THE
ENGLISH REPUBLIC
GOD AND THE PEOPLE
BY
W. J. LINTON
gº
PART 43 (Part VII, Vol. 3), JULY, 1854, PRICE SIX-PENCE.
w, J. LINTon, BRANTwoop, conIsTon, wrinid ERNIERE.
- LONDON : - -
J. P. Crantz, 2, Shoe Lane, Fleet Street;
J. Watson, 17, Thornhill Terrace, Heiningford Road, Islington;
J. Sharp, 47, Tabernacle Walk, Finsbury.
- NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE:
J. Barlow, l, Nelson Street, and 28, Grainger Street.

tº
ºn
º 233
AUSTRIA AND THE GERMAN CONFEDERATION.
THE Austrian Empire embraces a territory of 12,166 German square miles
(about 303,150 English square miles), containing 781 cities, 1,810 market-
towns, and 71,353 villages, with somewhat more than 35,000,000 inhabitants.
It is bounded by Saxony, Prussia, Cracow, Russia, Moldavia and Wallachia,
Servia, Turkey, the Adriatic Sea, the Papal States, Modena, Parma, Piedmont,
Switzerland, and Bavaria, and is composed of the following countries:–
9
(Slavonian - Italian — German
sº
E M . A -
1st, the Archduchy of Austria, 712 sq. miles, with 2,100,000 inhabitants; 2d,
the Duchy of Styria, 409 sq. miles, with 1,000,000 inhabitants; 3d, Tyrol and
Voralberg, 518 sq. miles, with 900,000 inhabitants; 4th, the Kingdom of
Bohemia, 956 sq. miles, with 4,000,000 inhabitants; 5th, the Margravinate of
Moravia 490 sq. miles, with 2,140,000 inhabitants; 6th, the Kingdom of
Gallicia and Ludomeria, 1,577 sq. miles, with 5,200,000 inhabitants; 7th,
the Kingdom of Illyria, 516 sq. miles, with 1,200,000 inhabitants; 8th,
the Kingdom of Lombardy and Venice, 827 sq. miles, with 4,600,000 in-
habitants; 9th, the Kingdom of Hungary, with Croatia, the Banat, and
Slavonia, 4,808 sq. miles, with 12,100,000 inhabitants; 10th, the Grand
Duchy of Transylvania, 1,114 sq. miles, with 2,140,000 inhabitants; and
11th, the Kingdom of Dalmatia, 239 sq. miles, with 360,000 inhabitants.

234. AUSTRIA AND THE GERMAN CON]"FDERATION
Out of the above numbers: 1st, 2,100,000 individuals, inhabiting the Arch-
duchy of Austria, are Germans; 2d, among the inhabitants of Styria about
600,000 only are Germans, the rest Slavonians (Wendes); 3d, among those of
the Tyrol and Woralberg 200,000 are Italians, the rest Germans; 4th, the in-
habitants of the Kingdom of Bohemia are Slavonians (Tchekhs); 5th, the
inhabitants of Moravia are mostly Slavonians (Moraves), and only a small
part Germans; 6th, the inhabitants of Gallicia and Ludomeria are Slavonians
(Poles); 7th, the inhabitants of Illyria are also Slavonians (Illyrians), and
a certain number are Italians; 8th, Lombardy and Venice are inhabited
by Italians exclusively; 9th, Hungary’s population consists of one-third of
Magyars (a nation of Tartar origin) and two-thirds of Slavonians (Slovacks
and Croatians); 10th, Transylvania’s population consists of thirteen various
nations, of which the Hungarians and Szeklers form the greatest part—there
are, besides, about 150,000 Germans, and the others are Wallachs, Armenians,
Greeks, Poles, Russniacks, Serbes, Moraves, Jews, Gypsies, &c.; 11th, the
inhabitants of Dalmatia are Slavonians too (Illyrians, Serbes, and Morlacks).
So that, out of the whole population of the Austrian Empire, there are—
Of Germans, only about . º . 6,500,000
Of Italians, about . e & g 5,000,000
Of Magyars, about . g s . 4,000,000
Of Slavonians, about . º i.e. 20,240,000
35,740,000
Therefore, if all which is pure German ought to belong in future to the
German Confederation, Austria will furnish it only with 2,100,000 of individuals
inhabiting the Archduchy of Austria, and with 700,000 living in the Tyrol and
Voralberg, in all 2,800,000; because the remaining German population, amount-
ing to about 3,700,000, lives in Slavonian countries.
Let us now see what will be the territorial extent and the population of the
future German Nation, which ought to be composed only of countries being
really German. Here is the present composition of the Confederation, as it
was founded by the Act of June 18th, 1815, at the Congress of Vienna.
Square Miles. Inhabitants.
1. Austria g * & gº . 12,166 . 35,740,000
2. Prussia . g * * g 5,062 13,050,000
3. Bavaria g & s e . 1,382 4,140,000
4. Saxony . ſº † & tº “ 27.1% - 1,600,000
5. Hanover . . . s & * 695 1,670,000
6. Wurtemberg . * tº & 364 2–5ths 1,600,000
7. Baden º º tº e º 297% 1,200,000
8. Hesse . º e ſº * 202 650,000
9. Hesse-Darmstadt . tº e te 152% 720,000
Holstein e g 154 385,000
10. Denmark łº, . . I9 38,000
11. The Netherlands (Luxemburg) . 45 156,000
12. Saxe-Weimar e e * * 67 240,000
13. Saxe-Meiningen * º & 42 145,000
2
3
5
AUSTRIA AND THE GERMAN CONFEDERATION
Square Miles. Inhabitants.
i4. Saxe-Altenburg . e * g 24; 114,000
15. Saxe-Coburg-Gotha . e tº 37 133,000
16. Brunswick . ſº e * * 70 256,000
17. Nassau . * * º ty S3 360,000
18. Mecklenburg-Schwerin £) tº ñ4.
19. Mecklenburg-Strelitz } 254 540,000
20. Oldenburgh . e e wº 116 250,000
21. Amhalt-Dessau
22. Anhalt-Bomberg } 48 138,000
23. Anhalt-Koethen -
24. Schwarzburg-Sondershausen
25. Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt } 36 118,000
26. Hohenzollern-Hechingen ſº tº # 22,000
27. Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen . § 18% 44,000
28. Waldeck . º * & & 21% 57,500
29. Reuss, the elder line . * e 6 4.5ths 24,600
30. Reuss, the younger line * e 21 1-5th 63,000
31. Lippe-Schaumburg . * & 10 24,000
32. Lippe-Detmold . . tº gº 23 78,000
33. Lichtenstein . e g tº 2% 6,000
34. Hesse-Homburg . dº © g # 24,000
And the Free Towns—
35. Lubeck * * 6# 22,000
36. Frankfort-on-the-Maine. ſº 5 50,000
37. Bremem. . º * & g 3; 54,000
38. Hamburg 7 136,000
Sum total . * . 21,728 13-20ths 65,848,100
Deduct the portions of Austria and Prussia which are not German: Austria
will only them furnish the German Nation with about 1,042 square miles, and
2,800,000 inhabitants; Prussia, about 4,226 square miles, and 10,750,000
inhabitants; total, 5,268 square miles, and 13,550,000 inhabitants. And
thus the whole German Nation will only occupy an area amounting to about
9,767+ square miles, with 30,608,100 inhabitants, instead of 21,728 13-20°
square miles, with 65,848,100 inhabitants, as it does now.
The point of union of the Confederation is the Diet sitting at Frankfort-on-
the-Maine, opened on November 5th, 1816. This Diet is of a double form :
First, as a General Assembly, called the Full Council or Plenum, in which
every State has at least one vote, whilst the larger ones have several, namely:
Austria and the five kingdoms each 4 votes (= 24); Baden, Hesse, Hesse-
Darmstadt, Holstein, and Luxemburg, each 3 votes (= 15); Brunswick,
Mecklenburg-Schwerin, and and Nassau, each 2 votes (= 6): so that, with
the remaining 25 (the three remaining lines of the House of Saxony holding the
vote of the extinguished House of Saxe-Gotha) the Plenum counts 70 votes.
Secondly, as a Reduced Council, called the Government of the Union, in
which the votes of the thirty-eight members of the Confederation are reduced
236 AUSTRIA AND THE GERMAN CONFEDERATION
to seventeen. Austria, Prussia, Bavaria, Saxony, Hanover, Wurtemberg,
Baden, Hesse, Hesse-Darmstadt with Hesse-Homburg, Holstein, and Lux-
emburg, have each 1 vote (= 11): the others are united votes—that is to
say, the twelvth vote is given by the House of Saxony of the Ernestian line :
the thirteenth vote by Brunswick and Nassau; the fourteenth by Mecklen-
burg-Schwerin and Mecklenburg-Strelitz; the fifteenth by Oldenburg, the
three Anhaltian and the two Schwarzenburgian houses; the sixteenth by Hohen-
Zollern-Hechingen, Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen, Lichtenstein, Lippe, and Wal-
deck; and the seventeenth by the four Free Towns.
The Full Council assembles only when new principles concerning the union
are to be established or existing ones altered, and when decisions are to be
carried relative to the whole Confederation. -
The Reduced Council has the initiative and the preparation of projects
which are to be brought before the Plenum (as the latter never discusses, but
merely decides by ayes and noes), and the fulfilment of the decrees of the Diet,
and the care of all the affairs of the union in general. Their decisions are
always to be taken by an absolute majority. Austria has in both councils the
presidency, and in case of equality of votes she decides. The deputies possess
the quality of international representatives, and are only responsible to their
respective Governments. The sittings of the Diet are partly confidential (the
carrying out of previous understandings, of which no protocol is made), and
partly formal. Since 1824 very few of the protocols have been made known.
A military contingent is permanently kept ready to march, which,
beside the reserve, amounts to 292,082 men, infantry, cavalry, and artillery,
and is divided into ten corps, of which Austria furnishes the three first,
amounting to 94,822 men, with 192 pieces of ordnance, and Prussia the three
subsequent ones, amounting to 79,234 men, with 160 guns. Bavaria furnishes
the seventh ; Wurtemberg, Baden, and Hesse-Darmstadt the eighth ; Saxony,
Hesse, and Nassau the ninth ; and Hanover, Holstein, both the Mecklen-
burgs, Oldenburg, Brunswick, and the three Hanseatic towns, the tenth
corps. As the eleventh corps comes the foot-division of reserve, amounting
to 11,366 men, furnished by the four Grand Ducal houses of Saxony, and the
three houses of Anhalt, both the Schwarzenburgs, Lichtenstein, Waldeck,
both the Reuss, both the Lippe, Hesse-Homburg, and Frankfort-on-the-
Maine; and, as the twelfth corps, the reserve of 2,556 men furnished by Lux-
emburg, destined to form the garrison of the fortress of Luxemburgh.
When the two revolutionary movements at Berlin and Vienna of 1848 took
place, this monarchical Diet ceased to exist, and was replaced by a German’
Parliament, which assembled at Frankfort-on-the-Maine to constitute the unity
of a German Nation. The representatives sent to this Parliament were chosen
by the people en masse, and for this purpose all Germany was divided into
electing circles of 60,000 souls each, each circle electing one deputy. But,
the reaction having triumphed, the old Diet was restored two years afterward.
- K. S.
237
T H E W IT C H E S ’ C A U L D R 0 N.
‘Sir Uream is sitting aloft in the air;
Hey over stock and hey over stone
*Twixt witches and incubi what shall be done P
Tell it who dare tell it who dare
g * There is a true witch element about us;
Take hold on me, or we shall be divided :-
Where are you?”
ºRE Tzar will reinstate Poland; Napoleon will occupy Greece; England
# will appoint a new King of Prussia; and Austria will ally with the
ºff West ; the Bulgarians and the Serbes will be organized by English
officers for Turkey; the Western Powers will protect the Turkish Christians;
Austria will pacify the Adriatic tribes; and Italy, Hungary, and Poland will
be kept down; England and France will garrison Constantinople till the Tzar
is ready to take possession; and 100,000 men will manoeuvre in the neighbour-
hood of Boulogne preparatory to coöperation with England. So Rumour
writes of the probable policies of the coming Turkish-Russian-French-English-
Greek-Austrian-Prussian-Polish-Hungarian-Italian-Swedish— suppose we say
for the sake of brevity–European war. ---
The Tzar will reinstate Poland to punish Austria and Prussia if they join
the Western Powers. He will establish a kingdom of Poland, with the old
Muscovite minister, Adam Czartoryski, for his viceroy A kingdom of Poland
which would be all Poland a Russian province. And Russia so striding
toward the Panslavonian throne. The old women at the head of English
affairs may put that combination in their cauldron.
Napoleon will occupy Greece. Only say how long. And Italy too, and
make the Mediterranean a French lake Doubtless giving Candia and Egypt
to the English. For the very reason why France might desire a preponderance
in the East would be of course to help England into India. But England will
also occupy Greece—with fewer men. French politeness will not mind that.
A constitutional King of Prussia will make the witches' broth quite prime.
Of course we could not take Posen from a constitutional king; and, if the
Tzar did, we could make our constitutional ally Emperor of Germany, as
amends. And what then would become of our imperial Austrian ally P ‘’Twixt,
witches and incubi.” How that Poland spoils all—partitioned or not par-
titioned, and the Austrian Empire anyway shredded into the cauldron. Ask
old Metternich to taste our broth.
The Greeks dare too to offer their contribution. But Greece is occupied.
And we arm Bulgarians, Moldavians, Wallachs, and Serbes, as good Christians


238 THE WITCHES’ CAULDRON
in defence of Turkey. And Bulgarians, Moldavians, and Wallachs dream of a
Roumanian independence which their English organizers are not dreaming of,
and the Serbes too are Slavonians. Capital cookery ‘Why, how now P
Hecate | you look angrily.” Can we do better for the protection of the Turkish
Christians than by putting arms in their hands, when they no doubt will also
protect their Mussulman protectors P. We put no arms in Polish hands, and
confiscate those consigned to Greek patriots; and Austria keeps down the
Christians of the Turkish West. If things don’t go quite smoothly, we shall
arm Poles too; send a legion aristocratically officered against Russia, with
strict orders not to cross the frontiers of our allies—into Posen or Gallicia.
But supposing—‘’twixt witches and incubi’—Poland, Italy, Hungary, Rou-
mania, Greece, kept down; Napoleon, as aforesaid, occupying the Mediter-
ranean provinces, his Zouaves also garrisoning Constantinople, and our 92d
Highlanders retaining Gallipoli as a material guarantee : then we can make the
Tzar hear reason. Hey! there 's a Russian-Polish crown dropped again into
the broth and the flavour spoiled. Our cookery will never be perfection. Not
So far off either. We had quite forgotton that little camp on the old field of
Azincourt, so near to Boulogne, where now 100,000 Gauls are embarking with
not the slightest intention of landing at Folkstone.
Have those weird women, the diplomatists, really a receipt for their devil’s
broth P or is all—what comes handiest ? Do Nicholas and Napoleon under-
stand each other ? And the galvanized corpses of Austria and Turkey that look
so much like life that we need only to ask one to help us to back up the other.
Was ever witches’ cauldron fuller of damnabler uncombining ingredients than
the avowed policies of the statesmen of enlightened Europe P
* Round about the cauldron go
In the poison’d entrails throw !
T}ouble, double toil and trouble !
Fire burn and water bubble.”
Well, Wise-man what do you prescribe O nothing at all, only just to
throw Poland out of Europe (out of the map is not enough), to lay the revo-
lutionary spirit, to reinvigorate the dying and long-damned, to make Nicholas
honest and unambitious, and to teach Aberdeen to be up to Napoleon the 3d.
Then it will be a pleasant occupation for some dandy statesman, when Turkey
is finely bolstered up, to carry his red tape to Vienna and tie round the treaty
between the Tzar and the Wise Mem of the West.
There is no denying it : these imperial and royal interests—Holstein-Got-
torp, Hohenzollern, Habsburg, Bourbon, Coburg, and Beauharnais—are very
hard to arrange. And so much in Europe depending on their arrangements.
And then the peoples. You see if we were to free—that is, really to free—
only one, even to let only one get really free, the example would be so con-
tagious. The freedom of one people means absolutely the freedom of all in a
very short time : and that means universal popular sovereignty, which means
neither kings nor kingly representatives, which means mational interests
cared for instead of private interests, which means equal justice in place of
TO THE RUSSIAN SOLDIERS IN POLAND 239
rascally imperialism, and peace and prosperity instead of war-taxes, and a
Republican Europe, in truth a Christian Europe, the Millennium all too soon.
Very inconvenient any sort of Millennium would be to the Gottorps and the
Coburgs and the Beauharnais : not to be thought of by any one worthy to be
called a statesman. And so again ‘round about the cauldron’ſ
O, old women old women
‘Would you not like a broomstick?'
TO THE RUSSIAN SOLDIERS IN POLAND.
(From the Russian Republicans in Evile.)
BROTHERS,-At last the Tzar has managed to call down war upon Russia.
His colleagues, dreading their peoples more than any other enemy, have
vainly shuffled back and made concessions. He has succeeded in provoking a
contest.
He has had no ruth for Russian blood.
But we, Russians and Poles, exiles in the land of the stranger, shed tears
at the recital of these exorbitant levies, of these heavy surcharges imposed
upon the people, of our Soldiers hurried by thousands to an useless death.
To die for a just cause is noble. It is for this that man’s heart contains
courage, hardihood, devotion, love. But to perish without serving one’s fel-
lows for a Tzar’s caprice : that is indeed pitiful. The whole world compas-
sionates the Turks—not from sympathy with them, but because their cause is
just. They are attacked, and they have indeed the right of self-defence.
And our poor soldiers ? They shed their blood in torrents, fight valiantly,
heap the ground with their dead bodies, and no man, save us, laments their
fate, no one appreciates their bravery. -
The Tzar says that he is defending the Orthodox Church. But it is not
attacked; and, if the Sultan has oppressed it, why then has the Tzar kept
silence since 1828 ° -
The lot of the Christians, adds the Tzar, is hard in Turkey. We have never
heard that the Christians in Turkey are more oppressed than the peasants are
with us, especially those who, by the Tzar’s command, are given in bondage to
the nobles. Would it not be better to begin by freeing the slaves at home 2
—these, too, are Orthodox, and, what is more, they are Russians !
No : the Tzar defends no cause ; he has no good object in view. He is
solely guided by his pride, and it is for that pride that he sacrifices your blood.
Yours, we say ; not his own. He is too chary of that. Have you ever seen
him in front of your ranks Not on parade-grounds, but—on fields of battle P
240 TO THE RUSSIAN SOLDIERS IN POLAND
It is he who has begun the war : may it then fall solely on his own head
May it set a limit to our sad state of stagnation
After 1812 came the 26th of December.”
What will come after 1854 *
Shall we, them, be so slothful as to let escape such an opportunity as will
not return for long P Shall we not care to profit by the storm called down by
the Tzar upon himself.
We hope, we have faith.
Look at Poland, Hardly had the news of war reached her, when already
she raised her head again. She awaits but the first opportunity to reclaim her
rights, her freedom.—
What will you do when the Polish people shall fly to arms ?
Your lot is worst of all. Your comrades in Turkey are soldiers; and will
you, who are in Poland, be merely executioners ? Your victories will cover
you with shame; you will have to blush for your courage. The blood of kindred
is washed out with difficulty. Beware of again deserving the name of Cain.
It might cling to you for ever.
We know well that it would not be from your own will if you were to
march against the Poles. But it is time you should have a will of your own
Do you think it easy, then, to constrain the will of thousands in arms, who
understand one another P
One day, we do not remember in what province, when the new administra-
tion of the crown domains was introduced, some peasants revolted. (It was
the case in nearly all the provinces.) Troops were sent for ; the peasants did
not disperse. The general ordered his men to load; the soldiers executed this
order, supposing it to have been merely given for frightening the insurgents.
But the people were not intimidated. Then the general gave the colonel the
signal to fire. The latter gave the word of command; the soldiers presented,
but—did not pull their triggers. Amazed, the general dashed up and himself
cried—Fire / The soldiers grounded their arms, and remained motionless.
Well, what think you was dome to these soldiers ? Absolutely nothing !
The commanding officers were so afraid of the business that they passed it
over in silence.
That is an example of what you may do.
But abstaining is not all. The hour is come to range yourselves on the
side of the poor Russian people, as the Polish army did for its own in 1831.
We are approaching a mighty period.
Let it not be said that in so solemn, so terrible a moment, you were left
without brotherly advice.
We forewarn you of the danger that threatens you. We wish to preserve
you from a crime. Have confidence in us.
It is the Russia of the future that speaks to you through us. Russia free
and young, condemned to silence in its native land, but whose voice resounds
in exile—the Russia of martyrs, of mines, of Siberia, and of casemates—the
* Pestel’s insurrection,
TO THE RUSSIAN SOLDIERS IN POLAND 241
Russia of the Pestels and Mouraviefs, of the Ryleieffs and Bestoujeffs—that
Russia of which we are the heralds, the speaking-trumpets to the world.
We are your wail of grief, your cry of hatred, your appeal for vengeance on
your oppressors. We denounce to the world the murky crimes of your
Government; we are its living reproach ; we stigmatize it ; we brand it with
the hot iron, as it brands living mem. -
If our speech is harsh and biting, it is because it is the echo of the lamenta-
tions of violated women, the death-rattle of old men dying under the lash, the
clank of chains borne by our poets, our best friends, when transported to
Siberia.
In the land of the stranger we have commenced an open struggle by words
while waiting one by deeds.
Our words are an appeal; our voice is the distant sound of the bell an-
nouncing that the matins for the grand festival of the Resurrection of the
Peoples have commenced also for the Russian nation. This voice will not
cease to resound until it shall be changed into a tocsin or a hymn of triumph.
Far as we are from you, we are your nearest kin, your brothers, your only
friends. We have reconciled the Russian people with the peoples of the West,
who were apt to confound us with the Petersburg Government. The Poles
have stretched out their hands to us in our quality of Russians. Such is also
the sense of the words that we have addressed to them ; such is the meaning
of our alliance with them. They have appreciated our love for the Russian
people. On your side, understand it too, and love the Poles, because they are
Poles.
What do the Poles desire P
An independent Poland that shall be free to confederate with Russia eman-
cipated from autocracy, without letting herself be absorbed by her. Federal
unity is perhaps that which is most opposed to the uniformity of a despotic
centralization.
The actual annexation of Poland to Russia is an absurdity, a fact of brutal
violence. After three and twenty years of persecutions, the Government dares
not remove one single regiment in all Poland without sending another to
replace it.
These forced unions do but perpetuate hatred, and time does nothing for
them. Is Hungary or Lombardy Austrian P-and is even Finland Russian P
It is only the Baltic provinces that find the Holstein-Mongol government of
|Petersburg to their taste, and who arm from devotion their children in defence
of the Greek Orthodox Church—with Luther's Bible in their pockets.
If we Russians will not comprehend the necessity of Poland’s restoration,
Poland will not the less separate herself from Russia, or rather she will be
severed from Russia by others. And then she will become, not independent,
but a stranger to us.
The question between Poland and Russia is a family question. No foreign
intervention. We ought to Solve it ourselves; and that without arms.
It is not the Russian people whom you defend in Poland. The Russian
people, in the very first hour of its awakening, will deny you, and will curse
242 F. OSCIUSKO
your victories. You are upholding there the pretensions of the Tzar—of that
Tzar who leaves the half of Russia in a state of serfdom, who takes nine
recruits out of every thousand, who permits his officers to strike his soldiers,
his police agents to beat the citizens, and everything that is not peasant to
belabour whatever is peasant. Know, then, that in defending him you are
maintaining all the scourges of Russia—that in fighting for him you are fight-
ing for seignorial rights, the knout, slavery, robbery organized by the officials,
and larcemies carried on in broad daylight by the nobles.
Poland has suffered quite enough from Russia. Fiven if she has often
been in the wrong, she has long since expiated her faults. Her little
children have been carried off, her women cast into prison, her defenders have
perished in Siberia, her friends are strown over all the surface of the globe, her
trophies have been taken away to Petersburg, her traditions altered. They
have not even left her the past.
No -on Polish ground no laurels grow for the Russian warrior. It is
too much impregnated with women’s tears and the blood of men shed by your
fathers—perhaps by yourselves. On the banks of the Vistula, near the grave-
yards of Praga and of Wola, there can be no military glory for you. The only
possible glory for you in Poland is that of reconciliation and alliance.
What you have to do, how you are to set about it : this you will learn as
soon as the proper time arrives. Our counsel shall not fail you. But while
waiting for events, convince yourselves of the truth of our words, and by all
that is sacred to you swear not to take up arms against Poland.
This oath is demanded of you, not by the Tzar, but by the conscience and
remorse of the people. And even should you perish for this cause, your deaths
will be holy, you will have fallen as expiatory victims, and by your martyr
blood will seal the indissoluble free alliance of Poland and Russia, the begin-
ning of the free association of all the Slavonians into—one united and federal
Republic /
K 0 S (; I U S K 0.
ºst HADDEUs KOSCTUSKO was born in Lithuania, in 1746. His father was
§§ a gentleman of small means, of little energy, and passionately fond of
*** music.
From his childhood Kosciusko was full of ardour, eager to learn and act : in
that the very opposite of his father. He was wild, yet studious; violent, im-
petuous, and untamed. Made gentle only by his love for two younger sisters:
the chivalrous regard which he felt for them laying the foundation for a life-
long tenderness—of the utmost purity and nobleness—toward woman, and a
singular predilection for children.


.
//
ſ
ſ
/.
/
/
K 0 SC I U S K 0.

KOSCIUSKO 245
Iſis first instruction was from an old uncle who had traveled much, and who
spent some months of every year at his father’s farm. From him he learned
drawing, a little of mathematics, and French. Plutarch’s Lives early led his
thoughts toward heroism. When of sufficient age, he was sent to a school for
cadets, at Warsaw. He went to the school at a sad time, just when Poland
had accepted a Russian nominee as king. The real king was the Russian am-
bassador. Kosciusko had for first lesson to witness his country’s degradation.
At school he worked hard, far into the night and from early morning. He
would sit with his feet in cold water to keep off sleep; he would tie a cord
round his arm that the watchman, pulling it, might awaken him in the morn-
ing. So he won the prize of merit, the distinction reserved for the most
promising—that of being selected to travel to perfect their studies in the prin-
cipal military institutes of Europe. So he was sent first to the Military
Academy at Versailles, afterward to that of Brest to study fortification and
naval drawing, and them to Paris. At Paris he learned also of the new philo-
sophy of the period. He was there when the first partition of Poland took place.
At the age of twenty-six he returned home to receive his commission as
captain of artillery, and to fall in love. She whom he loved was the daughter
of the Hetman of Lithuania, one of those haughty nobles who were kings, as
proud as that old palatine who tied Mazeppa on the wild horse. What was
that to the lover, who was also beloved P Kosciusko dared even to ask her of
her father. The father laughed him to scorn. Then he attempted an elope-
ment, was pursued and attacked. He fought desperately, was severely
wounded. The beloved was torn from him and against her will married to
another. Despairing for himself, sorrowing also for his humiliated country,
Rosciusko joined the first band of Polish emigrants who went to carry their
love of freedom to America. - *-
The French allies of America received him as a school-fellow and com-
patriot; Lafayette commended him to Washington. Engineer, colonel, and
lastly general of brigade, Kosciusko won distinction for himself. Not merely
intrepid, he also could inspire intrepidity. The American militia wished to
go back to their fields,--they stayed at his word.
America was founded; Kosciusko returned home; Poland was perishing.
The boldness of great change was needed, and, as but too often, the selfish
and the timid ruined all. It was so hard a thing for one million of nobles to
emancipate fifteen or eighteen millions of serfs : and yet there alone lay the
salvation of Poland. Their unfortunate king too was but a tool of Russia.
So in 1793 there was no power to prevent the second partition.
In March, 1794, the revolution broke out. The shoemaker Kilinski roused
the men of Warsaw ; Kosciusko, who had left Poland, returned to Cracow and
was named dictator. His first act was to order a levy of all the Polish youth.
In ten days he had a small army, but most of them peasants armed only with
their scythes. They stared to see him take his place among them, clad in
their own simple costume : the first Polish noble perhaps who had dared
openly make such an assertion of equality. With his little force he attacked
and overthrew the Russians. Warsaw and Wilma were set free.
246 - ROSCIUSKO
But the aristocracy hung back. As usual they dreaded liberty more than
all things. Rather Russia than a just revolution. They did all in their
power to hamper Kosciusko, to keep their serfs from serving their country.
They but too well succeeded. Kosciusko with all his efforts could never
muster more than 30,000 men. Yet the Russians dared not face him.
Prussia and Austria, however were there to back Russia with most useful
‘neutrality.’ Treason also delivered Cracow to the Russians, and Kosciusko
was too gentle-souled to meet the treason with the fierce wrath deserved and
needed. He fell back upon Warsaw, did all that military genius and personal
devotion could do, and, finding all vain, prepared to sell himself as dearly as
he could. With 4,000 men, scant of ammunition, he met 14,000 Russians
under Ferzen, with sixty cannon, advancing to coöperate with Suwarof. His
infantry destroyed, he still maintained the desperately unequal conflict with
his handful of cavalry. Several horses were killed under him. The last
slipped and threw him on the edge of a morass. The Cossacks surrounded
him, bore him down with lance-thrusts; and on his refusal to surrender, one of
them with his sabre clove his head and neck down to the shoulders.
At last he was recognized; and then the Cossacks, who had heard from the
Polish peasants of his great love for the people, were in despair at having
slain him. For twenty-four hours he remained as dead. Catherine,—at
whose express order Suwarof, to give the Poles a bloody lesson, had mas-
sacred 10,000 men, women, and children in Warsaw,-desired that his
recovery should be cared for. It was so well cared for that the surgeons
brought him to a state of physical and almost of mental paralysis. They pre-
served him as a wreck for the Empress’ pity. After two years of horrible
suffering, the Emperor Paul set him at liberty. He took refuge first in
America, and afterward in France.
Napoleon courted him, would have made a tool of his popularity, would
have put him in his ‘Senate,” would have got his help in his Polish enterprizes.
Kosciusko was too pure to subserve the tyrant. He would have no concern
with him except on condition of Poland’s freedom, her ancient boundary, her
own government. That did not suit the Vulgar ambition of Napoleon.
Napoleon fell, and the Cossacks overran France. Kosciusko was living at
Fontainebleau. Unarmed he went among a party of these pillagers. Seeing
the Polish uniform among them, he bitterly exclaimed: ‘Wretches the real
Poles, when I commanded them, never pillaged.’ ‘Who are you?” said they,
with uplifted sabres; but at the name of Kosciusko their rage fell, and they
helped to put out the fire they had raised. Even the Hetman of the Cossacks,
ruthless old Platoff, came on a pilgrimage to him, and was moved to tears.
The Emperor Alexander promised him the restoration of Poland—Poland
to the Dwina and the Dnieper. An imperial restoration, such as the CZar-
toryskis now would be content with. Kosciusko asked for more than the
mere name of Poland. He was no aristocrat.
His last days were very melancholy. He would not return to Poland while
Poland was enslaved. He had remaimed unmarried, devoted to the memory of
his first lost love. Poor folk and children were the only persons whose
WORKING MEN 247
presence could be any solace to him. To the first his charity was indefatig-
able, his love boundless toward the last. The friend in whose house he made
his home, a Swiss named Zeltier, One day borrowed his horse, and found that
the creature always stopped before a poor person.
He reached the ‘threescore years and tem.” Then a message came to him from
the Unforgotten. She too, though compelled to wed another, had not ceased
to love him. During his whole life he had corresponded with her. The man
who was called her husband had been generous enough to permit that. Now
he was dead, and the Loving wrote to Kosciusko to say that her remaining
years were his, and her fortune; she would at last rejoin him. She found
him dead. He died in 1817, mourned by all who knew him, beloved for the
lowing-kindness of his gentle soul as much as he was admired for his virtue
and patriotism. A right worthy Polish knight, and the first of Polish citizens.
The Country of Martyrs owns Kosciusko of her Noblest.
His ashes were laid in the cathedral of Cracow, nigh to those of Sobieski;
and for three years the people toiled to raise a mound of Polish earth to his
memory. His soul yet liveth, to lead the spirits of the mighty dead to to-
morrow’s victory. They said his latest words upon the last battle-field were
Finis Poloniae (the end of Poland). A Russian lie. But while he lay in that
death-trance, God whispered to him—7%is is the beginning of Poland /
Poland shal/ be free /
W 0 R K I N G M C N.
HEIRs of Ket and Tyler’s worth !
Sons of them who sway’d the earth !
Men of English blood and birth !
Shall you not be free ?
Will ye toil from youth to age
Only for a villein’s wage P
Is this England’s heritage P
Cromwell’s legacy P
Ye who labour in the mine !
Ye who in the factory pine !
Ye who clam while landlords dine !
Ye who are not free
Answer—Are you wilest slaves,
Tver stooping tow’rd your graves,
Digging at the hest of knaves,
Slaving endlessly P
248
WORKING MEN
Sowing, and you harvest nought ;
Gaimless from the fields ye fought ;
Weaving, but for all ye wrought,
Going raggedly.
For the best that you achieve
Is some leisure-hour to grieve :
While you work the wealthy thieve,
Spoiling ruthlessly.
Are you dogs, so scourged and fed P
Are you trampled like the dead?
Choose you rather death, instead
Of such slavery
Is not hope the most forlorn
Detter than the brightest morn
Patience can expect from scorn
Or toil from knavery
You would strike—With gyvéd wrist P-
You are bound : the Anarchist
Will do with you as he list,-
Even as you see.
You may argue and complain,
Band and buffet ; you but strain
Your tether: changing efforts vain
For worse captivity.
The great mischief is not there—
That the master will not spare.
Fling his yoke off cease to wear
Bonds of helotry!
Will you never learn that wrong
Must to servitude belong P
Slaves must bear; the free are strong:
Which of these are ye?
Will you never have the sense
All your murmurings to condense
In One will whose power shall fence
Farther misery P
Bngland yet hath fertile plains;
There is blood in English veins;
English thewes might rend the chains
Of old tyranny.
WORKING MEN 249
Who would be a soulless clod P
Who contents him 'neath the rod P
Who believes in Right, in God?
Answer mamfully.
Say—in deeds none may mistake—
English heart at last doth wake:
Tiet the haughtiest Wrongers quake :
England must be free.
By thy love for maid or wife,
By thy children’s hopes of life,
Rise from sloth to godly strife,
Strive for liberty
English Women I will ye bear
Cubs to serfs of King Despair P
Inglish Girls' love those who dare,
Men who men would be.
Say to him upon thy breast—
Say to him who would be blest—
Hf thou lovest me, do this hest :
Win our liberty
English women are we : none
But English men our hearts shall own.
Be you free Then, them alone,
You can English be.
And be sure the answer then
From all those are really men
Will be such as ever when
Love asks earnestly,
Each will answer—each for all—
Curséd be the willing thrall !
Come the worst that may befall,
England’s sons are we,
We are strong as those who bore
Victory’s bow at Azincour;
As the Ironsides who swore
Death to Monarchy;
And we workers mean to stand
By the proudest of the land,
Foot to foot, and hand to hand :
Be it brotherly
250 THE SOWEREIGNTY OF THE PEOPLE
English workmen mean to claim
|Freemen’s duty, freemen’s name;
Mean to change the brand of shame
For wreathéd royalty.
English workmen are as good
As the Barons bold who stood
There at Runnymead, whose would
Won their victory.
So our would must grow to will,
And our hope the wide land fill
With a firm intent until
Hope success shall be.
Till upon some English plain
We count our millions once again,
And proclaim the Nation’s reign,
Its majority.
Hear our pleasure, English lords —
Will is worth ten thousand swords :
Sheathe it never till our words
Tinglish law may be
Set our feet look full at Wrong !
Now uplift our battle-song—
“Right is brave and Truth is strong:
And England for the free.”
SPARTACUs.
THE SOWEREIGNTY OF THE PEOPLE.
tº HIRTY-FIVE YEARs ago a million and a half of Englishmen petitioned
º for the franchise. A generation of slaves has passed away since them.
tº Fifteen years ago 1,280,000 signed their names to the Chartist petition
for manhood suffrage. There are yet not so many enfranchised in all England.
The franchise remains still the one question upon which Englishmen should
bestir themselves. And never was better opportunity than now.
In 1819 England was at peace and under a strong Government ; in 1839 the
Chartists threw away their chance by making their movement a class move-
ment and confining themselves to constitutional courses. Now England is at
War and the Government is not strong. It is the moment for us to break our
fetters.

