speak his thoughts is every freeman's right--
In peace and war, in council and in fight.
'And, what I regarded as greater than my right, I felt it to be my
duty. Besides, my honour was concerned. I could not descend to that
disingenuousness I had often counselled others to scorn. Hence, in the
course I took, I did not think it necessary to calculate consequences;
a man's true concern is with his principles, and not with his fate. I
pretended to no public virtue, and I laid claim to no praise--I did
no more than every man ought to do. That doing so little has been so
rewarded by the exertions of many friends for my protection, I must be
pleased--but had nothing been done, I trust I should have found pride
in penury and satisfaction under neglect, in the reflection that I had
discharged my duty and preserved consistency.
'When my memorial to Sir James Graham was returned to the magistrates
for their opinion, they came to me, and Mr. Bransby Cooper stormed out
with great violence--"You were sent here, sir, for punishment, and you
have nothing else to expect. I consider you worse than the greatest
felon in the gaol; you have been guilty of the most atrocious crime a
man can possibly commit. I have told Sir James Graham what you deserve."
I knew that these magistrates were Christians. I was told they were
gentlemen, but I thought them furies.*
* Yet such is the inconsistency of the Christian character
when allied to a generous nature, that Mr. Bransby Cooper
who, as a Christian, behaved with so much rudeness, had just
before given instruction to the turnkeys to treat me with
respect, with a view to save me from less harshness from
other officials than that which, in other moods, he so
plentifully inflicted on me himself.
'The prison diet was bread, gruel, and potatoes. On two days in each
week boiled rice was substituted for potatoes; and after I had been in
prison nine weeks I was, by the rules, allowed a small portion of salt
beef on Thursdays and Sundays. As this fare is deemed in Gloucestershire
a famous specific for the cure of atheism, it may not be out of place
to explain its virtues. The gruel was little remarkable for its delicate
flavour and little celebrated for its nutritious qualities, and known by
the luxurious cognomen of "skilly." The rice had a blue cast, a saline
taste, and a slimy look. The beef I could not often taste, seldom chew,
and never digest--I should say it was rather _leather_ mode than _a
la mode_. The whole of the food could only be taken by a ploughman's
appetite, and only be digested by a navigator's stomach.
'The indirect occasion of my prosecution was the editorship of the
_Oracle_. When Mr. Southwell was apprehended no Social Missionary
came forward to continue his paper, although many of them were better
qualified to do so than myself. Socialism had always attached great
importance to freedom of expression, and Socialism's advocates had been
styled "apostles of freethought." Knowing this, I felt that it would be
a dishonourable reflection should any one refuse personally to support
what he was known publicly to approve. Had Mr. Fleming been placed in
Mr. Southwell's situation, and had he been of opinion that I could have
defended his violated liberty by taking his place, I should have edited
the _New Moral World_ as cheerfully as I did the _Oracle of Reason_.
When I speak of "freedom of speech" and "liberty for all," I know of no
distinction between myself and those who differ from me--I see with an
equal eye the Atheist and the Christian, the violent and the gentle, the
dogmatic and the modest.
