Here are two letters of much later date, and the last we have of his
to Isis, except the one dated the 7th of December, 1842, with which we
commenced the story of his life. By this time Carlile and Isis have come
to the settled stage of ordinary married people.
"Richard Carlile to Elizabeth Sharples Carlile, Julian Carlile, and
Hypatia Carlile.*
* Julian and Hypatia Carlile. Theophila was not born at that
time.
"Loves,--To you, Mrs. Carlile, I know I shall be worth all the more and
be all the more lovely as I can earn money, though I grant that you have
borne the want of it much better than I might have expected. I hope that
I am beginning to turn over the new leaf, but I will not again _talk_
about making the hit I have been so long talking about. But I will tell
you what I have so far done in Brighton. I have not made one unpleasant
step. Beyond the detervation of Mr. Colbatch, I have not encountered
one public reproach. You will have seen the letters in the two papers.
I wish you to send the papers to your mother, as I shall reprint the
letters and syllabus of lectures in a small pamphlet. I found here two
of the Owenites whom I knew, a Mr. Wood and a Mr. Stonie. They have
been very active and very generous. Mr. Wood wished me to take my meals
altogether at his house. He has raised a subscription of several pounds
to pay all my expenses of advertisement. Another friend has given me the
free use of the best, and best situated lecturing rooms I have had out
of Newcastle-upon-Tyne. It is a large new-built shop on the ground-floor
of one of the most respectable streets, without any house over it. It
makes a room fully as large as that of Shipyard, and quite as good
in appearance, with everything that is desirable for entrance and
convenience, save a little ante-room for the lecturer, so that I am now
set in for a fair trial of my powers in Brighton. I have had but one
dissenting minister visit me this (Monday) morning, who has gone off
to read the Bill and consider the subject. My letters have produced the
same effect here as my pamphlet did in Plymouth. I have not heard of
any pulpit abuse. I was stopped in writing the above through a number of
visitors, and shall not now get you off this on Monday evening. I must
do so to-morrow evening, because when I set in for lecturing twice a day
I shall be very busy. However, if I send you some money, you will excuse
me in much writing.
"_Tuesday noon_.--Everything promises well. My bills are read with great
curiosity and avidity, and without reproach. Depend on it, I have at
last hit the right ground of procedure. The fanatics cannot abuse me
on this ground. If ever a man was worthy of support in going through a
country as a public teacher, I feel that I am. I have not heard from you
since I have been here. I shall have to buy a Bible to-morrow morning.
You may send in by Richley, to be booked in Gracechurch Street, a parcel
containing the small Bible. I do not recollect its being at home. I
should like the two volumes of Greek and English Testament, and the
American book by Fellows on 'The Exposition of the Ancient Mysteries and
Freemasonry'. I first sent you a parcel, then a letter to Mr. Vickery,
and two newspapers. The newspaper published to-day has nothing new but
my advertisement. I had a letter in the _Gazette_ and another in the
_Herald_, both of which I hope you have seen.
Kiss me Julian and Hypatia. I hope they will keep in good health, and
I have not a doubt but that by the time they can judge and think of
the thing, they will see and hear me before large, respectable, and
approving audiences; so as to make them proud of the name of Carlile. My
heart's desire is that they hear you, too, before approving audiences. I
have had no preachers visit me this morning, but I had three yesterday.
You might have seen a paragraph in one of the Brighton papers stating
that the quondam Miss Wright has been mobbed in Philadelphia for
meddling with the banking system. I am glad to see her in America
again."
"Richard Carlile to Elizabeth Sharples Carlile.
"Love,--I am exceedingly sorry that you have not kept clear of a quarrel
with Mr. Vickery--you ought to have done this, say what he would. His
age should atone for a thousand faults, and above all things, I think
you should not have said anything to him about his son. As to who visits
him in company with his son, it is his business, and not yours and mine
to enquire; but as to who shall take up a lodging in my house, it is
my business to decide, and I decide that no 'Aurelia' shall sleep under
that roof with my consent, and certainly not at all if I were there.