THE SOVEREIGNTY OF THE PEOPLE 251
We have entered upon a war, from which must proceed either a costly suc-
cess or our degradation. Even the Times confesses that England losing may
be reduced to the rank of a second-rate power. Our very existence as a
mation may be jeopardized. Not only is it the opportunity for us to win our
freedom from a Government too weak to contend against both a foreign and a
domestic foe, but it is also a momentous duty for us to take England’s destiny
out of the hands of a Government which does not represent us, which only
rules us upon sufferance. Now, more than ever, the people should act as
freemen. -
Victorious bankruptcy or ignominious defeat—our present rulers will give
us one or the other; most likely the last. Is England to be yoked to their
plough for such a harvest ? Is it to be another twenty years of doubtful
glory, with salt at four-pence a pound and bread at six-pence, and another
treaty of Vienna for vile conclusion ?
Englishmen should consider of these things. Public opinion has been um-
mistakeably declared in favour of war. War against Russia means in the mind
of England opposal of despotism. Is that what our rulers mean by it P. We
have chosen war: shall we not choose the aim of the war, the method of the
war P Are we to leave convicted knaves and imbeciles to ally as they will
with knaves and imbeciles abroad, to betray our honour and our interests, to
turn the war to the very profit of despotism P And shall the overtaxed work-
mail strain his sinews but for this ; and English blood and English gold be so
poured out in vain P *
‘How shall we prevent it º' Get the franchise and have your will. Be no
longer the tools of rulers who mislead you, of ‘representatives’ who do not
represent you. Require the franchise, assert your will, enact your laws,
appoint your servants, and insist upon obedience to your commands.
Get the franchise. It is not so much through lack of wisdom as from
lack of honesty in our governors that England suffers at home or is disgraced
abroad. A Preston strike, a Highland eviction, or an Irish famine, is but
the consequence of class legislation. If all England made the law, the wives
and children of our soldiers would not be left to depend on private alms, mor
would English blood be so/3 to the imperial friends of Aberdeen.
But all England ‘is not wise enough to choose its rulers.” Let England
then be content with choosing servants to carry out England’s will. We
do not want these crafty masters who hide everything from us—purpose,
policy, and modes of action—till the irretrievable mischief is complete.
England may not be able to choose worthy representatives; and yet Eng-
land may judge the great questions of war and peace. Englishmen have com-
sciences if they know no diplomatic tricks, understand what can prove to their
interest even if they can not weigh which is the greater knavery—that of a
Russel or a Disraeli. .
England has a life as a nation. The national conscience expressed by the
will of the majority should rule that life. Every national acſ should be the
expression of the nation’s will. Let us will first that we will no longer
abdicate our consciences or depute a Parliament to misrepresent us.
252 - PRACTICAL ATHEISM
The Chartists wanted the franchise in order to reform Parliament. We
want it in order to abolish Parliament. Centuries ago monarchy ceased to be
of use. Parliaments are useless now. Let the whole people make their laws,
and choose only servants to carry out their will.
Is that so difficult P Is it so difficult to poll the sense of England upon
any question ? Say upon the questions that so perplex our wisest statesmen
—that of alliance with Austria, that of the regeneration of Poland and Italy,
what should be aim of the war, the justice of taxing one particular class for
the war, or how our soldiers' wives should be supported. There is less
difficulty in deciding rightly upon all these points than there is in discovering
an honest party man to hinder Aberdeen and his allies from Wasting England’s
gold and blood and honour.
Let us have done with confidential communications between Cabinets. Let
the people think for themselves, speak for themselves, act for themselves:
trusting their purposes and policies to none, deciding upon such matters them-
selves, and trusting the details of management to the trustworthy.
Now is the very time in which the people should stir themselves for the
franchise, not merely that they may be free to delegate their sovereignty, but
that they may exercise it.
We are told that such a movement now would embarrass the Government ;
and union is so necessary while we are war. I let the Government then yield
our rights, which will end the embarrassment; and the people will be united,
and, if they think there are any honest or capable men in the present ‘govern-
ment, may retain them in their office, with the better title of the people's
Servants.
P R A C T I C A L A T H E IS M.
ATBRIIDGET TIROM THEOT) ORE PARKETR,
IF a man starts with the idea that there is a body and no soul, an earth with-
out a heaven, and a world without a God, that idea needs must become a prim-
ciple of practice; and as such it will have a quite powerful effect on the man’s
active character; it will come at length to be the controuling principle of his
life. For as in human nature the religious element is the foundation-element
of man, so any misarrangement in that quarter presently appears at the end of
the hands, and affects the whole life of man.
Speculative Atheism will not be fully reduced to practice all at once; but
in the long run it will assuredly produce certain peculiar results, just as cer-
tainly as any seed you plant in the ground will bear fruit after its own kind,
PRACTICAI, ATHEISM 253
and not after another kind. You and I are not quite consistent, it may be, and
we therefore allow something to come between our first principle and the con-
clusion which would follow from it; but the human race is very logical, and
carries out every principle into practice, making its earnest thoughts into very
serious things: only the idea is not carried out at once, but in long ages of
time and by successive generations of men. Every theological idea, positive
or negative, that is firmly believed in by mankind or by nations will ultimately
be carried out by them to its legitimate practical effect, and will appear in
their trade, politics, laws, manners—in all the active life of mankind. We
think that the litany which we repeat in the church is our confession of faith.
*Often that reaches wery little way in ; but the real confession of the world’s
faith is writ in its trade and politics, in its wars and hospitals, in its armies
and school-houses, better than in its ‘pious literature.”
Real Practical Atheism is the living of Speculative Atheism as a practice :
that is, the living as if there was no God, no God who is the Mind, Cause, and
Providence of the world; and that is living as if a man had no natural obliga-
tion to think and speak truly, to do right, to feel kind, and to be holy or
faithful to himself-living as if there was no Soul, no heaven, Bo God. That
is real Practical Atheism. .
This real Practical Atheism is divisible for the present purpose into two
forms: First, the undisguised Practical Atheism. Here the practical atheist
openly and undisguisedly denies the quality of God, denies that he owes any
matural obligation to think truly, to do right, to feel kind, or to be self-faithful;
and on the contrary affirms. Speculative Atheism as his practical principle and
motive of life, and then endeavours to live up to it, or live down to it. That
is one form. - &
The other is disguised Practical Atheism. Here the practical atheist acts
on the idea that he has no natural obligation to think truly, to do right, to feel
kind, and to be holy ; and thus really, and in act, denies the idea of God. But
he suppresses the formal denial of God and the affirmation of Atheism, or he
even goes so far as to affirm his belief in God and deny his assumption of
Atheism as a principle of action.
Now in truth these two men, the undisguised professor of Atheism and the
disguised practiser thereof, if they were consistent, would act pretty much
alike in most cases, and would do the same thing : only the undisguised
atheist would do it overtly, with no denial of the fact and motive, but with
the affirmation of each ; and the disguised atheist would do it covertly, deny-
ing both the fact and the motive, thus adding hypocrisy to Atheism. The
undisguised atheist will be the more manly, because he is more thorough-going
in his manhood; and such a person will always command a certain degree of
admiration, because it is manly in the man to say right out what he thinks
right in, and, if he is going to live after a certain principle, to declare that
principle beforehand. There is a consistency of manhood in that, and the very
assertion is therefore often a guarantee of the man’s homesty. But the dis-
guised atheist will be the more atheistic, because he is really the more
thorough-going in his Atheism. One is true to his natural character as man,
254 IPRACTICAL ATIIISISRI
the other to his conventional character as atheist: for as Atheism is the mega-
tion of Nature, so the negation of itself is a legitimate function of Atheism.
There never was any complete, real Speculative Atheism in the world; for
complete, real Speculative Atheism is so abhorrent to human nature that, if a
man had a realizing sense thereof, and of its speculative consequences, he
must needs die outright. I may say the same of complete, real Practical
Atheism. There is no complete and reall?ractical Atheism : for I think nobody
could ever be perfectly consistent with real Speculative Atheism, and live as
if he felt absolutely no obligation to speak truly, to do right, to feel kind, and
to be holy. That, therefore, is an extreme which man can not possibly reach.
Human nature would give up before it came to such a conclusion. It is con-
ceivable, but neither actual nor possible.
But yet there is a great deal of practical conduct which rests on this basis
and on no other; and, though no man was ever fully false to his Nature and
fully true to his Atheism, yet very many are partially false to their Nature
and partially true to Atheism. And so there is a good deal of Practical
Atheism in the world, much more than there appears of real Speculative
Atheism; and, though no man is a complete practical atheist, yet there are
many with whom Practical Atheism preponderates in their daily life, and
turns the balance. I mean to say that they live more atheistically than the-
istically. The man does not clearly say to himself, ‘There is no God’; he
only half says it, and little more than half acts on that supposition. He does
not say out, ‘There is no God, and hence no obligation to speak truly, do
right, feel kind, and be faithful to myself’: because, first, there is some
Theism left in the man,—I think nobody can ever empty himself wholly of the
consciousness of God, or, next, because the man is not fully self-conscious of
his consciousness, so to say, and does not really and distinctly bring to light
the principles which are yet the governing principles in his nature, or,
finally, if he is thus conscious, he does not dare to say it, but yet acts mainly
on that supposition. Now there is a great deal of this in the world; very
much more than appears at first sight. -
The practical atheist, starting from his speculative principle that there is
nothing which is the Mind, the Cause, and the Providence of the universe, or
of any part thereof, and, accordingly, that Nature and Man are, respectively,
the only mind, cause, and providence of themselves, he must necessarily
believe that man is under no matural and absolute obligation to think truly, to
do right, to feel kind, and to be holy. He must deny that there is any such
obligation to God, because he denies the existence of God, or because he
demies the existence of the quality of God; and he must deny that he owes
this obligation to himself: for, as man is his own mind, cause, providence,
lawgiver, and director, so every propensity of the man is likewise and equally
its own cause, its own mind, its own providence, its own lawgiver and director.
Accordingly, passion is no more amenable to reason and conscience than
reason and conscience are amenable to passion. The parts are no more amen-
able to the whole than the whole to any one of the parts. Man is finite, and
there is no higher being above man ; and so there is no higher law above the
PRACTICAL ATHEISM 255
caprice of any passion or any calculation. The man may will anything that he
will, and it shall be his law. For reason there stands the arbitrary caprice of
man, the arbitrary caprice of each instinctive desire, or of any calculated act
of will, and no more.
If the atheist admits there is in human consciousness an idea of right, he
must declare it is not any more binding upon man than the idea of wrong.
We form an idea of absolute right : “it is a mere whim,” says the atheist;
there exists no substance in which the absolute right can inhere. It is an
abstract quality which belongs to no substance. It is a nothing, only it differs
from an absolute transcendental nothing in this, that it is a thinkable nothing.
According to an atheist, God is a thinkable nothing, and the idea which men
have of God has no more objective actualness to support it than the idea of
fight would have if all material light, all actual and all possible light, were
blotted out of being. Then all the necessary attributes of God fall into the
same class—thinkable nothings. So do all the transcendent attributes of
man. Truth is a thinkable nothing, justice a thinkable nothing, and any
excellence which surpasses the excellence of Thomas, and Richard, and Henry,
or all actual men, is also nothing—only it is a thinkable nothing, not a tran-
scendental nothing.
This being the case, there is nothing for me to aspire after. Ideal wisdom,
justice, love, holiness: each is but a thinkable nothing. I do not aspire after
that more than I should marshal ghosts into an army to go out and fight a
battle, or put in a battery a thinkable cannon, which is no cannon, and good for
nothing. And then all reverence must, of course, be weeded out from the
mind of the practical atheist. He can only reverence something that he sees
with his eye or feels with his hand, or reverence himself. This faculty of
reverence which is born in us, so delightful as a sentiment, as a principle so
strong, must take one of two forms: that of servility, crouching down before
a man, or of self-esteem, strutting proudly in its own conceit, There is no
other form possible for it. -
The practical atheist denies God, and of course denies religion in all its
parts, absolutely denies all obligation. To him the idea of obligation and of
duty must lack actuality. He must deny my obligation to conform to my
reason, conscience, affections. There is no reason therefore why I should
think and speak truly, do right, feel kind, and be holy, if it is agreeable to me
to do otherwise. Therefore, if I am an atheist, and if Atheism be unpopular,
my Atheism will justify me in denying Atheism itself and in affirming Theism.
So Atheism, in this way, is Self-destructive ; its development is its dissolution.
So, to demy Atheism, under such circumstances, will be more atheistic than to
affirm it. The atheist who denies it is false to his manhood; there is no
atheistic reason why he should be true to it, and the more he denies it the
more he is faithful to his atheistic opinion. So the expedient must take the
place of the true and the right; the agreeable must take the place of the
beautiful; desire the place of duty; and I will must take the place of that
solemn word I ought. There can be no ought in the grammar of Atheism.
Put, as the atheist in denying God denies the soul, and in doing that demics
256 PRACTICAL ATHEISM
the immortality of man, his range of expediency must be limited to this life;
and not only must it be limited to the earthly life of the human race, which
may be eternal for aught we know, but it must be limited to the life of the
particular atheist who thinks it, and even to the humbler faculties and lower
wants of his nature. And so the highest thing he can desire must be his own
present comfort. That is the highest real thing that he knows. So Specula-
tive Atheism reduced to practice must lead to complete material selfishness,
and cam lead to nothing else. - -
All this is general in its application, is universal; it will apply to all forms
of life. Now see how this Atheism will manifest itself in the practical con-
duct of men, in the various forms of individual, domestic, social, national, and
general human life. - -
I will speak first of the individual life. -
As by the atheistic theory of the universe there is no such thing as moral
obligation, no such thing as duty, no absolute right,--as man is the highest
mind in the universe, his own cause, his own providence, his own originator,
his own sustainer, and his own director, so he is perfectly free to do exactly
as he pleases. Duty will resolve itself into caprice of selfishness. The man
is to concentrate himself particularly upon the desire that is uppermost at the
time, for, as I am my own end, and am to seek my own welfare at all hazards,
so each particular propensity in me is its own end, and has to seek its own
welfare, that is, its own gratification,--at any or all hazards.
So there is nothing to prevent my life from being the mere selfishness of
passion in youth, seeking pleasure as its object; or the selfishness of ambition
in manhood, seeking profit as its goal: for nothing has any right to stand
between me and the object of my ambition, more than between me and the
object of my passion. Atheism must be universal anarchy -
INow each of these forms of Atheism may assume two modes. One is that
of gross selfishness—that is, gross sensualism of pleasure in the period of pas-
sion, or gross calculation of profit in the period of ambition. It will terminate
in the gross voluptuary or the gross hunker. That is one form. It is the
rude, coarse, gross form. It is the form in which Atheism would manifest
itself with the poor, with the uneducated, with the roughest of mem. It is the
Atheism of Savagery, the Practical Atheism of St Giles’ parish in London.
The other mode is that of refined selfishness—that is, refined sensualism of
pleasure in the period of passion, or the refined calculation of profit in the
period of ambition; and so here it will terminate in the delicate and subtle
voluptuary or else in the delicate and subtle hunker. This is the Atheism of
civilization, the Atheism of St James' parish in London. The mode will
depend on the temperament and circumstances of the man. And yet you see
these two are generically the same, with unity of idea and unity of purpose;
both seek a selfish object and both come to the same end, only one in the
delicate and the other in the gross form. In either case the aim of life is to
be the rehabilitation of selfishness; I mean the enthroning of selfishness as the
leading practical principle of life. The atheist is to look on every faculty as
an instrument of pleasure or profit; to look on his life as a means of selfish-
PRACTICAL ATHEISM 257
iness and no more; to look on himself as a beast of pleasure or a beast of prey.
Behold the man of Atheism!—his controuling principle, selfishness; his life,
‘poor, and dirty, and short.’ -
Now man is not selfish by nature. We have self-love enough to hold us
together. Self-love, the conservative principle of man, is the natural girdle
put about our consciousness to keep us from falling loose and spreading and
breaking asunder. In human nature, self-love is not too strong. When all
the faculties act in harmony, there is no excess of this. But, if you deny that
faculty which looks to the Infinite, which hungers for the ideal true, the ideal
just, and lovely, and holy, then self-love, conservative of the individual,
degenerates into selfishness, invades others, and man becomes merely selfish.
See next the effect of Practical Atheism on domestic life, in the family.
The normal basis and bond of union in the family is mutuality of love in
its various forms: connubial—between man and wife; parental, affiliative, or
kindly—between kith and kin; and friendly love. - & -
Commubial love in its normal state consists of two factors—passion, seeking
the welfare of the lover, and affection, which seeks the welfare of the beloved.
In normal connubial love, these two are coördinated together. Each aims to
delight the other more than to enjoy himself, and finds his satisfaction less in
enjoying than in delighting. Passion is then beautiful and affection is delight-
ful. Self-love is subordinate to the love of another, the special to the uni-
versal. The love, of the true, the just, the ever-beautiful, and the holy, comes
in and prevents even the existence of selfishness. This condition affords an
opportunity for developing and enjoying some of the highest qualities of man.
Passion is instinctive, and affection also is instinctive at first; but, as man
develops himself by culture, as the human race enlarges in its progressive
unfolding, so the affections become larger and larger, more powerful in the
individual and the race, and the joy of delighting becomes greater and more.
But in Practical Atheism the family must rest on mutuality of selfishness,
not on mutuality of love. And this must appear in all its forms: in the rela-
tion between acquaintances or friends, between kith and kin, between parent
and child, between man and wife. Marriage must be only for the selfishness
of transient pleasure or the selfishness of permanent profit. The parental and
filial relation must be only a relation of selfishness, the parents wanting the
child to serve them as a beast of burden or as a toy, and the children wanting
the parent to serve them, and valuing father and mother only for what they
get therefrom. The relations of kinship, of brother and sister, of uncle and
nephew, of aunt and niece; the relation of friendship must also be of selfish-
ness and no more. Passion must be all lust, and affection die out and give
place to selfish calculation. The wife must be the husband’s tool or his toy,
and the husband the toy or the tool of the wife. -
Marriage is then possible for the sake only of three things: first, for animal
gratification; next, for pecuniary profit; last, for social respectability. It is
a union of passions in the One case, of estates in the next, of respectabilities
in the last; at any rate is the conjunction of bodies without a soul, of selfish-
ness without self-denial, for a here with no hereafter, and in a world with no
958 PRACTICAL ATHEISM
God. Behold the family of practical atheists Atheism gone to house.
keeping ! the housekeeping of Atheism like the individual life thereof, ‘poor,
and dirty, and short’ſ - -
Now there is much partial Practical Atheism which appears in this domestic
form. The present position of woman is only justified on the ground that
there is no God: men do not understand it as yet; one day they surely will.
Every marriage which is not based on mutuality of affection—where good is
to be taken and good is to be given, and man and wife both are to take and
both are to give—is bottomed at last on Practical Atheism: only on that.
The other day I said it was impossible for a man to be a complete speculative
atheist. It is impossible for him to be a complete practical atheist. But
grant that there was a complete practical atheistic man and a complete
practical atheistic woman : would marriage be possible between the two P By
no means ! Not at all ! Juxtaposition of bodies is all that would take place.
Selfishness is never a bond of real wedlock.
See how Practical Atheism will appear in a larger form of action—the social
form, in the neighbourhood and community. The normal basis of Society is
first the gregarious instinct, which we have in common with sheep and kine;
next, the social will which is peculiar to man, and has this effect on the gre-
garious instinct : it is to join men together in such a way that the in-
dividuality of each shall be preserved, while the sociality of all is made sure of.
Then there is a third thing—the religious aspiration, which desires the
absolutely true, just, and lovely; and this desire can only be brought out in
full action in the company or society of men.
Accordingly, in a normal society there will be—first, individual self-love,
seeking to develop and enjoy itself; then the social affection seeking to delight
and develop others about us; and these two may be so coördinated that the
individual is kept in society and the mass also is developed and blessed by the
concurrent desire to enjoy and to delight; then there will also be the religious
love of God, the ideal true, just, loving, and holy, involving as it does the
religious love of men. In short, that will be a society shaped by the golden
rule.
But the society of Atheism must be a mutuality of selfishness.
All conjunctions of selfishness must needs be a warfare. The social aim
will be to rule over others, and make them serve you; to give them the least
and get the most from them : and then he will be thought the most fortunate
man, and so the most “respectable’ in the community and ‘honourable’ in the
State, who does the least Service for mankind and gets the most pay and the
most power from them. Society will be controuled by selfish propensities, not
by moral ideas, affectional feelings, or religious aspirations for ideal perfection.
All the rulers must of necessity be tyrants, ruling with cruel and selfish
aims. Oppression, which is a measure in the practice of men, must be a prim-
ciple in the theory of the atheist. The accidental actual of history will then
become the substantial ideal of nature. The most appropriate nomination in
that case would be the nomination of the kidnappers. The capitalist wishes to
operate by his money; that is his tool to increase his power of selfish enjoy.
PRACTICAL ATHEISM 259
ment. The operative wishes to act by his hand and head; these are his tools
to increase his power of selfish enjoyment. But both must be thoroughly selfish
in principle, and so they will be natural and irreconcileable enemies waging a
war of extermination. Accordingly the capitalist will aim to get the operatives’
work without giving them pay; and the operatives will aim to get the capital-
ist’s money without giving him the work; and so there will be a perpetual
‘strike ’ and warfare between the two, each continually laying at the other
with all his might. The harmony of society will be the equilibrium of selfish-
ness; and that will be brought about when the strong has crushed down the
weak, has got him under his foot and has destroyed him. Harmony will take
place when the last spider has eaten up all his coadjutors. The social peace of
Atheism is solitude. - -
In trade the aim will be to accumulate money—no matter how it is got, by
fraud, by lies, by rack-rent on houses, by ruinous usury on land, or less ruinous
piracy on the sea. The man will allow nothing to stand between him and the
dollar he covets, no intellectual idea, no moral principle, no affectional feeling,
no religious emotion.
Nîr Salem sends cargoes of rum to Africa, and when it gets there dilutes it
with half its bulk of water, drugs it to its old intoxicating power, and then
sells it to the black man, who is made just as drunk, and a little more poisoned
than if he had the genuine article, the only thing to which New England has
characteristically given its name. He sells this to the black man, and sells him
also powder and balls to use in capturing his brother men; and when they are
caught he ‘prudently leaves some other American to take and transport them
to market at Rio, or Cuba, with the sanction of the American Government.
You say to Mr Salem, This is all wicked. ‘What do I care for that ?” says
he. ‘It brings me very good money, very good honour, the first respectability.
You don’t think it’s righteousness I am trading for, that I baptize Negroes
with poisoned rum for the sake of their “Salvation”! I leave that matter and
the “justification of slavery” to the Christian clergy. It is quite enough for
the merchant to make slaves. I leave it to the ministers to prove it is right.
You think I am aiming at “Heaven,” do you? You are very young, sir!’
But, say you, you are false to your natural obligations to do right, to speak
truly, to feel kind, and to be holy. ‘ Obligations of that sort | I know no such
obligations.” This is consciousness without a conscience. At least you must
fear the judgement passed against wrong in the next life P-say you, almost
driven to your last appeal. ‘But I know no next life,’ says he. ‘Here is the
present life; I am sure of that.” But at least you reverence God? ‘Not at
all,” says Mr Salem. ‘It is a world without a God.”
If a man starts with such a theory of the universe, and such principles of
practice, what can you say to him P Call on that man for heroism when the
country is in danger, and he creeps under the ovem. Call on him for charity
when the country is starving, and he sells bread for a dollar a pound. You
can get nothing from him but selfishness. An atheistic community could not
build a free school-house, or an alms-house, or a hospital,—only a jail.
Tell these men of some absolute right, of their immortal Soul: it is all a dream.
260 - PRACTICAL ATHEISM
Sometimes Practical Atheism gets into the pulpit as well as the pews, and
then it is tenfold more deadly : for it poisons the wells of society, and then
diffuses the contents abroad as the waters of life. It cries out, ‘Ho! every
One that thirsteth, come up here and be comforted in your sins.” Ask such a
man of that denomination to preach against any popular wickedness which
shakes the steeple over his head, and which jars the great Bible on his pulpit's
lid; ask him to preach against wickedness which turns one half his congrega-
tion into voluptuaries—victims of passion, and the other half into hunkers—
victims of ambition, and he only cries, ‘Save us, Good Lord!’ Tell him of
some noble excellence that is going abroad into society and is ready to be
struck down by the wickedness of the world, and ask him to speak only a word
in its favour over the cushions of his pulpit, and he mumbles, ‘Miserable
offenders : Save us, Good Lord!' That is all he can say. -
All these practically deny the Higher Law. I am not speaking of moment-
ary errors. You all know I am far more charitable than most men to all errors
of that sort. I know myself how easy it is to do wrong, how many depraved
things may be done without any depravity in the human heart. But Atheism
of this sort, disguised or undisguised,—I can not express the abhorrence and
loathing that I feel for the thing. Offences are one thing, but the theory
which makes offences, that is the baser thing.
Look about you and see how much there is, however, of Practical Atheism
not confessed to itself. The Sadducee comes forward and says, “There is no
angel, no resurrection l’ and men cry out, ‘Atheist away with him l’ The
Pharisee devours widows’ houses, and then struts into the temple, drops
with brassy ring his shekel into the public chest, and stands before the seven
golden candlesticks in the temple and prays, “God! I thank thee that I am
not as other men are, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican.
I fast twice in the week; I give tithes of all that I possess.’ Men cry out,
‘This is a Saint a great Christian º' and run over the poor widow who is
dropping into the alms-box her two mites, all the living that she has, and
tread her down. This Practical Social Atheism is the death of all heroism,
all manliness, all beauty, all love.
See this Practical Atheism in the political form, in the nation. The normal
motive of national union is the gregarious instinct and the social will, acting
in their larger modes of operation, and joining men by mutuality of interest
and mutuality of love. This is the foundation of all real patriotism. Then
the union will be for the sake of the universal good of all, and the particular
good of each. National institutions, constitutions, and statutes will be the
result of a national desire for what is useful to-day, and for what is absolutely
true, just, lovely, and holy. There will be a coördination of the particular
desire of Thomas and Jane, each seeking his own special good, in the action of
personal self-love; and of the general desire of the nation seeking the united
good of all in the joint action of self-love and of benevolence. All of this let
me represent by one word–Justice: a symbol alike of the transient and eter-
mal interests of both all and each. All national statutes will come from the
conscience of the nation, which aims to make them so as to conform with the
FRACTICAT, ATITETSM 26]
conscience of God, as that is shown in the constitution of the universe, in the
unchanging laws of human nature, which represent the justice and the love of
God. Then every statute will be a part of the intrinsic law of human nature
writ out in human speech, and laid down as a rule of conduct for men Every
such statute will be human and conventional in its form, but yet divine and
absolute in its substance, as all true science is the divine and absolute fact of
nature expressed in human speech. Then the reason for obeying the human
statutes will be the natural obligation to speak truly, do right, feel kind, and be
holy; for so far as the statutes of men represent the matural law of God, it
is moral and obligatory on all to observe them; but beyond this point obe-
dience to those statutes is obligatory on no man, but is immoral, unmanly, and
wicked. -
But the politics of Practical Atheism must be based on selfishness. As
selfishness prevails in the individual, establishing a personal anarchy of desires;
in the family, establishing a domestic anarchy of its members; in the com-
munity, establishing a social anarchy in the classes thereof: so it must prevail
in the State, establishing a national anarchy in its various parts. Politica}
morality is impossible in the atheistic State; there is only political economy,
which aims to provide merely for the selfishness of men. For by this hypo-
thesis there is a body without a soul, a here but no hereafter, a world without
a God. Men will be consciously held together by the mutual and universal re-
pulsion of selfishness, not at all by the mutual and universal attraction of
justice. All men will be natural enemies, joined by mutual hatred, huddled
together by want and fear. - -
Political Atheism is the exploitation of the people by the selfishness of the
king, the nobles, or the majority; all right must yield to might. There is no
moral element in the laws—in making, administering, or obeying them : for
Atheism itself knows no obligation, no duty, no right, only force and desire.
All government is a reign of terror.
In the atheistic State there must be another class. As the formal negation
of Atheism and the affirmation of the opposite thereof is one form of its prac-
tical profession, so the priesthood of Atheism, an atheistic clergy, is philo-
sophically as possible and historically as real as the monarchy, the aristocracy,
or the democracy of Atheism. The clergy will be the ally of the tyrant, the
enemy of the oppressed, of the poor, the ignorant, the servant, the serf, the
slave. In the name of the soul which it rejects, of the hereafter which it
denies, of the God which it derides, the atheistic Church will declare ‘There is
no law above the pleasure of IKing Monarch or King Many. Obey or be
damned P So in the atheistic State the atheistic Church will be supple to the
master and hate the slave, will cringe to power and abhor all which appeals to
the etermal right, will love empire and hate piety. Now it will praise royalty,
now nobility, now riches, now numbers, claiming always that the actual power
holds by divine right. This is the most odious form of Practical Political
Atheism, the negation of itself, the affirmation of its opposite, crushing man
while it whines out its litany, ‘Save us, Good Lord ' miserable offenders.”
Hobbes of Malmesbury was right when he said ‘Atheism is the best ally of
262 PRACTICAL ATHEISM
despotism”: for it denies the reality of justice, takes conscience out of human
consciousness, the soul out of the body, hereafter away from here, and dis-
misses God from the universe : selfishness the only motive, force the last
appeal. That politician was a crafty man who said of religion ‘in politics it
makes men mad,” for it bids them speak truly, do right, feel kind, and be
holy against the consent of Governments when they stand in its way. Alex-
ander at a feast slew Clitus, both drunk with Bacchic wine. One of the flat-
terers, not drunk, but sober, said—‘It is all right : there is no law above the
king.” That was Practical Political Atheism: the sober flatterer exalting a
drunken murderer above the Eternal God. The exceptional measure of a
king, raging with wine and anger, was made an universal principle for all time.
Here in this nation is much partial Practical Atheism in the political form.
Look at the corruption, the bribery of eminent men, sometimes detected,
acknowledged, and vindicated; at the conduct of political parties, no one seek-
ing to govern the nation for the joint good of all the citizens, only for
the peculiar good of the party in power; at the tyranny of the majority,
striking down the obvious right of the lesser number; at three million men
made slaves by the people of America :-what is it all but partial Practical
Atheism P I am glad political men boldly declare the speculative principle
which lies at the basis of their practical measures and tell the people ‘There
is no matural law above the statutes which men enact”; no God above King
Monarch, or King Many. I am glad they “define their position, all atheistic
as it is. Look at the political and clerical defences of the most enormous
public wickedness, and you see how deep this Practical Atheism has gone
down into the people, how widely it has spread. But the hope which I have
for this nation is built on the character of God and on the consciousness of
God in the people’s heart.
You may see how Practical Atheism must work in the form of general
human life, the life of the human race taken as a whole. Mankind is a family
of nations, amenable to the constitution of the universe, and normally to be
ruled by the laws of human nature, by justice, by the moral obligation to
speak truly, to do right, feel kind, and be holy. As the members in the body
form a harmonious person, as the individuals in a house form a harmonious
family, as the families in Society form a harmonious community, as the com-
munities in a nation form a harmonious State, so the nations on the earth are
to form a harmonious world, with human unity of action for all, with national
variety of action for each State, social variety of action for each community,
domestic for each family, and individual for each person. Justice is to be the
rule of conduct for individual, domestic, social, national, and general human
conduct. Thus the ideal of human life in these five forms will be attained and
made actual.
But Practical Atheism makes selfishness, material selfishness the motive,
and material desire the rule of conduct, for the nations which make up the
world, as for communities which compose the State, or for persons who join in
families.
So the world of Atheism, like its State, Society, family, and man, must be
IIISTORY OF THE MONTH 263
only an anarchy of conflicting elements, the strong plundering, enslaving, or
killing the weak. The proximate and ultimate appeal will be to force, now
force of body, then force of brain.
Speculative Atheism is a thing human nature revolts at. So of speculative
atheists, who have a full consciousness of complete Atheism, there are at most
but few ; I think not one. Practical Atheism would be just as impossible, if
one could be thoroughly conscious thereof. But, without knowing it, there
are men who thus act, and move, and live, and have their being, as if there
was no God, as if man had no soul, as if there was no special obligation to
speak truly, to do right, to feel kind, and to be holy. There are many
depraved things done which indicate no depravity in the man—excesses of
instinct not yet understood, errors of passion unfamed as yet, may, of ambition,
not knowing itself. But there are depraved things which come out of con-
scious and deliberate wickedness—the deliberate frauds of theology and trade,
and the confessed wrong in domestic, social, national, and general human
life. These are the fruits of Practical Atheism, though the nyan knows not
what tree it is which bears them.
HISTORY OF THE MONTH.
(From May 22nd to June 22nd.)
THE CRYSTAL PAILACE.
THE great marvel of the age, the new Crystal Palace at Sydenham, was opened
on the 10th of June. We should hardly be forgiven, if we did not speak of
this as the event of the month. But we will dare to differ from the Times as to
the immense additional importance of the Queen and her children witnessing
the opening, for all Sir Joseph Paxton and his fellow-officials went awkwardly
back-first down two flights of steps from the awful presence of royalty at a
show. Nevertheless the Palace is a great achievement: its mere size some-
thing to be proud of. A glass-hall nearly three-quarters of a mile long and
two hundred feet high The Monument might stand in one of its recesses.
The glass roof would cover twenty-five acres of ground. Of its contents, its
works of art, its displays of the natural and manufactured products of all
countries, its gardens, and its museums of curiosity and science,—a large
volume would be but briefest catalogue. A couple of paragraphs from the
Address of the projectors may give some idea of the magnificence of the place.
‘The educational object embraces a complete historical illustration of the arts of sculp-
ture and architecture from the earliest works of Egypt and Assyria down to modern
times, comprising casts of every celebrated statue in the world, and restorations of some
of its most remarkable monuments, - - - - .
264 IHISTORY OF THE MONTH
‘In Science, geology, ethnology, zoology, and botany receive appropriate illustrations,
the principle of which has been to combine scientific accuracy with popular effect, and in
its ultimate development the directors are bold enough to look forward to the Crystal
Palace of 1854 becoming an illustrated encyclopædia of this great and varied universe,
where every art and every science may find a place.”
And this is private enterprize. Well dome, industrious and daring capitalists :
I'very way well done ! I)oes it not show us also what might be done if a
whole nation was capitalist and contriver, if the ‘educational object’ was
really national. Then indeed the royalty of the People would worthily in-
augurate a great endeavour, and the prayer of the whole people bless its
glorious uprising. And when the choral thanksgiving ceased, no low moans
of neglected poverty would painfully fill up the pauses, nor proud hearts be
Saddened with complaints such as these :-
* June 10th, 1854. . . . . This week there is scarcely any work gave out. Next
week it is expected there will be nearly six hundred out of work’ (in one small town),
‘ and the greater part of the others will be on half-work. The miserable condition of
hundreds in — is beyond all description. There are numbers who live almost
entirely on a little Tice boiled in water two or three times a day. As for myself and
family, we get a little bread, though not half enongh, and with a few Peas, which I con-
sider better than rice, we have managed to keep life within us.’
O, think iſ this is all a nation needs: Private Interprize in its Crystal Palace
and our workmen so uncared for Is this the righteous Commonwealth P
THE WAR.
What shall we say of the war P That Ingland is betrayed and sold by our
Ministry, for all the foolishly echoed plaudits of the journals that chronicle the
taking a few merchantmen as naval victories, that make a special report (the
Times did so) of picking up a Russian helmet. ‘Hango has been bombarded
without success.” This is Baltic news. Odessa was bombarded with such success
that the Russians remained there as masters, and so were handy to make a
prize of the Tiger, running aground some few days after the successful bom-
bardment. This is Lord Aberdeen’s war. Is the appointment of a new War
Minister of much value while he is Premier P Beyond this shameful dilatori-
mess, which looks fit prelude to intended infamy, there is actually nothing to
report. Sebastopol and Cronstadt have not been ventured upon. It is still
'foggy”—both there and here. The French and English contingents are ‘going’
to raise the siege of Silistria. Austria “is going’ to ally with and betray us.
Or, if England and France will not go home again when Nicholas gives us his
word ‘as a gentleman’ to back out of the Principalities for the present, Austria
and Prussia will join the injured Tzar. And Austria ‘has allied' with Turkey,
so that she may occupy the Principalities as a friend. Is it too soon, since Eng-
lishmen are asleep, for Polish Republicans, even without leave of the English
journals, to try and rouse us. Last month we spoke of their beginning at
Birmingham. On the 5th of June Sheffield, and on the 12th Nottingham,
followed the good example : Kossuth standing beside his Polish friends—not
the Czartoryski faction—to insist upon the one plain common sense policy of
HISTORY OF THE MONTH 265
the war, the utter repudiation of any alliance with Austria (who neither can
nor would be true against Russia), and the immediate establishment of Poland
in its integrity. Twenty thousand men of Sheffield agreed to this; and at
Nottingham, says the Times, a great multitude of working people, but ‘very
few influential men.” If so, more shame for the influential men' Working
men have some influence, if they will use it. If her Majesty’s Government
dared to poll the sense of England, they would find the people knows what
should be the real purpose of the war. The Queen’s Ministers do not want to
know. Let us inform them and insist upon an honest issue.
KOSSUTH AT SHIEFFIELD
Has taken his true place, beside his Polish friends, in the van of the repub-
lican army. And his words—would we could give every one—are worthy of
his place. Let him judge of their effect upon true men, by the bitter ani-
mosity of the Times. Speak again, thou that camst speak and win this slow-
natured but sure-hearted English Nation to the cause of Poland, Hungary,
and Europe. Never mind the diplomatists or their scribbling tools. Here are
some of the most prominent passages of the speech in the Music Hall at
Sheffield.
This question between Russia and Turkey has not sprung up in a night. It remounts
to centuries: to the defeat of Charles XII at Pultawa, and to the escape of Peter I, by
aid of the blandishments and diamonds of Catherine, at Talezi on the Pruth, in 1711.
The partial conquests from Turkey, the subjugation of the Tartars of the Crimea, the
dismemberment of Poland, the tearing of Finland from Sweden, Napoleon’s campaign in
1812, the occupation of Moldo-Wallachia in '48, and the invasion of Hungary in ’49,
are all acts of the same drama. From the time that Russia commenced to grow, it be-
came an hereditary maxim of Western policy that the independence of Turkey is neces-
sary to Europe. Yet England and France committed the mistake not to comprehend
that a free Poland and a free Hungary, in their turn, are indispensable, as well for the
independence of Turkey as also for that higher European aim for which the independence
of Turkey is thought to be necessary. Instead of comprehending that truth, they fell
into the error of thinking that the despotic ruler of the anomalous compound called col-
lectively Austria has to act as a barrier against the preponderance of Russia. And from
this error Austria become the pet of England’s Ministers and Parliament, not of the people.
Which is right—Government or People : that is the present question. If
Poland still existed and Hungary were free, neither the existence of Turkey would be in
danger nor Russia overpowerful. Why, so help Poland and Hungary to be what they
ought to be, and your point is gained; if not, not. There is no shuffling away the
inexorable logic of history. There is the finger of the Almighty in it. Not to have
earlier weighed the logic of these facts is the fault which now lies heavily on you, like a
curse. You have now to atone for it by torrents of blood and by immumerable millions;
and unless you do acknowledge that fault and act accordingly—let my words be well
marked, because they will be justified by coming events—all your blood will be shed in
vain, and the sacrifice of your millions will be of no avail.
. . . . As no fault escapes punishment, England herself must suffer retribution.
The English Ministers advised Turkey in '48, when the Tzar violated the Turkish ter-
ritory, “not to come into any collision with its stronger neighbours for the maintenance
266, HISTORY OF THE MONTH
of its neutrality.’ When Russia intervened against Hungary, the English Government
officially declared that ‘Her Majesty's Government had not considered the occasion to
be one which had called for any formal expression of the opinion of Great Britain on the
matter.’ Why, the imperious necessity of the present war shows that, not from any
compassion for Hungary, but in the interest of England, it would have been the duty of
your Government to prevent that encroachment upon Europe by all means; instead of
this, it had “no opinion to express on the subject.’ This was a manifest encouragement
—it was a charter of impunity granted to the Tzar for encroaching upon the liberties of
Europe. And you are now wondering that the Tzar finds somewhat strange and unex-
pected the tender solicitude of England for what they now call the independence of
mations ! He had done equal, nay, worse things in the same line (think of Poland and
Hungary 1) and met not only no opposition from England, but met rather the encourag-
ing assurance that ‘ Great Britain has no opinion to express on the matter.” And yet
that danger, and with it the present war, could have been prevented without any saeri-
fice on your part. At an early period of our struggle, yet when abready the danger of
Russian encroachment was evident, I sent a Government agent to London to apply for
the mediation of England. What was the answer of your Government to my applica”
tion ? ‘Her Majesty’s Government can receive no communications respecting Hungary
but through the diplomatic organ of the Emperor of Austria at this Court. Tid I ask
your money? Did I ask your blood? Not one penny, not one drop ; only one word—
a word which, without the expense of one English shilling, the sacrifice of one drop of
English blood, would have spared you the present war. That word was refused ; they
sent us insultingly to the Austrian Minister. Only please to consider how that mis-
chievous fault embarrasses England’s course already at this very moment. If there ever
was a truth striking beyond any doubt—incontestable—it is the truth that, except Fin-
land, it is only in Poland and by Poland that Russia is vulnerable. Bombarding Odessa,
Sebastopol, Cronstadt, taking Russian prizes, burning the Russian fleets (if you can come
at them) may, burning St Petersburg itself: all this may be very noisy, good food for the
newspapers, but it is merely a palliative—nothing of a permanent effect. The Russians
might, perhaps, themselves burn St Petersburg, as they have burnt Moscow ; you will
not be the better by it. If your purpose is to fight Russian despotism, if your aim is to
check Russian ascendancy and to reduce Russian preponderance, it is in Poland, it is by
Poland, that you must act, or else you will never attain your aim—no, never ! To you
the resurrection of Poland is not an act of compassion, lurking somewhere behind the
screen of diplomatic transactions at the end of the war; to you the resurrection of
Toland is an urgent, pressing, strategical, tactical necessity of this very moment; to you
the resurrection of Poland is not only a rational aim in the present war—it is also an
indispensable means for attaining any rational aim at all. Now, you are at war with
Russia; therefore it is certainly not from any fond indulgence for Russia that England
does not yet do what justice, right expiation of former faults, and the wisdom of present
necessities, advise her to do. Such an indulgence for an enemy would be weakness bor-
dering on collusion, madness bordering on ridicule. Then, how is it that these gentlemen
here (pointing to the Polish refugees present) have still to stand pleading the cause of
Poland before a Sheffield audience, instead of being landed from on board English war-
steamers in Samogitia, and calling from native soil, ‘Brave Poland 1 to resurrection and
liberty l’ Beforewarned, people of England be forewarmed. Look to history: there,
in the mirror of the past, thine own future is daguerreotyped. -
tº You have been taught that Napoleon was defeated by Generals Frost and
Famine. No 1 he was defeated by having taken Austria and Prussia for allies. The
HISTORY OF THE MONTH 267
idea of reducing Russia's power has no meaning without a reconstructed Poland. Would
you think that Napoleon, with his comprehensive genius, did not understand this truth?
Certainly he did. How, then, did it happen that he advanced against Russia without
having at the very onset reconstructed the Polish nation ? Why, that neglect was a
fatal, but necessary, corollary of his unnatural alliance with Austria and Prussia. The
neglect of reconstructing Poland brought famine upon and made frost a ruin to Napoleon.
Mark this striking lesson of history well. You are in the same predicament: the situa-
tion is the same—the conditions indispensable to success are the same—the danger of
unnatural alliances the same ; the only difference in the situation is that Russia has
grown stronger in the meanwhile, partly by your own fault, and that you have not, like
him, an army of 600,000 men in the field. -
. . . Really, gentlemen to no people ever has the course to be followed been
more clearly traced by precedents than to England on the present occasion. All you
want is to fix in your minds, with scrupulous precision, the aim which you desire to
attain by this war. Be not content to shout—‘We fight for freedom—we fight against
despotism—we fight for justice—we fight for the liberties of Europe l’ That’s all very
well said; but, if your national policy does not answer that saying, it is mere “lip-
worship.” Liberty is a high and sacred name ; still, not so high and sacred as the name
of the Almighty, and yet this very name is often taken in vain. Define what you mean
by that liberty which you mean to fight for. Have you defined this P. Then you can
but come to the same conclusions to which I come, and these are the following —If you
mean to fight for the rights and independence of nations, you can not side with Austria.
Austria is the impersonified violation of the rights and independence of nations. I do
not say ‘Reconstruct Poland’; I say, ‘Help Poland to reconstruct itself.” To adjourn
the question to some future diplomatic manufacture at the end of the war would be a
gross mistake. It would compromise not only the issue, but also the success of the
military operations during the war. Beside, who knows how matters will stand at the
end, should England neglect the means indispensable to success P Help Poland.
Now I know, backed by some English statesmen even, there are some pre-
tended diplomatists with Polish names who are now fawning on Austria at Constan-
tinople, with the purpose of gaining her over to their scheme of patching up some of the
quartered limbs of Poland—I don’t know for what aim. Such an idea of patching up
one portion of Poland might suit some personal or party purposes, but the idea is
neither Polish nor national. We all have heard of Poland being partitioned by foreign
Powers; but, I trust to Polish honour, we shall never hear that the Polish nation has
lent her own suicidal hands to partition her own body. No 1 Poland only can be Poland.
The war is popular with the people of England on the account that they
believe they are fighting for freedom. Farther, you want the support of public opinion
abroad. You will lose it if you decide for despotic Austria, because he who fights side
by side with Austria fights for Austria, and to fight for Austria is to fight against liberty.
Again, you want, if not the co-operation, at least the good will of the Christian pro-
vinces of Turkey, and chiefly of the gallant Servians. Now, mark well the fact: if you
draw Austria to yourself, you will drive Servia and Bulgaria, probably also Wallachia,
to the Tzar. No European statesman who pretends to know anything about the real
condition of the world can doubt of the fact that in all those provinces Austria is far
more hated than Russia. I want not to reason about this subject. I can point to the
official declaration of the Servian Government, addressed to Redschid Pasha, April
17, 1854.
268 EIISTORY OF THE MONTIf
Last, not least, what you want is the alliance of Sweden. Among all the
existing Governments there is none the alliance of which would be more matural and
equally advantageous to you than that of heroic Sweden. What is it you want in order
to secure this P You want to give Sweden a palpable pledge that you are in earnest in your
intention of reducing the overwhelming power of Russia, so as not to leave Sweden ex-
posed to the vengeance of an overpowerful neighbour. This is no vain apprehension.
Once already Sweden has trusted to England, and held out to the last with you in your
worst days, and England has left her in the mire in reward. It sanctioned the loss of
Finland. Now, I ask you how can England give brave Sweden such a pledge? Is it
by bombarding Odessa, Sebastopol, and Cronstadt P This you may do to-day, and make
your peace to-morrow with the Tzar and leave Sweden exposed to his avenging grasp.
There is only one way, gentlemen : call Poland to arms. Thus you will have given a
pledge that you are serious in reducing the overwhelming power of Russia. Without
that pledge, King Oscar will have thrice to reflect before retrusting his fortunes to England.
º , And as to the danger of seeing Austria siding with the Tzar, there is not the
slightest danger in that direction. If the dynasty of Austria be against you, the nations
subject to Austrian oppression and panting for deliverance will be with you. The danger
is quite the other way. Suppose that Austria could dare to join you against the Tzar, her
redeemer. He will address himself to some nationalities, and offer his and claim their
concurrence for punishing Austria. A strange concurrence, you will say: strange, in-
deed! I tremble at the very idea of its possibility; but not a bit stranger than England
claiming the credit of fighting for the freedom of Europe, and yet allying herself to
despotic Austria. Despotism here and despotism there. Will you think it so strange
that, if driven by England’s impolicy, there will be no choice left but to draw a com-
parison between Russian and Austrian despotism? There is the real danger.
My argument has been that the alliance of Austria with England would be
subversive of any aim which England might rationally contemplate by the present war.
The most dangerous of alliances is that which must prove a sheer embarrassment in case
of victory, must prove a certain danger and ruin in case of defeat.
IIIARS AND SHUFFLERS.
The Times of the 3d of June furnishes another scandalous example of the
utter contempt for truth which distinguishes the political writers in that
journal. The Liar who acts as Times’ ‘own correspondent’ in Paris, supplying
an account of the arrest of Sergeant Boichot, takes occasion for half a column
of calumnious misrepresentations: to the effect that the French Republican
Committees are in league with Russia, Some of them even selling their col-
leagues,—that in the Russian interest Boichot was sent to debauch the army,
&c. “The three committees of London, Jersey, and Brussels met simul-
taneously, and resolved to send each its own delegate.” . That is the exact
style of the article, with generous interspersings such as the following:—
* Boichot is in custody; and, as he has been already condemned par conſumace
for participation in one of the numerous manifestations that took place during
the republican period—I believe the celebrated one of the Conservatoire des
Arts et Métiers—it is probable that the sentence will be now executed, and
that he will be transported.’ The whole article is worthy of the Times. With
the exception of the bare fact of the arrest (even that, too, wrongly dated)
there is not an atom of truth in it from first to last, And, of course, follow-
IHISTORY OF THE MONTII - 269
ing the established line of conduct, Mr Morris, the editor of these daily lies,
refuses the rectifications addressed to him by M. Felix Pyat.
But other journalists seem desirous of apeing the rascally “Thunderer.” Mr
Duffy in the Nation (though he has the blindness of papistical prejudice to
plead in his extenuation) echoes the Times’ slanders against Mazzini; the
“ultra-liberal’ Leader reiterates the Times’ calumny of Russian gold, even
against Russian Republicans with whom the editor of the Leader is personally
acquainted; the Morning Advertiser repeats the same vile story; and the
Advertiser and Evaminer, writing bitterly against Austria one day, on the next
assail the democratic Poles and Kossuth, because they are not exactly in the
Whig interest, or because our liberal journals are earwhiged by some Deadly
Stuart. In even the liberal journals some clique with its low party purpose
shuffles the leading articles; and it is well if the most liberal of them abstains
from the blackguard policy of the Advertiser, which assails the Poles, mutilates
their defence, and then repeats the attack to ‘close the correspondence.”
THE AUSTRO-PRUSSIAN TREATY.
* Apparently directed against Russia, however pleasantly foisted into a French and
English Protocol, this treaty is really pointed against France and England. It tells
them plainly that the aim of the German Powers is solely and exclusively to get the
Russians out of the Principalities, and in mowise either to permit or take other gua-
rantees against them. Let General Camrobert and Lord Raglan drive Paskiewitsch
behind the Pruth, and thenceforward Austria and Prussia, no longer the negative
antagonists of Russia, become its active allies.
* This, them, is what we have to guard against. The danger now is that the war
should terminate, after the fashion of the diplomacy that preceded it, in a fiasco. Such
a result would recoil upon the Governments of the West in a way to shake their strength
and credit far more than any loss of fleets or battles.
‘They have now, however, timely warning. The Berlin treaty puts an end to all the
fine hopes that were built upon the Emperor of Austria's sudden levies of 95,000 men.
To the command of those levies, it will be remembered, it was made matter of much
marvel that Schlick and another general, both noted for their attachment to Russia,
should have been named. Of course, as things turn out, they were the exact generals to
take such a command. In precisely the same spirit the Prussian War Minister was dis-
missed. The whole thing is a mock defiance. Under pretence of a hostile summons to
force the Tzar from the Principalities, it is a friendly artifice to help him out of them.
Even in arming, these German Powers have no purpose but to deceive. They have
done nothing, from first to last, that has not been a sham and a pretence.
“But surely all confidence in them must come to an end, now that their position is
clearly defined. They have come forward at last, but it is only to succour Russia in her
distress, it is only to pretend to impose on her a forbearance which they very well know
it to be now her policy and her necessity to adopt of her own accord. Let us hope that
they may at last, also, be made to feel how fully France and England understand their
pusillanimity and dishonesty. Greatly should we regret if any assent has already been
given to Austria’s proposal to occupy Montenegro and a portion of either Bosnia or
Albania. We might just as well allow the King of Prussia to garrison Athens and hold
it for the interests of his imperial brother-in-law, the Tzar. A well-timed official state-
270 HISTORY OF THE MONTH
ment has just issued from Servia, fully exhibiting the duplicity of Austria, and expressing
a fixed resolve to resist any occupation by the troops of that power,’—Eraminer, May 27.
‘We have never much trumpeted the value of Austrian help, because we could never
believe that it would be heartily given. But we should be madmen to reject it, as M.
Kossuth tells us that we must, though it should come to us now at the eleventh hour.
Such ravings as those of M. Kossuth,’ &c.—Eacaminer, June 10th. .
The meaning of which change of tone is that Kossuth goes too far away from
the Whig drawing-rooms where ‘the Evaminer’ meets Lords Aberdeen and
Stuart and Prince Adam Czartoryski. The Evaminer can write well enough else.
TRINCE ADAM CZARTORYSKI.
(From the Polish Democrat of May 15, 1854.)
“It is now twenty years since the Polish Emigration, by a spontaneous col-
lective act, subscribed by 2,998 members, deemed it necessary to declare pub-
licly that Adam Czartoryski, ex-Muscovite Minister of State, not only did not
possess the Emigration’s confidence, but was considered as Poland’s enemy;
but as, notwithstanding, Adam Czartoryski, taking advantage of the prolonga-
tion of the Polish nation’s bondage and the triumph of its enemies, dares now
again come forth in the name of Poland, the Polish Emigration, therefore, as
the natural and legitimate representative of the Polish nation before the other
nations, deems it necessary to publicly renew the act of condemnation of 1834.
against the said Adam Czartoryski, adding to it new signatures.’ This is
signed by 3,076 Poles. -
MISCELLANEOUS.
No newspaper correspondent is to be permitted to accompany our armies.
Of course, England is to be kept dark.”
Dark enough even with the correspondence. Since we and our good ally
Napoleon have occupied Greece, the Times can quote Lord Clarendon to prove
that the insurrection was ‘caused by the corruption and neglect of the Turkish
authorities.’ Taxes enforced before due from a starving population, ‘villages
entirely laid waste by the Turks; old men, helpless infants and females tor-
tured and slain in a manner too brutal to describe’; yet the Greeks were
“altogether wrong’ in rebelling; and it was only the ‘Tzar’s gold’ that
caused their rebellion. So dust was thrown in English eyes, because the out-
break was inopportune for the schemes of the Russo-English Ministry. -
Mr Disraeli has corrected himself. At the opening of the session, he ac-
cused the Ministers of credulity or connivance in their Russian transactions.
He accuses them now of credulity and connivance. He is right.
By an order in Council, dated the 8th of June, 1854, her Majesty, by virtue
of the powers vested in her by the Foreign Deserters’ Act, 1852, has been
pleased to order and declare that, from and after the publication thereof in the
London Gazette, ‘seamen, not being slaves, and not being British subjects, who
shall desert from merchant ships belonging to the subjects of the King of
Hanover, within her Majesty’s dominions or the territories of the East India
Company, shall be liable to be apprehended and carried on board their
respective ships.” The next thing may be to give up political refugees as
HISTORY OF THE MONTH 271
deserters. They are very quietly drawing the net around us. Then hurrah
for European Despotism—absolute and constitutional, continental and Ecglish /
The military stock is at last abolished. It was not too soon. One military
man, writing to the papers, speaks of thirty-one deaths occasioned by it within
his knowledge. Only thirty-one men strangled for the sake of tailor-colonels'
That too was a British institution. Now all are going—parish stocks and
army stocks and the Stocks themselves, it may be, next. O British Constitu-
tion O altar ! and O throne ! what will become of you ?
The Law Times exposes one of our many legal anomalies. Two persons were
indicted at the Central Criminal Court for a conspiracy to defraud by selling
an adulterated article. The law recognizes the conspiracy as the offence. Had
each adulterated on his own account, they would have been scatheless. “Thus,
according to our much-vaunted criminal law, it is a crime to plan a fraud, but
not a crime to execute it.’
A knotty case has puzzled the learned Barons of the Exchequer Courts. A
contractor has been convicted of supplying the poor of a parish with short-
weight of bread. The difficult question is (we quote Lord Campbell) whether
the pauper could be supposed to represent the public.” If not, the conviction
must be quashed : as the offence is defrauding the public. “The judges retired
for a short time, and then stated that the point was of such importance that
they considered it should be fully argued before all the judges, next term.’
It is yet, too, matter of legal uncertainty whether the Crown, which claims
all land below high-water mark, can claim from the mark of the ordinary or
that of the extraordinary tide. A suit is now going on decide the question.
The Jew Bill, new-modeled by Lord John Russel to include Catholics, has
been again thrown out. There is one way to overcome this stupid oath
system: for a large constituency to elect a Jew and pertinaciously insist upon
the admission of their representative. Some other difficulties might be got
over in the same way.
Two parishioners of Ringwood, Hants, labourers, earning less than 9s. 6d. a
week each, and each having a wife and two children entirely dependent on him
for support, were arrested on the 24th of April, hand-cuffed together, though
offering no resistance, and, after being kept in hold till next day, conveyed to
Winchester gaol. There they were treated as felons—stripped, washed,
clothed in the prison dress, allowed no communication with their friends even
by letter, and kept in continual confinement in a cell measuring 9ft. by 5, with
the exception of about an hour daily for exercize, during which they were
compelled to wear a mask. They state that they were subjected to this
degradation because they were utterly unable to pay the church-rates demanded
of them—ls. 9d. and ls, 10}d. They are now at liberty in consequence of a
public subscription having settled the matter. God bless this land of liberty
Labourers are not so treated in the Papal States.
Churchmen themselves begin to complain of church-rates. Nay, the very
clergy join the cry. A “Poor Incumbent,’ writing to the Times, adds another .
grievance—" the heavy impositions levied on the incumbents of poor livings on
presentation to a benefice.’ More than £30 this Poor Incumbent had to pay
272 HISTORY OF THE MONTH
for induction, &c. to his living of £200 a year. ‘The mere licensing to my
first curacy of £40 a year cost me a fee of £5 to some “esquire” of a bishop's
secretary.’ Hawks might spare hawks’ eyes.
And people are wicked enough to be married out of ‘the poor man’s church.”
‘Madame Green,” a Protestant Sister of Mercy, has been ferreting out such folk
in and about Frome. Some consent at her instigation to be married over again,
thinking perhaps, like the old woman who went to every confirmation, that the
ceremony ‘might be good for the rheumatiz.” Mistress Green calls upon a
woman whose child is dying. Is it baptized P Alas! no. Then the Sister
of Mercy informs the mother it must go to hell. Such a child of perdition
must have a sinful mother. ‘Were you ever married, my good woman P
Ah, only at a dissenting chapel. I thought so. Just no marriage at all; you
are living in fornication.” The Protestant Sister’s very words ! You’re just a
W till you get good Mr Bennett (late of S. Barnabas, Pimlico, now incum-
brance of Frome) to marry you properly. The wicked woman had spirit
enough to order the “Sister’ from her doors. This is the Reformed Church.
The Nottingham carpenters out on strike are threatened by the Times with
the prospect, “as an alternative, that our mechanists may be called upon to
solve the problem of reducing human coöperation to the Smallest possible
extent.’ The human tools should look out in time.
And this from a letter to the Times about ‘rattening” at Sheffield may
exemplify the other side of our industrial arrangements. Be careful, most
moderate Reformer lest you disturb the ‘order of society.”
* Within the last few weeks there have been no less than five cases of “rattening,” or,
in other words, attempted destruction of machinery by means of bottles or canisters of
gunpowder thrown into premises in the might. The same thing has been going om for y(ars.
Now, Sir, these outrages are never known to occur except in cascs where there is some
trades’ union dispute. And secondly, the secrecy necessary to their fulfilment is so well
maintained, that rewards offered for the discovery of the authors utterly fail. The know-
ledge of the actual perpetrators of the deeds is confined to very few persons, and these
keep so accurate a watch over each other, and are of so desperate a character, that
treachery would almost as a certainty lead to murder. I can only call to mind one case
where the offering of a reward has led to the conviction of the offenders; but I remem-
ber a case where £1,000 was offered, and in vain. Sir, it is a fact that some of our
most respectable manufacturers have marrrowly escaped destruction.
During the past year £250,658 has been spent by Government for the edu-
cation of the people. From 1839 to ’53 inclusive the amount has been
£1,306,948. £250,000 was voted on the 10th of June to defray the expences
of prosecutions at assizes and quarter sessions. The annual cost of the Irish
constabulary is £550,000.
The Nebraska Bill has passed the United States Senate. Another triumph
for the slaveholders who are squatting by shoals in their new territory.
Another fugitive slave has been seized in Boston, and this time, we hope, (the
case is pending while we write) the righteous sovereignty of the people will
trample down the infamous law. We shall have something to say of this next
month. Events scem hastening. The curse of Tyranny shall not last for ever,
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() F E D U C A T I () N.
TO MASTER SAMUEL HAIRTIII?,
MASTER HARTLIB,
I AM long since persuaded, that to say or do aught worth memory and imita-
tion, no purpose or respect should sooner move us than simply the love of
God and of mankind. Nevertheless to write now the reforming of education,
though it be one of the greatest and noblest designs that can be thought on,
and for the want whereof this nation perishes, I had not yet at this time been
induced, but by your earnest entreaties and serious conjurements; as having
my mind for the present half diverted in the pursuance of some other asser-
tions, the knowledge and the use of which can not but be a great furtherance
both to the enlargement of truth and honest living with much more peace.
Nor should the laws of any private friendship have prevailed with me to divide
thus, or transpose my former thoughts, but that I see those aims, those
actions, which have won you with me the esteem of a person sent hither by
Some good providence from a far country to be the occasion and incitement of
great good to this island. And, as I hear, you have obtained the same repute
with men of most approved wisdom, and some of the highest authority among
us; not to mention the learned correspondence which you hold in foreign
parts, and the extraordinary pains and diligence which you have used in this
matter both here and beyond the seas, either by the definite will of God so
ruling, or the peculiar sway of mature, which also is God’s working. Neither
can I think that so reputed and so valued as you are, you would, to the forfeit
of your own discerning ability, impose upon me an unfit and overponderous
argument; but that the satisfaction, which you profess to have received from
those incidental discourses which we have wandered into, hath pressed and
almost constrained you into a persuasion, that what you require from me on
this point, I neither ought nor can in conscience defer beyond this time both
of so much need at once, and so much opportunity to try what God hath
determined. I will not resist therefore whatever it is, either of divine or
human obligement, that you lay upon me; but will forthwith set down in
Writing, as you request me, that voluntary idea, which hath long in silence
presented itself to me, of a better education, in extent and comprehension far
more large, and yet of time far shorter, and of attainment far more certain,
than hath been yet in practice. Brief I shall endeavour to be : for that which
I have to say, assuredly this nation hath extreme need should be done sooner
than spoken. To tell you therefore what I have benefited herein among old
renowned authors, I shall spare ; and to search what many modern Januas
and Didactics, more than ever I shall read, have projected, my inclination
274 - OF EDUCATION
leads, me not. But if you can accept of these few observations which have
flowered off, and are as it were the burnishing of many studious and contem-
plative years altogether spent in the search of religious and civil knowledge, and
such as pleased you so well in the relating, I here give you them to dispose of.
The end then of learning is to repair the ruins of our first parents by regain-
ing to know God aright, and out of that knowledge to love him, to imitate him,
to be like him, as we may the nearest by possessing our Souls of true virtue,
which being united to the heavenly grace of faith, makes up the highest per-
fection. But because our understanding can not in this body found itself but
on sensible things, nor arrive so clearly to the knowledge of God and things
invisible, as by orderly conning over the visible and inferior creature, the same
method is necessarily to be followed in all discreet teaching. And seeing
every nation affords not experience and tradition enough for all kind of learn-
ing, therefore we are chiefly taught the languages of those people who have at
any time been most industrious after wisdom; so that language is but the
instrument conveying to us things useful to be known. And though a linguist
should pride himself to have all the tongues that Babel cleft the world into,
yet if he have not studied the solid things in them as well as the words and
lexicons, he were nothing so much to be esteemed a learned man, as any yeo-
man or tradesman competently wise in his mother dialect only. Hence appear
the many mistakes which have made learning generally so unpleasing and So
unsuccessful; first, we do amiss to spend seven or eight years merely in scrap-
ing together so much miserable Latin and Greek, as might be learned other-
wise easily and delightfully in one year. And that which casts our proficiency
therein so much behind, is our time lost partly in too oft idle vacancies given
both to schools and universifies; partly in a preposterous exaction, forcing the
empty wits of children to compose themes, verses, and orations, which are the
acts of ripest judgment, and the final work of a head filled by long reading and
observing, with elegant maxims and copious inventions. These are not matters
to be rung from poor striplings, like blood out of the nose, or the plucking of
untimely fruit; besides the ill habit which they get of wretched barbarizing
against the Latin and Greek idiom, with their untutored Anglicisms, odious to
be read, yet not to be avoided without a well-continued and judicious convers-
ing amongst pure authors digested, which they scarce taste : whereas, if after
Some preparatory grounds of speech by their certain forms got into memory,
they were led to the praxis thereof in some chosen short book lessoned thoroughly
to them, they might then forthwith proceed to learn the substance of good
things, and arts in due order, which would bring the whole language quickly
into their power. This I take to be the most rational and most profitable way
of learning languages, and whereby we may best hope to give account to God
of our youth spent herein. And for the usual method of teaching arts, I deem
it to be an old errour of universities, not yet well recovered from the scholastic
grossness of barbarous ages, that instead of beginning with arts most easy,
(and those be such as are most obvious to the sense,) they present their young
unmatriculated movices at first coming with the most intellective abstractions
of logic and metaphysics; so that they having but newly left those grammatic
&OF ED'UCATION 275
flats and shallows where they stuck unreasonably to learn a few words with
lamentable construction, and now on the sudden transported under another
climate to be tossed and turmoiled with their unballasted wits in fathomless
and umquiet deeps of controversy, do for the most part grow into hatred and
contempt of learning, mocked and deluded all this while with ragged notions
and babblements, while they expected worthy and delightful knowledge; till
poverty or youthful years call them importunately their several ways, and
hasten them with the sway of friends either to an ambitious and mercenary, or
ignorantly zealous divinity; some allured to the trade of law, grounding their
purposes not on the prudent and heavenly contemplation of justice and equity,
which was never taught them, but on the promising and pleasing thoughts
of litigious terms, fat contentions, and flowing fees; others betake them to
state affairs, with Souls so unprincipled in virtue and true generous breeding,
that flattery and court-shifts and tyrannous aphorisms appear to them the
highest points of wisdom; instilling their barren hearts with a consciencious
slavery ; if, as I rather think, it be not feigned. Others, lastly, of a more
delicious and airy spirit, retire themselves (knowing no better) to the enjoy-
ments of ease and luxury, living out their days in feast and jollity; which
indeed is the wisest and the safest course of all these, unless they were with
more integrity undertaken. And these are the errours, and these are the fruits
of misspending our prime youth at the schools and universities as we do, either
in learning mere words, or such things chiefly as were better unlearned.
I shall detain you now no longer in the demonstration of what we should
not do, but straight conduct you to a hill-side, where I will point you out the
right path of a virtuous and noble education; laborious indeed at the first
ascent, but else so Smooth, so green, so full of goodly prospect, and melodious
Sounds on every side, that the harp of Orpheus was not more charming. I
doubt not but ye shall have more ado to drive our dullest and laziest youth,
our stocks and stubs, from the infinite desire of such a happy nurture, than wo
have now to hale and drag our choicest and hopefullest wits to that asinine feast
of sowthistles and brambles, which is commonly set before them as all the food
and entertainment of their tenderest and most docile age. I call therefore a
complete and generous education, that which fits a man to perform justly,
skilfully, and magnanimously all the offices, both private and public, of peace
and war. And how all this may be done between twelve and one and twenty,
less time than is now bestowed in pure trifling at grammar and sophistry, is to
be thus ordered.
First, to find out a spacious house and ground about it fit for an academy,
and big enough to lodge a hundred and fifty persons, whereof twenty or there-
about may be attendants, all under the government of one, who shall be thought
of desert sufficient, and ability either to do all, or wisely to direct and oversee
it dome. This place should be at once both school and university, not needing
a remove to any other house of scholarship, except it be some peculiar college
of law, or physic, where they mean to be practitioners; but as for those general
studies which take up all our time from Lilly to commencing, as they term it,
master of art, it should be absolute. After this patterm, as many ediſices may
276 OF EDU CATION
be converted to this use as shall be needful in every city throughout this land,
which would tend much to the increase of learning and civility every where.
This number, less or more, thus collected, to the convenience of a foot com-
pany, or interchangeably two troops of cavalry, should divide their day’s work
into three parts as it lies orderly; their studies, their exercise, and their diet.
For their studies; first, they should begin with the chief and necessary rules
of some good grammar, either that now used, or any better; and while this is
doing, their speech is to be fashioned to a distinct and clear pronunciation, as
near as may be to the Italian, especially in the vowels. For we Englishmen
being far northerly, do not open our mouths in the cold air wide enough to
grace a southern tongue; but are observed by all other nations to speak ex-
ceeding close and inward; so that to smatter Latin with an English mouth, is
as ill a hearing as law French. Next, to make them expert in the usefullest
points of grammar; and withal to season them and win them early to the love
of virtue and true labour, ere any flattering seducement or vain principle seize
them wandering, some easy and delightful book of education would be read to
them ; whereof the Greeks have store, as Cebes, Plutarch, and other Socratic
discourses. But in Datin we have none of classic authority extant, except the
two or three first books of Quintilian, and some select pieces elsewhere. ISut
here the main skill and groundwork will be, to temper them such lectures and
explanations upon every opportunity, as may lead and draw them in willing
obedience, enflamed with the study of learning, and the admiration of virtue;
stirred up with high hopes of living to be brave men, and worthy patriots, dear
to God, and famous to all ages. That they may despise and scorn all their
childish and ill-taught qualities, to delight in manly and liberal exercises; which
he who hath the art and proper eloquence to catch them with, what with mild
and effectual persuasions, and what with the intimation of some fear, if need
be, but chiefly by his own example, might in a short space gain them to an in-
credible diligence and courage; infusing into their young breasts such an
ingenuous and noble ardour, as would not fail to make any of them renowned
and matchless men. At the same time, some other hour of the day, might be
taught them the rules of arithmetic, and soon after the elements of geometry,
even playing, as the old manner was. After evening repast, till bed-time, their
thoughts would be best taken up in the easy grounds of religion, and the story
of Scripture. The next step would be to the authors of agriculture, Cato,
Varro, and Columella, for the matter is most easy; and if the language be
difficult, so much the better, it is not a difficulty above their years. And here
will be an occasion of inciting, and enabling them hereafter, to improve the
tillage of their country, to recover the bad soil, and to remedy the waste that
is made of good; for this was one of Hercules’ praises. Ere half these authors
be read (which will soon be with plying hard and daily) they can not choose but
be masters of any ordinary prose. So that it will be then seasonable for them
to learn in any modern author the use of the globes, and all the maps; first
with the old mames, and them with the new ; or they might be then capable to
read any compendious method of natural philosophy. And at the same time
might be entering into the Greek tongue, after the same manner as was before
OF EDUCATION 97;
prescribed in the Latin; whereby the difficulties of grammar being soon over-
come, all the historical physiology of Aristotle and Theophrastus are open
before them, and, as I may say, under contribution. The like access will be to
Vitruvius, to Seneca's natural questions, to Mela, Celsus, Pliny, or Solinus.
And having thus passed the principles of arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and
geography, with a general compact of physics, they may descend in mathematics
to the instrumental science of trigonometry, and from thence to fortification,
architecture, enginery, or navigation. And in matural philosophy they may
proceed leisurely from the history of meteors, millerals, plants, and living
creatures, as far as anatomy. Theſ, also in course might be read to them out
of some not tedious writer the institution of physic; that they may know the
tempers, the humours, the seasons, and how to manage a crudity; which he
who can wisely and timely do, is not only a great physician to himself and to
his friends, but also may at some time or other save an army by this frugal and
expenseless means only; and not let the healthy and stout bodies of young men
rot away under him for want of this discipline; which is a great pity, and no
less a shame to the commander. To set forward all these proceedings in
nature and mathematics, what hinders but that they may procure, as oft as
shall be needful, the helpful experiences of hunters, fowlers, fishermen, shep-
herds, gardeners, apothecaries; and in the other sciences, architects, engineers,
mariners, anatomists; who doubtless would be ready, some for reward, and
some to favour such a hopeful seminary. And this will give them such a real
tincture of natural knowledge, as they shall never forget, but daily augment
with delight. Then also those poets which are now counted most hard, will
be both facile and pleasant, Orpheus, Hesiod, Theocritus, Aratus, Nicander,
Oppian, Dionysius, and in Latin, Lucretius, Manilius, and the rural part of
Virgil. .
By this time, years, and good general precepts, will have furnished them
more distinctly with that act of reason which in cthics is called Proairesis; that
they may with some judgment contemplate upon moral good and evil. Then
will be required a special reinforcement of constant and sound indoctrinating
to set them right and firm, instructing them more amply in the knowledge of
virtue and the hatred of vice; while their young and pliant affections are led
through all the moral works of Plato, Xenophon, Ciccro, Plutarch, Laertius,
and those Locrian remnants; but still to be reduced to their nightward studies
where with they close the day’s work, under the determinate sentence of David
or Solomon, or the Evangels and Apostolic Scriptures. Being perfect in the
knowledge of personal duty, they may then begin the study of Ceconomics.
And either now or before this, they may have easily learned at any odd hour
the Italian tongue. And soon after, but with Wariness and good antidote, it
would be wholesome enough to let them taste some choice comedies, Greek,
Latin, or Italian; those tragedies also, that treat of household matters, as
Trachiniae, Alcestis, and the like. The next removal must be to the study of
politics; to know the beginning, end, and reasons of political Societies; that
they may not in a dangerous fit of the commonwealth be such poor, shaken,
uncertain reeds, of such a tottering conscience, as many of our great councel-
273 GF TEDUCATION
lors have lately shewn themselves, but steadfast pillars of the State. After
this, they are to dive into the grounds of law, and legal justice; delivered first
and with best warrant by Moses; and as far as human prudence can be trusted,
in those extolled remains of Grecian lawgivers, Lycurgus, Solon, Zaleucus,
Charondas, and thence to all the Roman edicts and tables with their Justinian ;
and so down to the Saxon and common laws of England, and the statutes.
Sundays also and every evening may be now understandingly spent in the
highest matters of theology, and church-history ancient and modern; and ere
this time the Hebrew tongue at a set hour might have been gained, that the
Scriptures may be now read in their own original; whereto it would be no
impossibility to add the Chaldee, and the Syrian dialect. When all these em-
ployments are well conquered, then will the choice histories, heroic poems, and
attic tragedies of stateliest and most regal argument, with all the famous
political orations, offer themselves; which if they were not only read, but some
of them got by memory, and solemnly pronounced with right accent and grace,
as might be taught, would endue them even with the Spirit and vigour of
Demosthenes or Cicero, Euripides or Sophocles. And now lastly will be the
time to read them with those organic arts which enable men to discourse and
write perspicuously, elegantly, and according to the fitted style of lofty, mean,
or lowly. Togic, therefore, so much as is useful, is to be referred to this due
place with all her well-couched heads and topics, until it be time to open her
contracted palm into a graceful and ornate rhetoric taught out of the rule of
Plato, Aristotle, Phalereus, Cicero, Hermogenes, Longinus. To which poetry
would be made subsequent, or indeed rather precedent, as being less subtile
and fine, but more simple, sensuous, and passionate. I mean not here the
prosody of a verse, which they could not but have hit on before among the
rudiments of grammar; but that sublime art which in Aristotle’s poetics, in
Pſorace, and the Italian commentaries of Castlevetro, Tasso, Mazzoni, and
others, teaches what the laws are of a true epic poem, what of a dramatic,
what of a lyric, what decorum is, which is the grand masterpiece to observe.
This would make them soon perceive what despicable creatures our common
rhimers and play-writers be ; and shew them what religious, what glorious and
magnificent use might be made of poetry, both in divine and human things.
From hence, and mot till now, will be the right season of forming them to be
able writers and composers in every excellent matter, when they shall be thus
fraught with an universal insight into things. Or whether they be to speak in
parliament or council, honour and attention would be waiting on their lips.
There would them also appear in pulpits other visages, other gestures, and
stuff otherwise wrought than what we now sit under, ofttimes to as great a
trial of our patience as any other that they preach to us. These are the
studies wherein our noble and our gentle youth ought to bestow their time in
a disciplinary way from twelve to one and twenty; unless they rely more upon
their ancestors dead than upon themselves living. In which methodical course
it is so supposed they must proceed by the steady pace of learning onward,
as at convenient times, for memory’s Sake, to retire back into the middle
ward, and sometimes into the rear of what they have been taught, until they
OF EDUCATION 270
have confirmed and solidly united the whole body of their perfected knowledge,
like the last embattelling of a Roman legion. Now will be worth the seeing,
what exercises and recreations may best agree, and become these studies.
THEIR, EXERCISE.
The course of study hitherto briefly described is, what I can guess by
reading, likest to those ancient and famous schools of Pythagoras, Plato,
Isocrates, Aristotle, and such others, out of which were bred such a number
of renowned philosophers, orators, historians, poets, and princes all over
Greece, Italy, and Asia, besides the flourishing studies of Cyrene and Alexan-
dria. But herein it shall exceed them, and supply a defect as great as that
which Plato noted in the commonwealth of Sparta; whereas that city trained
up their youth most for war, and these in their academies and Lycaeum all for
the gown, this institution of breeding which I here delineate shall be equally
good both for peace and war. Therefore about an hour and a half ere they
cat at noon should be allowed them for exercise, and due rest afterwards; but
the time for this may be enlarged at pleasure, according as their rising in the
morning shall be early. The exercise which I commend first, is the czact use
of their weapon, to guard, and to strike safely with edge or point; this will
keep them healthy, nimble, strong, and well in breath, is also the likeliest
means to make them grow large and tall, and to inspire them with a gallant
and fearless courage, which being tempered with seasonable lectures and pre-
cepts to them of true fortitude and patience, will turn into a native and heroic
valour, and make them hate the cowardice of doing wrong. They must be
also practised in all the locks and gripes of Wrestling, wherein Englishmen
were wont to excel, as need may often be in fight to tug, to grapple, and to
close. And this perhaps will be enough, wherein to prove and heat their
single strength. The interim of unsweating themselves regularly, and conve-
nient rest before meat, may both with profit and delight be taken up in
recreating and composing their travailed spirits with the solemn and divine
harmonies of music heard or learned; either whilst the skilful organist plies his
grave and fancied descant in lofty fugues, or the whole symphony with artful and
unimaginable touches adorn and grace the well studied chords of some choice
composer; sometimes the lute or soft Organ-stop waiting on elegant voices,
either to religious, martial, or civil ditties; which, if wise men and prophets be
not extremely out, have a great power over dispositions and manners, to
smooth and make them gentle from rustic harshness and distempered passions.
The like also would not be unexpedient after meat, to assist and cherish
mature in her first concoction, and send their minds back to study in good
tune and satisfaction. Where having followed it close under vigilant eyes,
till about two hours before Supper, they are by a sudden alarum or watchword
to be called out to their military motions, under sky or covert, according to
the season, as was the Roman wont ; first on foot, then as their age permits,
on horseback, to all the art of cavalry; that having in sport, but with much
exactness and daily muster, served out the rudiments of their soldiership, in
all the skill of embattling, marching, encamping, fortifying, besieging, and
2$0. - OF EDUCATION
battering, with all the helps of ancient and modern stratagems, tactics, and
warlike maxims, they may as it were out of a long war come forth renowned
and perfect commanders in the service of their country. They would not then,
if they were trusted with fair and hopeful armies, suffer them for want of just
and wise discipline to shed away from about them like sick feathers, though
they be never so oft supplied; they would not suffer their empty and un-
recruitable colonels of twenty men in a company, to quaff out, or convey into
secret hoards, the wages of a delusive list, and a miserable remnant; yet in
the mean while to be overmastered with a score or two of drunkards, the only
soldiery left about them, or else to comply with all rapines and violences. No 1
certainly, if they knew aught of that knowledge that belongs to good men or
good governors, they would not suffer these things. But to return to our own
institute; besides these constant exercises at home, there is another oppor-
tunity of gaining experience to be won from pleasure itself abroad; in those
vernal seasons of the year when the air is calm and pleasant, it were an injury
and sullenness against nature, not to go out and see her riches, and partake in
her rejoicing with heaven and carth. I should not therefore be a persuader to
them of studying much then, after two or three years that they have well laid
their grounds, but to ride out in companies with prudent and staid guides to
all the quarters of the land; learning and observing all places of strength, all
commodities of building and of soil, for towns and tillage, harbours and ports
for trade. Sometimes taking sea as far as to our navy, to learn there also what
they can in the practical knowledge of Sailing and of sea-fight. These ways
would try all their peculiar gifts of nature, and if there were any secret ex-
cellence among them would fetch it out, and give it fair opportunities to
advance itself by, which could not but mightily redound to the good of this
nation, and bring into fashion again those old admired virtues and excellencies
with far more advantage now in this purity of Christian knowledge. Nor shall
we then need the monsieurs of Paris to take our hopeful youth into their
slight and prodigal custodies, and send them over back again transformed into
mimics, apes, and kickshows. But if they desire to see other countries at
three or four and twenty years of age, not to learn principles, but to enlarge
experience, and make wise observation, they will by that time be such as shall
deserve the regard and honour of all men where they pass, and the society and
friendship of those in all places who are best and most eminent. And perhaps
then other nations will be glad to visit us for their breeding, or else to imitate
us in their own country.
Now lastly for their diet there can IIot be much to say, save only that it
would be best in the same house; for much time else would be lost abroad,
and many ill habits got ; and that it should be plaim, healthful and moderate,
..I suppose is out of controversy. Thus Mr Hartlib, you have a general view
in writing, as your desire was, of that, which at several times I had discoursed
with you concerning the best and noblest way of education; not beginning as
some have dome from the cradle, which yet might be worth many considera-
tions, if brevity had not been my scope; many other circumstances also I
could have mentioned, but this to such as have the worth in them to make
THE LIVING 28]
trial, for light and direction may be enough. Only I believe that this is not a
bow for every man to shoot in, that counts himself a teacher; but will require
sinews almost equal to those which Homer gave Ulysses; yet I am withal
persuaded that it may prove much more easy in the assay, than it now seems
at distance, and much more illustrious; howbeit, not more difficult than I
imagine, and that imagination presents me with nothing but very happy, and
very possible according to best wishes; if God have so decreed, and this age
have spirit and capacity enough to apprehend.
p l tº) John MILTON (1644).
T H E L T W I N G,
*—-as
THEY are the living who strive worthily, who bear
Upon both soul and brow the seal of steadfast care,
Who the most rugged heights of destiny have climb'd,
And who walk pensively by noble ends sublimed,
Iſaving before their eyes, ceaselessly, day and night,
Either some holy work, or some great love's delight.
The prophet and the saint prostrate before the Ark,
The labourer and hind, workman and patriarch,
Whose hearts are fraught with good, whose lives are ever full,—
These, Lord! the living are: the rest are corpses dull.
I pity them tired out with nought—that all they list :
For aye the heaviest load is lifelessly to exist.
What not to love, to tread an ever dark career,
Without one dream before, one past to claim a tear,
To march straighforward on, the whither all unknown,
To laugh outright at Jove, nor yet Jehovah own,
To view without respect star, flower, and woman fair,
To cherish the body aye, and give the soul no care,
To spend endeavours vain for ends as vainly sped,
To hope no heaven above, to even forget the dead,
O no I am not of these : or great or prosperous,
Proud, powerful, or hid in haunts luxurious,
I flee them, and I loathe the paths their feet have known.
And I would rather be, O pismires of the town
Crowd clods ! dead-hearted ones I sham men degenerate crew
A tree out in the Woods than a Soul to live like you.
From Victor Hugo’s Chastisements.
282
THE REBELLION OF KET THE TANNER:
A. CHAPTER OF THE SUPPRESSED HISTORY OF ENGLAND.
*
[The following account (from Blomfield's History of Norwich, published about 1737)
of a revolt of the ‘lower orders,’ in the reign of Edward VI, may well be reprinted if
ouly as evidence of the condition of the people of England in those times. The Writer
of the account certainly has not the least sympathy with the rebels; he passes very
slightly over the especial grievance (the enclosure of common lands) which provoked
the insurrection, says nothing of any other miseries of the ‘villeims,’ and would seem to
be quite blind to the selfishness, cowardice, and treachery of the respectable burgesses of
Norwich. He sees but slaves revolting from their worthy masters, which last are only
to be pitied for lacking sufficient courage and military skill to scourge the rascals back
to duty. Yet even in this one-sided story an impartial reader can not fail to notice
the far higher character of the rebels, their stricter justice, their moderation, their
greater humanity: they let their enemies and revilers go,-it was the victorious ‘better’
class which hanged and mutilated. Nor can an honest reader fail to see the Right in
that day as ever upon the people's side, and to mote how like are the characteristics of
parties them to those of our own time : the same heedless fervour of the wronged mul-
titude, the same selfish and vindictive dastardliness of the class whose hearts are in their
breeches' pockets, the same ruthless tyranny of the higher powers. From the time of
Ket to the days of the Manchester massacre, John Frost, and the 10th of April, our
history does but repeat the same thing: one truth under slightly varying circumstances.
Is it not time we learned something from the reiterated lesson Pl
who were possessed of abbey lands and other large commons and waste
= grounds, had caused many of those commons and wastes to be enclosed,
whereby the poor and indigent people were much offended, being thereby
abridged of the liberty that they formerly had, to common cattle, &c. On the
said grounds to their own advantage. The Lord Protector had at that time
lost himself in the love of the Vulgar by his severe, if not unnatural, proceeding
against his brother; and, in order to regain their love, he caused a proclama-
tion to be published in the beginning of May, that all persons who had
enclosed any lands that used to be common should lay them open again, before
a fixed day, on a certain penalty for not doing so. This so much encouraged
the commons in many parts of the realm that, not staying the time limited in
the proclamation, they gathered together in a tumultuous manner, pulled up
the pales, flung down the banks, filled up the ditches, laying all such new
enclosed lands open as they were before : for which some of them had been
attacked and slain in Wiltshire by Sir William Herbert ; others suppressed by
force of arms, conducted by the Lord Grey of Wilton, as were those in Ox-