'That is true of Christianity which has been said of Catholicism,
"Humane individuals may express their abhorrence of the sentiments of
persecution--bodies of men, sections of the church itself, nay many of
the dignitaries may abjure them, and protest that they have never acted
upon them, nor ever will enforce them--yet all this will not avail
to give a discerning man the smallest security for his liberty, his
property, or his life; for as long as those intolerant decrees remain
upon the statute book, they can at any time be revived." It therefore
behoves everyone to set a guard over that liberty, for the loss of which
no religion will ever compensate. The conviction should be permanent
that Christianity is a fearful thing. But bad men may laud it--mistaken
men may contend that there is some good in it--unthinking men may give
currency to its terms--and weak men may connive at its delusions, but we
ought to regard with different sentiments a system which tramples upon
the feelings of humanity and the principles of liberty. Let us then
secure the antidote--free expression of opposite opinion. Shall it be
said that we are content to wear mental fetters? When Protestants, who
dare never think without the Bible and Prayer Book, have shaken off the
iron despotism of Catholicism--when Methodists and even Ranters have
refused to submit their thoughts to be cut down to the Procrustean
bed of conventional opinion--let not Christians mock at Freethinking
pusillanimity and deride us as holders of craven principles. Not only
for ourselves but for others are our exertions demanded. What patrimony
has the poor man but his free thoughts? Industry will not save him from
chill penury's grip, nor virtue from the poor-house grave--let us
then preserve and perfect the humble inheritance of those who have no
other.'*
In prison it is not _safe_ to make complaints. You are too much in the
power of those around you to escape reprisals of a serious kind, but
this did not deter me from what I conceived to be a duty, and which
might make the future easier for others who might follow me in the same
way. Besides the endeavours I had made within the prison, with a view to
tolerable treatment, I addressed, on my release, the following letter to
the editor of the _Cheltenham Free Press_--
'Mr. Editor,--As prisons and prison discipline have lately occupied much
public attention, I am induced to offer to your notice a little recent
experience in such matters. What I have written, I intended to have
stated to a public meeting, but suffering from debility, which makes me
glad to avoid excitement, I seek the calmer medium of your paper.
'I speak of Gloucester County Gaol. I believe the prison inspector is
of opinion that the rules of that place are "_harsh and cruel_." Now,
should a prisoner seek a partial exemption from their operation, the
process he goes through is very curious. He applies to a turnkey--the
turnkey answers, "my duty is determinate and my province clear; I cannot
do it." Probably, he refers the prisoner to the surgeon. The surgeon
is seen--he refers him to the governor, the governor refers him to
the visiting magistrates--they reply, "we have no power to grant
the request, Sir James Graham only can do that." Sir James Graham is
memorialised, who, as is usual, answers, "The visiting magistrates best
know what is proper--I only grant what they recommend." Any further
application to them would be construed into a wilful annoyance, and the
prisoner is fortunate who can sit down like Sterne's happy man--pleased
he knows not why, and contented he knows not wherefore. Of course I
blame no one, for there is no one to blame, and this constitutes the
beauty of the system.**
* Revised and abridged from the _Oracle_.
** It seemed to me useful to make applications for what I
wanted in writing. It prevented mistakes, and afterwards
admitted of proof. The governor used to come to me and say,
'Now, Holyoake, it is of no use sending this memorial.
It is sure not to be attended to, and he would so obligingly bestow upon
me the treasures of his experience on the futility of the course I was
pursuing, that at times it really did seem not only useless--but uncivil
to persist. But I used to say, 'Captain Mason, I suppose you are right
as to the result. That makes no difference, however, as to my duty; you
may put my memorials in the fire, if you like, as soon as I have written
them; still I will make the proper application to every officer and
every authority, and deliver them to your care, as in duty bound.' I
knew the Captain would not burn them--I knew more, I knew he dare not
burn them. I knew, also, that each would be duly delivered to the proper
party. Further I knew this, that if his dissuasions had deterred me from
sending in my complaints, that when I left the prison the authorities
would destroy every representation I might make, by saying 'If there had
been anything wrong Holyoake would have complained, but as he has not
done so, the aggravation he points out could not have existed, or could
not have been grievous.' Foreseeing this I provided against it, and
disregarding the refusal of my applications, I addressed them all round
with scrupulous formality. The result was, that on my liberation I found
myself in a position to defy contradiction in any allegations I had to
advance; and though I published this letter immediately under the eyes
of the magistrates, it was never contradicted.
Should I individualise, it would only be to say, that the governor is a
gentleman of some excellent qualities, and some unintelligible conduct;
that the surgeon possesses the _suaviter in modo_ without the _fortiter
in re_; and that the magistrates are little gods, who, like Jupiter,
thunder oftener than they smile.
'What of health I have, I owe to my friends, who supplied me with such
food as my constitution required, for had I been compelled to subsist on
the diet of the prison, my health, by this time, would have been quite
broken. With the direction of my own medical adviser, I made this
representation to the proper authorities at the gaol; I made them to
the commissioners who were lately there, and I made them to Sir James
Graham;* I therefore conceive that I am justified in repeating them
here. The surgeon admitted the necessity of better diet, but referred
me to the governor, and he sent me the fruitless round I have described.