Ours is a marriage unlicensed by the priest, but I know of nothing
disreputable in it, or I could never have tolerated it for an hour. But
where there are avowedly two husbands to one wife all living together,
there must be something so base, mean, filthy, and dastardly in all
three, as to make them a disgrace to society, and I do feel disgraced
in having either of them put a foot in my house. Poor Julian, when I see
the children here drawn about the town and seaside in a little carriage
by a goat, I wish I had him here. I do not wish to see him a milksop
boy, afraid of everything and everybody about him. But then, let Mr.
Vickery's age be an apology, he is past reproof and if he cannot be
happy with us and the children, we can part with him, but we cannot part
with the children. I soberly and seriously think you have been wrong
altogether in your carriage to Moses, and it is the fault of you very
lively, sprightly people, that there is no happy medium with you;
but that you are always in extremes; sometimes too gay for sober
observation, sometimes too sad even to be worth pitying. But it is no
use, where there is no pursuit of knowledge, what is in the bone will
not come through the flesh. I wish you to come to Brighton, not that I
want you for money taking, because I think you are out of place there;
but I am absolutely keeping a shop with what books I have. I sold an
_Isis_ for 20s. this morning, and a 'Volney' and other things. I found
I could not do without somebody, so I sent for Tom Paine. We are lodging
at 8s. a week for two bedrooms. My bed is a large one. We breakfast and
tea at the lodging, and we have a standing pressed invitation to every
day's dinner with Mr. Woods, the co-operative. Our expenses are small,
certainly within 25s. a week. You would add but little if you would be
content with where I am. It is a decent house in a good street, and near
my lecture room. I am really set in for business here. I should mention
that we could not dine in the house, and that would be awkward. But I
will take another lodging after you come. I will never consent to be
saddled with any person's housekeeping at Enfield Highway but that which
you shall appoint. I could be satisfied with the washerwoman's mother if
she were disengaged; or if Ann Collis could spare sufficient time from
her school to attend to Mr. Vickery--I do not mean in school hours, but
after. My present prospect is that I am likely to stay at Brighton some
time. I cannot now say how long. I will come up for you any day after
Wednesday if you write for me. But I wish Hypatia and Julian to be with
some careful person if you leave them. I shall send you as many pounds
as I have with this. I have paid L2 17s. 6d. for printing bills, cards,
and advertisements. If you send a parcel and there is only fourpence and
twopence booking between a letter and parcel, send two volumes of _Isis_
and a bundle of the letter to Peel. I think I could sell some of
the numbers of _Isis_ from 12 to 22, as far as you find them folded.
Brighton has never had anything of mine. I am a new man among them. I
have picked up a volume that has some of the first tracts I ever wrote,
which you have not seen and which will amuse you. You'll say that they
are better than the last. I wrote to the High Constable of Brighton to
say that I should address the public on the Steyne to-morrow, Sunday;
he has just called upon me to say the magistrates have expressed their
disapprobation of my attempt and will send a reporter; but I learned
from him that if nothing unfavorable was reported, nothing would follow.
It happened that the High Constable of the town dined at the City of
London Tavern in 1826, to celebrate on Paine's birthday my liberation
from Dorchester Gaol. He is a right sort of man. I shall want an answer
to this immediately, to be sure it gets to you safe. I think I may
calculate on picking up for books and lecturing a couple of pounds per
day here for some time. I was uneasy until I heard from you and not
easy after. Mrs. Cooper and Elizabeth and your Daniel are here. I called
there yesterday, and she was threatening to 'hide' Elizabeth because she
did not speak French to a French waiter in the house who cannot speak
English. The woman is to be pitied, and the girl much more so. I
particularly want as another book for reference one that lately came
from America called 'The Phoenix'. It was lent to Mrs. Guiver, but she
returned it. I have received the others all safe. I shall send a few
things to wash to make a parcel. I intend to get this off by the mail on
Saturday with a hope that you will get it on Sunday morning by Guiver.
Be a good girl and have no more quarrelling with anybody. I do not
intend to quarrel with any person hereafter, I see it wiser not to do
so.
The newspapers this week have said nothing about me, save my
advertisements. I am selling books very well. By Michaelmas I hope to
have money for rent at Enfield and Shipyard, besides many other things.