KET’s REBELLION 283
fordshire; and some reduced to more moderate and Sober courses by the
persuasion of the lords and gentlemen, as in Kent and Sussex; but the most
dangerous commotions which held so long as to entitle them to the name of
rebellions were those of Devonshire and Norfolk, places remote from One
another, but such as seem to have communicated counsels for carrying on
their design. For divers seditious persons and busy fellows began to com-
plain that the like was not dome in Norfolk, as report said was done by the
commons of Kent, who had laid open all such new enclosed lands; and from
thenceforth they determined to do the same here, designing not only to lay
open parks and new enclosures, but to attempt other reformations (as they
termed them) to the great danger of overthrowing the commonwealth. They
openly declared great hatred against all gentlemen, whom they maliciously
accused of covetousness, pride, extortion, and oppression, practised against
their tenants and the common people; and, having thoroughly imbibed the
wicked notions of the ancient levellers, they began to put in execution their
vile designs, and first of all, the inhabitants of Attleburgh, Eccles, Wilby, and
other neighbouring towns, being engaged with Mr John Green, Lord of the
Manor of Wilby, for enclosing that part of the common belonging to his
Manor which before laid open to the adjoining commons of Harfham and
Attleburgh, on which they had all rights of intercommoning with each other,
the tenants of the three towns and others assembled together, and threw down
the new ditches and laid the whole open as heretofore. Which being done,
they all went home and continued quiet till the 6th of July, at which time,
taking the opportunity of the feast or fair which was yearly kept at Windham
on the day following, being the translation of Bishop Becket, to whom the
chapel, standing in the midst of the town, was dedicated, at which time were
grand processions and interludes for a night and a day at least, which brought
thither great numbers of country people to see the show, they then consulted
further upon their wicked enterprize, and going thither entered into confer-
ence with great numbers of the country people there, and went to Morley, a
mile from Windham, and cast down certain ditches of Master Hobart’s on the
Tuesday, and returned that night to Windham again, where they practised the
like feats; but as yet they took no man’s goods by violence.
Upon this, one John Flowerdew, of Hetherset, gent., finding himself
grieved by their casting down some of his ditches, came to some of the rebels,
and gave them forty pence to cast down the fences of an enclosure belonging
to Robert Ket, alias Knight, a tanner of Windham, which pasture laid near
the fair-sted in Windham, which they did, and the next morning took their
journey again to Hetherset, at Ket’s desire, and laid open Master Flowerdew's
enclosure there ; upon which was much ado, for Flowerdew did what he could
to cause them to desist, insomuch that many sharp words passed between him
and Ket; but Ket, being a man hardy and fit for any desperate attempt,
pushed forwards so much that they executed his will, and so he revenged him.
self upon Flowerdew, whose hedges and ditches were all thrown down and
made plain. The rebels, seeing Kew to be a resolute, stout-hearted fellow,
unanimously chose him their captain and ringleader, who thereupon willed
284. KET’s REBELLION
them to be of good comfort, assuring them he was resolutely determined to
stand by them, and spend both his life and goods to revenge their liberty,
which he pretended was much injured: to him was joined William Ket, his
brother, a butcher of Windham, who by reason of his desperate hardiness, was
much valued by them : and now being furnished with such commanders, and
forming themselves into a camp, at the report thereof numbers of lewd and
desperate persons, great routs of servants and runagates, came flocking from
all parts to Ket’s camp, so that now being guarded with sufficient power as
he thought, and having wasted Hetherset, Windham, and most of the adjacent
villages, on the 10th day of July, they passed the river between Cringleford
and Eaton: the city hearing what route they intended shortly to take, had
sent messengers the day before to the King’s council at Windsor, to inform
them of it, and others to Sir Roger Townesend and William Paston, to desire
them to come to their assistance. The rebels having passed the river, came
to Bowthorp, and cast down certain hedges and ditches there, and their num-
ber being now vastly increased, they encamped there that night; here Sir
Edmund Windham, Knt. high-sheriff of Norfolk and Suffolk, came and pro-
claimed them Rebels, and commanded them in the king’s name to depart
peaceably to their own homes, but had not his horsemanship been better than
his rhetorick, himself had not departed the place, for being greatly offended at
the proclamation, they attempted to have got him into their hands, but being
well horsed he valiantly brake thro those that had compassed him in, and
escaping from them, hasted with all speed to Norwich, which is about two
miles distant; the same night great numbers of loose people, both from the
city and country, came to them, with weapons, armour, and artillery; and now
the rebels began to play their pranks, threatening to burn the house, and de-
face the dove-coat (formerly a chapel, before it was turned from a house of
prayer to a den of thieves,) of Master Corbet's of Sprowston, committing many.
other outrages wherever they came. -
The day before they came hither, some of the city had thrown down the
quickset hedge, and filled up the ditches that enclosed the common pasture of
the city, called the Town-Close, to keep in the citizens' cattle going there,
before their common neatherd, in which place the meat cattle of the poor free-
men of the city were pastured, and looked after by the meatherd, who received
of every owner by custom, a halfpenny for every beast kept there, and so that
fence which by good and provident advice of their fore-fathers, had been
raised for the common profit of the city, was thus cast down by the very per-
sons whose interest it was made for ; and scarcely had they thrown down the
ditch in the upper part of the close, before a company of ill-disposed persons
escaped secretly out of the city and joined Ket and his comrades. Thomas
Codd, then mayor, fearing the ill consequences of this rebellion, summoned an
assembly of the principal aldermen and citizens, and goes with them to the
camp, to try if he could persuade the rebels to desist from their traitorous en-
terprize; when he came there, he found them giving themselves to all manner
of riot and excess; first he tempted them with money and fair promises to
depart home, using what persuasions he could to reduce them to dutiful
KET’s REBELLION 2S5
obedience, but finding all things ineffectual, and seeing that neither intreaty
nor reward would avail, he returned to the city. After his departure the
rebels began to perceive, and were further convinced of it, by certain men
coming to them from the city, with small boughs in their hands, which was the
sign agreed upon, that if they remained any longer scattered one from another,
they would without difficulty be vanquished; whereupon they went directly
to Eaton Wood, which having thoroughly viewed and found inconvenient to
pitch their camp on, they unanimously agreed to go immediately to Moushold,
and presently sent to the mayor to request him to permit them to pass through
the city to that place, it being their nearest way, promising to do injury to no
man, but quietly to march through to the place appointed, but the mayor
absolutely refused, threatening them, and telling them to what end such
attempts would bring them, which instead of terrifying them, made them the
more obstimate, and so they continued that night in Eaton Wood: the next
day, Sir Roger Woodhouse, with seven or eight of his household servants,
came to them, bringing with him two carts laden with beer, and one laden
with victuals; for recompense whereof, he was stripped of his apparel, had his
horses taken from him, and whatever else he had, the rebels accounting the
same a good prey; he himself was cruelly tugged and cast into a ditch of
Mores's of Nether Erlham by Hellesden Bridge, and was kept by them as a
prisoner; thence passing the river by the said bridge, they came to Master
Corbet’s house at Sprowston, which they intended to have burned, but being
persuaded from it, they spoiled his goods; and lodging that might at Draiton,
they next day went directly to Moushold, and coming to St Leonard’s Hill,
seized on the noble palace of Mount Surrey, and spoiled whatever they found
in it, converting it into a prison, where they confined Sir Roger Woodhouse,
Sergeant Catlym, Sergeant Gawdy, and other gentlemen, whom they caught.
Here they incamped, having the main river running between the hill and the
city, on the east and south part Thorp village and wood, and on the north and
north-east Moushold Heath, which is in length and breadth at least three or
four miles, and here lurking in the woods, as dogs in their kennels, #/ey
violated all laws of God and man ; and now having got a fixed station, the
vilest and basest of the people from Norfolk, and the city, joined them daily,
being called together by firing of beacons and ringing of bells. The mayor
and aldermen in the mean time took counsel together how to proceed in so
dangerous a case, and opinions were very different; some thought they were
to be attacked immediately, arguing that if they were not repressed at the
beginning, the destruction of the whole city must necessarily follow, others
thought it best not to hazard such a doubtful push, without urgent necessity,
it being only hastening their destruction if the rebels should get the advantage;
in short, the result was, to fortify the city, set watch and ward carefully,
place the citizens upon the walls, and other convenient places of defence, and
for other things, because by the law of raising force and arms, it was pro-
vided that no bands be mustered, or forces raised without the king’s command,
they resolved to wait the return of the messengers to know his will and
pleasure.
286 KET'S REBELLION
13esides this great camp (as they termed it), there was a second formed,
called the lesser camp, at Rising Chase, but by the diligence and policy of the
justices and gentlemen of those parts, they were speedily driven from thence,
notwithstanding which they re-assembled at Watton, and there remained about
a fortnight, stopping the passage over the river at Brandom-ferry and Thetford:
but at length, by Ket’s order, they came and joined him at Moushold.
As soon as the report of this great camp being fixed on Moushold reached
Suffolk, the commons there got together in a great multitude, entered the
island called Lovingland, with intent to seize the town of Yarmouth, but by
the diligence of the magistrates and the courage of the townsmen, they were
disappointed of their expectation; and, taking another route, they joined their
chief captain (as they called him) on Moushold. -
The city, immediately upon this resolution, Surveyed the gates, got new
locks and bars, and repaired all that wanted. And on the 13th of July, Pur-
sevant Grove came from the king and brought a commission directed to Mr
Watson, for reformation of divers things.
The rebels in the mean time, to cloak their malicious purposes with a coun-
feiſeif show of ſoliness, were so religiously rebellious that they caused Thomas
Coniers, Minister of St Martin’s in the Plain, in Norwich, to say service
morning and evening, forcing him to pray to God for prosperous speed in this
their ungodly enterprise; moreover they went about to join fo their cause
divers honesſ men, who were commendable for religion, doctrine, virtue, and
innocency of life; among whom were Robert Watson, an excellent preacher;
Thomas Codd, mayor; and Thomas Aldrich, of Mangreene Hall, a man while
he lived beloved of all men. These three, though sore against their wills, they
Constrained to be present at all their consultations, and to take upon them the
administration of all things, with Ket the chief rebel: which indeed happened
well for many, for when the principal conspirators stirred up the mad mul-
titude to any wicked undertaking, which tended either to the spoiling of the
city, fields, or adjacent villages, the wise and careful diligence of these men
often hindered the execution of it. And now Ket, growing bolder by meeting
with no opposition, began to direct warrants to fetch victuals into the camp,
in the following form — -
“We, the King's friends and deputies, do grant license to all men, to provide and
bring into the camp at Moushold, all manner of cattel, and provision of vittels, in what
place soever they may find the same, so that no violence or injurie be done to any
honest or poore man, commanding all persons as they tender the King's honour, and
roiall majestie, and the releefe of the common Welth, to be obedient to us the Governors,
and to those whose names ensue,
- ‘(Signed) ROBERT KET,” &c. .
And now he, with two assistants chosen out of every hundred, kept the King’s
Bench, Chancery, and all other Courts, under a tree, termed the Oak of
Reformation, where he pretended to do justice (whether wrong or right) to al
such as were summoned before him. -
By virtue of commissions from these assistants, many of the principal gen-
tlemen of the county were fetched from their houses, brought to the camp,
RET’s REBELLION 287
and there imprisoned as though they had been guilty of great crimes; more-
over, the hedges and ditches of commons enclosed were demolished, and many
were charged and forced to assist in these things; the mayor, Mr Watson,
and Mr Aldrich, were not only obliged to wink thereat, but sometimes to
seem to consent thereto : for to have resisted them had been but folly and the
way to have put themselves in danger of destruction, and their country too.
The city took what care they could to guard themselves, hoping daily for
relief from the Council, without which they dared attempt nothing. Now the
reason why the Council were so slack in sending succours was, because they
were not only troubled with these rebels, but were busied about quieting the
like troubles in the immer part of the realm, about London, Surrey, Essex,
Devonshire, Kent, Cambridgeshire, &c. In the meantime the sedition increased
daily, so much that there were now no less than 16,000 of these rebels in the
camp, who by the advice of their captain fortified themselves, providing
powder, ball, and all manner of weapons, which they fetched out of ships, gem-
tlemen’s houses, shops, and other places where any was to be found ; and
withal spoiled the country of all the cattle, riches, and coin, that they could
lay their hands on.
Now, because many of them hid what they got, hoping hereafter to convert
it to their own private use, Ket and the other governors (for so they would be
called) by common consent decreed, that some place should be fixed upon
where they might do justice. Now the Oak of Reformation being an old tree
with large spreading boughs, they fixed on it cross balks and rafts, and roofed
it over with boards, and from thence Ket, the mayor, Master Aldrich, and
other gentlemen, detained prisoners in the camp (whom against their wills
they had chosen into the number of their governors), heard and determined all
complaints and disorders done among themselves; and, if those who had con-
cealed any goods, gotten by virtue of Ket’s pretended commissions, were dis-
covered, and the fact proved here, they were committed to prison.
The mayor, Master Aldrich, and others, would often go up into this tree,
and endeavour by all the persuasive and mild arguments they could think of,
to make them desist from this course, and leave off committing such outrages.
There were also divers grave and learned divines that tried all ways possible
to withdraw them from these wicked attempts, and to reduce them to peace
and quietness, though at the same time they hazarded their lives by so doing;
for the mayor and other of the gentry, though they were admitted to the
counsels of the rebels, for the better credit thereof, yet if Ket was present were
no better than ‘ herbe John in the pottage,’ having no influence on their con-
Sultations; but, if he happily chanced to be absent, then they were like St
John’s wort (so sovereign for sores and against the plague itself), that they
much mitigated the fury of their mischievous decrees. Mean time great plenty
was in the camp, where a fat sheep was sold for a groat, but penury and misery
in all other places.
In this great calamity (notwithstanding the upbraiding of Sir John Cheke,
who knew little of the matter but by hearsay only,) the mayor, aldermen, and
principal citizens, with the city clergy, behaved with the utmost allegiance to
288 SIR PHILIP SYDNEY
the king, and the greatest prudence for the safeguard of their city and country,
the former by consulting daily what was best to be done, and the latter by
preaching by day in the camp and churches, and by watching in the night with
armour on their backs, so that nothing that belonged to them as faithful sub-
jects and worthy ministers was at any time omitted. So far were they from
deserving that unjust censure of Sir John’s, that it was not the principal part
of the city that were for the rebels, but only the scum of it, there being not
one (that I have met with) of any figure or character, that sided with them,
though indeed there was a great number of the populace that favoured them ;
and the state of the city was such that it was not in the power of the magis-
trates to keep the city against them, as Excester did, with whose conduct Sir
John upbraids this place: but it is evident that, had they been able to have
done it before, they would have done it, for upon succours coming they im-
mediately put themselves in a posture of offence, till which time it was impos-
sible to do more than they did, which was to stand upon the point of defence.
And though the aforesaid author exclaims against Norwich in relation to the
affair of the Marquis of Northampton’s miscarriage, and justly extols Excester
for her prowesse, yet if we come to examine things, as we shall find the one
deservedly praised, so we shall see the other as undeservedly and unjustly
upbraided, -
(To be continued.)
SIR P H II, IIP SYD N E Y.
‘Sydney without stain.”
Plaint of Freedom.
£ºf COURTIER and the admired of courtiers, the accomplished servant of
; most imperious Elizabeth, what claim has Sir Philip Sydney to a
niche in the temple of the English Republic P He was a gentleman.
The best Republican can be no more. If he understood not the better or-
ganization of Humanity (though indeed his poet Soul must have mirrored some
forms of the world’s future harmony) yet his own life was worthy of the
noblest time. And more especially would we select him now for honour, since
of late have been found some to throw reproach upon his spotless shield.
‘SIR PHILIP SYDNEY has ever been a petted hero of the English people.
Biis name is a dear, familiar word; he is our English knight “sans peur effsans
reproche.” More than any other mam, perhaps, he is England personified. In
his life the fondled idol of his age, he died greater even than he had lived,—
died to become the idol of all ages. In him Chivalry expired. We had heroes
after him, heroes of sterner stuff and grander fortunes—Cromwell and Blake,