Now the province of the governor was the care of my person, and the
province of the surgeon the care of my health. The governor ought not to
have permitted the reference to him, and the surgeon ought not to have
made it. Either the surgeon should have refused my application with
decision, or have allowed it with independence. Upon this subject, the
commissioners reminded me, "that if the surgeon did not order what was
necessary for my health, he was responsible for it." I replied "that
I knew this, and that they also knew, that a prisoner, like Beale
of Northleach, must die before he could avail himself of such
responsibility, and that this was but grave consolation." But of the
surgeon I wish to speak impartially, and I gladly admit, that his manner
was always very kind, but I complain that his answers were always very
indecisive. What he recommended he seldom prescribed, and professed that
he must consult the governor when he should have consulted only himself.
This fault may seem little, but its effects are great. In a gaol, the
surgeon is the only person who stands between a prisoner and the
grave, and it is indispensable that to the quality of humanity those of
independence and decision should be joined. The kind of answers to which
I have alluded were given to me more than once, and given to others as
well as to me. And I again repeat, that had I been without friends, I
should have left my prison without health.
* In consequence of these representations some medical
gentlemen of the city were brought in to examine me, who
pronounced my life to be in no danger, and therefore (so it
seemed) my health was not regarded as worth improving by
better food. Provided I did not make a case fer the House of
Commons, that was enough. They appeared to consider
themselves as bound to keep me alive and no more.
'Akin to the want of better food, was the want of exercise, and no want
of damp. The yard in which I walked was so small, that I always became
giddy, through the frequent turnings, before I became refreshed. The
governor sometimes permitted the "Fines-Class" in which I was, to walk
in his garden; but the occasions came seldom and lasted not long--and
I was previously so enervated by confinement, that the unusual exercise
thus taken, threw me into a slight fever. Generally speaking, the
place in which I was confined was miserably humid, and, although I took
perpetual care, I had almost a perpetual cold.
'An application for a trivial favour often brought down upon me ruthless
treatment. The visiting magistrates would come, and before the other
prisoners denounce me as the "worst felon in the gaol, and the most
atrocious of criminals." I was directed to ascribe this to the petulance
of age and the rancour of orthodoxy; but I thought it proceeded from bad
taste and worse feeling.
'From first to last, every newspaper sent me was detained; every letter
from me was perused, and every one to me was broken open and read--and
the very seals, if they happened to be heterodox, were interdicted. Thus
the privacy of affection and friendship were violated, and mind as well
as body laid under one restraint.
'When I saw friends it was but for a few minutes, and then through the
bars of a gate; to shake hands was a privilege, and to converse unheard,
impossible. To me it was a momentary satisfaction made an enduring
mortification. To the public it may seem a light matter that nothing can
be spoken to a visitor unheard by officers, but it is no light matter to
a prisoner. The commissioners inquired--"Can you make no communication
to your friends without its passing under the eyes of the governor, or
through the ears of the turnkey?" I answered--"None; and that it was not
prudent for a prisoner to mention openly what affected persons in whose
power he was put--that no prisoner must calculate on gaolers being
generous, for they owned few virtues not written in their rules." I
spoke from experience, and gave them cases in point.*
'During the latter portion of my time all my friends were denied access
to me, which, though it interfered with the supply of my wants, I did
not, for the reasons stated, much regret. But this I did regret--all
my letters were detained, and I was refused the privilege of writing a
single letter to my family. The reason assigned by the governor for this
was the enforcement of new rules, but I know that they were enforced
without proper authority, and I believe applied only to me.***
'Those are happy who are for ever preserved from the reception cells of
Gloucester Gaol. Of the one in which I was put, the floor was filthy,
the bed was filthier, and the window was filthier still, for in
the window was--what I sicken at while I write--a rag full of human
excrement. And of the bed, a prisoner assured me that when he lay in
it the lice crept up his throat off the corners of the blanket
which covered him. This statement, on my direction, he made to the
commissioners.