A surgeon has bought the 'Diegesis', and tendered me half a sovereign to
give him a private lecture to-morrow evening. I am afraid I shall be too
busy money-making to pay you much attention when you come. Send down
a parcel--a 'Volney's Ruins' in boards, on the shelf at the top of the
stairs. I send you four pounds, which is all I have. I have cleared all
expenses except a printer's bill for work just done. Write by return
of post, or send a parcel by first coach. Kiss me Julian and Hypatia. I
salute you with a holy kiss; but you are not quite a Christian yet."
Late in the year of 1842 Isis went to visit relatives in Torquay,
her health was not of the best, and a change of air and scene became
necessary to its restoration. Carlile's eldest sister came from
Devonshire to keep house for the family during her absence. She spent
the holidays there and was greatly improved in health and spirits, and
had already written that she would soon return, being much improved
by the change. In the meantime Carlile had decided that if he would do
business with any kind of satisfaction, he would have to go to London
to do it, even if he had to imprison himself in his bedroom during
the winter months. The lease of the Enfield cottage having run out, he
decided to move to London in preference to renewing the Enfield lease,
and he arranged to move before Isis returned, and so surprise her, and
at the same time relieve her of all the care and trouble of the change.
He had an interest in the premises No. 1 Bouverie Street, corner of
Fleet Street. His son Alfred having the management of a book store there
in his father's name. Carlile knew the danger of the London winter in
his own case, but November and December having passed and January nearly
so, he thought that he would be able to hold out till the spring, which
was then close at hand; and so he might have done, but that the exertion
of moving was too much for him, and combined with the horrors of asthma
and a great fright which he received by the temporary loss of his little
son Julian, which caused him much apprehension and fatigue. He was so
exhausted by all these circumstances that in a letter to Turton we find
him complaining of a bad night's rest, of tossing about all night, of
being unable to get warm, etc., always, however, looking forward to
being better in a few days, always hopeful and cheery to the last.
Unfortunately, he did not get better, and it was soon seen by the
family, all except Isis, who was still in Torquay, that Carlile had only
returned to Fleet Street to die. To die on the old ground, where for
twenty-seven years he had waged such a stern fight against tyranny and
injustice. But where could a place be found that was more fitting than
this for the death of the hero of a hundred fights, the battlefield
itself? And there is a satisfaction, a meagre one, 'tis true, in the
thought that he died in Fleet Street, where his great conflict was
carried on for a period of twenty-seven years.
In the meantime poor Isis, in happy ignorance of all these things,
was enjoying herself at the home of Henry Halse, one of the first
discoverers of animal magnetism or mesmerism, and she proved a most
agreeable subject for his experiments, was frequently put into a
mesmeric state, and was very useful in diagnosing cases for Mr. Halse,
who was utilising the new science in the cause of health. One morning he
had placed her under the influence as usual, but she was so troubled and
disturbed, and seemed to be suffering so much mental anxiety that Mr.
Halse hastened to release her from the condition. On awakening, her sole
thought was of London. "I must go to London at once," she cried, "I
am needed in London, there is trouble there, I must go at once." Her
friends tried to calm her, and said they would send to London and find
out anything that might be taking place there; all to no purpose, they
could not stay her for a moment. Her preparations were made in a very
short time, and the first conveyance taken that could be had. Arrived in
London, she went straight to No. 1, Bouverie Street, to learn if there
was anything wrong at Enfield, only to find the whole household there,
Enfield a thing of the past, and her beloved husband lying on what was
to prove his death bed. She was in time only to be recognised and to
assist in nursing him. The shock must have been terrible to her,
from happiness to misery in a day. A few days of hope, of fearing, of
watching with ceaseless anxiety, and all was over. As it neared the end
Carlile roused himself from apparent unconsciousness, and with almost
a superhuman effort said, with the greatest difficulty to those around
him, "I am the same man I have always been, I have gone neither to the
right nor to the left. My aim has been to accomplish one great purpose."
This expression was uttered by a powerful effort of nature, and was the
last that ever issued from his lips.