SIR P H II, T P SY}) N E Y
(From the Portrait engraved by Houbrakem 3

SIR. PHILIP SYDNEY 29]
Treton and Vane,—but these were not the heroes of romance and poesy. They
were strong men, with strong convictions and a solemn purpose, men who
rose into the grade of heroes, not knowing how or caring wherefore, heroes
by duty and success, not by deliberate culture, effort, and aspiration, like the
brighter and more graceful champions of an earlier epoch. In his own person
Sir Philip Sydney is the fullest, most complete and perfect character in the
long and glorious lime of British Worthies. He stands alone—erect. You may
walk round him as you walk round an antique statue. However viewed, the
figure of the hero shows a perfect front. As poet, soldier, statesman, courtier,
nowhere does the sharpest eye discover fault. All his parts seem equal to
each other. Take the historic lineaments at any turn, uuder every light, and
they appear to stand against the golden-hued and gorgeous background of the
time, graceful, and round, and noble. -
‘France is justly proud of its Bayard, as of one who created an order loftier
than that of kings. But with no disparagement of the Dauphinois, we may
rank the English hero higher than the renowned cavalier of the neighbouring
country. Bayard was a soldier only, a gallant soldier, polished, generous,
noble,_a man with all the merits of the camp : but take him from tented field
and he was nothing. Not so Sydney. Great with the sword, he was not less
great with the pen. As he could sing, so could he act, heroically. His per-
fections had larger scope and more attractiveness : for his words were ever as
royal as his thought. The soul of Bayard was possibly as chivalric as that of
Sydney. But Bayard never said so fine a thing as the English hero, when he
caught the eye of the dying soldier fixed on the water at which his own
parched lips were placed —“Take it: thy need is greater than mine.” There
spoke the poet as well as the hero.
“Never before and never since his time has lºngland seen a man so armed
at every point. All the crowns of fortune seemed to have been heaped at
Sydney’s feet. Rank, beauty, grace, attainments, royal favour, courtly in-
fluence, worldly success, the respect or envy of the most celebrated men, the
adoring fondness of the most beautiful women,-poetical renown, military
honour, diplomatic employments: everything conspired to mark him as the
darling son of fortune. His life was passed like a summer day. It was all
sunlight, warmth, success: and even his death was surrounded with the poetic
splendours of a summer Sunset.
‘One man alone resembled him in gifts and graces—Raleigh. He, too, was
poet, soldier, conrtier, scholar, all in one. He, too, like Sydney, rivalled all
contemporary fames, took something from each, combined the several powers
and excellences of other men, made himself the common centre at which all
the lines of English greatness met. And yet how far apart, how various were
their fates and fortunes How far removed the prison dungeon from the brighter
field of fame, how sad the contrast between the block in Palace-Yard with
the bloody headsman, and Leicester’s gorgeous tent under the walls of Zutphen'
‘Sydney was the poet of his time. . . Of the great band of poets, his
rivals and contemporaries, he was beyond all question first in favour with a
class—the grave in thought, the high in tone, the pure in heart. He had cast
292 SIR. P.H.I.LIP SYDNEY
the popular life into heroic types. . Sydney was like his age, and he reflected
all its better lights. His cast of mind was serious and romantic ; a deep
religious impulse stirred the living waters whence the stream of song swelled
forth. Among all ranks he had the character of a religious poet. He and his
sister, Lady Pembroke, composed a version of the Psalms. Finally, he died in
the very odour of sanctity.”
So admirably of our hero writes a critic in the Affenaeum, and then asks
wonderingly ‘why did religious people burn his writings P’ and finds sufficient
reason in the fact that, “with the exception of Byron, no English poet has put
so much of his life into his poetry as Sydney, thence concluding that after all,
the life of this man, ‘esteemed in his own age so good and noble,” was, in Mrs
Jameson’s mincing words, ‘a little incomprehensible to our modern ideas of
bienséance and good taste,’ and, in the bolder language of the Athenaeum,
“repugnant to our moral mature.’ The Athenaeum knows as much of morality
as Mrs Jameson of taste. Sydney’s life and writings are before us.
PHILIP SYDNEY was born at Penshurst in Kent, on the 29th of November,
1554. His school education was first at Shrewsbury, and afterward at Oxford
and Cambridge. At the age of eighteen he went upon his travels, and had
refuge in the house of the English ambassador at Paris during the massacre of
St Bartholomew. From Paris he proceeded to Germany, Hungary, and Italy,
‘devoting himself to the study of warlike and graceful exercises, in those times
as necessary to the finished courtier as to the perfect soldier.” On his return
home, he attached himself to the Court, and was soon high in Elizabeth’s
favour, a favour due perhaps in some measure to the position of his uncle—
the Earl of Leicester, but still more, as Sir R. Naunton testifies, to his
chivalrous bearing, his gracious manners, his learning and exquisite taste, and
his moral purity. Elizabeth could honour such purity, when she herself was
no loser by it; she had wisdom if not virtue enough to understand the worth
of such a jewel in her crown. Sydney was kept to shime at Court, and only
reluctantly allowed to go on any active employment. In 1576-7, he was am-
bassador at the Court of Vienna. On his return he was bold enough to remon-
strate with the Queen against her marrying Henry IV of France. Soon after,
a quarrel with the Earl of Oxford caused his retirement from the Court, and
he devoted his leisure, at Wilton, the seat of his brother-in-law, the Earl of
Pembroke, to the composition of his Arcadia, that stately pastoral romance
for which his name is famous. It was written (never completed) chiefly for
the amusement of his sister, her of whom Ben Jonson Wrote the epitaph—
Underneath this sable hearse
Lies the subject of all verse,
Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother:
Death ! ere thou hast slain another
Ilearn’d and fair and good as she,
Time shall throw a dart at thee.
His next great prose work was his Defence of Poesie, written in 1581, and
published in 1595. The Arcadia was not printed till after his death. We
borrow the rest of his biography from Mr Crossley, taking his own words.
SIR PHILIP SYDNEY 293
‘About this period (1584)," having been disappointed in obtaining the hand of
the sister of the Earl of Essex, to whom he was deeply attached,—and whose
wit and beauty he celebrated under the name of Philoclea in his Arcadia, and
of Stella in his poems, and who afterwards caused great scandal by her unfor-
tunate connection with Mountjoy, Earl of Devonshire, he married the daugh-
ter of that great statesman, Sir Francis Walsingham, who was for many years
principal secretary to Queen Elizabeth. Shortly after this event he was
knighted, and, in 1585, contemplated, an expedition with Sir Francis Drake
against the Spanish settlements in America, but was prevented by Elizabeth
declaring that she would not risk the loss of the “jewel of her times.’ It is
said that he was offered the crown of Poland, but the Queen contrived to
throw such obstacles in the way as effectually prevented him from accepting it.
* He seems however to have ultimately overcome the Queen’s disinclination
to employ him on foreign service, as we find him appointed, in 1586, Governor
of Flushing. At this time the war between Spain and Holland was at its
height; and the Earl of Leicester, with an army of six thousand men, was
dispatched by Elizabeth to the assistance of the Protestant inhabitants of the
Netherlands. Of the mistakes committed by this incompetent commander the
history of that age is full. His nephew, Sir Philip Sidney, who had joined him
as General of the Horse, frequently expressed dissatisfaction at his conduct,
and vainly endeavoured to rectify the errors which his uncle was continually
committing. Sir Sidney’s military exploits during this campaign were numer-
ous, and, after considerable successes against the enemy, the troops under his
command accidentally met and encountered a force of about three thousand
men, who were marching to relieve Zutphen, a town of Guelderland. An en-
gagement took place under its walls. After having had a horse shot under
him, Sidney received a musket-bullet on the thigh a little above the knee. As
he was carried from the field, a well-known incident occurred, which Lord
Brooke, his biographer and companion, thus describes —“As he passed along
by the rest of the army, where his uncle the General was, he soon became faint
and thirsty from excess of bleeding, and called for some drink, which was pre-
sently brought him ; but, as he was putting the bottle to his mouth, he saw a
poor soldier carried along, who had eaten his last at the same feast, ghastlily
casting up his eyes at the bottle, which Sidney perceiving, took it from his
head before he drank, and delivered it to the poor man with these words :
“Thy necessity is yet greater than mine.” The wound unfortunately proved
mortal, and after many days of severe suffering he died at Arnheim, in the
arms of his wife, and of his faithful secretary, William Temple, on the 7th of
October, 1586, in the thirty-third year of his age.
‘On the fatal intelligence reaching England, a general mourning was ordered,
and affectionately observed by all ranks and classes of the people. His body
was brought home and interred in old St Paul’s Cathedral, in the month of
February following, the funeral being attended by all the foreigners in Eng-
* Sir Philip Sidney and the Arcadia ; by James Crossley. Chapman and Hall's
Reading for Travelers, price one shilling. -
294, SIR PHILIP SYDNEY
land, the diplomatic corps, most of the mobility, and an immense concourse of
the people.” . . .
We turn again to the Athenaeum. Mr Crossley gives but a glimpse of the
romantic mature of the story. ‘ On his death-bed, the old Earl of Essex had
prayed that, if God should so move their hearts, his young and lovely daughter,
the Lady Penelope Devereux, should be married to his young friend Philip
Sydney. After the earl’s death, the friends of both families urged the match:
but it never took place. Sydney grew to manhood; Penelope became the
finest woman of her time. Why they did not marry is to this day a mystery.
We think it not unlikely that she was piqued at Sydney, as at first a very
careless lover. It is very certain that the passion which became in after-life
the Source of his poetic sorrows was not aroused until he saw her pass away
into another home. He himself has told us that it was—
Not at first sight, nor with a dribbing shot,
Love gave the wound, which while I breathe will bleed:
I saw and liked, I liked but lovéd not ; -
I loved, but did not straight what love decreed.
“In a series of most graceful sketches he proceeds to describe the awakening
of his senses and his heart to the wondrous beauty of his lost love, until he
can exclaim in a tone of genuine passion—
The race
Of all my thoughts hath neither stop nor start,
But only Stella's eyes and Stella’s heart.
‘When Penelope was about nineteen, she was married to Robert Rich, Lord
Rich; and her old suitor, who by his own account
- —could not by rising morn foresee
How fair a day was near,
was first roused from his state of poetic reverie and indifference to find that he
was deeply in love with the woman whose charms he had so strangely slighted.
He then exclaims:
- O punish’d eyes!
That I had been more foolish or more wise
‘Sydney marries; but the beauty that in his wantonness he had cast away
haunts him still. He rings the changes on her hair, her face, her eyes:–
O eyes! that do the spheres of beauty move,
Which, while they make love conquer, conquer love.
He follows her with his passion: she waves him off in graceful, tender kind-
mess. He writes to her—of her. She reads his verse, but will not listen to
the pleadings of his heart. He perseveres. Never was growing love more
artfully described:—
I can not brag of word, much less of deed.
Tesire still on the stilts of ſcar doth go;
And yet, amid all fears, a hope there is
Stolen to my heart since, last fair night—my day,
SIR PHILIP SYDNEY 295
Stella’s eyes sent to me the beams of bliss,
Tooking om me while I look’d other way.
But when mine eyes back to their heaven did move
They fled with blush,_which guilty seem'd of love!
From this point the way was swift and easy to a common declaration and con-
fession. Sydney is now in raptures: •
For Stella hath, with words where faith doth shine,
Of her high heart given me the monarchy.
I—I—even I, may say that she is mine.
And though she give but this conditionally,
This realm of bliss while virtuous course I take—
No kings be crown'd but they some covenants make.
‘We do not dwell on this episode in Sydney’s life merely on account of its
romantic interest. Toubtless Stella is part of Sydney’s fame. As Spenser
writes of these two lovers—
To her he vow'd the service of his days;
On her he spent the riches of his wit ;
For her he made hymns of immortal praise;
Of only her he sang—he thought—he writ.
Dut the story of their passion soon became by its wide acceptance—its univer-
sal popularity—a portion of the time. What Sydney—virtuous, graceful, and
accomplished—wrote, and Spenser praised, was taken into a thousand hearts
as the poetic gospel of the age. The young men fed on this delicious poison—
this ever-beautiful and touching tale of erring minds.
‘The final interview of these ill-starred lovers is most pathetic. Sydney
speaks of himself under the name of Astrophel,
In a grove, most rich of shade,
Where birds wanton music made,
May, then young, his pied weeds showing,
New perfumed with flowers fresh growing,
Astrophel, with Stella sweet,
Did for mutual comfort meet :
Both within themselves opprest,
But each in the other blest ;
Him great harms had taught much care,
Her fair neck a foul yoke bare;
But her sight his cares did banish,
In his sight her yoke did vanish. -
‘Astrophe pleads the time, the place, the season, and their divided vows,
But her hand, his hands repelling,
Gave repulse—all grace excelling !
Then she spakel her speech was such
As not ear, but heart did touch.
“Astrophell (she said) my love
Cease in these effects to prove
296 SIR PHILIP SYDNEY
Now be still !—yet still believe me,
Thy grief more than death would grieve me.
Trust me, while I thus deny,
In myself the smart I try :
Tyrant Honour doth thus use thee!
Stella’s self might not refuse thee!
Therefore, dear ! this no more move ;
Lest, though I leave not thy love
(Which too deep in me is framed),
I should blush when thou art named!”
Therewithal away she went,
Leaving him so passion-rent
With what she had done and spoken,
That therewith my song is broken. .
‘The story of their love ends here. Sydney went over to Holland, where he
died “in a dream of glory.” Lady Rich remained to sink into the mistress,
and some years later—on her divorce—to become the wife, of a less renowned
and less poetic lover. Lady Sydney, the poet’s “most dear and loving wife,”
as he styles her in his will, forgetting and forgiving private wrongs, followed
him into Holland, nursed him in his death-agonies, and received his last embrace.
“After the poet’s death, when Stella had become Sir Charles Blount’s mis-
tress and Lady Sydney had married the Earl of Essex, and so become the
sister-in-law of Lady Rich, Edmund Spenser took up the strain. In Colin
Clout he speaks of Sydney by name as Astrophel and of Lady Rich as Stella.
In another poem of the same volume he tells us, in beautiful and glowing lines,
the story of their love. Again, in the Elegy, Spenser writes of their then cele-
brated loves in terms of highest sanction. *
“Nor was the sanction given to this guilty passion by those who knew the
parties confined to men. One of these Astrophel-poems is supposed to have
been written by the noble lady who was herself “the subject of all verse.”
Some of its lines are very fanciful and beautiful. For instance, as where she
apostrophizes the spirit of her departed brother —
Ah, me! can so divine a thing be dead?
Ah, mol It is not dead, ne cam it dic,
But lives for aye in blissful Paradise :
Where, like a new-born babe, it soft doth lic
In bed of lilies, wrapt in tender wise;
And compass'd all about with roses sweet,
And dainty violets, from head to feet.
* It may be inferred, from what is known of the history of Spenser's poetry,
that Lady Pembroke, he, and Bryskett, concocted together this poetic tribute
to Sydney's memory. Stella is not mentioned in the lines attributed to Lady
Pembroke; but her spirit seems to haunt the writer not unpleasantly,–and
Sydney is only spoken of under the accepted name of her lover Astrophel.
‘Here, then, we have a singular and interesting group. The men are among
the chiefest and most honourable of the time, Sydney and Spenser were both
SIR PHILIP SYDNEY 297
esteemed, not only as upright and moral, but also as religious men. Lady
Pembroke was one of those shining lights which are the glory of her own sex
and the reproof of ours. Bryskett was a gentleman of fine feeling. Yet, after
Sydney had most grievously wronged the woman whom he had chosen towed—
a woman of great beauty and of irreproachable conduct, these honourable
persons, while his widow was still alive, volunteered to gather up all the
poetical records of this wrong, and give them a wider circulation and a more
lasting celebrity | Nor was even this the worst. The very poems, descrip-
tive of unhallowed love—in which the fair and graceful sinners were celebrated
under their proper names, or with so near an approach to such as left no doubt
on any reader's mind,-written by an exemplary sister, and by friends to
whom his honour was as dear as their own, these poems were actually dedi-
cated as a compliment to the outraged and insulted widow /—the dedication a
tribute of respect to the widow ; and it was so accepted.” . . . -
The purist may be staggered. The puritan (Milton) had found no difficulty
here. “Delicious poison,’ ‘erring minds,’ ‘guilty passion,’ ‘most grievous
wrong,” “unhallowed love,’ ‘fair and graceful sinners,’ ‘outraged and insulted
widow’: let the pure, to whom all pure things are pure, strike the pen through
these few conventional words, and the long Sad story which is raked up to be
thrown like dirt upon the tomb of our most noble Sydney becomes an epitaph
of honour, making him dearer to our memory than ever he could have been for
all his grace and genius, for all that simple heroism of Zutphen-field. He too
drank of the agony of an impossible hope. He too, in his daring love and yet
more greatly daring honesty toward the purity of his own soul, has laid a life
upon the altar of duty, of sacrifice and self-renunciation. A mere sentimental
fool in the eyes of those who love only as the beasts, a ‘fair and graceful sin-
mer’ in the judgement of the bigoted and the foul-minded,—to those who can
comprehend both love and honour, he will henceforth be an ideal: not only as
a hero, but as a Saint and martyr, one more recognizer of Duty, worthy of the
homage and the imitation of the godliest republican : worthy of Spenser's
utmost praise:—
Above all others this is he
Which erst approvéd in his song,
That love and honour might agree,
And that pure love will do no wrong.
Sweet Saints it is no sin or blame
To love a man of virtuous name.
And what of her whom Sydney loved P Speak gently, pitifully of her des-
peration. In Hood's true words, and for Sydney’s sake,
Touch her not scornfully ;
Think of her mournfully,
Gently, and humanly,–
- Not of the stains on her
Or believe that possibly those who could not understand him were still less
likely to see the truth of her.
39S
THE THREE CAPITALs:
BY CHARLES RIBEYROLLES.
tºº
I
AccoPDING to the Times, which has made itself of late the grand trumpeter of
this celebrity, M. Louis Bonaparte, without aggressive war, without any con-
quest whatsoever, has already pushed far before his uncle in the height of his
victories. ‘Look at this emperor ſº cries the journal of all fortunes; ‘he
maintains garrisons in the three capitals of history, in Athens, in Constan-
tinople, and in Rome.’ - -
It is wonderful, certainly ; and truly there is cause for rejoicing, when we
see this man of the 2d of December, the man of loyalty, the man of conscience
—you know, thus encamping in the three capitals of the old world. How-
ever, let not England be dazzled: for these garrisons so liberally cast into the
midst of exposed kingdoms may occupy for a long time, and armies may
become colonies. -
Five years ago, M. Louis Bonaparte sent thirty thousand men into Italy, to
reëstablish the Pope and restore him his seat in the centre of catholicity.
England and the continental Jews applauded. Was it in honour of the Pope?
Certainly not ; but they knew there was a republic to kill, a revolution to ex-
tinguish, and from Rothschild to Montalembert they covered with applause
the thirty thousand men of the Saviour. -
To-day the two ruins are made, imperially made. The Roman Republic has
fallen, crushed under numbers; it is only now a hope of the catacombs. The
Revolution, more difficult to kill, is in dungeons, in exile, crucified, gibbeted,
hung upon the gallows. Decrepit old cardinals suck its last blood; the soldiers
of Louis Bonaparte are still there, their arms in their hands; and the garrison
occupies and guards the old capital, the Queen of the West. May it not be thus,
a little later, in Athens and in Byzantium ? It will be necessary, it seems to
us, to occupy for a long time—a very long time—against Russia!
It is true the English journal attenuates its Napoleonic dithyramb by
reminding us that Great Britain has also her share, her private force, her regi-
ments encamped with those of Bonaparte in these places of the East; as if a
few miserable battalions were an available force, and in case of treachery or
struggle could hold good against a real army formed under the discipline of
Africa.
- II
The English Government, which is not the Times, has, since the alliance was
entered into, constantly maintained this policy: 1st, of engaging to its own
profit the forces of France, against Russian ambition watching narrowly after
the spoils of the great sick man of the East; 2d, of carrying our fleets under
THE THIREE CAPITALS 299
the surveillance of her own, and of scattering our divisions over various points,
so that, in case of imperial caprice, a sudden concentration and rapid blow
against England might not be possible. It says: ‘ Rome is occupied, Algeria
is occupied; on the other hand, Paris, and Lyons, Strasburg, Toulouse, and
Montpellier, must be guarded; if they will but send sixty or a hundred thou-
Sand more men to the East, we shall be covered all along our coasts, and we
shall have multilated allies yonder who will keep the line of the Balkan for
us. Good policy for Dover and the Indies l’
This calculation would be just if they had to deal with a country incohe-
rent, morseled, divided,—with a Government without unity of direction or of
forces; but the centralization which crushes us is an instrument, a means of
action so energetic and so sovereign, that in ten days this lever, held by des-
potism, might raise up the whole mass, and we all know the weight of that
mass of interests and of vital emergies called France.
In the second place, this man whom they salute, to whom they offer up in-
cense from every platform in England, and whom they glorify on all the key-
notes of the press, this clever diplomatist who has his garrisons in the three
ancient capitals of history and the old world—what has he done since he sent
his regiments to Athens, to Constantinople, and to Rome He has decreed
that a camp of a hundred thousand men shall be formed on the line of St Omer
and Boulogne, a line fronting the English coast; and that forty thousand men
shall be massed at the foot of the Alps—a powerful reserve which may make
if necessary the second army of Italy.
Behold it then, this loyal empire, this wise and moderate Government, which
spoke so well at Bordeaux of the interests of civilization and of permanent
peace. Already it has garrisons throughout all Europe, camps at every point
in France, recruits on all the highways, and to-morrow—to-day—in the night
—it can double its armaments if it wishes to strike a sudden blow.
What is wanting for this P Decrees and gendarmes. Have confidence them,
O England
III
We do not fear the lord of the three great capitals. We gladly see this ex-
tension without gain; and, if it pleased him to give himself what remains of
ancient Thebes with the Hundred Gates, we should not be jealous of him.
Let him keep Athens—that rusted jewel of the ancient world; let him encamp
at Constantinople—that caravanserai of the dead; let him box his sentinels in
the great marbles of the Capitol, in that Rome of which however he has only
the walls and the monks : her power, her future, her life is not there ! They
are splendid monuments, illustrious tombs, Sacred relics, magnificent ruins,
which the divine sun of history floods with light; but, save Italy, where a
whole people conspires for holy liberty, there is Nothing in all those countries
of the East, where barbarians have encamped for so many ages.
The real power is elsewhere. It is at Lyons, at Paris, at Milan, at Vienna,
at Pesth, in all those cities which the spirit of the Revolution has visited, and
which, in soul, in suffering, by hope, and by sacrifice, are the true Sacred
cities—the grand capitals of the future I
300 HISTORY OF THE MONTIH
Ah! if Bonaparte had but Warsaw, if the cities of Hungary rose at his
name, if Lombardy stretched out her arms to him and offered him her palms,
if Lyons, Paris, and proletarian France entered into his policy, into his
endeavours, into his destiny, his power would then be great, and old Eng-
land, instead of changing herself, would be compromised. But against the
traitor, the miscreamt of the 2d of December, the Revolution stands sentinel
everywhere, in France as in Poland, as in Hungary, as in Italy. The mys-
terious link of a common suffering and a common faith binds together souls
and peoples who will make no contract with crime; and while this holy com-
munion shall be among us, Bonaparte will build up nothing, will keep nothing.
He may give himself up to oriental fantasies; he may scrawl his name on all
the illustrious marbles of Byzantium and Greece; he may plant cannon and
leave garrisons at the foot of the Acropolis or im Saint Sophia: all this is
nothing—all this is only puerile vanity. For while the Revolution is not
dead, while it has not rendered up its breath and its faith, the Man of the
Three Capitals shall hold under his hand but Three Tombs
(From L’Homme, Journal of the Universal Democracy, published every week in Jersey.)
HISTORY OF THE MONTH.
(From June 22nd to July 22nd.)
T H E W A. R. . .
The past month has been very barren of news. The siege of Silistria has
been raised; the Russians are retreating, the Austrians are advancing, the
Anglo-French army is going, somewhere. The Turks have well maintained
the promise of their beginning, behaving in every respect most gallantly. But
this state of exceptional heroism can not last, nor be at any time renewed.
Russia has only to adopt the old policy of delay,+drawing back before an-
other leap, and in time the most heroic resistance will be worn out. For the
allies' of Turkey maintain also the promise of their beginning. They could
hardly do less if Lord Aberdeen was commander-in-chief. They are still only
‘going.’ Some bootless victories of the Turks,—some few thousand soldiers
lost to the Tzar, a retrograde movement of the Russians, it may be neces-
sitated by loss, it may be only to draw the Turks and their allies into a false
position,--a concentration of Austrian troops upon points where they can be
most serviceable to either side,-this is all the progress of the war; and the
summer months are passing. Lord Aberdeen and his allies know perfectly
what they are about. We may add perhaps the important naval operations:
that Napier has withdrawn from before Cronstadt on account of cholera, and
that the Black Sea fleets, fifty Sail strong, have ‘been seen proceeding in the
HISTORY OF THE MONTH 30].
direction of Sebastopol.” Damage done to a few private individuals on the
Tºussian seaboard, a few Russian merchantmen captured, and some loss of
Inglish life, such results can hardly reconcile us to the policy of our rulers,
though the House of Commons may approve it, and the Great British nation
permit the approval to stand good. Kossuth may spare his breath. There is
indeed little use, as he so sadly seems to feel, in uttering the wisdom of a
sound policy or the warnings of homesty and heroism in the dull ears of a
people which will only be wakened from its beastly apathy by some terrible
disaster, the defeat of our troops, the open perfidy of Austria, or (why not ?)
some new treason of “our good friend and brother,’ the Emperor Napoleon.
He has been reviewing 6,000 of his troops preparatory to their embarkation
at Calais in English ships for some expedition against Northern Russia. Does
Napoleon mean also to occupy St Petersburg P Even that will not decide the
war. But listen to his ‘noble words,’ uttered ‘in the midst of profound
silence’ ‘in a voice heard at the extremity of the most distant ranks.”
* Soldiers l—Russia having forced us to war, France has armed 500,000 of her
children. England has called out a considerable number of troops. To-day our fleets
and armies, united in the same cause, give the law in the Baltic and the Black Seas. I
have chosen you to be the first to carry our eagles to those regions of the North. Eng-
lish vessels are about to convey you there, a fact unique in history, a proof of the inti-
mate alliance of the two great peoples and of the firm resolution of the two Governments
not to abstain from any sacrifice to defend the right of the weaker, the liberty of Europe,
and the national honour. Go, my children attentive Europe, openly or in secret, offers
up prayers for your triumph ; our country, proud of a struggle in which it only threatens
the aggressor, accompanies you with its ardent vows; and I, whom imperious duties
retain still distant from the scene of events, I shall have my eyes upon you ; and soon,
in rebeholding you, I shall be able to say: They were worthy sons of the conquerors of
Austerlitz, of Eylau, of Friedland, and of Moskowa. Go ; may God protect you!”
How little would alter the whole tenour, if interest should change, and our
good English friends “have disappointed our homest expectations, and them—
*Ware hawkſ for all his pretended eagleship.
But let us put off this grumbling fit. There of course will be work in
earnest, even without the initiative of Italy and Poland. British Valour, in
the person of Napier, ‘paces the deck like a caged lion, with his trousers
tucked up to his knees, and taking snuff immoderately, which I am told by
old sailors is a sign of something being in the wind.’ And farther, say the
newspapers, ‘the Albert shako is to be replaced by a felt helmet set off with
German silver.” Peaceful Aberdeen, our Christian viceroy, is really provoking
himself to action. Let us wait his time. We can be very patient when we try.
- SPAIN.
Insurrection at last wakens the land of the Cid. On the 27th of June,
General O’Donnell, who had been condemned to exile, and had lain concealed
and plotting in Madrid, raised the standard of revolt, 2,000 cavalry following
him from the city, in which, it would seem, he was not strong enough to ven-
ture an attack. His intentions appear to be only to force a change of policy
and of ministers upon the Queen. If unable to carry his own purposes solely
302 HISTORY OF THE MONTH
by the aid of the military, the republicans might dictate their terms. In Alcira,
a town of Valencia, the Republic has been proclaimed. And the garrison and
city of Barcelona have declared on the same side. Wittoria, Burgos, Walla-
dolid, Granada, and Madrid have followed. Yet everywhere, according to the
Government prints, and we get no other information, the rebels are in flight
or annihilated, although the revolt continues, and continuing, will succeed.
That the Government fears, is shown even by their circular addressed to the
provincial governors, enjoining them not to believe in any pronunciamentos, or
defeats of the royal forces, in short to credit nothing but what might be
learned from the Government, ‘whose interest it is always to tell the truth,
and whose sense of decorum would on no account consent to its perversion.”
Waiting therefore for reliable information, let us hope things are going well,
and that poor Spain has at last some chance of getting rid of her Bourbons.
It is only Espartero who can bolster them up now, with some humbuging
constitution worthy of a ‘Duke of Victory.’ God, or some providential bullet,
save Spain from that
res AMERICA.
The villainous Fugitive Slave Bill will yet dissolve the American Union.
Better so, since the constitution of the United States sanctions and permits
iniquities which no despotism can exceed,—better that the whole should be
overthrown, and the Northern States at least be free from the guilt now lying
at their door. For it is the North and not the South that must be blamed for
American slavery. The North is stronger, the North is the majority, the
North defines the constitution, the North passes and maintains the laws. The
South is the slave-owner, but the North is the slave-driver. The Fugitive
Slave Bill was a law passed to provide bloodhounds at the expence of the
whole Union, to hunt down the fugitives from slavery. The names of the
bloodhounds are Massachusetts, New York Read the names of the ‘Free
States’ of America—they are the bloodhounds. ‘ On the 2d of June the
fugitive slave, Anthony Burns, was surrendered at Boston to his master by
the United States’ Commissioner. He was immediately conveyed on board a
revenue cutter, which, without delay, set sail for New York. The militia lined
the street from the Court House to the place of embarkation, where 50 armed
policemen were stationed; and the fugitive was escorted by 145 regular troops,
including a detachment of artillery with a nine-pounder loaded with grapeshot.
Business was generally suspended, and many of the buildings were draped
with black. An immense throng assembled in the streets, which greeted the
military with groans and hisses, but, with the exception of several trifling col-
lisions, incidental to all large gatherings, there was no violent exhibition of
the deep and intense feeling that evidently prevailed.” The Puritan Fathers of
the old Bay State had not been content with ‘groans and hisses, and trifling
collisions.” But the age is dastardly, and too ‘practical’ even to see the con-
summate folly of its dastardliness. Better for all America, better for Humanity,
better in the sight of God, that all Boston had been now a heap of ruins, than
that “a few trifling collisions’ should have been all the protest against this
national infamy. O for some manly deed again, to waken the dead world—some
HISTORY, OF THE MONTH 303
deed worthy of the resolutions which were passed in vain, worthy of the daring
words which Theodore Parker so grandly spoke in the ears of these same Vir-
ginian vassals who are impudent enough to call themselves citizens of Boston
and sons of the Massachusetts heroes. -
Here are some of the resolutions agreed to (and not carried out) at a meet-
ing to consider the duty of the Boston citizens on the occasion of a Virginian
slave-owner seeking to kidnap a negro in the State of Massachusetts:—
‘1. Resolved, that the people of Massachusetts, having declared in the first article of
their constitution that “all men are born free and equal, and have certain matural, essen-
tial, and inalienable rights,'—are solemnly bound to stand by their declarations, come
what may, by refusing to recognize the existence of any man as a slave on the soil of the
old Bay State. . . *
‘4. Resolved, that (in the language of Algernon Sidney) “ that which is not just is
not law, and that which is not law ought not to be obeyed.” -
‘9. Resolved, that no man’s freedom is safe, unless all men are free. tº gº
‘10. Resolved, that it is the will of God that every man should be free ; we will as
God wills; God’s will be done l’
And here is the conclusion of Theodore Parker’s ‘Lesson for the Day’ on
Ascension Sunday, on a man having been slain in supporting the constitutional
order of Judge Loring to hold in bonds the negro fugitive, Anthony Burns:—
‘Why is Boston in this confusion to-day ? The Fugitive Slave Bill Commissioner
has just now been sowing the wind, that we may reap the whirlwind. The old Fugitive
Slave Bill Commissioner stands back; he has gone to look after his ‘personal popularity.’
But when Commissioner Curtis does not dare appear in this matter, another man comes
forward, and for the first time seeks to kidnap his man in the city of Boston. Judge
Loring is a man whom I respected and honoured. His private life is wholly blameless,
so far as I know. He has been, I think, uniformly beloved. His character has entitled
him to the esteem of his fellow-citizens. I have known him somewhat. I never heard
a mean word from him—many good words. He was once the law partner of Horace
Mann, and learned humanity of a great teacher. He is a respectable man—in the Bos-
ton sense of that word, and in a much higher sense : at least, I thought so. He is a
kind-hearted, charitable man; a good neighbour; a fast friend—when politics do not in-
terfere; charitable with his purse; an excellent husband; a kind father; a good relative.
And I should as soon have expected that venerable man who sits before me, born before
your Revolution (Samuel May)—I should as soon have expected him to go and kidnap
Tobert Morris, or any of the other coloured men I see around me, as I should have ex-
pected Judge Loring to do this thing. But he has sown the wind, and we are reaping
the whirlwind. I need not say what I now think of him. He is to act to-morrow, and
may yet act like a man, Let us wait and see. Perhaps there is manhood in him yet.
But, my friends, all this confusion is his work. He knew he was stealing a man born
with the same right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, as himself. He knew
the slaveholders had no more right to Anthony Burns than to his own daughter. He
knew the consequences of stealing a man in Boston. He knew that there are men in
Boston who have not yet conquered their prejudices—men who respect the Higher Law
of God. He knew there would be a meeting at Faneuil Hall—gatherings in the street.
He knew there would be violence. * -
‘EDWARD GREELEY LORING, Judge of Probate for the County of Suffolk, in the State of
Massachusetts, Fugitive Slave Bill Commissioner of the United States before these
304 HISTORY OF THE MONTH
citizens of Boston, on Ascension Sunday assembled to worship God, I charge you with
the death of that man who was murdered on last Friday night. He was your fellow-
servant in kidnapping. He dies at your hand. You fired the shot which makes his wife
a widow, his child an orpham. I charge you with the peril of twelve men, arrested for
murder, and on trial for their lives; I charge you with filling the Court House with one
hundred and eighty-four hired ruffians of the United States, and not only alarming this
city for her liberties that are in peril, but stirring up the whole Commonwealth of Mas-
sachusetts with indignation, which no man knows how to stop—which no man can stop.
You have done it all ! cº-
‘This is my Lesson for the Day.’
- |HOME NEWS
Present little worth notice. The following characteristic paragraphs may, how-
ever, deserve some attention:—
Lieutenant Perry, of the 46th Regiment, in barracks at Windsor, has just
been tried by a court martial for ‘an atrocious assault on a brother lieutenant
by beating him on the head and face with a pair of candlesticks.” Perry is
only in his 22d year. His defence is that barrack-life is worse than school-life.
He without means for dissipation attempted to live soberly and quietly, and
became in consequence a butt for the brutal tyranny of his brother officers.
The brute whom he ‘assaulted’ he had struck only in the merest self-defence,
after the most outrageously-blackguard abuse and personal violence. The
other evidence shows plainly that our officers’ barracks are used as brothels
and “hells,” and that even the colonel of the regiment will not protect the few
officers who care to conduct themselves as gentlemen. This is the honourable
and christian life of a soldier under a monarchy.
T}r Peithman is a German scholar of sufficient attainments to hold position
as a tutor in one of our most noble families. The heir of the family seduces a
German servant girl. The lady-mother, fearing an ‘imprudent’ marriage, wants
the tutor to help in getting her out of the way. The tutor, like an honest
man, takes the girl’s part. He has been fourteen years confined in Bedlam for
this, under the mere warrant of the Home Secretary. - p -
Mr O'Flaherty, an Irish M.P., was lately appointed Income Tax Commis-
sioner by the Coalition Cabinet, for services such as those of the Duke of
Newcastle's friend, Judge Stonor. Mr O'Flaherty, having forged sundry
acceptances on his friends, say the papers, to the tune of £14,000, is now pro-
moted from the Gazette to the Hue and Cry: having bolted.
Count Pahlen, a Russian subject, and old intimate friend of Lord Aberdeen,
is just come to England, and is introduced into society by my Lord Granville.
Of course we know very well that Russian counts are never used as agents by
the Tzar; but a poor Russian who has not come here on any such purpose is
ordered into custody, because we are at war with Russia.
Fine samples these of our army, our liberty, and our government. And
here for conclusion, by way of grace, is an innocent little specimen of our
Established Church in Ireland. The Protestant chaplain to the Tuam poor-
house, with a salary of £20 a year, has one Protestant to his flock—a Protes-
tant child of two years and a half old. Precociously Protestant, rather
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GOD AND THE PEO P LE
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S P E C U L A TI W E T H E IS M.
ABRIDGED FROM THEODORE DARKER.
& - 3 &
º
É
USE the word Theism, first, as distinguished from Atheism—that is, from
the absolute denial of all possible ideas of God; second, as distinguished
§ from the Popular Theology, which indeed affirms God, but ascribes to him
a finite character, and makes him a ferocious God; and, third, as distinguished
from Deism, which affirms a God without the ferocious character of the popular
theology, but still starts from the sensational philosophy, abuts on materialism,
derives its idea of God solely by induction from the phenomena of material
nature or of human history, leaving out of sight the intuition of human nature;
and so gets its idea of God solely from observation, and not at all from con-
sciousness, and thus, accordingly, represents God as finite and imperfect.
I start from human nature, from the facts of consciousness in your heart and
in my heart, assuming only the fidelity of the human faculties, their power to
ascertain truth in religious matters, as in philosophical and mathematical mat-
ters; and I think it can be shown that those faculties of human mature, the
intellectual, the moral, the affectional, and the simply religious, in their joint
and normal exercise, lead to the idea of God as a being infinitely powerful,
infinitely wise, infinitely just, infinitely loving, and infinitely holy—that is,
faithful to himself. I start with that conclusion as a fact. I shall not under-
take to prove the actuality of this idea—the existence of the infinite God. I
shall assume the existence, relying for proof on what is felt in your conscious-
mess, without my saying anything. Only for clearness of conception, let me
state some of the most important matters connected with the idea of God.
There must be many qualities of God not at all known to men, some of them
not at all knowable by us, because we have not the faculties to know them by.
Man’s consciousness of God and God’s consciousness of himself must differ
immeasurably. In the self-consciousness of God subject and object are the
same, and He must know all his own Infinite Nature; but in our consciousness
of God the limitations of the finite subject make it impossible that we should
comprehend God as he is conscious of himself. It is enough for us to know
of the Infinite what is knowable to finite man. With qualities not knowable
to us I have nothing to do. I shall not undertake to discuss the psychology
and metaphysics of God. The metaphysics of man are quite hard enough for
me to grapple with and understand. -
Then, as a next thing, God must be different in kind from what I call the
Universe—that is, from Nature, the world of matter, and from Spirit, the World