* One case I allude to was this. Mr. Bransby Cooper and Mr.
Jones had called me out to state that an application I had
made for better dietary would not be acceded to. Mr. Cooper
said the surgeon did not prescribe any other diet. I said,
'It appears to me, sir, that the surgeon dare not prescribe
any other diet, unless he was first assured you would
approve of it.' The answer of Mr. Cooper was loud, harsh,
brief, and decisive. 'Of course, sir, he dare not.' Thus the
fierce candour of this man broke through the web-work of
cautiousness which surrounded prisoners there, and spoke the
truth for once.
** I have since been told that Mr. Alcott, of America, was
among the number, who, being a visitor in England, had but
one opportunity of calling upon me.
***On one occasion Richard Carlile brought me a present of a
handsome pair of large razors, which were sent back lest I
should cut my throat with them. The rules of the gaol forbid
the entrance of such articles, but this reason for their
rejection was not in the rules, but added as suitable to my
case.
'The gaol chapel is a cold place. Often, on entering it, I have
exclaimed, with Jugurtha, on entering his Roman dungeon--"Heavens! how
cold is this bath of yours!" Yet in this place, during this inclement
season, the prisoners are assembled every morning to hear prayers, on
empty stomachs, after sixteen hours' confinement in their night
cells. On the "long prayer" mornings, they are detained in chapel
three-quarters of an hour, and the penitentiary men, on their return
to their cells, find their gruel on the stone floor, gone cold in their
absence. I mention this matter with reluctance, as some may suppose that
I notice it only from want of religion; but perhaps a little reflection
will convince them that believers, as well as unbelievers, can
appreciate a warm breakfast on a cold morning!--and that an asthmatical
man, however sound his faith, will have his affection painfully
increased by enervation, inanition, and sudden cold. This practice I do
not say is contrary to the rules, for it would be difficult to say what
is, or what is not, contrary to them--and I never met with any one at
the gaol who could tell. But the practice is contrary to the act of the
4th of Geo. IV., chap. 64, see. 30, which is professed to regulate it.
'A circumstance' of a different nature from any of the foregoing I
think it my duty to notice. After a considerable portion of my term of
imprisonment had elapsed, and after I had memorialised Sir James Graham,
I was permitted to remain up in an evening with my books. To this I owe
what of pleasure I can be said to have experienced in gaol, and with
pleasure I acknowledge it.*
* Before this privilege was conceded I whiled away the long
nights by writing on the cover of a book, on which I had
adjusted threads at equal intervals; under these threads I
slipped paper, and thus wrote on the lines made by the
threads, which kept in the dark the words from running into
each other. When a boy I learned to write with my eyes shut,
and my playful acquirement now became of service to me. In
this way I wrote some letters for the _Oracle,_ and much of
my correspondence. Scattered by force, our little party at
that time, and for some years after, had to be kept together
oy letters, and, incredible as it will sound, I wrote during
my imprisonment from first to last nearly 2000 letters. The
governor did not see them all, but he saw so many, that one
day he said I sent out more letters than usually went
through a local post office.
'I prefer leaving these statements without comment, and content myself
with saying, that I can abundantly substantiate every one of them. On
Saturday last they were partly examined at the gaol by the magistrates,
but I heard nothing that impugned their correctness or affected the
propriety of their appearing before the public. If I have made any
misrepresentations, I shall be sorry; and what is proved to be wrong I
will cheerfully retract. I have written from no malevolence, for I feel
none, and, as what I have related affects me no longer, my only motive
is the hope of benefiting the unfortunate beings whom I have left behind
me. My object is not, as some may suspect, to excite commiseration on
my own part; to do this I have no wish, and no expectation, for in
Cheltenham it seems to be a received maxim, that they who have little
faith have no feelings--certainly, none are respected.
'How my imprisonment is supposed to affect me toward religion, I cannot
tell; I only know that I have no change of sentiment to own. During six
months I have been "shut out from the common light and common air"--from
those whom the bonds of friendship connected, and the ties of affection
endeared; and some of these ties are broken for ever. After this, I can
only say, that I have greater difficulty than ever in believing
that humanity is the associate of piety; and if Christianity has no
expounders more attractive than those I have fallen in with, the day of
my conversion is still distant.
'It was taught to me that the religion of Jesus cherished kindness, that
it promoted our best affections, and reclaimed the erring in love. But
how is this accomplished in gaol? The man who goes there must leave his
affections, his feelings, and his sensibilities behind him--for in gaol
all are blighted, deadened, and destroyed. There no appeals are made but
to coward fears, and no antidote applied to error but misery. Indeed,
I cannot dwell upon Christianity's treatment of what she considers my
errors, without wishing, with Themistocles, that I could learn the art
of forgetting. With regard to the cause of my prosecution, I admit that
I might be wrong in the sentiments which I held, but I could not be
wrong in frankly avowing them. And I may answer to Christians, as did
Aristides to the tyrant Dionysius--"I am sorry for what you have
done, but I am not sorry for what I have said." Despite all that has
succeeded, I still prefer integrity to liberty. My resolution has long
been taken, to speak nothing or to speak what I think--for
Who dares think one thing and another tell,
My heart detests him as the gates of hell.
'Christians speak what they think useful, and the same privilege
ought to be conceded to me. A difference in faith ought not to make a
difference in right. But while it does so, those who cannot pronounce
the required Shibboleth must arm themselves to bear. Those are poor
principles for which a man is unwilling to suffer when they are in
danger. It is an encouraging reflection, that though a man's fate may be
at others' disposal, his character is ever at his own--and that no enemy
can dishonour him who will not dishonour himself.
'Yours respectfully,
'Gloucester, Feb. 7, 1843.
'G. J. Holyoake.'
The Commissioners referred to in this letter asked me, when I was first
taken before them, whether I had any complaint to make?
I said I had.
Did I wish to give it as evidence?
I said I did.
In the evening of the next day, between 9 and 10 o'clock, I was called
up and taken into their presence again. The governor of the gaol,
Captain Mason, and the surgeon, Mr. Hicks, were present.
'Take a seat, Mr. Holyoake,' said the speaker of the Board--Dr. Blissett
Hawkins, I believe. I did so.
'Now, Mr. Holyoake, what have you to complain of?' said the speaking
Commissioner.
'Nothing, sir.'
'Nothing! Why what do you mean?'
'What I say, sir.'
'But did you not say that you had evidence that you wished to give?'
'I did.'
'Has it not been at your request that you have been brought before us
for that purpose?'
'It has?'
'Then what are we to understand by your present statement?'
'Why, sir, what you hardly need me to explain. I cannot give evidence
before these gentlemen,' looking towards the governor and the surgeon.
'True,' said the questioner. 'Captain Mason, Mr. Hicks, you will please
to withdraw.'
When they were gone, 'Now, Mr. Holyoake, you can speak freely,' said the
chairman.
'But first I must have your guarantee that I shall suffer no
inconvenience in consequence.'
'Why what danger do you run?' was asked me.
'This. Am I not in the power of governor and surgeon? Can they not
retaliate in your absence? No prisoner is safe in any gaol, as you ought
to know, if the authorities come to regard him as reporting them. If you
decline to give me this guarantee I shall not make any communication
to you, and when I am at liberty again, I shall have a right to publish
that your commission did not learn the whole truth at this gaol--that it
did not even put itself in a condition to learn it.'
'Well,' the chairman said, 'We guarantee that you shall suffer no
inconvenience in consequence of any evidence you may give to us.'
Then, and not till then, did I proceed to explain what in the last
letter and notes is recounted. The commissioners kept their word. The
severity of the discipline, instituted by the governor when a visitor
came, was somewhat relaxed; and once or twice, when I was suffering from
cold (before unnoticed), a can of mutton broth was ordered me by the
surgeon, in which I found a very sensible looking piece of mutton.