306 SPECULATIVE THEISM
of man. They are finite, he infinite; they dependent, he self-subsisting; they
variable, he unchanging. God must include both, matter and spirit.
There are two classes of philosophers often called Atheists, but better, and
perhaps justly, called Pantheists. One of these says, “There are only material
things in existence, resolving all into matter; ‘the sum total of these materiał
things is God.” That is Material Pantheism. If I mistake mot, M. Comte, of
Paris, and the anonymous author of the Westiges of the Wałural History of
Creaffion, with their numerous coadjutors, belong to that class. The other
class admits the existence of spirit, sometimes resolving everything into
spirit, and says, “The sum total of finite spirit, that is God.” These are
Spiritual Pantheists. Several of the German philosophers, if I understand
them, are of that stamp. One difficulty with both of these classes is this :
Their idea of God is only the idea of the world of Nature and of Spirit
as it is to-day; and, as the world of Nature and of Spirit will be fairer
and Wiser a thousand years hence than it is now, so, according to them,
God will be fairer and wiser a thousand years hence than he is now. Thus
they give you a variable God, who learns by experience, and who grows with
the growth and strengthens with the strength of the universe itself. Accord-
ing to them, when there was no vegetation in the world of matter, God knew
nothing of a plant, no more than the stones on the earth. When the animal
came, when man came, God was wiser, and he advances with the advance of
man. When Jesus came, God was a better God; he was a wiser God after
Newton and La Place, and was a more philosophical being after those pan-
theistic philosophers had taught him the way to be so : for their God knows
nothing until it is either a fact of observation in finite Nature—in the material
world, or else a fact of consciousness in finite Spirit—in some man. He knows
nothing till it is shown him. That is a fatal error with Hegel and his followers
in Tºngland and America.
Mr Babbage, a most ingenious Englishman, invented a calculating engine.
He builded wiser than he knew : for by-and-bye he found that his engine
calculated conclusions which had never entered into the thought of Mr
Babbage himself. The mathematical engine out-cyphered its inventor. And
these men represent God as being in just that predicament. The world
is constantly revealing things unknown before, and which God had not
conceived of. As there is a progressive development of the powers of the
universe as a whole, and of each man, so there is a progressive development
of God. He is therefore not so much a Being as a Becoming. This idea of a
progressive Deity is not wholly a new thing. The doctrine was obscurely held
by some of the ancient philosophers in the time of Plato.
If God be infinite, then he must be immanent, perfectly and totally present,
in Nature and in Spirit. Thus there is no point of space, no atom of matter,
but God is there; no point of spirit, and no atom of soul, but God is there.
And yet finite matter and finite spirit do Ilol, exhaust,God. He transcends the
world of matter and of spirit, and in virtue of that transcendence continually
makes the world of matter fairer and the world of spirit wiser. So there is really
a progress in the manifestation of God, not a progress in God the manifesting.
SPECULATIVE THEISM 30%
As a third thing, the Infinite God must have all the qualities of a perfect
and complete being, must be complete, in the qualities of a perfect Being, per-
fect in the qualities of a complete one. To state that by analysis which I have
just stated by synthesis, he must have the perfection of being, self-existence;
the perfection of power, almightiness; the perfection of mind, all-knowing-
mess; the perfection of conscience, all-righteousness; of affection, all-loving-
ness; of Soul, all-holiness, perfect self-fidelity. Hence, as the result of all
these, he must have the perfection of will, absolute freedom. I mean to say,
according to this idea of God, there must be no limitation to his existence, his
power, his wisdom, his justice, his love, his holiness, and his freedom; none
from any outward cause or any inward cause whatsoever. The classic or
Greek and Roman idea of God represented him as finite, limited subjectively
by elements of his own character, objectively limited by the elements of the
material world ! The popular theological idea, in fact, represents him as finite,
limited subjectively by selfishness, wrath, and various evil passions, objectively
by elements in the world of man which continually prove refractory, and turn
out as he did not intend. In this matter of the Infinity of God, I differ from
the popular theology as well as from the common scheme of philosophy.
Now look at this philosophical Theism, with its Idea of the Infinite God, as
a Theory of the Universe. Let me divide the universe into two great parts:
one I will call the World of Matter and the other the World of Spirit. By the
world of matter I mean everything, except the Deity, known to us that is not
man; and by the world of spirit I mean what is man, man both in his material
substance and in his spiritual substance. Let me say a word of each. For
shortness' sake I will call the world of matter Nature. I begin with this, as
it is the least difficult. -
In nature God must be both a perfect Cause and a perfect Providence.
I. Of God as perfect Cause. God must have made Nature first, from a perfect
motive; next, of perfect material; third, for a perfect purpose or end; fourth,
as perfect means to achieve that purpose. That is, the motive for creation,
the purpose of creation, must be in perfect harmony with the infinity of God,
in harmony with his infinite power, wisdom, justice, love, and holiness; the
material of nature, and the means therein, with the constant modes of opera-
tion thereof—the Laws of Nature—must be perfectly adequate to the perfect
purpose, and so must be in complete harmony with the Infinite God, with his
infinite power, infinite wisdom, justice, love, and holiness. That is very plain,
following unavoidably from the idea of God as Infinite.
II. Of God as perfect Providence. Creation and Providence are but modifi-
cations of the same function. Creation is momentary providence—providence,
perpetual creation. One is described by a point, the other by a line. Now, God
is just as much present in a blade of grass or an atom of mahogany, this day
and in every moment of its existence, as he was at the instant of its creation.
Men say, ‘When God created matter, he was present therein.” Very true !
but he is just as present therein with all his powers, and just as active with
all his perfections, at every moment while that matter exists, as he was when
it was first created. Men tell us, when they read the Bible, how grand it
308 SPECUIATIVE THEISM
must have been to have stood in the presence of God when Moses miraculously
Smote the rock which gushed with miraculous water; but every drop of water
which falls from my roof in a shower, or from my finger, thus, has as much the
presence of God in it as when, in biblical phrase, ‘the morning stars sang
together, and the sons of God shouted for joy’ at the creation of water itself.
It can not be created without God; it can not subsist without God. Here,
too, in his providence, the motive, the end, the material and means, must be
infinitely perfect. -
The Infinite God must know every movement of every particle of matter.
We generally assent to that in the gross, and reject it in the detail. For ex-
ample, God must have known, at the moment of creation, the present position
of this crescent moon which beautifies the early evening hour; and he must
have known, too, the history of these molecules of carbon that make up the
cotton thread which binds the sheets of this sermon together. To say it short,
the statics and dynamics of the universe, and of each atom thereof, must have
been etermally and thoroughly known to God. If there were any absolute
evil or imperfection in the created, it could only have come from an ab-
solute evil or imperfection in the Creator : that is, from a lack of infinite
power, wisdom, justice, or love, because God had not love enough to wish
all things well, or justice enough to will them well, or wisdom enough
to contrive them well, or power enough to make them well. Each thing
which God has made has a right to be created from perfect motives, for
a perfect purpose, from perfect material, and as perfect means, and a right,
also, to be perfectly provided for. I know to some men it will sound irrre-
verent to speak of the right of the created in relation to the Creator, and of
the consequent duty and obligation of the Creator in relation to the created.
But the Infinite God is infinitely just, and it is with the highest reverence that
I ask, Shall not the God of all the earth do right? Then, if I am sure of
God and his infinity, I am sure beforehand of the ultimate welfare of every-
thing which God has made : for the Infinite Father is the pledge and collateral
security, the endorser therefor.
We can not comprehend the details of this providence more than of
creating, nor fully understand the mode of attaining the end. The mode of
terminating, originating, and sustaining are equally unintelligible to us; but
the fact we know from the idea of God as Infinite. As we can not with a
Gunter’s-chain measure the distance between the sun and the earth, but as by
calculation, starting from facts of internal consciousness and external observa-
tion, we can measure it with greater proportionate exactness than a carpenter
could measure the desk under my hand,-so we can not understand God’s
mode of operation as Cause or Providence more than an Indian baby, newly
born in Shawnee-town, could understand the astronomer’s mode of operation in
calculating the distance between the earth and the sun. But as we have this
idea of God, though we know not the mode of operation, the middle terms
which intervene betwixt the purpose and the achievement, we are yet sure of
the fact that the motive, purpose, material, and means are all proportionate to
the nature of the Creator, and adequate for the welfare of the created.
SPECULATIVE THEISM - 309
In Nature God is the only cause, the only providence, the only power; the
law of Nature—that is, the constant mode of action of the forces of the
material world—represent the modes of action of God himself, his thought
made visible. His mode of action is constant and universal. Men have their
precarious make-shifts; the Infinite has no tricks and subterfuges, not a
miracle in Nature, not a whim in God.
So much for this Theism as a theory of the World of Matter. Now a word
for it as a theory of the World of Spirit, of the World of Man.
Look at this first in the most general way, in relation to Human Nature, to
Mankind as a whole. Here the same thing is to be said as of Nature : namely,
the Infinite God must be a perfect cause thereof, and have created the world
of man from perfect motives, for a perfect purpose, of perfect material, as per-
fect means. God has no other motive, purpose, material, or means. The per-
fect motive must be Absolute Love, producing the desire to bless the world of
man—that is, to desire to confer thereon a form and degree of welfare which
is perfectly consistent with the entire nature of man. The perfect purpose
must be the attainment of that bliss—the ultimate attainment not to-day, or
when man wills, but when the Infinite God wills. Perfect material is that
which is capable of this welfare; and perfect means are such as achieve it.
IBut God must be also perfect providence for the World of Man; he must be
perpetually present therein, in each portion thereof. Men think that God was
present in some moment of time, at the creation of mankind. Very true ! but
in each moment of mankind’s existence since God is just as present : for pro-
vidence is a continuous line of creations, and God is as much present, and as
much active, ºf any point of that line as at the beginning or end thereof. I
know men speak of yielding up the spirit and going out of the body, going to
God. Is not God about, within, and around us, while we are in the body, just
as much as when we shake off the known and enter on that untried being P
God must have known at the creation all the action and history of the world
of Man as well as of Nature. It is not to be supposed that ten thousand years
ago God knew less of human history than he knows to-day. That would be
to make God imperfect in his wisdom, growing wiser by experience. Napo-
leon’s coup d’état was a surprise to mankind ten months ago. Do you think
it was an astonishment to God ten months ago P Was it not infinitely known
hundreds of millions of years ago—etermally known P. It must have been so.
I know the question is here more complicated than in Nature: for in Nature
there is only one force, the direct statical and dynamical action of matter,<
and accordingly it is easy to calculate the action and result of mechanical,
vegetable, electrical, and vital forces. But in the World of Man there is a cer-
tain amount of freedom, and that seems to make the question difficult. In
that part of the world of Nature not endowed with animal life, there is no
margin of Oscillation; and you may know just where the moon will be to-night
and where it will be a thousand years hence. The constant forces with their
compensations may all be known; and so every mutation of the moon is cal-
culable with entire certainty. The modes of action there are as little variable
as the maxims of geometry. The moon’s mode is an invariable consequent of
310 SPECUTATIVE THEISM
material necessity. When a star with fiery hair came splendouring through
the night, it ſilled mediaeval astronomers with amazement, and celibate priests,
divorced from Nature, shook with superstitious fear as it wrote its hieroglyphic
of God over Byzantium or Rome. Was God astonished at his wandering star P
In the world of animals, there is a small margin of Oscillation; but you are
pretty sure to know what the animals will do, that the beaver will build his
dam and the wren her nest just as their fathers built, that every bee next sum-
mer will make her six-sided cell with the same precision and geometric
economy wherewith her ancestors wrought ten thousand years ago.
But man has a certain amount of freedom—a larger margin of Oscillation,
wherein he vibrates from side to side. The nod of Lord Burleigh is a variable
contingent of human caprice. Hence it is thought that God could not fore-
know the oscillations of caprice in the human race, in the Adamitic Cain of
ancient poetry, or the Napoleonic Cain of contemporaneous history, till after
they took place. But that conclusion comes only from putting our limitations
on God. It is difficult for the astronomer’s little boy to measure the cradle
he sleeps in or to tell what time it is by the nursery-clock; but the astronomer
can measure the vast orbit of Leverrier’s star before seeing it and correct his
clock by the great dial hung up in heaven itself-and the difference between
the mind of the astronomer’s boy and the mind of the astronomer is nothing
compared to the odds between finite intellect and the infinite understanding of
God. So, though the greater complication makes it more difficult for me to
understand the consciousness of free men, whose feelings, thoughts, and con-
sequent actions are such manifold contingents, it is not more difficult for God.
Before the creation, the Infinite God, as perfect Cause and Providence, must
have known all the powers and consequent actions, movements, and history of
the collective world of men and each individual thereof. For either man has
no freedom at all, or he has some freedom of will. In the first case, if he has
no freedom, po margin of oscillation, the fore-knowableness of his actions does
not differ from that of the world of matter, and the mutation of the moon and
the nod of Lord Burleigh are equally the invariable consequent of material or
human necessity. Then God is the only force in the human world, and of course,
without difficulty, knows all its actions: for a knowledge of the world is only
part of his consciousness of himself. The treachery of Judas and the faithful-
mess of Jesus are then but facts of the divine self-consciousness. If there be
freedom, then God, as the perfect Cause of man’s freedom of will, must have
perfectly understood the powers of that freedom. The hyaena crouching in his
den, the kidnapper lurking in his office, are both known to God. Though
human caprice and freedom be a contingent force, yet God knows human
caprice when he makes it, knows exactly the amount of that contingent force,
all its actions, movements, and history, and what it will bring about. And as
he is infinitely wise, just, and loving Cause and Providence, so there can be no
absolute evil or imperfection in the world of man, more than in the world O
matter, or in God himself. -
So much for this Theism as a theory of the World of Man as a Whole,
in its most general form. -
SPECULATIVE TIHEISM - 311
Now see the concrete application thereof in the General Human Life, in the
life of nations. In creating mankind God must have known there would come
the great races of men—Ethiopian, Malay, Tartar, American, Caucasian. He
must have known there would come such families of the Caucasian as the
Slavic, Classic, Celtic, Teutonic ; such stocks of the Teutonic as the Scan-
dinavian, the German, the Saxon; of the Saxon such nations as England and
America; in their history such events as the American Revolution, the Mexi-
can war, and the like. All the powers and consequent actions, movements,
and history of mankind must therefore have been known and provided for.
The savage, the barbarous, the half-civilized, and the civilized, the feudal and
commercial periods, and others yet in store, must have been known and pro-
vided for. The whole religious history of man,—Atheism, Fetichism, Poly-
theism, Monotheism—the Monotheism of the Hebrews and of the Christians,—
must have been known. The rise, decline, and fall of Egypt, India, Persia,
Judea, Greece, Rome, and Byzantium must have been as well understood by
God at the creation as now ; and, as perfect Providence, he must have pro-
vided for the rise, decline, and fall thereof, so that they should be steps for-
ward, toward ultimate bliss, and not from it. He must have given man his
power of free will as all other powers, from a perfect motive, for a perfect pur-
pose, of perfect material, and as perfect means; and of course it must achieve
that purpose for mankind as a whole. And what is true of the whole must be
true of each ; and God must be perfect Providence for one as well as for
another, and so arrange these that they all shall come to ultimate bliss. His
hand is endorsed on each race, each family, each tribe, each nation, each in-
dividual of mankind. You can not suppose, as writers of the Old Testament
do, that the affairs of the world look desperate to God, and that he repents
having made mankind or any fraction of the human race.
Well! since these things are so, how beautiful appears the Material World!
There is no fortuitous concourse of atoms which the atheist talks of ; there
is no universe of selfishness, no grim despot who grinds the world under his
heels and then spurns it off to hell, as the popular theology scares us withal.
Everything is a thought of Infinite God, and in studying the movements of the
solar system, or the composition of an ultimate cell arrested in a crystal,
developed in a plant, in tracing the grains of phosphorus in the brain of a
man, or in studying the atoms which compose the fusil-oil in a drop of ether,
or the powers and action thereof.-I am studying the thought of the Infinite
God. The universe is his scripture, Nature the prose and Man the poetry of
God. The world is a volume holier than the Bible, old as creation. What
history, what psalms, what prophecy therein what canticles of love to beast
and man! not the ‘Wisdom of Solomon,’ as in this Apocrypha, but the Wis-
dom of God, written out in the great Canon of the universe.
From this point of view how beautiful appears the World of Man | When I
look on the whole history of man,—man as a Savage, as a barbarian, as half-
civilized or as civilized, feudal or commercial, fighting with all the forces
which chemistry and mechanical science can offer, and suffering from want,
war, ignorance, from sin in all its thousand forms, from despotic oppression in
312 SPECULATIVE THEISM
Bussia, democratic oppression in America, when I see the tyranny of the
feudal baron in other times with his acres and his armies, of the feudal
capitalist now-a-days, the commercial baron with notes at cent-per-cent,
when I see the hyaena of the desert stealing his prey in an Abyssinian town
and the hyaena of the city kidnapping a man in Boston, when I See all this,
I say the thing is not hopeless. O no it is hopeful. God knew it all at thc
beginning, as perfect Cause,_cared for it all, as perfect Providence, with per-
fect motive, purpose, material, means,—will achieve at last ultimate welfare
for the oppressor and the oppressed. I see the individual suffering, from want,
ignorance, and oppression, the public woe which blackens the countenance of
men, the sorrow which with private tooth gnaws the heart of Ellen or William,
the sin which puts out the eyes of Cain or George. Can I fear P O no
though the worm of sorrow bore into my own heart, I can not fear. In
times past there is evil which I can not understand,-in times present evit
which I can not solve, suffering, for mankind, for each nation, for you
and me, sufferings, follies, sins. I know they were all foreseen by the in-
finite wisdom of God, all provided for by his infinite power and justice, and his
infinite love shall bring us all to bliss, not a soul left behind, not a sparrow
lost. The means I know not ; the end I am sure of.
In the world of matter there is the greatest economy of force. The rain-
drop is wooed for a moment into bridal beauty by some enamoured ray of
light, then feeds the gardener's violet, or moves the grindstone in the farmer's
mill, serving alike the turn of beauty and of use. Nothing is in vain; all
things are manifold in use. ‘A rose, beside its beauty, is a cure.” The OCC8,1].
is but the chemist’s sink which holds the rinsings of the world, and everything
washed off from earth was what the land needed to void, the sea to take. All
things are twofold; matter is doubly winged, with beauty and with use. And
do you then believe that the great God, whose motto, “waste not, want not,’
is pictured and practised on earth and sea and sky, is prodigal of human suffer-
ing, human woe P. Every tear-drop which sorrow has wrung from some poor
megro's eye, every sigh, every prayer of grief, each groan which the exile puts
up in our own land, and the groan which the American exile puts up in
Canada, while his tears shed for his wife and child Smarting in the tropics
are turned to ice before they touch the wintry ground,-has its function in
the great chemistry of our Father’s world. These things were known by God;
and he will bring every exile, every wanderer in his arms, the great men not
forgot, the little not less blessed, and bear them rounding home from bale to
bliss, to give to each the welfare his nature needs to give and ours to take.
The Atheist looks out on a here without a hereafter, a body without a Soul,
a world without a heaven, a universe with no God; and he must needs fold his
arms in despair, and dwindle down into the material selfishness of a cold and
sullen heart. The Popular Theologian looks out on the world, and sees a body
blasted by a soul, a here undermined by a hereafter of hell, arched over with a
little paltry sounding-board of heaven, whence the elect may look over the
edge and rejoice in the writhings of the worms unpitied beneath their feet; he
looks out and sees a grim and revengeful and evil God. Such is his sad whim.
A NATIONAL HYMN 313
But the man with pure Theism in his heart looks out on the world, and there
is the Infinite God everywhere as perfect Cause, everywhere as perfect Pro-
vidence, transcending all, yet immanent in each, with perfect power, wisdom,
justice, holiness, and love, securing perfect welfare unto each and all.
On the shore of Time, where Atheism sat in despair, and where Theology
howled with delight at its dream of hell all crowded with torment at the end,
there sits Theism. Before it passes on the stream of Human History, rolling
its volumed waters gathered from all lands,-Ethiopian, Malay, Tartar, Cau-
casian, American,—from each nation, tribe, and family of men; and it comes
from the Infinite God, its perfect Cause ; it rolls on its waters by the infinite
Providence, its perfect Protector. God is on the shore of the stream of Human
History, infinite power, wisdom, justice, love; in the waters, in every dimple,
in each bubble, in each atom of every drop ; and at the end the stream falls
into the sea, that Amazon of human history, under the line of Providence,
on the Equator of the world, falls into the great ocean of etermity, and not a
dimple that deepens and whirls away, not a bubble that breaks, not a single
atom of a drop, is lost. All fall into the ocean of blessedness, which is the
bosom of love, and then the rush of many waters sing out this psalm from
human nature and human history,<-‘If God is for us, who can be against us?”
A NATION AI. HYMN.
Air—‘God save the Iſing.’
O GoD ! our England save.
God who o'er land and wave
Didst lead our sires—
Lead us, through glorious deeds,
Wherever Truth proceeds,
And crown each day with meeds
Of high desires.
O God who rulest right—
O God! whose word is might—
That word fulfil: -
Teach us to do and dare;
Make England’s life a prayer,
Her hope a zealous care,
To work thy will.
Let our Republic stand
Ever at Fame’s right hand,
Stalwart and free :
314 . JOHN WYCLIFFE
Give us heroic health :
So we, despising stealth,
May make our Commonwealth
Worthy of thee.
O Truth ! our England bless :
So we through every stress
Shall proudly march :
Gird thou our sheathless sword;
Speak thou our charging word;
Welcome the battle’s lord
Under thy arch.
Honour ! be thou our guide :
Lead thou our holy pride
Over the earth :
Till all the nations be,
Even as England, free;
Till the last tyrant flee
Before our worth.
J 0 H N WYC LIFFE.
jo dispute the exactions and usurpations of papal Rome has ever been
the peculiar privilege and honour of England. The Reformation may
*† boast its Luther, but its Morning Star was our own Wycliffe, of two
hundred years before.
JoHN DE WycLIFFE (or Wickliffe) was born in 1324, at Wycliffe, a small
village in the North Riding of Yorkshire, near the junction of the Greta and
the Tees. He was, it would seem, of ‘gentle blood,” and studied at Oxford,
first at Queen’s College and afterward both as a probationer and a fellow of
Merton—then distinguished for its learning. There he soon surpassed his com-
temporaries, obtaining a reputation as a man ‘of a profound wit and very
strong and powerful in disputation’; by his diligence in expounding the Scrip-
tures winning for himself the title of the Evangelical Doctor.
The first matter, however, which brought him into general notice was his
public contention at Oxford with the Mendicant Friars (the Dominicans and
Franciscans), who, having begun by preaching against the greed and worldli-
ness of the elder orders (Benedictines and Augustines), without much delay
followed in the same track; and now, impudently transgressing their vows of
poverty, were fair rivals, whether of their monkish brethren or of the secular
clergy, in their magnificent habits of arrogance and extortion. Against the

WY C L I FFF
J () H. N.