Nothing more of importance remains to be narrated. Concluding, let me
solicit consideration to the moral aspects of Christianity, as set forth
in this narrative, and to what I consider the political moral of these
pages. Many persons whose candour and general intelligence I do not
distrust, tell me that the persecution here recounted, is not to be
ascribed to Christianity. To this I make the answer made on this subject
(the imprisonment of myself, Adams, and others) by my late friend,
Maltus Questell Ryall. 'Christians set a watch upon them--Christians
informed against them--Christians prejudiced the public against them.
By Christian pay were hireling lawyers retained--by Christian witnesses
confronted--by the Christian Press misrepresented--by Christian juries
found guilty, by Christian judges condemned.' It is necessary to put the
argument in this cumulative form to satisfy some understandings; but a
well-informed and candid Christian can hardly be supposed to need formal
proof on this head. A careful study of the Evangelists some time after
this imprisonment, satisfied me that the religion of Jesus involves
persecution. A man who believes that men need saving, that there is only
one way whereby they can be saved, that _his_ way is that way, and that
it is better for a man to lose the whole world than to lose his own soul
by missing that way, such a believer will inevitably coerce all he can
into it. If he is not a persecutor he ought, in moral consistency, to
be one. Having the fear of the philanthropists and of the humanitarians
before his eyes, he may modify his practice, but it will be at
the expense of his penetration or of his religious duty. I have no
difficulty whatever in understanding that the conscientious among the
old inquisitors might be men of benevolence--spiritual physicians, who
amputated existence with a view to save the eternal life of the patient.
It is now many years since I wrote or spoke against them on religious
grounds, and for a long period I have ceased to speak of persecution as
being either unscriptural or unchristian.
It will not do to say that what we have seen of persecution has been
but the abuse of Christianity. It is in itself a condemnation of
Christianity to be obliged to repudiate the conduct of all Christian
churches. It will not do to say that Christians have not been wise
enough to see, nor good enough to image, the divine gentleness of
Christ. The Christian churches have been presided over by pastors who
have possessed both penetration and purity in the highest degree--who
were able to see what there was to be seen, and devout enough to render
it in their lives. Try the question even in our day. If Christ be the
symbol of love and gentleness to all who believe in his name, how is it
that in every part of the world the Freethinker should fear to fall into
the hands of the Christian? How is it that he must set a watch upon his
words in every town and hamlet in our own land, lest the free expression
of his deepest convictions should cost him his position, his employment,
and his character? Branded, outcast, and friendless, the Christian's
door is the last at which he would knock--the Christian's fireside is
the last at which he would find a welcome--and the Christian pastor, who
in knowledge, duty, and example, most nearly resembles the Christ whom
he preaches, is the last man whose path the Freethinker would wish
to cross, or into whose ear he would venture to pour the tale of his
expatriations.
In one passage in my defence I represent persecution, as Lord Brougham
and others have done, as a power which spreads opinion. I believed so
then, but believe it no longer. I have lived to watch the effects of
persecution, and have seen it put down the truth so often, as no longer
to doubt its bad efficacy. The ignorant, the timid, the opulent, and the
conventional (and these make up the mass of mankind), are all deterred
by danger or opprobrium, The resolute and the reckless, the only parties
who persist, labour under accumulated disadvantages. Condemned to spend
then time in self-defence, development of doctrine--the legitimate and
only source of permanent influence--is nearly impossible to them: and it
is well for them if they escape acquiring an antagonistic spirit, which
disfigures their advocacy and misrepresents their character. Their only
proselytes are those who come to them out of spite or out of sympathy,
and who of course miss the intellectual ground of conviction, and can be
of little real service until they have been re-educated.
If, as I admit, persecution will put down opinion, what objection's
there to its employment when it puts down error? I answer, 'Beware of
its use, because it may put down the truth also.' Persecution is not an
ordeal. Free discussion is the only test capable of distinguishing and
establishing the truth. The proper condemnation of persecution is, that
it is an illegitimate opposition which is sure to be discountenanced as
men become manly and refined. The armies of a civilised people observe,
even in the deadly strife of battle, some rules of honourable warfare,
and do not descend to the arts of treachery or tactics of savages.