JOHN WYCLIFFE 317
overweening pretensions of these haughty beggars, who had become especially
offensive to the University by their interference in its statutes and their en-
deavours to seduce the students, Wycliffe, with other learned clerks, was, in
1360, selected to preach; which he appears to have done with so much
satisfaction to the University that, in the following year, he was presented
to the rectory of Fylingham. This contention was Wycliffe’s first onslaught
upon the papal power.
Five years later, personal grievances came in to strengthen the controversy.
Canterbury Hall, Oxford, had been founded in 1361 by Simon Islip, Archbishop
of Canterbury, for a warden and eleven scholars, monks and secular clerks.
The first warden made himself obnoxious to the University, and the monks
and clerks not agreeing, the Archbishop therefore removed him and the monks,
and, replacing the latter with seculars, appointed Wycliffe to be the new War-
den, as ‘a person in whose fidelity, circumspection, and industry, he very much
confided,” and also ‘om account of the homesty of his life, his laudable conver-
sation, and knowledge of letters.’ The following year Islip died. The monks
applied to his successor, Langham, who, favouring them, ejected Wycliffe, who
appealed to Rome against the illegal decision; and appealed in vain.
England was at this moment in the first flush of pride for the victories of
the Black Prince. Even so inopportunely Pope Urban V ventured to put in
his claim for the yearly tribute which the infamous King John had promised
on receiving his crown at the hands of the papal legate. The English prelates,
mobility, and commons, were at one in denying the right of the king of England
to make the realm subject to any foreign power; they indignantly rejected the
papal claim; and Wycliffe, who was now one of the king’s chaplains, stood for-
ward to expose its fallacy. In his exposition he went so far as not only to deny
the Supremacy of the pope over English temporalities, but to assert the supre-
macy of the law of the realm over churchmen, and also that under circumstances
of misapplication or unreasonable accumulation the wealth of the Church might
be rightly taken by the State, to whose well-being the Church’s claims should
be subservient. These points he upheld as a man and a statesman on the
simple ground of reason and of right. He had now ceased to be the Romanist,
Henceforward he was content to call himself a Christian.
In 1374, Edward III sent him as ambassador to Bruges, to treat with the
pope's nuncio ‘concerning the liberties of the Church of England’ invaded by
the pope's continual appointment of foreigners to English benefices. While
absent on this embassy, which he conducted with real English spirit, the king
bestowed on him the rectory of Lutterworth in Leicestershire and the prebend
of Aust in the collegiate church at Westbury.
On his return, Wycliffe spoke out yet more boldly against ‘Antichrist,” that
‘proud worldly priest of Rome, the most cursed of clippers and purse-kervers’;
charging him with having ‘drawen out of our land poor men’s lifelode” (liveli-
hood), and with the carnal heresy of simony. The Pope answered by dispatching
bulls to Sudbury, Archbishop of Canterbury, and Courtenay, Bishop of London,
empowering them to apprehend and imprison Wycliffe, and to the king and
the University of Oxford, requiring their assistance to the same end. But
3.18 JOHN WYCLIFFE
Edward III was now dead, and the boy-king, Richard II, was under the guar-
dianship of his uncle, John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, who had long been the
friend and patron of the Reformer. So the Court only the more warmly took
up his cause ; the University treated the Pope’s bull with neglect; and all the
bishops could do was to cite him to appear before them in St Paul’s Church to
answer the articles of accusation. He appeared, side by side with the Duke
of Lancaster and Percy—the Earl-Marshal of England, followed by an almost
royal retinue. There was no trial them. Bishop Courtenay’s proud blood
boiled over at the interference of the nobles; they in reply threatened to pull
the bishop out of the church; and in the midst of confusion the assembly was
dissolved. Wycliffe afterward appeared before the bishops in private, at the
chapel of Lambeth Palace, and delivered in his answer; denying the infallibility
of the pope, asserting his own profession of the law of Christ, and offering
to retract any of his conclusions that could be proved contrary to the Christian
faith. The Duke of Lancaster was not this time at his elbow; but the people
forced their way into the Chapel, menacing if any hurt came to him; and a
message from the queen-mother to the same effect made the bishops’ speech
“soft as oil, to the public loss of their own dignity.’ So Wycliffe escaped un-
scathed; but the anxiety and fatigue he had undergone brought on, soon
after, a serious illness from which he was not expected to recover.
It was during this illness, that, it is said, four doctors, representing the four
monastic orders, entered the sick man’s chamber to comfort his dying moments
by wringing from him a recantation of his old charge against them. Wycliffe
patiently heard their preliminary of kind solicitude, and their hopeful essay for
his penitence; then beckoned his servant to raise him in his bed; and, fixing
his eyes upon them, exclaimed with all his remaining strength—“I shall not
die, but live, and again declare the evil doings of the friars.”
He did live: to proceed in another stage of reform, from defending the Uni-
versity and the Nation against the encroachments of the Church, to assailing
the Church’s doctrine. His first work toward that was the translation of the
Bible into English: a double boon to his country, thereby contributing even
more than his great contemporary, Chaucer, to the formation of the language,
and letting in the light upon the pretensions of the Romish clergy. So dam-
gerous was his work deemed by them that a bill was brought into Parliament
to forbid the reading of the Bible in English; but again the Duke of Lancaster
stood beside the Reformer, declaring that ‘the people of England would not
be the dregs of all men, seeing all nations beside them had the Law of God in
their own tongue.’ He now advanced boldly in the brave heretical road; and
about 1380 published his great work, the Trialogus : in which he goes through
the whole course of academical study, beginning with the argument for the
existence of the Deity, following through the known sciences, and thence con-
cluding with morals. He asserts here the great truth that virtue or vice
consists more in the motive than the act, denies any special merit in fasting
unless where fasting is found conducive to virtue, denies also that any man is
obnoxious to punishment for original sin, unless he himself has been criminal,
repudiates the mediation of Saints, criticizes boldly the Roman views of
JOHN WYCLIEEE 319
transubstantiation and baptism, and attacks indulgences and other papal mal-
practices. His translation of the Bible, popularizing the one Christian doc-
trime of human equality, must have been a great incentive to that most justly
called forth revolt of the English serfs, which is branded in history as Wat
Tyler’s Rebellion; and when that rebellion was put down by the murder of
Tyler and the betrayal of the people with charters never meaned to be kept,
the Church turned to their revenge on Wycliffe, who, to avoid the storm, re-
tired to his rectory at Lutterworth from Oxford, where he had been forbidden
to lecture. A writ against him was addressed to the University; but the
Oxford functionaries resisted it as a breach of their privileges, permitted one of
Wycliffe's party named Reppingdon to preach a sermon in which all Wycliffe’s
doctrines were insisted on, attended with a band of armed men to hear him,
and publicly thanked him for his daring. A convocation was however held at
Oxford, at which Reppingdon recanted; but Wycliffe, who was summoned to it,
put in papers (still existing) denying only the misstatements made concerning
him, but on all material points justifying what he had taught. His enemies were
Satisfied with calling this a recantation, and let the old man return in peace to
Lutterworth, where he died two years after, on the 31st of December, 1384.
Nearly fifty years later, by order of the Council of Constance, the Great
Heretic’s bones were dug out of his grave, burnt to ashes and flung into a
neighbouring brook. ‘And this brook,” says old Fuller, ‘conveyed his ashes
into Avon, Avon into Severn, Severn into the narrow seas, they into the main
ocean; and thus the ashes of Wickliffe are the emblem of his doctrine, which
now is dispersed all the world over.’
His Trialogues were carried into Bohemia, and originated the great Hussite
reformation. And Cranmer's half-work had been more than anticipated here,
if the Lollards had not been sacrificed by the usurping House of Lancaster to
secure the friendship of the more powerful Church. How far his doctrines had
spread, even in his own day, may be judged from the remark of a contemporary
writer—that “if you met two persons on the highway, you may be sure that
one of them was a Lollard, or follower of Wickliffe.”
Of Wycliffe’s own personal character we may speak in the language of
Chaucer, whose parish priest is said to be a portrait of the good rector of
Lutterworth. -
But rich he was of holy thought and work;
He was also a learned man, a clerk
That Christ his gospel trućly would preach;
His parishioners devoutly would he teach;
Benign he was and wondrous diligent.
Wide was his parish, and houses far asunder,
But he left not for either rain or thunder,
To visit, or in sickness or in grief,
The farthest of his parish, small or chief,
Upon his feet, and in his hand a stave.
This noble example to his sheep he gave :
That first he wrought, and afterward he taught.
320
THE REBELLION OF KET THE TANNER:
A CHAPTER OF THE SUPPRESSED HISTORY OF ENGLAND.
(Continued from page 288.)
ExCESTER (Exeter) is a city—if I may credit the accounts we have of it—
placed on a hill, having a castle ‘the site of which is eminent and above both
the citie and countrie adjoining, for they all do lie, as under the lee thereof.”
The city is strongly ditched and walled round, and is ‘not easily to be gotten
by force,” and was well provided with cannon and other weapons of defence.
On the contrary, ‘Norwich is like a great volume with a bad cover, having as
but parchment walls about it. Nor can it with much cost and time be effectu-
ally fortified, because under the frowning brow of Moushold Hill hanging over
it, the river Yere, so wanton that it knoweth not its own mind which way to
goe, such the involved flexures thereof within a mile of this city, runneth
partly by, partly through it, but contributeth very little to the strengthening
thereof.” Now what could a weak city do in opposition to so great a multi-
tude, possessed of such a hill as gave them not only a large prospect, but a
full command over it, and being neither strong by art or nature, and quite
destitute of any number of cannons and other weapons of defence, could be in
no capacity to make any resistance; and therefore it had been as imprudent in
the magistrates here to have pretended to act as they did at Excester, as it was
prudent in them. And as to the miscarriage of the Marquis of Northampton,
it was so far from being occasioned by any misconduct of the citizens, that it
was only their misfortune that so unfit a man was sent to their rescue, “he
being more acquainted with the witty than the warlike part of Pallas (as com-
pleat in musick, poetry, and courtship), and so few succours, and many of
them Italians, that it gave the rebels further pretence to fill the country with
complaints, that these were only a handful of an armful to follow, driving on
the design to subject England to the insolence of foreigners, for though neither
wisdom nor valour was wanting in the king's Soldiers, yet success failed them,
being too few to defend Norwich and oppose the rebels. What was fifteen
hundred soldiers (for there was no more of the English troops) to twenty
thousand rebels P when, on the other hand, Sir John Russel, Lord Privy Seal,
a person of a stout spirit, proper for such a service, and a man of great in-
terest in that country, as well as estate, was sent down to Excester, with a
convenient power of men of Warre, both on horseback and foot, and two bands
of strangers,’ a power sufficient to engage those rebels, which were only about
ten thousand. And as to the damage the Marquis’s forces suffered out of the
houses, it is plain this author was not acquainted properly with the affair, for
it did not proceed from the citizens (as he says), but from the rebels them-
KET’s REBELLION 32].
selves, who having stormed Bishop Gates, entered the houses in Holme Street,
and so almost up to St Martin’s Church; and it was those that did the great
damage to the Marquis’s men: so that I believe if the thing be rightly con-
sidered and duly compared, Norwich was as free from any disloyalty as
Excester, notwithstanding the accusations Sir John hath laid upon it. -
At this time, the wisdom, faithfulness, courage, and integrity of Doctor
Mathew Parker, then Professor of Divinity, and afterwards Archbishop of
Canterbury, a native of this city, was very remarkable, for minding to do
the office and duty of a good pastor; in rebuking of wickedness he showed
himself stout and valiant, and in wary avoiding of dangers, witty and careful,
so that he performed the faith he owed to God and the king; and by diligently
providing for himself, showed that providence that is principally in wise men.
One day, going into the camp, he found Ket and his associates standing under
the Oak, communing of matters between themselves; at which time the noble
courage of the mayor appeared, and his worthy voice was plainly heard like a
brave man: for upon Ket’s being earnest with him to deliver up the keys of the
city, and all his authority, and to resign the government of it into his hands,
Codd stoutly answered—" He would give his blood and life out of his body,
before he would by villainy treacherously forsake the city, or through fear or
cowardice wickedly cast off his allegiance to the king.’
The matter being thus debated, and night coming on, the doctor, seeing the
people overcharged with eating and drinking, and the heat of the sun, thought
that good counsel and wholesome advice would be cast away upon such Swine,
and therefore wisely omitted saying anything to them that day; so that leaving
all things as he found them, full of fury and tumults, he returned to the city,
The next day, which was Friday he and his brother, Mr Thomas Parker, who
was afterwards Mayor of Norwich, came early to the camp, where he found
them all under the oak, hearing prayers said by Mr Coniers, their chaplain,
who was then reading the Litany. Dr Parker, thinking that time fit for his
purpose, stepped up on the oak, and there made an excellent sermon, full of
wisdom, modesty, and gravity, dividing his discourse into three parts.
Tirstly,–he exhorted them to use with moderation the victuals they had
brought into the camp, and not riotously and lavishly waste and consume it.
Secondly,–he advised them by no means to seek revenge of private dis-
pleasures, and not to chain or keep in irons those they held in ward, nor to
defile their hands with blood by taking away any man’s life wickedly and
cruelly. -
Tastly,–he wished them to have regard to themselves, and the common-
wealth, and leave off their rash enterprize, not distrusting the king's herald
and, messenger; but to show such honour to his Majesty, now in his tender
years, as they might enjoy him hereafter, in his more ripe and flourishing
state, being grown up in virtue to their great comfort.
But the oak, as soon as the auditory, would embrace his doctrine, his life
being like to be ended before his sermon; for as the company heard him
attentively and willingly, standing round about him, a lewd fellow among them
cried out—‘How long shall we suffer this hircling doctor, who, being waged
322 KET’s REBELLION
by gentlemen, is come hither with his tongue, which is sold, and lied to serve
their appetite P But for all his prating, let us bridle them, and bring them
under the Orders of our law.” Upon this, the people began to threaten the
preacher, and say he should be brought down with arrows and javelins, and
Some were shot at him, which put him in great fear, and that was increased by
the noise and clattering of weapons under him; but he was happily deceived
in that point, for there was not a man that stood next him under the compass
of the tree but what valued him exceedingly and were glad of his coming
hither, hoping his oratory might have some good effect. During this uproar,
Ret’s chaplain seasonably and wisely set the Te Deum, and with the help of
Some singing men there present, performed it so elegantly that the multitude,
taken with the Sweetness of the musick (which was a novelty to them), began
by degrees to be appeased; and during the singing the doctor withdrew to sing
his part at home, and to praise God for his great deliverance; for coming down
from the oak, and taking his brother with him, he made what haste he could to
the city. But as they were going down St Leopard’s Hill towards Pockthorp
Gates, some of the rebels overtook him and began to question him about his
licence, desiring him to show them what authority he had to preach. But he
knowing it vain to reason with them slipt away, and left his brother to argue
out the matter. However, the very next day, the doctor going into St Clement’s
Church, took occasion from one of the lessons appointed to be read for the day,
to expound somewhat concerning these wicked tumults, many of the rebels
being present, who heard the end of his exhortation without interrupting him,
though they seemed greatly offended as it ; but staying for his coming out,
they immediately followed him, and told him that they understood he had
three or four able geldings which might serve the king, and therefore they
charged him that immediately after dinner they might be ready for them to
make use of. To which the doctor said but little; but went home and forth-
with ordered some of their shoes to be pulled off, and their hoofs to be pared
to the quick, and then put on again, and others to be anointed with green
ointment, as though they had been lame with travelling, and dressed with
medicines. Then leading them to pasture, the rebels seeing some of their feet
Swaddled and anointed, and others lamish, laid aside that design; and not long
after, the doctor seeming to take a walk towards Cringleford Bridge, met with
his horses and servants there, as he had ordered, and mounting, took his jour-
ney towards Cambridge with all possible speed, and luckily escaped thither out
of all danger, though by the way he met with and saw divers of the rebels
playing their pranks in the usual outrageous manner. *
By this time, having spoiled the country gentlemen of their goods, they
now began to attack their bodies, and bring them as prisoners into the camp,
which caused such a general fear that many forsook their houses and estates,
and changing apparel lest they should be known in the flight, escaped by ob-
scure paths, and hid themselves in caves of the earth and thick woods. Many
who had horses and carts they forced to carry provision to the camp, and
others that had none of their own were compelled to procure them elsewhere.
Gentlemen were now daily taken and brought into the camp, bound fast with
RET’s RIBELLION 323
cords like so many villains. Some were kept in Norwich Castle, some in the
Guyld Hall prison, and others were shut up in the Earl of Surrey’s house, as
felons and thieves. Whenever they wanted money (which was often) if the
mayor did not immediately supply them out of the common treasury, they
threatened to burn and rifle the city, which they had certainly done if the
diligence of the mayor had not prevented it.
Furthermore, to cloak their wicked actions under the king’s authority,
having seized several commissions sent from the king, directed to divers gentle-
men in the country, authorising them to do their utmost endeavours to repress
these commotions, in some of them they erased the names of the gentlemen,
and inserted their own, and from others they took the seals, and placed them
to forged commissions of their own making, and fixing them up in public
places, deceived many ignorant people thereby, and drew them to their party.
By this time, their number being increased to above 20,000, they grew so
disordérly that Ket, the arch-rebel, could not restrain them. And now they
threaten all such citizens as were fled with their families, and all such as would
not declare on their side, as open enemies, so that nothing but fire and sword
was hourly expected. Whatever was brought into the camp was spent in a
most gluttonous manner, insomuch that it seems almost incredible how so
much could be devoured in so short a time, for besides Swans, geese, hens,
ducks, and all sorts of fowls without number, about 3,000 bullocks and 20,000
sheep were spent in a few days.
The gentlemen’s parks were laid open, and what deer they could get killed
and brought hither, and such as they had a particular spleen against, they des-
troyed their woods and groves by cutting down the trees therein. Sometimes
they would bring the gentlemen out of prison, chained two and two together
as it were to judgment, before the Tree of Reformation, there to be tried by
these governors, as if they had been guilty of heinous crimes; and when it was
asked the commons what should be done with the prisoners, they would cry
with one voice—‘Hang them hang them l’ And if they were asked why they
gave such rash judgment on those they never knew, they would roundly
answer that others cried the same, and that they did it to give their assent
with them, though they could give no other reason but that they were gentle-
men, and therefore, they said, not worthy to live.
Porters also were placed by them at all the city gates, and companies of
the rebels to watch and ward at certain places, and the constables were made
to provide and furnish them with what meat and drink they would have, at
their own expense, even to the ruin of them,
And now one Wharton, a man of great courage, but not favoured by the
people, was led to the castle bound like a thief, and had there not been a great
company of the rebels ordered by their captain to defend him, he had been
slain by the unruly multitude; but neither his good behaviour to them, nor
promises, nor the diligent care of the rebels that guarded him, could keep him
from being stabbed in many places of his body with spears and pikes.
A lawyer also, who dwelt at Melton, was betrayed by a woman and drawn
out of a wood, where he had hid himself a little before among the thorns and
324. RET’s REBELLION
briars, and brought prisoner to the city, being hated by the commons, who
esteemed him a subtile fellow. As they haled him along, the heavens thun-
dered horribly, to the astonishment of them that heard it, and such mighty
showers fell, mixed with hail, that the earth was covered very deep, not far
from the Tree of Reformation; but this fearful tempest did not in the least
appall or terrify them. - -
Many days had passed from the beginning of this rebellion, and nothing the
whole time was dong but burning, wasting, robbing, and consuming of all
things; and so great grief had now possessed all good men, and especially the
citizens, that at the sight of the lamentable fate of their country they were
almost distracted, and all hopes of success by resisting was taken away, so
that they remained within their walls, fearing daily destruction, and destitute
of all counsel, not having as yet heard from that of the king.
While the rebels thus raged abroad in the country, at Hingham, about
eleven miles from Norwich, Sir Edmund Knevet, Knight, with a small com-
pany of his own menial servants, set upon the night watch of the rebels that
were placed there, and brake through, overthrowing divers of them, and had
Some of his own men unhorsed, and in danger to be hewn in pieces among
them; yet he recovered them, and escaped their hands through great man-
hood, after which good night’s service, as they would have it esteemed, they
repaired to their great captain, Ket, to shew their hurts and complaim of their
griefs. It was talked among them that they would go to Sir Edmund’s house
at Bukenham Castle, to assault it, and fetch him out of it by force; but some
doubted it was too strong for them, it being a place of great strength at that
time, and others feared sharp stripes if they should attempt that exploit, being
at least twelve miles from their camp, and so that enterprise dropt, the most
part thinking it best to sleep in a whole skin. -
It happened that Mr Leonard Sotherton, a citizen of Norwich, fled to Lon-
don for safety of his life, the rebels having threatened him if they could get
him. Him the Council sent for, and by him were informed of all their pro-
ceedings, and how they daily increased, and hourly threatened destruction to
the city, and all gentlemen they could meet with ; at the same time he told
them that he had heard say that there were many in the camp who, if they
had any hope of the King’s favour and that they might escape unpunished,
would willingly lay down their weapons,and embrace his Majesty's pardon;
and therefore he was in hope if the King sent down his pardon and proclaimed
it in the camp, that most of them would disperse. This advice being approved
of by the Council, who had its hands fully engaged other ways, a herald was
sent with Sotherton directly to Norwich, and entering the camp apparelled in
his coat of arms, standing before the Tree of Reformation, he there declared
with a loud voice, so that all about him might hear, ‘that the king had granted
his free pardon to all that would depart to their homes, and laying aside their
armour give over their traitorously begun enterprize.” Upon which, almost all
the multitude cried—‘God save the King's Majesty l’ and at the renewing of
that cry many kneeled down, and with tears in their eyes commended the
king's mercy, which all would have embraced immediately had not the wicked
KET’s REBELLION . 325
speeches of some of the rascally sort, and the traitorous persuasions of that
caitiff Ket himself, turned them from peace and stayed them from their dutiful
inclimations. Tor Ket very fiercely and stoutly answered, so that all might
hear him, ‘that kings and princes were accustomed to grant pardons to such
as were offenders, and not to others; and that he trusted he needed not any
pardon, sith he had done nothing but what belonged to the duty of a true sub-
ject, and herewith he besought them not to forsake him, but to remember his
promise, sith he was ready to spend his life in the quarrel.” The herald here-
upon called him ‘Traitour !’ and commanded John Petibone, sword-bearer of
Norwich, to arrest him for treason, as a traitour to his Majesty; upon which,
so great a confusion followed among the multitude, that the herald Saw Ket
had so far enraged them that they would accept of no pardon, so that he de-
parted from them, crying out with a loud voice—‘All ye that be the king’s
friends, come away with me.” Then the mayor and Master Aldrich, with a
great number of other gentlemen that had been confined there, among which
were the two brothers the Appleyerds, and other honest yeomen that were
ready to obey the king, followed him; and, entering the city by Bishop Gates,
the mayor commanded them to be shut, because otherwise the rebels might
have forthwith entered the city. Holinshed says this was on the last day of
July; but it is a mistake, as the chamberlain’s accounts show us, for it was
on the 21st of that month, it being the very day they made a present to the
hcrald for his good service, at their return into the city, which is entered in
these words:—‘ Gaf in reward on Mary Magdalyn evyn, to Mr York, herald-
at-arms, 8 peces of gold called soveraigns, 43.” -
As soon as was possible, the mayor caused all the gates to be shut, and the
gentlemen imprisoned in the castle and elsewhere to be set at liberty, who
were all summoned to consult with him and his brethren how they might
defend the city from the rebels, and keep them from entering it by assault;
and at last they determined to set watch and ward, day and night, on the walls
and gates, and keep the city so close that the means of transporting victuals
from the camp being thereby cut off from that side of the river, the rebels
might be wearied out and obliged to decamp.
During this time, certain of the citizens that favoured the rebels had let a
great number of them into the city, which raised such consternation that it
was thought safest for the gentlemen that had been let out of prison to be
shut up again, least the rebels finding them abroad should murder them; but
soon after it was perceived that they were returned to their camp the same
way that they came ; upon which, the mayor and aldermen immediately began
to rampire up Bishop Gates, to plant what ordnance they had, and make all
ncCessary provision for the defence of the city that was possible, placing ten
of the greatest picces of ordnance against the enemy in the castle-ditches, ap-
pointing watch and ward in all those places where the walls were decayed.
Then they proceeded to make bullets, &c., for their defence, as we learn from
the accounts of the Gity chamberlains – Paid to ij men that made that night
cxx pyllets of gonshotte, xvid, for ce and xiv. lede, xs. viijd, and a bundel of
large brown paper, and xyl, matchys dyvyded amongs all the gonners that night.
326 KET’s REBELLION
* Byshops Gates rampired with erth that night.
‘A pece of ordnaunce carried to the old common stathe yarde, the ij
brothern of the Appleyerds watchyd that place that myght.
‘Sir Wm. Paston’s igret gonnys caryed from the common statho to the castyll.
‘A bondell of small brown paper and match sent to the Castyll and common.
stathe to shote certen yron gonnys ther, that came from Caster Hall.
‘Mr Thomas Godsalve and a gret company of others kept Sir William Pas-
ton’s gret peces that night in the castyll yarde.”
The rest of the city forces were ordered to be ready at all times of the night,
in the market-place and cross streets of the city, for every occasion.
At length, having ordered things in this manner, they began to shoot off
their artillery both from the city and camp, to annoy each other. But when
the rebels saw that they did little hurt to the city with their ordnance lying
upon the hill, they moved them down to the foot of it, and thence began to
play against the walls, which being perceived, at the mayor’s command, the
ordnance was brought down from the castle ditches, and placed speedily in the
meadows, which lie in the lowest part of the city, and so the greatest part of
the night was spent in fearful shot on both sides.
|But the worst evil the magistates had to overcome was the scum of the city
that were in it and were of the rebels’ side, in so great number that their force
was not sufficient to rule them : for they would go and come from the camp in
spite of the mayor and governours, and bewray whatever was done against their
comrades, for ‘here ys to be notyd, that the next day beyng Mary Magdalem
day, the chamberlayns servyse don the night before, and specyally for makyng
of the gonshot, was bewrayed by John Fyshman to traytor Ket, so that he sent
to his hows about lxxx men, of which number Robert Ysod, tanner, John Bar-
ker, bocher, Echard, miller of Heyham, were cheffe messengers, which persons
caryed the chamberlain to the Guyld Hall, and ther tooke away oom hole barrel
of gunpowder, and a remment of another barrel that was left the might before,
and certen yron pyllets, and lede pyllets that served for theyron sling, and cer-
ten mores pykes that lay over the sembly chambyr, and compellyd him to pay
for lyne and a maunde to carry the Said pelfyr, vid. Item, they came ageyn
to the chamberlayn’s howse, and tooke from themse CzX pyllets of lede that war
made the nyght before ; and also they tooke from him in corn, paper, and ser-
pentyn powder of his own goods, to the sum of vić, odd money, and besydes
that compellyd hym to pay for a new ferkyn to put in the gunshote vſ. and for
lyme to truss and carry the pelfyr with, iijd. And the next day being xxiijd July
a great sorte of the same company with others to the mombyr of c persons at
the leste, came ageym to the chamberlayms house, and toke away of his own
goods, ijbows, iij Sheffs of arrows, with cases and gyrdylls, iiijalmayn halberds,
ijblack bylls, certen clubbys and stavys, ii almayn ryvetts as fayer as any war
in Norwych, and a jack of fustyam, and also carryd hym away wyth them to
Mushold, to have hym to the tre, for makyng of the forSayd gunshote; and by
the way he intretyd them so that they caryd hym to Norwiche bothe, wher he
gaf them for remyssyon from goying to the tre, iijs, iiijd.”
(To be continued.)
327
'#' H E B A TTI, E 0 F N E W B U R Y,
(20th of September, 1648.)
THAT harvest night we lay in the fields, impatient of the dark,
All eager for the trumpet’s voice to rouse the slothful lark;
For the King had sent his challenge out to Essex and the Right,
And Essex flung his answer back—We meet at morning’s light.
O many a sleepless eye, be sure! that night did watch the stars,
Their silent marches following, so high above our jars;
And many a thought might stoop toward the melancholy earth,
Whereto so soon we must return for all our martial worth.
Even they might ponder in such sort—those reckless cavaliers;
And our raw troopers be forgiven for some unharden’d fears:
Not fears matheless we may be dull, in the shadow of the fray,+
With brothers in the hostile camp—dead brothers ere a day.
Now with the dawn King Charles’ part on the hill-top stand array'd,
Their ordnance planted, horse and foot in their battalions made;
And many of their captains brave have thrown their doublets off-
Not so intending battle-heat, but rather triumph-scoff.
Charge up the hill!—Prince Rupert’s horse have met our first attack,
With mighty dint upon our force, the foremost pressing back;
The tide of our assault recoils, but the wave flows up again,
Another, and another yet, the foremost to sustain.
Right fiercely Rupert’s cavalry salute our city bands;
But the blue-coat Londoners are staunch, their regiment firmly stands.
Repulsed, the horse wheel round again; charge back, and ours reply,–
Till they do not wheel but reel away from our sharp musketry.
And yet a third attempt they make, dashing in squadrons full,
Striving to break our serried ranks with valour masterful;
But the bullet-cloud athwart them bursts, o'erthrowing man and horse.
Methinks they will not dare again repeat so warm a course.
On Swiftly now ! Lord Essex leads; his white hat is our guide,
One single wreath of Snowy foam upon the ocean’s pride.
On sharply drive them back once more on 1 rally yet again!
Beat them from hedge to hedge until Scarce two or throc remain.
328
THE BATTLE OF NEWBURY
Meanwhile the fight holds otherwhere. A mile below the hill
They have fallen on our rearmost guard: speed down to check their will !
But we pause in mid career, till some the opponent force have known;
For they too wear the furze and broom we took to mark our own.
Spur through the traitors 1—Up again to Essex on the brow ! -
Where the royal ordnance was at dawn our ordnance climbeth now ;
One with another they dispute, ‘gainst cannon cannon’s mouth,
As if the battle with the day but rose to Sultrier growth.
And ever the sturdy Londoners oppose the hottest fray;
Open to horse and ordnance both, 'gainst odds they make their way;
And overmatch'd with mightier odds yet stand undauntedly.
The Rupert can not scatter them, they know not how to fly.
Even as a grove of pines, that doth the tempest-rage endure,
Their heads or branching arms may wave, they keep their footing sure.
So these are firmly rooted there, or, only honour-moved,
Step forward, gaining on the foe some vantage-ground approved.
And so, till darkness sunder'd us. Yet neither host withdrew ;
Only upon the hill’s far side their horse safe distance knew, -
With the broken remnant of their foot gather'd behind them there;
Our men no less too wearied are to give them much of care.
Another morning: we remain the masters of the field.
They drew off in the night: their chief a broken hope did wield.
We are marshal’d, ready ; none appear to the challenge of our shot;
One shout—for Newbury field is ours Prince Rupert turneth not.
Four earls of Charles' part have fallen, and many hundred more
Of English-hearted foemen whom their brother foes deplore.
For either side like Englishmen did war with might and main.
God send such mournful victory be needed ne'er again
And Falkland lieth there at peace, whose spirit was so sad—
That lofty spirit—for the wounds his hapless country had.
They say—he own’d him tired of life ere we began the fight.
Well might he be most sad, who knew he strove against the Right.
Shout we again for Newbury field—the righteous victory !
We shall hear an echoing triumph-shout before a month goes by.
Shime thou on Cromwell’s Waisby sheaf, O Newbury’s harvest moon
* Charge through l’ay, through ‘for Truth, and Peace’—the truthful
conqueror's boom. - - -
. W. J. LINTON.
329
OF THE DUTY OF ACTING.
MAZZINI TO THE NATIONAL PARTY.
I
THE war between Governments—invoked for so many years by those who
declared it to be madness in the peoples to rise against the monarchies allied
to repress them—has begun. The Holy Alliance—and this is the prominent
fact of the present situation—is dissolved.
The forces which before were compact and ready to crush insurrection are
now divided into three camps, two of them being hostile to the third; the third
vacillating, conspiring against both friends and enemies, suspected by all.
If the peoples do not profit by the opportunity to rise and to emancipate
themselves, they are not worthy of liberty. If the war of Nations does not
succeed to the war of Princes, let Democracy resign itself to the name of a
restless and impotent agitation; let it not pretend to call itself revolutionary
or capable of founding.
If the lessons of 1848 are not to be thrown away as useless, if the words
of universal fraternity, of alliance between the peoples, so often repeated since
then, have not been proffered as a mere formula without intelligence or heart,
—Democracy ought to organize itself like an army on the eve of battle, and to
determine upon unity of motive, of design, of purpose, and of means. And
unless a definite sphere for the first operations be selected—a point of political
strategy where the banner of the oppressed peoples can be unfurled with
strong probability of success—the object will not be attained.
All the intelligences of Democracy ought to reflect and to choose ; all the
forces of Democracy ought to converge toward this point after the choice has
been made. The secret of Napoleon’s wars—concentration of the greatest
possible number of forces on a given point—ought to be also ours. By broad-
Casting and scattering our forces, intending to operate on ten points at one time,
we should have ten combats, while we have need of one victory. The victory
of ome people would be the victory of all peoples, easily followed up by all.
European Democracy, Archimedes-like, ought now to seek its point of lever-
age; if it succeed in obtaining that, it will uplift heaven and earth.
The question is then a question of initiative. And as to its being followed,
whoso supposes that the triumphant insurrection of a people can remain
isolated gives the lie to the series of movements which so rapidly succeeded
one another six years ago, from Sicily to Vienna, from Paris to Berlin. The
idea which determined them rages still in the heart of the peoples inflamed by
persecution and by the consciousness of their own strength, which was wanting
before 1848.
330 MAZZINI TO THE NATIONAL PARTY
- II -
By the importance of her geographical position,--by her length of coast
accessible to the aids, the elements, the materials of war which may reach her
from abroad, by the neighbourhood of Switzerland, a coward in peace, yet the
enemy of Austria, and ready to unite with any who may assail her, by the
Hungarian element intermingled with the armies of occupation, sympathizing
with our movements, and able by its rising here to excite insurrection in its
own far country, by the religious question inevitably connected with the
political, and which, dealt with on the principle of duty, would give us the
countenance of all peoples believing in liberty of conscience,—by the weakness
of the enemy in our front, by the universality of the national opinion,--by
our long sufferings, greater than those of any other people, by the glorious
deeds of '48 and '49, that infallible argument for victory whensoever treachery,
the ignorance of the chiefs, and deviation from the normal rule of every
national war, do not corrupt the conceptions of the good, Italy is called to
be that land of initiation of which I speak. -
The initiative I mean—and let me hasten to acknowledge I do not gainsay
that of Greece—is that of the moral and material importance of an Italian
movement on the destinies of all the oppressed nations. The eccentric position
of Greece, and the suspicion, however ill-founded, of Russian influence pre-
dominating there, deny her the consequences, not the honour, of the initiative.
The honour is hers. Failure now or triumph, the history of these years will
say that Greece first understood the duties belonging to the peoples.
III
Why does not Italy rise P Why, on all the line held by Austria—the first
enemy against whom we ought to act—does not yet resound the cry of
Country and of Liberty P It is a question which begins to be repeated with
surprize by all foreigners who love Italy, and which ought to make all those
at home, who say they love her, blush. -
Some affirm that they ought to await the initiation of the Piedmontese
Monarchy. r * -
I now set aside all question of principle. And I leave also the other more
practical consideration: that the Piedmontese Monarchy, in committing to it
eaclusively the direction of the war, would inevitably lead through the errors,
the defects, and the diplomacies inherent in every monarchical war, to a third
defeat. But I ask: can such an initiation ever be possible 2 -
In virtue of the principle which governs Piedmont, in virtue of the treaties
which constitute her political life, in virtue of the diplomacy which directs her
movements, the Government of Piedmont is disinherited from the initiative.
The Piedmontese Monarchy, pursuing its own objects, can aid but not promote
an insurrection. Placed between a Lombard insurrection, which, left to itself,
would become republican, and a menacing agitation excited by the insurrection
in Piedmont, the king may say, as in 1848, to the European Governments: ‘I
go, called on to save, by combating Austria, both you and myself from the
victory of a principle which condemns us.” He can not say, ‘I constitute
MIAZZINI TO THE NATIONAL PARTY 331
myself an invader for the love of conquest,’ without tearing to pieces those
treaties which govern the public law of Europe, and whose words govern even
the present war. .
The Piedmontese Kingdom has only two ways of working : either to appeal
to the right of revolution, to invoke the national principle which we invoke, to
tear the map of Europe into shreds, to summon the people of Italy to insur-
rection against all opponents, to renounce all fraternal contact with the kings
of Europe, to affront at the same time pontifical excommunication and the
armies of the petty tyrants of Italy, to substitute our flag for the flag of
Savoy, or else to appeal to circumstances, to the necessity of putting an end
to the struggle which rages on its frontiers, to the trouble of its own subjects,
to the cry of a people which says: ‘Come! we are yours!’ -
Is there any one who can, without confessing himself an idiot or a deceiver,
affirm that the Piedmontese Monarchy would undertake the first part P
There remains then the war founded on circumstances. These circumstances
must be created. And they are summed up in one—insurrection. Promote
with us the Lombard insurrection; promote in Piedmont an agitation which
may menace the throne, if the throne does not fraternize with the insurgents;
I, an Italian and not a Savoyard, I will keep myself separate from you.
And what will be the gain of this royal initiative P I speak to the men—
whether republicans or not, little matters—who invoke the Italian Country and
not the aggrandizement of the Savoyard Monarchy. Do they hope that the
Biedmontese Kingdom will rise to combat for Italy P Do they hope that the
king will declare war at the same time against Austria, Naples, the petty
Governments of the Duchies, and the Pontiff P
The royal initiative, allowed, instigated, directed inevitably by the Eng-
lish and French Cabinets—as without them a royal initiative is impossible
—would have as its meaning, in the minds of these two Cabinets, the con-
straining of Austria to back them efficiently in their war against the Tzar, in
the mind of the King of Piedmont, some augmentation of his dominions. And
Austria would either conquer—it is not difficult—a second battle of Novara;
or, defeated, she would seize on propositions of agreement which—this is cer-
tain—would be immediately accepted. Piedmont would perhaps obtain a por-
tion of Lombardy—more probably the Duchies. Venice and the passes of the
Alps would in any case remain in the hands of the Austrians; and the poor
insurgent populations would be consigned, betrayed victims, to imperial ven-
geance. Do the Lombards who are of the party of the monarchical initiative
wish this P-so basely to betray that Italy whose name they invoke P-to sign,
as a people, a new treaty of Campo-Formio or worse ?—to make themselves
and their country infamous in the face of Europe P Heaven forbid that I
could for one single moment admit the possibility of such a shame !
And yet, to hinder it—to hinder the implanting of a bastard French dynasty
in the Kingdom of Naples, recompensed and courted by strengthening itself
with the Piedmontese Monarchy in the north—to hinder an English protec-
torate balancing the French implanting in Sicily—to hinder the six ideal
Italies—to hinder a new partition much worse than that we now have, since
332 MAZZINI TO THE NATIONAL PARTY
that is undermined and worn out in men's opinions, whilst the new interests
created in every change and the new situation given by the European Govern-
ments would require time to be destroyed,—what way remains except that only
of Insurrection?—for the Nation first to raise its own banner, prečccupying the
political arena, infusing more daring hopes and more daring designs into Pied-
mont, and taking upon herself the conduct of the war, herself the assurer of
her own destinies P : -
Others are of opinion that they ought not to move until Austria has joined
her arms with one or other of the combatants. And this is the opinion but
too generally diffused and the least wise. .
Austria is cowardly and crafty. Austria will not deliberately take up arms
unless she is certain of conquering. And then it will be too late for us.
While events remain uncertain, she will be also uncertain. She will officially
caress the Western Powers; but her armies will not come to battle with those
of the Tzar. Taking advantagé of the Greek disturbances, they will probably
occupy the contiguous provinces, to unite them with her own dominions when
the hour of dismemberment sounds for the Turk; but thcy will not act in con-
cert with the Russians—the only party which belongs to her. They will
allow, as they now allow, by a secret assurance, the invading troops to go for-
ward without fear; but they will not attack the English and French forces in
open field. Why should they P Guaranteed inaction is as much as Russia
can demand from Austria.
But even if Austria, breaking the traditional tendences of her own policy,
and unwittingly violating her own interests, if she should resolutely commit
herself to the fate of battles, where would be the advantage to us? If she
choose to ally herself with Russia, Hungary and Vienna and Germany will be
lost for us; our insurrection will perish sooner or later in isolation. If she join
arms with those of the Western Powers, we shall have not one but three
enemies. To-day, thanks to the uncertainty of her movement, Austria counts :
no allies. Russia will not come down to repress the Hungarian insurrection;
England and France will not send armies into Italy to combat for those who
afterward may not combat for them. Weutral Austria is inert and isolated,
suspected by all, envied by all, whatever diplomacy may say for the sake o
policy. -- : -
But an Italian insurrection will decide Austria to unite with the Western
Powers. To unite P-with what force P What elements of power could Aus-
tria, assailed by an Italian insurrection and by the inevitable Hungarian insur-
rection, offer to the two Cabinets? A royal war—if ever it could take place
—would be suddenly cut short on the first friendly propositions from Vienna.
But the war of the people * The people's war, refusing to be at the beck of
the Cabinets, would destroy the utility of the agreement.
The Powers, to whom the alliance of a phantasm of a State would be useless,
would say to Austria: ‘It serves you right : Save yourself if you can and as
you can.” -
The position of Austria has now all the disadvantages, without one single
advantage, of war. --
MAZZINI TO THE NATIONAL PARTY 333
160,000 Austrians are in rank on the Turkish frontier from Ragusa to Kron-
stadt in Hungary. 95,000 men are called to concentrate themselves on the Rus-
sian frontier, in Bukovina and Gallicia. And these troops, while the quarrel is
pending, and while Austria is uncertain of her enemies, can not remove from
their quarters. Calculate the forces indispensable for the internal custody of
an empire where four-sixths of the population are Slavonian ; calculate the
garrisons—the fortresses: can Austria now send a single regiment to reinforce
the troops she has in Italy #
But those troops ? What I would you them, O Italians! conquer liberty
and country without fighting with a living soul?
IV
90,000 Austrians, taking the highest number, or, after making the usual
deductions of sick, those attached to the military hospitals, to the service, &c.,
75,000 combatants—keep Italy in a line which stretches from the Tyrol to
Ancona, about 400 miles beyond the Alps.
This vast territory of occupation is divided into three districts: between the
Alps and the Po, between the Po and the Apennines, between the Apennines
and the Tyrrhenian Sea. The last two, comprising the Duchies, Tuscany, and
the Roman Provinces, are held by from 23,000 to 24,000 men, lost and with-
out hope of concentration before an insurrection which truly wills.
The district from the Po to the Apennines, between the 4,000 men stationed
in Ancona and the 4,000 or rather more garrisoned in Bologna—a city con-
taining 70,000 souls—has only a few disconnected detachments to be destroyed
in the first movements. -
The district between the Apennines and the Tyrrhenian Sea, far from the
basis of operation, deprived of fortified points from Leghorn outward, con-
mected with the rest of the occupied territory only by the fourteen passes of
the Apennines, seven of which are not accessible to artillery, is a district
sacrificed. A very few and simple operations are sufficient to hinder the con-
centration of the men who hold it.
24,000 men are to be subtracted at the pleasure of the insurrection from
the sum of the Austrian forces: thus reduced to 66,000 men—that is to say,
55,000 combatants.
And of this number, 25,000 are Hungarians, our allies by community of
desire, by hatred of Austria, and by the memories of 1848.
And this number—an army of different nations, languages, and tendences,
discontented with the order ruling them, easy to be discouraged, terrified at
the threat of a popular insurrection, scattered widely in garrisons of 1,000,
2,000, 3,000 men in cities of 20, 30, 40,000 inhabitants or more, connected
with the permanent base of its operations, the empire, by five grand military
roads, four of which are easy to be interrupted—will be lost in a district
peopled by almost five millions of men of the race which a few years ago
fought both in the three days of March at Milan and in the battle of Brescia.
Shame, O Italians ! Every day which passes over you in your mute ser-
witude, every victim that falls without your rising to save him, is a reproach of
334 - MAZZINI TO THE NAH. IONAL PARTY
cowardice cast at you by all who love you and by the strangers who look with
astonishment on the patience with which you groan and suffer.
V
And what is wanting for this rising
Is the people wanting P Which P The country people P It is forbidden
to educate them; we can only win them by deeds, and a few decrees bettering
their condition will give them to us. The people of the towns? All are ours
—undeniable proofs of this abound—much more brave, ready, and devoted
than all of us literati, journalists, and pedants in military, social, or political
philosophy. Are arms wanting P. They are not wanting for insurrection, and
the insurrection will procure them for the war. Warlike instincts P The
combatants of Rome and of Venice, the combatants of Curtatone, were volun-
teers, new to the camp, both soldiers and chiefs. Positions P. We have the
long line of the Apennines and the Waltelline, the Tyrol and Friuli, a whole
semi-circle of valleys backed by the Alps. -
TJnity of party is what is wanting. Unity of language is wanting among all
the known men who have a thought of country rooted in their souls. The
day on which not only my voice, misunderstood, calumniated, yet nevertheless
profoundly true, but the voice of all men dear to their country and debtors to
her for counsel and comfort, shall cry aloud to their brethren, ‘Rise ! it is the
hour: now or never again : rise all ! or declare yourselves cowards and slaves :
do not confine to a few central points more oppressed and watched than others
the initiative of the national war: emancipate the provinces from a fatal pre-
judice which dishonours them : every hand-breadth of Italian territory is a fit
spot on which to begin the Italian war: occupy the towns openly or by sur-
prize : where you can do nothing else, throw your young men in nuclei of from
thirty to forty on the Apemmines or in the valleys of the Alps: rise wherever
you have the strength to oppress those who oppress you : then concentrate
yourselves in the places through which the enemy must retreat : have for
God and for your country the same courage which your bandits have for a
little gold : behold us! you shall have in us chiefs and comrades!’—on that
day the Italian insurrection will begin.
WI
Unity of party is wanting. In God’s name let us create it ! Who forbids
it P Let each of us love his country more than himself. Let each of us lay
on the altar of his country the vanity, the petty angers, the puerile jealousies
unworthy of men who intend to found nations, the vulgar affections which en-
chain him, the silly conceit of a fame which is nothing until the main ºbject
be attained. Let each of us take the laws of his own duty from the inspira-
tion of his own heart, and not from the atmosphere which surrounds him, and
which has to be changed. And unity of party is founded; and Italy may rise.
You would have chiefs P. There are mome. You are all chiefs, or none.
Tet our Bammer be the only leader, the only palladium round which we rally.
I do not ask you to submit to any moral dictatorship, though at present you
MAZZINI To THE NATIONAL PARTY 335
lie submissively under the dictatorship of any hangman, of any policeman, of any
spy who may kill or torment your brothers. I ask you to utter resolutely,
without delay, and without regard to the consequences which may happen,
the word which rises in your soul, the word for which a few years ago you
affronted the dangers of the strife and of exile, the word which has created
your fame and has earned you the love of your fellow-citizens. I ask you to
gather not round men, but round a principle. I ask you—if ever the liberty of
the country may be conquered at this price—to be unjust, to ostracize whoever
may first banish this word of action, and to say, ‘Not he, but we, all, our
country.” Does the word on my lips make you ashamed and suspicious I
will be silent on that day on which you shall speak. But speak, speak ear-
nestly, because opportunity is as the forelock of Fortune and may escape you
to-morrow ; speak boldly as befitteth men whose mission is to rouse the
country from a fatal and dishonourable sloth. Do not diplomatize in a solemn
hour. Do not draw any argument for silence from the discomfiture of others,
caused perhaps by your long uncertainty and by your silence. Do not leave the
field open to foreign machinations or to the factions of traitors. To-day it is
our duty to bear our faith upon our breasts in the sight of all, as the crusaders
bore the symbol of Christianity. The lukewarm denies his country; the silent
betrays her.
- VII -
And the programme P The programme ! The programme is to rise, because
circumstances are unusually propitious; the programme is to fling from our
backs a cerecloth of pain, a mantle of infamy; the programme is to hear for
the last time the cry of agony of our brothers who groan in dungeons or
expire on the scaffold, perhaps despairing of us; the programme is to prevent
foreign journals from writing, ‘Yesterday the Austrian stick fell on the Italian
back’; the programme is to destroy the possibility of other Pezzottis, other
Bettonis, overcome by torture, hanging themselves to the iron bars of their
prisons; the programme is to breathe, to be men, to live. Ah ! we have the
programme of the insurrection written fifty years ago in letters of blood on
the tombs of our best men, who died for us, to teach us our country, to infuse
in us a spark of action, of faith, of holy indignation. -
But if still distrustful, grown weak in discussions, and trembling to find an
enemy on your flank, you wish for a political programme, have you not got it
all in the sacred word of NATION ?
The right, the mission, the omnipotence of the Nation: Italy one and free :
the people of Italy arbiter of its own destinies:—is there any one who
could gainsay this programme without declaring himself usurper and factious?
The right and duty of rising to be a Nation free and one : -
The right and duty of war against every internal and external enemy of the
Nation: -
The right and duty of watching so efficiently that the national war may not
be perverted from its intention, and betrayed : -
The right and duty of interrogating the emancipated Nation, freely consti-
tuted, on the institutions and forms under which it intends to rule its own life;
336 MAZZINI To THE NATIONAL PARTY
The right of each to express his own faith, his own will, before the national
council; the duty of each to submit himself, save in the liberty of thought and
speech, to the national will :
And as direct consequences:
The Supreme management of the war trusted to a national power chosen by
the country: -
The arming of the people, the organization of the national militia, which
may take the field for the nation side by side with the regular army belonging
to every province of Italy:
The sentence of treason pronounced beforehand against any one who
should propose the introduction of a foreign dynasty into Italy, against any
one who should promote the dismemberment of the common country, against
any one who should pretend to substitute by force his own will for the national
will, against any one who should descend to treat with the enemy before the
absolute emancipation of the Nation. .
Who can tax such a declaration with injustice or intolerance 2–who does
not see that it is the only one which concentrates all the forces of the Nation
to the same end ?
VIII
The duty of every man who, by influence, intelligence, or services rendered to
the cause, represents any fraction whatever of the national forces, is to accept
these bases of unity, and to say so. The duty of every one who can take
along with him any sum whatever of national forces is to understand that
the moment has arrived for the Italians to rise or to declare themselves fools
and cowards, and to say so. The duty of every Italian is to think if he can by
any means whatever promote the insurrection, and if he can to do so.
The country is ready and willing, in its living forces, its people and its
youth : it needs a signal, a cry, an emergetic fact which may break the net of
false doctrines, phantoms, and fears, spread round it by Macchiavelian diplo-
matists, by political speculators, by conspirators for the love of change, by
the factors of small courts and petty sects, and by knavishly-plotting literati.
This initiative may be taken in any locality and by any knot of brave and
willing Italians, in the provinces as in the grand centres, by a gathering
together of National Bands as at the Vespers, and by the insurrection of
the masses.
The time of vast conspiracies has ended. Large and complex designs of
insurrection are impossible : they are always discovered before execution. The
progressive agitation of the people which initiated the movements of 1848 can
no longer be repeated, because the Governments know them as generators of
revolutions and strangle them in blood at their birth. We must now conspire
by work. . . . .
The initiative of large centres is difficult and dangerous. It requires too
large a concourse of forces not to run the risk of being foreknown and him-
dered: decisive if it conquers, it is ruinous in its effects if crushed on its first
rising. It is not wise to trust the fate of the country to a single throw of the
die. The best points for insurrection are those in which one victory is the
MAZZINI TO THE NATIONAL PARTY 337
inevitable consequence of other victories, in which one defeat leaves the forces
on other points intact. .
The centres of the second and third order present a double advantage : they
constitute, by rising, an important fact of themselves and a diversion in favour
of the large centres. Either the enemy marches against these movements and
divides itself, or concentrates itself on strategical points, and so leaves time
and opportunity for the insurrection to extend and organize itself.
Youths yet unknown of my country brothers of our people ! with you who
have no honours of renown to lull you to sleep, no systems to defend, nor vanities
to obscure your simple truth, with you more than with any others rests now
the secret of the action which alone can give salvation and glory to Italy. If
they who ought to guide you hesitate in uncertainty, know how to guide your-
selves | If they who have taught you the ways of honour in years gone by
stop beforehand weary and doubtful in the middle of the road, do you arise and
fructify by your works the germ that you have gathered from them ; they will
go down with you into the field the day after, blessing you. Unknown were
the conquerors of the Bastile in 1789; unknown the men who inaugurated the
insurrection of Spain in 1808; and the two nations rose to follow and to van-
quish. Seek counsel only from your own hearts. Do not expect the word of
order from congresses of political thinkers; do not tarry for the word of dis-
couragement which may come to you from those who love Italy intellectually,
but who do not groan and fret under the dishonour heaped up by every day of
sloth. They will tell you that the people are not ripe; but they said this a
few hours before the days of March, and then a few hours afterward they went
out admiringly to fight with them. Emancipate yourselves and do. Where-
ever five of you shall be met together convinced of the duty of acting, which
now belongs to us all, there an independent focus of Italian conspiracy is
formed and lives. Collect among you some arms and a little money, and
fraternize with the people who live around you; you will aid the first move-
ment that shall take place with this sum of forces. Wherever from Sicily to
the circle of the Alps shall be gathered together twenty-five or thirty among
you capable and willing to do, there may be created an independent focus of
Italian action. Surprize an enemy’s detachment or a Government chest. If
your fellow-citizens do not immediately follow your war cry, escape to the
mountains, organize yourselves into National Bands, be an example to others.
The watchword is INSURRECTION ; embody, incarnate it in yourselves.
IX. . .
Men of the National Party to whatever faction you may belong, a grave
responsibility weighs on you. You ask for a favourable opportunity: you have
it. You lament that exclusive programmes prečccupy the ground: we offer
you a programme which embraces all forces and leaves the way open in the
judgement of the country for every individual conception. In the name of
Italy, rouse yourselves! Save the honour of the country and your own A
few days ago the Austrians shot the thousandth victim since 1848, one of ours
at Leghorn ; let this be the last Italian blood shed without protest. In this,
338 - HISTORY OF THE MONTH
very month in which I write these few pages, quivering with rage and shame,
fourteen thousand of ours are called to put on the livery of Austria: free them
from this infamy and bring them the national cockade. By all that is most sacred
to you, do not suffer that the men who six years ago admired us as babes born
giants, should say, ‘Six years have been enough to render this vigourous life
cowardly and decrepid.” To-day we have the sympathy of all good men in
Europe: to-morrow, if we do not seize the moment, their contempt will seal
the stone of our sepulchre. - - -
June, 1854.
HISTORY OF THE MONTH.
(From July 22d to August 26th.)
THE WAR.
Grand exploits this month ! We are taking the Aland Isles and talking
about taking Sebastopol. For the first, these Aland Isles, at the mouth of the
Gulf of Bothnia, between Stockholm and Abo, lie so near to Petersburg that
we do about as much in taking them as the Tzar would do if he was to
threaten London by taking Jersey. But let the conquest be duly chronicled.
‘Boulogne, August 15—An English courier, coming from Stockholm, has this night
brought word to Calais that 2,000 French troops had landed near the works of Bomar-
sund, and had carried a redoubt of eight guns by assault without losing a single man.
The enemy’s fire was essentially defective, and we did not give them time to rectify it.
* Griselhame, through submarine telegraph, under date August 14,-On the westward
of Bomarsund, 10,000 French troops and 2,000 English marines were entrenched.
‘Bomarsund, August 15.-The strongest fort has been taken by the French and Eng-
lish after several hours’ severe fighting.’
Toward the taking of Sebastopol, a Times’ correspondent says that 90,000
allied troops have actually sailed from Warna. It is not true : but true instead
that nearly 10,000 men have died of cholera in the allied camp. How many
would Sebastopol have cost P
But if we are slow, are not the Russians equally so They are still evacuat-
ing Wallachia and beginning to retreat in Moldavia. And the Turks have got to
Bucharest. And Omar Pasha, of whom Mr Urquhart is very doubtful (lest he
should be a second Görgey), follows slowly, perhaps waiting for the Austrians,
whose vanguard has entered Wallachia. Now we may winter quietly, throw as
much blame as we can on our admirals (already Rumour talks of recalling
Napier for not taking ‘impregnable Cronstadt contrary to his masters’ orders),
find out that the army is crippled by its commissariat, that we have paid war-
taxes to no purpose; and then next spring we shall be as ready as Aberdeen
HISTORY OF THE MONTEI 339
for any shameful peace. That is evidently the game of our “statesmen.”
Might it not be well somewhat to anticipate it P. Somewhat more effectively
than by merely applauding another speech or two from Kossuth, who is again
appealing to the practical British public P Shall we even get the Crimea and
Sebastopol, which the Times promises us, as the price of peace P And if we
do, what will Russia be the worse P Sold! sold ! sold !
Of the character of the war all through, let the following from the Times be
sufficient sample:—
‘Matters must be strangely managed in the Black Seal Is it credible that, although
a strict blockade is supposed to be maintained off Sebastopol, and although the combined
fleets are presumed to hold such undisputed sway over those waters that not a Russian
ship can dare to put out without certain capture or destruction, the blockade has been
evaded, and a Russian steam-frigate has made her way without molestation to the very
mouth of the Bosphorus—that she proceeded to the Asiatic coast, and there sunk several
Turkish vessels laden with corn—that she next went to Heraclea, and brought off two
vessels laden with coal? That all this is stated at Constantinople to be true of the
Russian steam-frigate Vladimir may be seen in another portion of our columns this day.
It is added, that but for a miracle of good luck the English steamer Cyclops must have
been surprized by the Russian frigate without her guns aboard, and consequently have
fallen an easy prize.”
FOREIGN NEWS.
In revolutionary Spain, the old popular farce has been repeated: the people’s
courage winning victory and the people’s folly throwing it away. For Espar-
tero’s business is the propping up of the Spanish royalty. And again occurs
the old mistake of concentrating wrath on persons instead of on institutions.
The armed Spaniards should have abolished royalty, and could then have
afforded even to let the rapacious Christina escape. Bating her inordinate
thievishness, we do not see why she has been so much assailed. She is not worse
than most of your Bourbons; not so bad as many. During the struggle the
people behaved well. The well-served barricades (barricades are a novelty to
Spain), the stern war-cry of ‘morality,” the prompt shooting of any thief
caught in the act, the perfect order, the calm but distinct refusal to let the
Queen Mother be smuggled out of Madrid before her trial: all these things
speak well for Spain, tell of a popular worth that deserves something more
than three days’ rejoicing for the treason of the Duke of Victory, a solemn
mass, a public dance in the Plaza de la Constitucion, refreshment at the Town
Hall, a fight of young bulls, and unlimited rockets. Spain has to do the
revolutionary work again; and finds occasion for the recommencement in the
decree convoking the Cortes. This decree recognizes the next Cortes as a
Constituent Assembly, and Orders the elections according to the radical consti-
tution of 1837—one deputy for every 35,000 souls (male souls). But in its
preamblé the Espartero Ministry inserts the following restriction of the
Assembly’s power — The Constituent Cortes of 1854 will be a new link
between the throne and the people, freedom and the dynasty, objects which
they (the Constituent Assembly) will not be allowed to discuss, points upon
which the Government admits neither doubt nor dispute.”
340 HISTORY OF THE MONTH
This insolent restriction has roused the democratic societies of Madrid. A
deputation from them immediately waited upon Espartero to insist upon the
recognition of the right of the Cortes to examine, if it should seem useful to
them, the question of the dynasty. Espartero (true Whig) hesitated, threatened
to retire from the helm, and ended by advising the deputation to get up
petitions, as, though well-disposed himself, his colleagues were not so, &c.
The democratic party has taken his advice, and our last Spanish news is of
Madrid stirring upon this most vital question, the mational guard under arms,
and the Ministry in trouble. -
Well it may be, for the overthrow of the Bourbon dynasty may be, in spite
of English and French interference, already threatened, the signal for the
Republic. The ministerial course of action may be judged from the following
proclamation of General Concha, Captain-General of Barcelona:— -
‘T3arcelonese !
‘The enemies of Espartero and O’Donnell, who are now the enemies of public quiet,
are spreading calumnies to divide the liberals and the army, in order to Sully the fair
page of our uprising, and to deprive of their prestige the illustrious chiefs who are to
day at the head of the nation’s destinies. - -
‘Men of vile life, introduced among the homest and hard-working lower classes, spread
alarm in the city and have managed to provoke an unfounded panic.
“In this solemn moment the authorities address you in order to point out to you the
rule of your conduct; BLIND obedience to the Duke of Victory, and maintenance of
order even to death.’ - - - -
Blind obedience to the Duke of Victory, the new Mayor of the Palace to
Queen Isabella, by the grace of Louis Napoleon, and us English, constitutional
Queen of Spain. Is it worth while to make a revolution, Spain! for that ?
One other proclamation also has matter worth moticing. Consider this
uttered by a revolutionary Junta in ‘most catholic’ Spain!
* Morality is one and the same in all nations; famaticism is another and a different
thing. All adore the Creator, though with different forms. Let us be true brothers, as
God himself commands us, tolerant.”
The King of Saxony is dead, killed on the 9th of August by a kick from a
horse. His biography we borrow from the Times.
“Of his Majesty Frederick Augustus IV we scarcely know of any event in his life
worthy of mention to the ears of Englishmen, except that he translated Dante into Ger-
man, and made a journey to England some years back, when he traveled through our
country, displaying a higher degree of intelligence than is usually found among sovereigns
on their travels. When we add that he is succeeded on the throne by his brother, a
man of about fifty years of age, who inherits his brother’s Russian tendences as well as
his throne, it is all that is necessary to say upon the occasion.’
Abbas Pasha, Viceroy of Egypt, is dead. His rule was illiberal and of no
use to Egypt. He died suddenly, and is succeeded by his uncle, Said Pasha,
eldest surviving son of Mehemet Ali. -
Greece is still put down; Poland and Hungary are forbidden to move ; at
the least heaving of Italian life, again stirred by the eloquent appeal of the
ever-active Mazzini, the old tyranny of repression puts out its strength. Pil-
FIISTORY OF THE MONTH 341
lage of private houses, arrests by the hundred, executions under martial law:
these are the ‘order of the day’ in Parma. Well may Mazzini preach again of
the Duty of Acting. Let us hope there are men in Italy, though England has
none : men who will speedily follow Colonel Pianciami, who writes a brave
letter of adhesion to the active policy of the Roman Triumvir.
AMERICA.
Of the real state of America we can not give a better indication than is
furnished by the following extracts from a speech of Wendell Phillips at the
anti-slavery celebration at Framingham, Massachusetts, on the 4th of July. It
is the beginning of real work in America: the first work to be dome before
America can become republican. But American apathy is very like English.
‘I do not believe in an anti-slavery which undertakes to listen or to make speeches
just now. I have had enough of, that. What we want, in reality, is a spot, however
small—whether it be the State of Massachusetts or half of it—which we can truly say
is a Free State, of which we can say that a fugitive slave is safe there, that, no matter
how many laws are made to the contrary, Constitution or no Constitution, law or no
law, the moment a slave sets his foot on that soil, he never goes back. That is what we
want to make Massachusetts. . . There is no reasonable hope of the success of the
anti-slavery enterprize until you make up your minds that it is not somebody else, but
4/ou, that return fugitive slaves,
‘It is in vain to make national parties. It is in vain to get up Liberty parties and
Free Soil parties, stretching from the old Bay State back to the Mississippi. National
politics are not possible. The Government has got the better of us. Slavery has got
fifty million dollars of revenue to spend every year: fifty millions of dollars / We live
in a country where, if you put a dollar on the other side of hell, the Yankees will spring
for it at the risk of tumbling in. We live in a land of money—you know it; and do
you suppose that a Government with fifty millions of dollars to spend every year can not
buy up enough men in a year to carry any vote they wish 2 How many men does it
take, in the city of Washington, to carry any vote? Not more than thirty. This very
year, on the Nebraska question, the votes of white men, white Democrats, were bought
cheaper in the city of Washington than you could buy black slaves. It is a literal fact
that Democratic votes were bought cheaper in Washington for the Nebraska Bill than an
able-bodied slave thirty years old. Now, do you believe that a Government with fifty
millions of dollars to spend annually can be checkmated 2 Never ! The only way to
checkmate it is to checkmate it at home. Massachusetts is ours, if we choose to make
it so. We can nullify this Fugitive Slave Bill. We can put on that supreme bench
judges who will laugh to defiance the Congress of the United States, when they under-
take to carry a fugitive slave out of Massachusetts.
* A voice: How will they do it P
‘Mr Phillips : Give me an anti-slavery State, and I will leave it to anti-slavery Yan-
kees to find out the way. Do you suppose the men who make wooden nutmegs and
cheat all the South are not sharp enough to outwit them in anything P Do you suppose.
the South outwits us because her people are shrewder than Yankees P No | It is because
we love to be cheated on this question; it is because our politicians are willing to com-
promise, and have been ever since ’76. Ibelieve that when New England wants a thing,
and wants it ‘with a will,” she will have it. The only reason why she has not had anti-
slavery legislation is because she has not wanted it. One man has been making brooms.
342 IHISTORY OF THE MONTH
on the banks of the Connecticut, and another manufacturing cotton in Lowell, and an-
other curing fish on the sea-board, and another making shoes up and down the county of
Essex, and provided they made money enough they let the Government have its way.
‘We shall never get any better until we see ourselves in an honest glass, until we get
out of the bad habit of praising ourselves. The people of Massachusetts are not aboli-
tionists—but a very small portion of them. The State is a pro-slavery State, as a whole.
The Fourth of July is a pro-slavery day—a day meant to commemorate the independence
of thirteen States, in every one of which there were slaves when the Declaration was
issued, and not one of which took the slightest measure, for four years, to free a slave.
‘We have had a Tree Soil party in this State. They undertook to nominate Martin
Van Buren for President; they did not elect him. Any party that undertakes to get up
a national movement will be bought up, because slavery is inside the Government fortress,
and has fifty millions of dollars to spend annually; and you never yet saw the land where,
if you wanted a mean thing done, and had the money to pay for it, you could not find
mean men to do it.
‘I know I am talking of very low motives. But I am talking to Yankees; I am talk-
ing to Americans in the nineteenth century; I am talking of the men who put Franklin
Pierce into office; I am talking plain matter-of-fact that we meet every day. You will
never have an anti-slavery Government while slavery has fifty millions of dollars to spend
every year; she can buy us up. They say it cost “mighty dear” to get Burns back.
Fifty thousand dollars 1—horribly dear! I think it was very cheap. She bought all
Boston for fifty thousand dollars, and we threw the Governor in. She had our regiment,
our mayor, our court-house, our judiciary, the whole Commonwealth: she only paid fifty
thousand dollars for it. Cheap as dirt Why, she can afford to buy States up at that
rate for any length of time to come. If it costs only fifty thousand dollars to buy Bos-
ton, what hope have we ? And yet it is literally true that for that the United States
Government bought the city. -
* Let me urge every man who loves the anti-slavery cause to confine his attention to
his own State. State politics are within our controul. We can put a Legislature into
that State House that shall hermetically seal Massachusetts against the slave-hunter;
and the moment we set the example Ohio, Michigan, and young Iowa and Wisconsin
will follow ; and State by State we can defy the Fugitive Slave Bill. Try a little Nulli-
fication on our side Why, we are very slow scholars. The South has been teaching
us for forty years, and yet we won’t learn 1 She says—“ Gentlemen l imitate me. I
never let United States law get executed when it don't please me: why do you?”
‘My Free Soil friends who are listening to me are anxious to put another senator into.
the United States Senate, and to put representatives into the House. I intreat them to
forget Congress for a little while. We can do nothing there; it is beyond our reach.
The National Government has beaten us. It is a melancholy fact—but it is a fact. She
has written “Nebraska” over the tomb of our hope; she will soon add “Cuba” to the
legend; and then she will revive the slave trade : very little doubt of it. But, in the
mean time, though you can not affect Congress, you can do this: with proper effort, this
summer, we can put a Legislature into that State House in Boston which shall give us a
series of statutes better than Connecticut, better than Rhode Island, which will make it
utterly impossible to execute that law in the State of Massachusetts. When we have
done that, we can defy Congress. When we have made her a free State, we can
begin to think of outside. . . I believe that the politics of anti-slavery—if there be
any politics with anti-slavery—are Nullification. These are the only politics that are
possible in the present aspect of affairs. I commend them to you for your serious work
HISTORY OF THE MONTH 343
—not consideration ; to the efforts, the continued labour of this summer, so that we
may really be able to boast of an anti-slavery government here in the Commonwealth
mext fall.’
Tet us note also an important fact, the abandonment by the noble Angelina
Grimké Weld of the mistaken ‘peace principle,’ and her expression of the
‘hope that the arrest of every fugitive may be contested even unto blood.’
Ay, even for peace’ sake. One such contest in right earnest, and slavery
would be at an end. So long as the cheek is turned to the Smiter, the smiter
will glory in his strength. Smite him down, in the name of God, and rescue
the Smitten from his brutality There is no peace on earth till the sword has
won it. Wolves and mad dogs are not open to the voice of love, charm it
never so wisely. -
- HOME NEWS.
Parliament is prorogued. Let us quote again from the Times the character
of our Parliament: a Parliament not allowed by her Majesty's Government to
interfere in the conduct of the war, but permitted to notice little boys pitching
pebbles into the great mortar in St James’ Park and bigger boys misappro-
priating public chesnuts at Bushy. Says the Times very justly—
‘The House of Commons does not at this moment occupy so distinguished a position
in the public eye as to be able to afford wantonly to sport with its own reputation.’
Are the Lords any more reputable P Hear the Times still:—
* Nobility is still worshipped in this country, but it is worshipped much as civilized,
intellectual Pagans worshipped their old deities—with a mild, compassionate, semi-
humourous form of devotion. Those deities were such eccentric personages that it was
impossible to treat them with unqualified respect.” -
Wherefore of course Lords and Commons (Lords’ kinsfolk and nominees)
ought to make the laws for this enlightened community, and the enlightened
community be content with the ‘semi-humourous” and disreputable conducting.
Sixteen days a second court-martial has been sitting on Lieutenant Perry—
to find him guilty of having on his previous trial, in absolute self-defence, ex-
posed the gross delinquences of his regiment. The Horse-Guards seems
determined to crush him, and nearly all the military witnesses conveniently
forget whatever could serve the intended victim. Some, perhaps supposed to
be less accommodating to the authorities who prosecute, or persecute, Perry,
have been hurried off to Turkey out of his reach. A more foul endeavour to
crush a man whose only offence is his refusal to be brutified, has not often
come under public notice. Once more we can borrow from the Times, which,
with all its villainy, does good work on many a public grievance. An Arab
traveler, says the editor, sums up the character of the people of Muscat in the
following pregnant words:– As for manners, they have none; and their cus-
toms are abominable.’ And—
“If a writer in our own time should wish to convey to his readers a comprehensive
idea of the tone which pervades the society of officers in certain regiments of the British
army, we say it with the greatest pain, he could not do better than adopt the precise
words of the historian of Muscat. Can anything be more purely disgraceful, disgusting,
344 HISTORY OF THE MONTH
and humiliating than the revelations which have taken place in the course of the various
Windsor Courts-martial?’ -
The cholera is among us again; nay, abroad over nearly the whole of Europe.
In London, in one week, 644 deaths have occurred. -
The law seems almost a worse pest than the cholera. Think what social
order is, what the perfectness of christian charity, when during one year (last
year) 72,514 actions were brought in the superior Civil Courts, and in the
County Courts 484,946. - - .
For criminal law : is not Justice well bandaged 2 Mr Carden, a magis-
trate and man of education and property, will have two years’ imprisonment
with ‘hard’ labour, for a most foul attempt at rape, unless his physician (the
same gentleman who supplied him with chloroform) finds it too injurious to his
health. A poor beggar girl has the same punishment for stealing a child’s
clothes—a foul and detestable crime, said the learned judge.
At the Western Assizes in the Crown Court ‘there has been nothing of im-
portance except the fact of a labourer, aged thirty-seven, having been convicted
of stealing five eggs, of the value of 2%d. Mr Justice Wightman said this man
had already been confined in gaol nine weeks upon this charge. It was much
to be regretted that there was not some more summary mode of punishment
for such a small offence. The sentence was that he should be imprisoned five
days, which would entitle him to be immediately discharged. -
‘Three women were convicted of stealing a few potatoes from a field while
gleaming, and were ordered to be immediately discharged. The miserable ap-
pearance of these poor creatures was shocking.’ -
And Mr Jeremiah Smith, the worshipful Mayor of Rye, convicted of perjury,
gets off with six months’ imprisonment, released because of “a tendency to
apoplexy,” certified by another physician; and is entertained at a public dinner
and congratulated on his discharge.
What will our readers learn from these glimpses of English life?
MITCHEL and Meagher
Wherefor so eager
To prove yourselves knaves?
Could not ould Ireland,
Your worthy sire-land,
Fit you for slaves?
Why must ye run
Hot for the fun
Of whipping the Blacks P
Come, my good men!
Come home agen
And whip your own hacks.
WALTER SAVAGE LANDoR.
THE
ENGLISH REPUBLIC
. . . . . . .2
, ſlº,
Wº Jº. LINTON
*gºsº
PART 46 (Part X, Vol. 3), OCTOBER, 1854, PRICE SIX-PENCE.
W. J. LINTon, BRANTwo on; conrSºron, wrinidrºr MERE.
T, ONID ON :
J. P. Crantz, 2, Shoe Lane, Fleet Street;
J. Watson, 17, Thornhill Terrace, Heiningford Road, Islington;
J. Sharp, 47, Tabernacle Walk, Finsbury.
NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE:
J. Barlow, 1, Nelson Street, and 28, Grainger Street.