We may surely hope that in the battle for religious truth, a sense of
honour will prevent the dominant party from taking against its opponents
the undue advantage of persecution. Montaigne relates that when
Polyperchon advised Alexander to take advantage of the night for
attacking Darius, 'By no means,' answered the noble general; 'It is not
for such a man as I am to steal such an advantage; _I had rather repent
me of my fortune than be ashamed of my victory_,' It is not too much to
expect that Christianity will always be less refined than War.
Persecution, always a disaster, was not however with us a defeat. We
were not put down by persecution; we continued the _Oracle_ a hundred
and four weeks, then the Movement, sixty-eight weeks, and the _Reasoner_
will soon have completed ten volumes. Besides having written in our
publications, we have, in almost all the principal cities and towns
in the kingdom, spoken, since the trial at Gloucester, with the utmost
explicitness. The imprisonment has at least been of this service--and
this is all--it has enabled me to speak accredited by the sincerity
which otherwise could not have been so satisfactorily manifest to the
multitude. To have spent, without shrinking, some portion of life in
prison in defence of public liberty, gives the same authority among the
people as having graduated at a university does among scholars.* The
fact is a sad illustration of the brutal manner in which the people
are condemned to win the enlargement of their liberties. In cases where
clergymen have menaced me with renewed imprisonment, I have always
answered--'I consider myself as having taken out a license to speak
freely. The government made a charge to me of six months' imprisonment
for that privilege, and I paid the price. If you have renewed demands
upon me, let me know them, and I will endeavour to meet them; but do not
interrupt me.'
* When the Prizes were awarded me for writing the Literary
Lectures of the Manchester Unity, an attempt was made to
cancel the award on the ground of my having been imprisoned,
but it was immediately quashed. When the legislation of the
Order was before the House of Lords, the Bishop of Oxford
(in Committee) made an objection to the Lectures on account
of the Authorship, but the Unity refused to withdraw them,
and they are in use to this day. The objections of this
nature made in some instances by the Press have been
inoperative where the people have been concerned.
In the present structure of English political society, to preserve
the ability to be imprisoned is necessary to usefulness. When the
associations of home have twined themselves around the feelings--after
long industry and patient frugality have surrounded a man with some
comforts unknown to his youth--few have the temper which will part from
them and walk into a gaol at the call of duty. I should think this state
the death of progress. When, some time ago, insuring my life in the
Equity Law Insurance Office, I asked, before I took out my policy,
whether it would be forfeited if my death was occasioned by imprisonment
or transportation. The Directors naturally asked whether I was liable
to those casualties. I said, not particularly liable I hoped; but to
be able to be imprisoned, if it seemed a duty, I valued as a great
privilege, and I would not barter my right to be imprisoned. I am afraid
they smiled at my eccentricity, but they assured me that that accident
would not involve the forfeiture of my policy--which I then took out.
No one who reads thus far will, I hope, consider me as a candidate for
either imprisonment or transportation. I have too keen an insight into
their misery for that. But he who pretends to take the side of the
people ought to see his way all through, and not incur a danger he has
not weighed, and not suffer any to ascribe to him a virtue he does not
mean to maintain.
If any, from what I have just expressed, or from the transactions of
this narrative, shall conclude that I am disposed to regard law-breaking
lightly, they will mistake me. Respect for the law is an intelligent
virtue--a sign of fitness for freedom so important that none but an
enemy would obscure the duty or weaken the sentiment. If accused, in the
matter which led to my Trial, of breaking the law, I might plead that
there was no law to break, and therefore I could not break one. What
is called the common law relating to blasphemy is a mere caprice, an
opinion interpreted by ignorance or sectarian prejudice, and enforced at
the call of bigotry--malevolent to the humble while neutral towards the
rich. Against this tyranny one is obliged to rebel. It is disastrous
that we should have to set up the standard of resistance even in a
case of this kind, and the chief justification is that a democratic
government is denied us. Had the people a voice in making the laws,
the breaking of any law would require grave justification. Men have two
lives--a private and a public one. Conscience is the guide of all that
relates to private duty, but law is the conscience of society, and it
is best when private conscience can be subordinate to the public
conscience. Private conscience may be the child of selfishness,
fanaticism, or vanity, as well as of the greatest purity and
intelligence. A man, therefore, should be careful how he places so
uncertain a thing above the law. If private conscience be more just and
intelligent than the public conscience, a democratic form of government
affords peaceful facilities whereby it can come into the ascendant.