345
P R A C T I C A L T H E J S M .
ABRIDGED FROM THEODORE PARKER.
jou start with the Idea of God as Infinite in power, wisdom, justice,
:E-º:º: love, holiness; you consider Him in his relation to the universe, as
tº perfect Cause and perfect Providence; you see that from his nature
gº
He m
ust have made the world, and all things therein, from a perfect motive,
for a perfect purpose, of perfect material, as perfect means thereto, and there-
fore that Human Nature must be adequate to the end which God designed,
that it must be provided with means adequate to the development of man,
that all the faculties in their normal activity must be the natural means for
achieving the purposes of God. You see that, as He gave Nature, the material
world, its present amount of necessitated forces, knowing exactly how to pro-
portion the means to the end, the forces to the result which they were to pro-
duce, in like manner He gave to man his present amount of contingent forces,
knowing perfectly well what use man would make thereof, what abuses would
ensue, what results would come to pass, and ordering and balancing these
things, compensating one constant by another, caprice by necessity,+so that
our human forces should become the means of achieving his divine purpose,
and the free-will of man should ultimately work in the same line with the in-
finite perfection of God, and so the result which God designed should be
achieved by human freedom ; therefore, that this perfect Cause and Providence
has provided human freedom as part of the perfect means whereby human des-
timation is to be wrought out, which destination is not fate, but providence.
Well, this idea of God, the consequent idea of the Universe and of the
Relation between the two, can not remain merely a theory; it will affect
human life in all its most important details. It will appear in the Form of
Religion. Man must always work with such intellectual apparatus, faculties,
and ideas, as he has. With the Idea of the Infinite God, he must progres-
sively construct a form of religion corresponding to that idea. That form of
religion will comprise the subjective worship and the objective service of God;
and so it will become the Theoretic Ideal of human life. Then that form of
religion will appear in the Actual Life of men, and in all the modes and modi-
fications thereof: for no human force is so subtle as the religious; it extends,
and multiplies, and goes into every department of human affairs.
Let us now look at the Theoretic Form of religion which belongs to this
idea, and at the Realization thereof in human life. -
I. First, then, of the Form of Religion, Of Religion there are always two
parts; namely, the subjective portion, which is Piety, consisting of emotions