But where these modes are denied, no alternative remains but that of
rebellion or unconditional and indefinite submission. Resistance to the
law, however, or to what is tacitly accepted by the majority as law, is,
under any form of government, so pernicious an example, is so liable
to be abused, so liable to unfit the people who learn the lesson,
for submission to legitimate authority, that these cases demand the
strictest surveillance before they receive the sanction of a friend
of the people. In all instances in which conscience is the ground of
resistance, the wrong done to conscience ought to be clear, deep,
and momentous, and the necessity which obliges the claims of private
conscience to be put above the laws ought to be made so evident that
the sentiment of freedom shall not deteriorate that of legitimate and
honourable allegiance. If the political moral of this narrative be
therefore drawn with discrimination, we may do little harm even if
mistaken in the belief that the prevalence of our views of life may be
a public good; and if this belief prove to be right in the main, we do
what reformers are said often to forget--we make a past to which the
future may refer for authority and instruction.
Then not 'in vain!' Even obscurest weeds
Nourish the roots of fruitfulest fair trees
So from our Fortune loathed Hope proceeds
The experience that may base high victories.*
* W. J. Union.
What 'our views' are this is not the place to state; as to some it would
seem that under the pretext of a plea for Free Utterance, sentiments
were obtruded upon the reader he was not forewarned to expect. I
therefore limit myself to saying (and that only for the sake of others
who will decline to concede free utterance until they know what has to
be uttered) that whoever sees in Atheism simply the development of
a negation, sees but half the truth. Even in this respect (supposing
existing theological systems to be erroneous) Atheism has the merit of
clearing the way for Pure Moralism--which is the other half, or positive
ground of Atheism. The latest writers on the Philosophy of Religion
resolve religion into _Dependance_; by which its modern theory at length
coincides with its ancient practice. We venture to think that this is
not salutary teaching. Life should be self-reliant. It seems to us that
the light of Nature and the experience of man are anterior to the dogmas
of Priests, and are the sources whence guidance and duty independently
spring. The Priest breaks in upon the integrity of life, and diverts its
course. He says he makes an addition to our knowledge--we do not find it
so. He professes to show us the hidden mysteries of the future--we fail
to see them. He simply encumbers us, and we pray him to stand aside. The
responsibility of our course is our own and not his, and we have a right
to be left free. Rejecting his advices, he proclaims that we reject
truth, honour, justice, love. This is his error or the retaliation of
his disappointment. We appeal to the candid and the impartial to judge
between us. We respect Theology as the science of man's destiny, and
regret that it bears no fruits for us: but this is not our fault; and
we therefore attempt to solve the problem of life for ourselves. Our
progress already counts some distinct steps. We have recast the practice
of controversy: we forbid to ourselves to suspect evil motives, or to
impute insincerity to others; the doubtful act we propose to judge by
evidence alone, and to put the best construction on the dubious word.
Thus we annihilate Antagonism, the eldest foe of Progress, by imposing
laws on impulse. Our search in every system is directed after _moral
truth_; and, less exacting than the Christian, we accept it, whether
given by Inspiration, confirmed by Miracle, attested by Prophecy, or
not. Probity of word and act may be securely based on the intelligence
and refinement of mankind--and this we labour to enforce. To restrict
human expectation to that which is ascertainable by reason, must have
the effect of concentrating attention on humanity, and intensifying
interest in human exertions. In Solidarity we find the encouragement
to public endeavour, and we sum up private duty in Honour, which is
respecting the Truth; in Morality, which is acting the Truth; and in
Love, which is serving the Truth.
THE END.
Holyoake Brothers, Printers,
3. Queen's Head-passage,
Paternoster-row.