346 IPRACTICAL THEISM
that are purely internal; and next the objective portion, which is Morality,
internal in part, and external also, rooted in our consciousness of God, and
branched abroad into practical action in our houses and farms and shops, our
warehouses, our libraries, and our banks.
First, of the subjective portion. When fully grown this subjective part
must be pure Piety; I mean to say piety not mixed with any other emotion.
There will be no Fear or Distrust of God, because it is known that there is
nothing in God to fear. I fear what hurts, never what helps.
Distrust of God rests on the idea that He is something not perfect, imper-
fect in power, wisdom, justice, love, or holiness; and with that idea of Him
God may seem good so far as he goes, but not going infinitely. He does not
go far enough to warrant infinite trust; and so there is a partial distrust. Fear
of God is worse yet. That rests on the supposition that there is not only in
God something not perfect, but that there is in Him something not good.
But you can not fear infinite love, you can not fear infinite justice, nor in-
finite holiness; nor yet infinite wisdom and infinite power, when they are
directed by infinite justice and animate with infinite love. With the idea of
God as infinitely perfect I may indeed have doubts of to-morrow, doubts of my
own or another’s temporary welfare, for I know not what result the contingent
forces of human freedom will produce to-morrow ; but I can have no doubts of
etermity, no doubts of my own or another’s ultimate welfare, because I do
know that the absolute forces of God will so controul the conditional and con-
tingent forces of men, which His plan arranged and provided for, that ulti-
mately the perfect purpose of God shall be achieved for all and each.
Then there will be Absolute Love of God. To the mind, God will be the
beauty of truth; to the conscience, the beauty of justice; to the affections, the
beauty of love; to the soul, the beauty of holiness; and to the whole con-
sciousness of man, He will appear as the total Infinite Beauty; the perfect
and absolute object of every hungering faculty of man; the Cause that creates
from perfect love as motive, for perfect love as purpose, and by perfect love as
means; the perfect Providence that provides from the same motive for the
same purpose and by the same means.
With this Idea of God, and this Love of Him, there comes a Perfect Trust
in God as Cause and Providence:—not only a trust in the daylight of science,
where we see, but in the twilight, even in the darkness of ignorance, where we
see not :—an absolute trust in his motive, his purpose, and his means; so that
we shall not desire any other motive but the motive of God, nor any other
purpose but the purpose of God, nor any other means but the means He has
provided thereto.
With that trust there must come a perpetual Hope, for yourself, for all
mankind: for as dark as the world may be, dark as my own condition may be,
my outward lot, my inward state, still I know assuredly that God foresaw it
all, provided for it all, and that He can not fail in motive, in purpose, or means
thereto, and thus light will spring out of darkness and bliss come forth of bale.
With this there will come Tranquillity and Rest for the soul—that Peace
spoken of in the fourth Gospel, which the World can not give nor take away.
PRACTICAL THEISM 347
Then there will come a real Joy in God. I mean the happiness which the
Mystics call the ‘sense of sweetness’ that comes when the conditions of the
soul are completely met, when the true idea of God and the appropriate feel-
ing toward Him furnish the personal, human, inward condition of religious
delight, and there is nothing between us and the infinite Father. That is the
highest joy and the highest delight of human consciousness. The natural
desires of the body may fail of satisfaction, their hunger shortening my days
on earth, and I may be poor and cold and naked; I may be a prisoner in a
dungeon of Austria, or a slave on a plantation of Carolina; I may be sick and
feeble, and the conditions of domestic and of social welfare may not be met;-
but if the soul’s conditions are fairly met within on the side that is turned
toward the Infinite, then through the clouds the beauty of God shines on me,
and I am at peace.
So there will come a Beauty of Soul; I mean a harmonious spiritual whole
of well-proportioned spiritual parts, and there will be a continual and constant
growth in all the noble qualities of man. God will not be thought afar off,
separated from Nature, separated from man, but dwelling therein, immanent
in each though yet transcending all. Nature will be seen as a revelation of
God; and the march of man will reveal also the same Providence as the world
of matter, human consciousness disclosing higher characteristics of the infinite
God. Communion with Him will be direct, my spirit meeting His, with
nothing betwixt me and the Godhead of God. I shall not pray by attorney,
but face to face. Inspiration will be a fact now, not merely a history of times
gone by. Worship, the subjective service of God, will be not by conventional
forms of belief, of speech, or of posture, not by a sacramental addition of an
excrescence where Nature suffered no lack, nor by mutilation of the body or
mutilation of the spirit, the Sacramental cutting off where God made nothing
redundant : but by conscious noble emotions shall I subjectively worship God;
by gratitude for my right to the Father, and in His universe, the thanksgiving
of an upright heart; by aspiration after a higher ideal of my own daily life; by
the sense of duty to be done, which comes with the sense of right to be
enjoyed; by penitence where I fall short ; by resolutions that in my ‘proper
motion’ I may ascend, and not by adverse fall come down; by the calm joy of
the soul, its delight in Nature, in Man, and in God; by the hope, the faith,
and the love, which the large soul sends out of itself in its religious life; and
by the growing beauty of character, which constantly increases in love of wis-
dom, in love of justice, in love of benevolence—in love of Man, and in love of
God. That will be the real worship, the internal service of the Father.
So much for the subjective part of this form of religion.
Of the Objective Part also a word. God, who is thus subjectively served in
the natural forms of Piety, must be objectively served or worshipped in the
natural forms of Morality; that is, by keeping all the laws of God. In Nature,
the material world, the law of God is the actual constant mode of operation of
the forces thereof.-the way it does act. There all is necessitated, and we
know of the law by seeing the fact that it is always kept : for the ideal law of
matter is the actual fact of matter, learned by observation, not by conscious-
348 PRACTICAL THEISM
ness. So the material universe and God, in every point of space and time, are
continually at one. If law is a constant of God, obedience thereto is a con-
stant of matter. But in man the law of God for man is the ideal constant
mode of operation of the human force,—the way it should act. This is not
always a fact in any man; and we learn it not merely by observation of our
history, but by consciousness of our nature. Morality is the making of the
ideal of human nature into the actual of human history. Herein the ideal of
God’s purpose becomes the actual of man’s achievement, and so far man and
God are at one, as everywhere God and matter are at one. Then for every
point of Right we seek to enjoy there is a point of Duty which we will to do.
Thus, in general, morality will be the objective service of God, as piety is
the subjective worship of God. These two make up the whole of religion:
they are the only divine service. Piety is the great inward sacrament and act
of worship ; Morality is the great outward sacrament and act of service.
Piety will be free piety, Snch as the spirit of man demands; Morality will be
free morality, such as the spirit of man demands; both perfectly conformable
to the nature which God puts into man, to the body and the spirit, the mind
and conscience, heart and soul.
This morality will consist in keeping the Law of the Body, in giving it its
due use, development, enjoyment, and discipline in the world of matter.
The popular theology, in its ascetic rules, goes to an extreme and does great
injustice. It counts the body mean, calls it vile, says that therein dwells no
good thing. It mortifies the flesh, crucifies the affections thereof. But the
body is not vile. Did not the infinite Father make it, not a limb too much,
not a passion too many ? God make any thing vile ! and least of all this,
which is the consummation of his outward workmanship, the frame of man |
Far from us be the thought !
The Atheistic philosophy goes to the other extreme, and clamours for the
‘rehabilitation of the flesh, and would have a paradise of the senses, as the
sole and earthly heaven of man. Theology turns the flesh out of doors, and
the soul has cold housekeeping, living alone. Atheism turns the soul out of
doors, and the flesh has no better time of it, no ! has a worse time, with its
Scarlet women ‘tinging the pavement with proud wine too good for the tables
of pontiffs.” Absolute Religion demands the use of every limb of the body,
every faculty of the soul, all after their own kind, each performing its proper
function in the housekeeping of man. Then there will be freedom of the body,
freedom for every limb to perform its function, and to perform no more. That
is the morality of the body. -
This morality will consist also in keeping the Law of the Spirit; that is, in
giving the Spirit its matural empire over the material part of us, and in giving
each spiritual faculty its natural place in the housekeeping of the spirit, so
that each, the intellectual, the moral, the affectional, and the purely religious
faculty, shall have its due development, use, enjoyment, and discipline in life.
Then there will be spiritual freedom; that is, the liberty of every spiritual faculty
to perform its own work, and no more. This is the morality of the spirit.
The popular theology restrains each spiritual faculty. It hedges you in with
PRACTICAL THEISM 349
the limitation of some great or little man; it calls a man’s fence the limit to
God’s revelation: it does not give the mind room, nor conscience room, nor
the affections room, nor yet the soul sufficient space to serve God, each by its
natural function.
One of the good things of Atheism has been this: it offers freedom to the
human spirit. That is its only good, and its only charm. In a church of
Theology the great mind can not draw a long breath, lest it should wake up
the ‘wrath of God,” which, we are told, never sleeps very sound, nor long at
a time. In the free air of Atheism the largest mind is told to breathe as deep
as he can, and make as much noise as he will; there is no God to molest and
make him afraid. That is the only charm which Atheism ever had to any man.
It raises men from fear, and it bids them be true to that part of their nature
which they know.
Well, such will be the form of Religion coming from Theism; such its
|Piety and Morality. You see it will be a form of religion which fits well upon
man; fits well upon the finite side,-on man, for it is derived from his nature,
and represents all parts thereof, doing justice to the body, to its every limb, to
all its senses, functions, passions; doing justice to the spirit, every faculty
thereof, intellectual, moral, affectional, and religious. It fits just as well on
the infinite side—om God; for it is drawn from human nature on the supposi-
tion that God made human nature from perfect motives, of perfect material,
for a perfect purpose, and as a perfect means thereto. This form of religion,
then, is the application of God’s means to the purpose of God.
As ‘Christian’ Theology professes to be derived from a verbal revelation of
God, represented by the Church, as the Catholics say, by the Scriptures, as
the Protestants teach,--so the Absolute Religion is derived from the real
revelation of God, which is contained in the universe; this outward universe
of matter, this inward universe of man; and I take it we do not require the
learned and conscientious labours of a Lardner, a Paley, or a Norton, to con-
vince us that the universe is genuine and authentic, and is the work of God,
without interpolation. We all know that. I call this the Absolute Religion,
because it is drawn from the absolute and ultimate source; because it gives us
the Absolute Idea of God, God as Infinite; and because it guarantees to man
his natural rights, and demands the performance of the absolute duties of
human nature. -
So much for this Form of Religion.
See it first in the form of Individual Human Life ; in a person. He will be
the most religious man who most conforms to his nature; who has most of
this natural piety and of this natural morality. He will be the most com-
pletely religious man who most keeps the law of God, for his body and for his
soul; and of course who coördinates the flesh and the spirit, and duly subor-
dinates the low qualities of the spirit to the higher;-for a very little activity
of the higher faculties of man is worth a great deal of activity of the lower;
even as an ounce of gold can any day purchase some tons of sand. .
What a difference there will be between the saint of absolute Religion and . .
the Saint of popular Theology. The real Saint is a man who aims to have a
350 PRACTICAL THEISM
whole body, and a whole mind, and a whole conscience, and a whole heart, and
a whole soul; and to live a whole, brave, manly life, at work in the daily call-
ing of grocer, or mason, or legislator, or cabinet-maker, or historian, or seam-
stress, or preacher, or farmer, or king, or whatsoever it may be : that will be
the aim of the saint of natural religion. The real saint of absolute religion
must be a free spiritual individual. His piety must represent him, and his
morality must represent him, and he will carry them both into all his work.
Knowing that God gave him faculties as God meant him to have them, each
containing its law in itself; knowing that God provided them as a perfect
means for a perfect purpose, and that that purpose is one which can not fail,
—he will use these faculties in the true service of God; and he will work as
no other man,—with a strength, and a vigour, and a perseverance; ay, and a
beauty of character too, which nothing but religion can ever give. So there
will be the greatest strength to do, to be, and to suffer, sure to conquer at the
last. He will sail the more carefully, for he knows that careful sailing is the
service which God requires of him; he will sail the more confidently, because he
knows that his voyage is laid out, and his craft is insured by the Power who
holds the waters in the hollow of His hand; yes, that it is insured against ulti-
mate shipwreck at the great office of the infinite God. Will he not work there-
fore with greater earnestness and zeal because he knows that God gave him
these talents as a perfect means for a perfect end; with more confidence be-
cause he knows the end is made sure of; and with more caution, because he
knows that the true use of the means is the only service God asks of him P
See this same thing in its Domestic Form, that of human life in the family.
The family must represent the free spiritual individuality of man and woman,
regarded as equal, and equally joining by connubial love—passion and affection
—for mutual self-denial and mutual delight;-for there is no marriage without
mutual self-denial as means, for mutual delight as end. Marriage between a
perfect man and a perfect woman would be mutual surrender and Sacrifice.
In all forms of religion that I know, from the book of Moses to the book of
Mormon, from Confucius to Calvin, woman is degraded before man; but the
Absolute Religion will give woman her true place in the family as the equivalent
of man; and when the family is of two free spiritual individualities, grouped
together by mutual love, for mutual self-denial and mutual delight, then we
shall have a family religion such as the world never saw before. And that will
not be deemed the most religious family which has the most of psalm-singing
and of prayers, excellent things, I deny not, -but that wherein every law of
the body and every law of the spirit are most completely kept ; where man is
joined to woman, and woman joined to man in passional and affectional love,
with mutual sacrifice and mutual surrender ; the wedlock of equals, not the
huddling together of a superior and an inferior.
See this in its Social Form, that of human life in communities. All men
will be regarded as equal in nature, equal in rights, equally entitled to take a
just and natural delight in the world of matter, on the same just and natural
conditions which God has laid down. The Absolute Religion of the individual
must be ‘professed’ in the institutions of society, and be made life in the
PRACTICAL THEISMI 35T
world of men. Then Morality will take the form of Industry in all its million
modes; of Natural Enjoyment of the products of industry; of Justice, regulat-
ing the intercourse of men by the golden rule, which is alike the standard-
measure in the mind of man and in the mind of God; the form of Friendship
with a few, from whom we ask delight in return for the joy we give; the form
of Philanthropy to all, asking no return. Industry will be deemed a divine
service; and a man’s shop, library, bank, office, warehouse, farm, his station in
Church or State, all will be deemed the special temple wherein he is to wor-
ship the Tather by matural morality, service with every limb of his body,
every faculty of his spirit, every power over matter or man which he has,
gained. Friendship, with its mutual triumph and reciprocal surrender, philan-
thropy, which comes as charity to palliate the effects of ill, or as justice to
remove the cause of ill,—these will be deemed the noble factors in the religion
of Society, to work out “a far more exceeding, even an eternal weight of glory.’
Then the tools of a man’s work, the farmer’s plough, the mason’s trowel, the
griddle of the cook, the needle of the seamstress, and the scholar’s pen, will be
reckoned the consecrated vessels of our divine service, and of man’s daily Com-
munion with man.
There will be a church, doubtless, for gathering the multitudes from the
cold air, to warm their faces where one great man lights the fire with senti-
ments and ideas which he has caught from God. There will be a Sabbath for
rest, for thought, for ideas, for sentiments; hours of self-communion, of
penitence, of weeping, aspirations, hours of highest communion and life with
God: but the whole world will be a temple, every spot holy ground, every
bush burning with the Infinite, all time the Lord’s-day, and every moral act
worship and a sacrament. Then men will see that voluntary idleness is a sin,
that profligacy is a sin, that deceit is a sin, that fraud in work and in trade is
a sin, that no orthodoxy of belief, no multitude of prayers, no bodily presence
in a church, no acceptance of an artificial Sacrament, can ever atone for neglec
of the great natural Sacrament which God demands of every man. -
Will not that be a change in society P Now, the man of the popular
theology sneaks into church on the first day of the week, and hopes thereby to
atome for an abnegation of God on the other six; communes with God through
bread and wine, and refuses to commune with Him in buying and selling; is a
liar, a usurer, a kidnapper before men, while he professes to be a saint before
God. What is taught to him as ‘revealed religion’ does not rebuke his pride
nor correct his conduct.
Then with the teaching of the true absolute Religion it will be seen that the
great man is only the great servant of mankind. He that is powerful by
money, office, culture, genius, owes mankind an eminence of industry, justice,
and love, as pay to God for the opportunities, the station, the strength, which
he has received. God gave him greatness by mature; society gave him great-
ness of culture, of wealth, of station —Why? That he might do the more
service, not take the more ease. The man of genius is born to be eyes for the
public. If he looks out only for himself, he has denied the faith, and is an Infidel.
Then men will see that that is the most religious community where, propor,
352 |PRACTICAL TIIEHSM
tionately, the most pains is taken to secure the welfare of all, to speed Genius
on its triumphant way, to help the poor, the feeble, men of imperfect body and
imperfect brain, and those sad wrecks of circumstance we now pile up in jails
to moulder and to rot. A steeple and a gallows will not always be the signs
significant of a Christian land. Men will not measure the religion of society
by the number of the temples and priests, but by the colleges and school-houscs,
the hospitals, the asylums for the old, the sick, the deaf, the blind, the foolish,
the Crazy, and the criminal; nay, they will measure it by honest industry
in business, by truth in science, by beauty in literature, by justice in the State,
by the comfort, the health, the manhood of the man.
See this religion in the Political Form, that of National Life. Here the
aim will be to take the Constitution of the Universe for the foundation of all
political institutions, making absolute Justice the standard-measure in all
political affairs, and reënacting the Higher Law of God into all the statutes of
the people’s code. Men of Genius, in all its many modes, will be the nation’s
telescopic eye to discover the Eternal Right. The highest thought of the
most gifted and best cultured men will become the ideal which the nation
seeks to incorporate in its code, to administer in its courts, and to revive in its
daily life. That will be thought the most religious nation whose institutions,
constitutions, statutes, and decisions, conform the most to abstract right, ap-
plying this to its action abroad and at home; where the whole people are the
best and the best off; and the higher law of God is carried out in the action of
the nation with other States, of the government with the people, of class with
class, and of man with man. As proofs of the national religion, you will bring
forward the character of the people—their conduct, their institutions, their men,
Then law would be justice, loyalty righteousness, and patriotism Humanity.
Men conscious of the same human nature, and consciously serving the Infinite
God, must needs find their religion transcending the bounds of their family,
community, church, and nation, and reaching out to every human soul.
Then what a force Religion will be | There will be a religion for the body,
to serve God with every limb thereof; a religion for the intellect, and we shall
hear no more of “atheistic science,’ but Lalande shall find God all the world
through, in every scintillation of the farthest star he looks at, and Ehrenberg
confront the Infinite in each animated dot or cell of life his glass brings out to
light; yea, the chemist meet the Omnipresent in every atom of every gas.
Then there shall be a religion for conscience, the great justice; a religion for
the affections, the great love; a leligion for the soul, perfect, absolute trust in
God, joy in God, delight in this Father and Mother too.
Then what men shall we have not dwarfed and Crippled, but giant men,
Christlike as Christ. What families woman emancipated and lifted up.
What communities a society without a slave, without a pauper; society
without ignorance, wealth without crime. What churches . Think of the
eight and twenty thousand Protestant churches of America, with their eight
and twenty thousand Protestant ministers, with a free press and a free pulpit,
and think of their influence if every man of them believed in the Infinite God,
and taught that the service of God was by matural piety within and natural
-PRAYER 353
morality without ; that there was no such thing as imputed righteousness or
salvation by Christ; but that real righteousness was honoured before God, and
salvation by character, by effort, by prayer, and by toil, was the work. Then
what a nation should we have ay, what a world !
We shall have it; it is in your heart and in my heart : for God, when He
put this idea into human nature, meant that it should only go before the fact,
—the John the Baptist that heralds the coming of the great Messiah.
Eternal Truth shines on o’er error's cloud,
Which from our darkness hides the living light;
Wherefore, when the true Bard hath sung aloud
His soul’s song to the unrecessive night,
His words, like fiery arrows, must alight,
Or soon, or late, and kindle through the earth,
Till Falsehood from his lair be frighted forth.
Work on, O fainting Heart 1 speak out thy Truth;
Somewhere thy winged heart-seeds will be blown,
And be a grove of pines; from mouth to mouth,
O'er oceans, into speech and lands unknown,
E’en till the long-foreseen result be grown
To ripeness, fill’d like fruit, with other seed,
Which Time shall plant anew and gather when men need.
P R A YE R.
LET us pray ! Our prayer be truthful!
Fervent and effectual thought
Is a spirit strong and youthful,
Whose desire in deed is wrought.
Let us pray !
Let us pray ! Our hope be daring !
Prayer is an eternal seed, -
Germ of will, and sure of bearing
Emergetic, zealous deed.
Let us pray !
Let us pray ! . And prayer is action: . .
Prayer I thou art a hero-sword.
Rive the battle; make no paction
Dntil Victory own thee lord
. Tet us pray !
Let us pray ! as prays the Sower.
Pray we as the soldier prays
Though our harvest may be slower,
Though in heaven we reap the bays.
... . . I let us pray !
354.
T H E R E B E L L I O N 0 F KET THE T A N N E R .
A CTIAPTER OF THE SUPPRESSED HISTORY OF ENGLANT).
(Continued from page 326.)
By this time, as the mayor and citizens imagined, the camp began to be dis-
tressed for want of victuals; and in order the more commodiously to bring
provision from the other side of the city, they sued for truce for a certain time,
sending James Williams and Ralph Sutton, two of the vilest that the city pro-
duced, as their ambassadours from the camp to the city gates, with a banner
of truce in their hands, who were brought to the mayor and aldermen, of whom
they demanded, in Captain Ket’s name, “Peace and truce for a few days,
whereby they might have liberty (as they lately had) to carry victuals through
the city to the camp, which if they would not grant, threatened to break into
the city and destroy it with fire and sword.” The mayor and aldermen flatly
denied their request, ‘protesting they would not permit traytours to have any
passage through their city.” Upon this refusal the rebels were so enraged,
that running down the hill, they made a violent assault upon Bishop Gates,
but were as bravely repulsed and forced to retire. Yea such rage appeared
among them that the boys and young lads showed themselves so desperate in
gathering up the arrows, that when they felt them sticking in their bodies they
would pluck them out and give them to their bowmen to shoot again at the
citizens. All this time the ordnance in the meadows did but little damage to
the rebels, for want of sufficient powder and skillin the gunners, though many
of them were wounded with the arrows which flew very thick from the city;
but yet so great was their fury that the very boys, naked and unarmed, ran
about provoking the citizens with reproachful speeches.
In the mean season, the rebels in the city, and those that favoured them,
began a fearful uproar on the other side of the city, crying: ‘To your weapons !
to your weapons ! for the enemies are entered the city’: which wicked strata-
gem answered the design, for all the citizens left that side of the city and ran
to the other, so that the part where the assault first began was left without
defence: which the rebels seeing, renewed their assault, and the boys and
country clowns without fear threw themselves into the river that runs before
Bishop’s Gate, and swimming cross with swords, clubs, spears, staves, and
javelins, made what few citizens were left there retreat, and then pulling off
the bars of the gates let in the rebels; upon which the citizens withdrew to
their houses and other secret places, where they hoped best to hide themselves
from the fury of their enemies, which they imagined would now be executed
to the total subversion of the city. -
The first thing they did after they had thus entered by force was to convey
KET’s REBELLION 355
all the guns and artillery, and all other furniture of war whatever, out of the
city to the camp, which was soon dome; the boys and clowns mocking such
citizens as they saw grieved, calling them traitours, cursing and reviling them.
The herald, who was still in the city to see if the rebels would, before the
day fixed for their pardons (which was not yet expired) give over their enter-
prize, came with the mayor and a great number of the principal citizens into
the market-place, and there declared to the populace in the king’s name ‘that
all such as would lay aside their arms and go home to their houses should have
a general pardon; but all the rest should be punished with death.’
The rebels that stood by and heard him bad him depart with a mischief, for
neither his fair offers nor his sweet flattering words should beguile them, for
they detested such mercy that under pretence of pardon would cut off all their
hope of safety and self-preservation.
Upon which the herald departed, seeing nothing was to be done either
through fear of punishment or hope of pardon, and returned to court. Upon
this Ket immediately ordered Leonard Sotherton (or Sutterton) to be brought
before him, because he had accompanied the herald on his journey; but he
fearing the matter, and being warmed of it, was forced to hide himself in the
city among his friends and kindred, as many other good men did.
And now Ket took the mayor, Robert Watson, William Rogers, John Hum-
berston, William Brampton, and many others of the wisest and best men of
the city, and imprisoned them in Surrey House, where some of them remained
laden with irons till the last day of this conspiracy.
Ret perceiving that things were grown so desperate that he must have either
a bloody victory over his country, or else come to the shameful end he deserved.
endeavoured all he could to draw a large multitude together to increase his
army, so that, what by rewards and fair promises, it is almost inconceivable to
tell the numbers of rascally people that flocked to him from all parts on a
sudden.
By this time the citizens began to be sore displeased that their mayor, who
was a man of remarkable honesty, and exceedingly beloved, not only by the
better sort, but even by those who had joined the camp, should be so scan-
dalously imprisoned, and remain in danger of his life among the rebels, who
began to threaten him sorely, and jesting at his name would say one to another:
‘Let us come together to-morrow, for we shall see a Codd's-head sold in the
camp for a penny!’—alluding to the mayor’s name. Whereupon, fearing lest
he should be made away among them, came and complained unto Thomas Ald-
rich (whose authority was great among the rebels—he being a man they also
loved) that they did not like such usage. And he immediately went to Ket,
and being backed by a number of the citizens that were exceedingly angry at
the usage of their mayor, he sharply reproved him for his cruel dealing in im-
prisoning so homest a man as the mayor was, and withal commanded him to
release him; when, either for shame or fear of disobliging these citizens, he in-
stantly set him at liberty, and permitted him to go all over the sity; so that
by his care and diligence many of the citizens were much comforted. But be-
cause he could not abide in it, being constrained to be the most part of his
356 - REL’s 2
REBELLION
time in the camp, he made Augustine Steward his deputy, commanding him to
take the charge of governing and defending the city in his absence; and he,
with the assistance of Henry Bacon and John Atkins, then sheriffs, ruled the
city right carefully, to their great credit, and kept all the citizens in order,
except those unruly ones whom no good order could command.
T}uring this time, Ket and his companions used to make scorn and mock at
such prisoners as they kept, and sometimes delivered them to the multitude
for that purpose. And a day was appointed when all the prisoners were to be
brought out to the oak, there to be tried, as they called it. And at the time,
Ket himself went upon the oak, and sitting down there had the prisoners in
order, one by one, called by their names, and then he inquired of his com-
panions what they thought of them,--these varlets being made inquisitors and
judges of the lives of those innocent gentlemen. If they found nothing against
the man in question they called out : ‘A good man; he is a good man; and
therefore ought to be set at liberty!” but if any small crime or dislike was but
once named by any of them, they called out : ‘Let him be hanged let him be
hanged ſº though at the same time they did not so much as know the man.
The Council being ascertained by the herald’s return, that nothing but force
would quiet the Norfolk rebels, appointed William Parr, Marquis of Northamp-
ton, an excellent courtier, and one more skilled in leading a measure than a
march, with 1,500 horsemen of the king’s forces, to go down to Norwich to
attack the rebels and defend the city; with him went the Lord Sheffield and
the Lord Wentworth, Sir Anthony Denny, Sir Henry Parker, Sir Richard
Southwell, Sir Ralf Sadler, Sir John Clere, Sir Ralf Powlet, Sir Richard Lee,
Sir John Gates, Sir Thomas Paston, Sir Henry Bedingfield, Sir John Suliard,
Sir William Walgrave, Sir John Cutts, Sir Thomas Cornwalleis, Knights, with
a good number of other knights, Squires, and other gentlemen, and a small
band of Italians, under the command of Mala-testa, an experienced soldier,
which the rebels took advantage of, and filled the country with complaints
that these were part of the numberless foreigners to which England was going
forthwith to be subjected, which made some of them more resolute than before.
The marquis, being now come within a mile of Norwich, sent Sir Gilbert
Dethick, Knight, who was then Norroy, and afterwards Garter King at Arms,
to summon them within the city to yield it into his hands, or, upon refusal, to
proclaim war against it. Augustine Steward, the deputy mayor, sent to the
mayor, who was now detained in the camp, to let him know what message he
had received from the marquis, who returned answer that all these confusions
much grieved him, and more so because he could not wait on him to deliver
the city into his hands himself, being detained by a guard of the rebels, in danger
of his life; but having given his authority to Mr Augustine Steward, a wise
and careful man, least in his absence the people should fall away from their
duty, he had ordered him to be ready to surrender it into his hands, and to
smbmit all things wholly to his lordship’s order and disposition.
This message being soon carried by Norroy, the deputy mayor, sheriffs, and
a great number of the chief citizens went to the marquis's army and delivered
the sword to his lordship, declaring that the mayor himself would have gladly
KET's REBELLION 357
come if he could have got from the rebels, and that, although a great number
of the scum and populace of the city were partakers with the rebels, yet the
substantial and principle citizens never did nor never would consent to their
doings, but were ready at all times to receive him into their city, and obey him
as the representative of the king himself. - -
Upon which, the marquis comforted them with good words, telling them he
hoped he should appease these troubles shortly. Then he delivered the sword
to Sir Richard Southwell, who carried it bare-headed before the marquis into
the city, which honour, by solemn and ancient custom, is always given to the
king’s lieutenants. He made his entry at St Stephen’s Gates, and forthwith
gave commandment that all the citizens should meet him in the market-place,
where they consulted long, and many things were resolved upon, as well for
the defence of the city as for restraining the assault of the enemy.
Immediately watch and ward were appointed for the walls and gates, and
the weak places of the old walls were guarded by armed men day and night.
Things being thus ordered (but whether by chance or by appointment is not
known) that the strangers went out and offered skirmish to the rebels upon
Magdalen Hill. The rebels first came forth with their horsemen, who better
understood plundering the country than fighting, for they were no match for the
- strangers, which their fellows seeing, they put their archers before their horse-
men, designing to surround the strangers; but they, perceiving their drift,
cast themselves into a ring, and retired into the city, leaving an Italian gentle-
man behind them, who had ventured too far, and being unfortunately thrown
from his horse was taken, spoiled of his armour, and as a specimen how they
could use others hanged over the walls of Surrey House.
The watch being set, the marquis Ordered the rest of the soldiers to be
armed all night, and to make a huge fire in the market-place, which was ap-
pointed their general rendezvous, so that the streets might be light, least by
darkness and ignorance of the place they should be enclosed in the night by
their enemies. .
Sir Edward Warner, Marshal of the Field, gave the watchword; Sir Thomas
Paston, Sir John Clere, Sir William Walgrave, Sir Thomas Cornwalleis, and
Sir Henry Bedingfield, men of approved valour and wisdom, were dispersed in
divers parts of the city, for defence thereof, who performed their parts nobly,
going continually from place to place, encouraging and animating their men by
their countenance, words, and their own travel and labour. Everything being
thus settled, the marquis and others at rest, about midnight, the rebels, as if
they designed to assault the city, discharged their artillery as thick as possible,
but whether it was by the unskilfulness of the gunners, or whether they had
taken any money (as some thought), they did little damage, the bullets passing
over the city. The Marshal, by reason of the continual alarms given by the
watchmen, and the continuance of the discharge of the cannons, called up the
marquis, as he had ordered him to do, if anything happened, who came pre-
sently into the market-place with his nobles and gentlemen, and entered into
consultation how to provide better for the defence of the city, finding by the
slow return of his soldiers (which he began to perceive) that they were not
358 KET's REBELLION
sufficient for the guard of so large a place; and by general advice it was
agreed that all the gates on the other side of the city from the enemy, and all
the ruinous places of the walls, should be rampired up, concluding that there
would not be wanting so many soldiers to defend the walls, but that the
citizens only might watch them, and give notice in case of any danger that
way. This was immediately put in execution and near finished, when the
whole rout of rebels came running with hideous shrieks and yells to the city,
endeavouring to hew in pieces and fire the gates; some, swimming over the
river, climbed up the lowest places of the walls; others got in at the breaches
and so entered. The marquis’s men did all that was possible to repell them.
The fight lasted above three hours continually, in which the noble courage of
Bedingfield, Cornwalleis, Paston, &c., was very apparent. The rebels, pushing
forward to the utmost of their power, and being courageously resisted, were so
desperate that, when they were thrust through their bodies or thighs, or their
hamstrings cut asunder, though they were fallen down deadly wounded, would
not give over, but half-dead, drowned in their own and other men’s blood,
would till the last gasp strike at their adversaries, when their hands could
scarce hold their weapons. But such was the bravery of the gentlemen and
soldiers that they were forced to retreat to their camp, having lost 800 of their
fellows, who were killed in the city in this engagement. And now at last,
being secure from any further practices of the enemy, they went to rest for
that little time that remained proper for that purpose.
In the morning, it was told the marquis that the courage and resolution of
many of the rebels was much abated, and that they might be easily persuaded
to lay down their arms, if they were assured of pardon, there being no less
than 4,000 or 5,000 then waiting at Pockthorp Gates, who on such promise
would return home and Submit to the king’s mercy, which information made
him exceeding glad; but Norroy and a trumpeter being sent to the gate, not a
person was to be found there. However, upon the sound of the trumpet, a great
number came running down the hill, one Flotman being their principal, whom
the trumpeter commanded to stand. Flotman demanded what the matter was,
and why they drew them to parley by sound of trumpet, to whom Norroy
replied: “Go thy waies, and tell thy company, from my Lord Marquess of
Northampton, the King’s Majestie's Lieutenant, that he commandeth them to
cease from any further outrage; and, if they will obey his commandment, all
that is past shall be forgiven and pardoned.’ To which Flotman, who was an
outrageous busy fellow, of a voluble tongue ready for reproaches and arrogant
speeches, presumptuously answered ‘that he cared not a pin's point for my
Lord Marquess,’ and like a traitour railed upon his lordship, maintaining that
he and the rest of the rebels were earnest defenders of the king's royal majesty,
and that they had not taken up arms against the king, but in his defence, and
that time would make it appear that they sought nothing more than to main-
tain his royal estate, the liberty of their country, and the safety of the com:
monwealth; and then, utterly refusing the pardon, told Norroy positively that
they would either restore the decay into which it was fallen, being oppressed
through the tyranny and covetousness of the gentlemen, or else die like men.
KET’s REBELLION 359
hº
Scarce had he made an end, but an alarm was raised through the whole city,
the general cry being “To arms 1 to arms l’—for at the instant these things
were doing at Pockthorp Gates, the rebels brake in at the hospital meadows,
and coming up Holme or Bishop Gate Street, attacked the marquis’s ordnance
that was placed on St Martin’s Plain, at the mouth or entrance thereof, in
which place there ensued a sharp conflict between the rebels and the marquis’s
men. There were slain of the rebels about 140, and great numbers wounded,
and of the king’s soldiers and city forces about 50, or somewhat more, besides
a great number wounded. This skirmish continued from about mine o’clock
on Lammas-day morn, being the 1st of August, till noon the same day, in
which the miserable death of the Lord Sheffield was lamented and pitied of all
men, who, more mindful of his birth and honour than of his own Safety,
desirous to show proof of his noble courage, entering amongst the thickest of
his enemies, and fighting too boldly, though not so warily as was expedient,
fell into a ditch or hole as he was turning his horse, and being compassed
about with a great number of these horrible traitours was there slaim, although
he declared who he was, and offered largely to the villains if they would have
saved his life; and as he pulled off his helmet that it might appear who he was,
a butcherly knave, one Fulke, who by occupation was both a carpenter and
butcher, knocked him on the head with a club, and so killed him, of which he
much vaunted afterward, and so it came to be known who it was committed
this barbarity, for which, afterward, by the just judgment of God, the villaim
had his deserved reward. The place where he fell is distinguished by a large
freestone laid there.
In relation to this affair, the aforesaid Sir John Cheek expostulates with the
rebels thus:—‘How was the Lord Sheffield handled among you, a noble gen-
tleman and of good service, both fit for counselin peace and conduct in war, con-
sidering either the gravitie of his wisdom, or the authoritie of his person, or his
service to the commonwealth, or the hope that all men had in him, or the
need that England had of such, or among manie notablie good, his singular ex-
cellencie, or the favour that all men bare toward him, being loved of every
man, and hated of no man P
‘Ye slew him cruelly who offered himself manfully, and would not so much
as spare him for ransome, who was worthy for noblenesse, to have had honour,
and hewed him bare, whom ye could not hurt, armed, and by slaverie, slew
nobilitie, in deed, miserabiie, in fashion, cruellie, in cause, devilishlie. Oh !
with what cruel spite was sundered so noble a bodie from so godlie a mind,
whose death was no lacke to himselfe, but his country, whose death might
every way have been better born than at a rebel’s hands ! Violence is in all
things hurtfull, but in life horrible.”
With him died divers other gentlemen and worthy soldiers, who were buried
the same day with him at St Martin’s on the Plain, which church is just by
the place they fell, as I find by the parish register in these words:— 1549.
The Lord Sheffield with thirty-five others were here buried, 1 Aug.” And
among others Robert Wollvaston or Wolverston, who was appointed to keep
the entrance into the cathedral, was killed by the same Fulke, who took him
360 RET’s REBELLION
for Sir Edmund Knevet, against whom they bare great malice, because he gave
them all the disturbance he possibly could. -
The rebels, puffed up with the death of Lord Sheffield, who was a person
they greatly feared, by reason of the character he had for his great courage,
making an alarm on every side, got into the city every way they could, and so
overcharged the forces with numbers, being above twenty thousand to fifteen
hundred, that they caused the marquis and his people to give way and forsake
the city, every man making the best shift he could to save himself, either by
speedy flight or by hiding themselves in private places, as woods, groves, caves,
and such like.
Dut yet divers gentlemen of good account, as Bedingfield, Cornwalleis, and
others, who remained behind abiding the brunt, were taken prisoners and kept
in strict durance till the day of the rebels' overthrow by the Earl of Warwicke.
The marquis, being thus beaten out of Norwich, with the residue that
escaped, hasted to London, leaving the city in the rebels’ power. Many of
the chief citizens fled, leaving their wives, children, and all their possessions
in their enemies’ hands, having hid their gold, jewels, silver, and good house-
hold stuff in privies, wells, and pits digged in the ground.
After the earl’s departure the same day, they threw fire upon the tops of the
houses, which flew from house to house with fearful flames, and in a small
time consumed great part of the city: for all the houses in Holmstrete were
consumed with fire on both sides thereof, with St Giles’s Hospital, which was
dedicated to the relief and maintenance of the diseased poor; Bishop Gates,
Magdalen, Pockthorp, Berstreet Gates, and divers other buildings in many
places were burnt; and had not the clouds, by God’s special providence, com-
miserated the city’s calamity, and, melting into tears, quenched the flames,
the whole city had been laid in ashes, for the plenty of rain that fell them in
a great measure quenched the fire. The rebels entered the houses of such as
were known to be wealthy, and thoroughly rifled them ; in short, the state of
the city was as miserable as can be expressed.
The mayor’s deputy would not leave the city, but kept in his house, not
daring to stir out or attempt to stay them ; and now another band brake in at
St Martin's Gates, and, armed with clubs and such weapons as they could get,
attempted to break open the deputy mayor's house, and at last began to fire
the door; upon which, being alone, his servants having fled from him, he
opened it, and they immediately plucked off his gown (which he used at that
time), calling him ‘Rebel!’ threatening him with a most shameful death if he
did not tell them where the Marquis of Northampton was hid; and, though
he positively assured them that he and all his company were gone, they ran-
sacked every hole in the house, and, taking what they found, went their way
laden with the spoil; but yet many of them, partly pacified for a piece of
money and other things which they received of the deputy, and partly reproved
for these wrongs by some of credit among them, brought again such packs and
burthens as they had trussed up, and threw them into the shops of those
houses out of which they had taken them before. Nevertheless, many were
spoiled of all they had by the rebels entering their houses under pretence of
HENRY IRETON 361
seeking for the marquis's men. But the houses of those that fled were quite
ransacked, for they called them traitours and enemies to their king and
country that had thus forsaken their houses in such time of necessity. Now
some of the citizens ordering the furious multitude bread, and drink, and all
kind of victuals, the hungry wretches were somewhat appeased; but yet many
sustained such injury, and were overcharged with such great expenses, that as
long as they lived they were forced to fare the worse for it in their household
affairs.
The rebels, by this time reduced from such extreme violence, began to think
of their own safety, and commanded the deputy and chief of the city that were
left in it that watch and ward should be hourly kept at the gates and walls by
the citizens themselves, threatening them with death if they omitted it. .
Moreover, whenever it rained, they would kennel up themselves in the
churches, abusing those holy places appointed for God’s service and worship
with all manner of vile profanations.
(To be continued.)
H E N R Y I R. ET 0 N.
‘This was an age of principle in England.’—Godwin.
iN Godwin’s History of the Commonwealth, you may find the following,
# which is somewhat noteworthy —‘Ireton was scarcely a less remark-
§ able man than Cromwel. They had entered the army at the same
time, and a great intimacy had grown up between them. At the period at
which we are now arrived, Ireton was thirty-six; Cromwel forty-seven. Ire-
ton had been bred to the bar, and he was distinguished for the acuteness of
his faculties. He made great use of his pen, and had meditated many reforms.
in legal proceedings, which he was extremely anxious to carry into effect. He
appears early to have penetrated his mind with republican principles, to which
the times in which he lived were peculiarly favourable. When he took up the
sword, he did not for that cease to be a speculator, or to cultivate habits of
profound thinking. He was a man of the sternest integrity. Ludlow relates
of him at a later period, that, when he heard of a bill brought into Parliament
in his absence to settle upon him two thousand a year in land, in his character
of Lord Deputy of Ireland, he expressed his displeasure, and said they had
many just debts, which he wished they would pay before they made such pre-
sents; that, for their land, he had no need of it, and therefore would not have it.
‘It is curious to trace the meeting and intercourse of such men as Ireton and
Cromwel. It is said that from the first the former seemed to take some ascen-
dancy over the latter. Ireton was eleven years the younger. The faculties of



362 FIENTRY IRETON
Cromwel were more splendid, and calculated to make more figure on the
theatre of the world. He had been the second, perhaps we might say the first
man in the army, at the time of the new model, when Ireton was a simple
captain of horse. Yet Cromwel felt the curb of his virtue and of the clearness
of his spirit, and submitted. Ireton was a man of inflexible integrity, think-
of nothing but the cause in which he was engaged, and the advantage and
improvement of his fellow-creatures. Cromwel was to this time probably
perfectly sincere in his patriotism ; and it was his virtue that enabled Ireton
to take hold of him, and in many things to direct him. Cromwel was a man
of noble and generous sentiments; but he was of a warmer and more sanguine
temperament, more ardent in his religion, more accessible to the promptings
of wordly ambition. He was in one respect such a man as Shakespear has
painted Macbeth : he felt the purer mettle of his fellow-soldier, and entertained
for him the sincerest reverence and awe. This stooping of a mind of the
highest class to another, which in magnitude of spirit could scarcely be said
to equal his own, and which yet is worthily submitted to, is one of the most
beautiful spectacles that the globe of earth has to offer.’
HENRY IRETON was born in 1610. He was the son of German Ireton,
gentleman, of Attenten in Nottinghamshire. At the age of sixteen, he was
entered as a gentleman commoner of Trinity College, Oxford, and at eighteen
had the degree of B.A. conferred upon him. In November, 1629, he went to
the Middle Temple, to study English common law, as was the practice with
many gentlemen’s sons of that day, and after a short residence retired to his
estates in Nottinghamshire, where he remained until the breaking out of the
Civil War. He was not a man to be long in choosing his side, and was one of
the seventy-five persons who at the very outset of the contest undertook each
to raise a troop of horse for the service of the Parliament. Of the estimation
in which he was held we may judge by his being returned, along with Sir
Thomas Fairfax, Blake, Algernon Sidney, Ludlow, Hutchinson, and others, to
serve in Parliament, when writs were issued for additional members in 1645;
and his own modesty and single-mindedness were shown on the occasion of the
Self-denying ordinance, when he was content with the appointment of captain
of horse in the new model army, in the regiment commanded by Algernon
Sidney, who was at least seven years younger than himself. He rose however
very soon to the rank of colonel, and previous to the battle of Naseby was, at
Cromwell’s particular request, nominated commissary general of the horse, the
next in command to Cromwell himself. At Naseby, also by Cromwell’s request,
he commanded the left of the Parliamentary Army, Cromwell leading the right,
and Fairfax and Skippon the centre. In this engagement he was wounded
both in the face and in the thigh, was unhorsed, and for some time a prisoner
in the hands of Rupert. Of his bravery and good conduct there was however
no question.
On the 15th of January, 1647, Ireton married Cromwell's eldest daughter.
When Charles was in the hands of the Scots, we find Ireton and Cromwell
working together to prevent the coalition of the king and the English Pres-
byterians; and he was close with Cromwell in all that masterly conduct of the
From Houbraken’s engraving, after Cooper.
The autograph &nd seal from the death-warrant of K. Charles.

HENRY IRETON - 365
}*
agitation in the army which succeeded in throwing the king into the hands of
the independents, and whose great result was the execution of the royal traitor,
Ireton was one of the king’s judges. His name stands second on the list,
next to Cromwell's ; and, after the king's death, he was one of eleven added
to the executive committee which had to consider how the settlement of the
kingdom might best be effected. The three famous resolutions—‘That the
people, under God, are the original of all just power, that the Commons'
House in Parliament, being chosen by, and representing, the people, have the
supreme power, and that whatever is enacted by them has the force of law,
though the consent of king and peers be not added to it’—emanated from this
committee. * -
But Ireton’s greatest field of renown was in Ireland, whither, as Major-
General of the Irish Army, he accompanied Cromwell in the autumn of 1649,
and where, when Cromwell returned to England in the spring of the following
year, he remained as Cromwell's successor, with the title of Lord Deputy.
Great as had been Cromwell’s exertions, much still remained to be dome. The
Catholics were yet masters of the whole of Connaught, and were able to dis-
pute possession of Ulster. They also held Carlow in Leinster, and Waterford,
Tuncannon, Limerick, and Nenagh in Munster. Ireton well followed up his
friend’s successes, pursuing the same bold and necessary, however apparently
cruel, policy of striking terror by his severity. His most considerable exploits
during the remainder of the campaign were the reduction of Waterford, Car-
low, and Duncannon. He also took Tecroghan and Nenagh. His talent was
certainly not less in the cabinet than in the field. He set himself to foment
the differences which now raged between Ormond and the Catholic bishops;
and it was probably owing to his intrigues that the king’s lord lieutenant
found himself obliged once more to quit Ireland.
Trom Limerick, Ireton prepared to march against Galway, which had
already been some time besieged by Coote. But the officers complaining of
hard service and sickness, Ireton Consented that they should go into winter
quarters. Ludlow in the meantime took Clare Castle and a neighbouring fort-
ress; and the deputy made a détour to view certain places where he designed
to place garrisons, the more completely to shut up Galway against the ensuing
season. In this excursion he took cold, which was succeeded by the plague,
that for some time had infested this part of Ireland. He had subjected himself
to every kind of hardship, never putting off his clothes during the siege of
Limerick, except to change his linen, which made him the more liable to be
infected with the contagion. He died on the 27th of November, 1651.
Intelligence of this calamity reached London on the 8th of December; and
Parliament immediately voted that his remains should be brought to London,
and interred at the charge of the State, and that a suitable provision should be
made for his widow and children. This provision consisted of an estate of two
thousand pounds per annum, which had formerly been voted to be settled upon
him during his life-time. .
Whitlocke particularly records that the death of Ireton struck a great sad-
ness into Cromwell.
366 NEW GERMANY
Ireton’s character is thus delineated by Cooke, Chief Justice of Munster,
his special and particular friend:—‘Never had commonweath a greater loss,
because undoubtedly there never was a more able, painful, provident, and in-
dustrious servant. He discharged his duty to all people, and acted every part
so well, as if he had been born for that particular. He was a patron, father,
and husband, to the fatherless and the widow. For uprightness, single-hearted-
ness, and sincerity he exercized them to his enemies; and, though he was very
sparing in his promises to the rebels, yet was he most liberal in his perform-
ances. He was a most exact justiciary in all matters of moral righteousness,
and with strength of solid reason had a most piercing judgment and a large
understanding. He was willing to hear truth from the meanest soldier. For
so great a stock of knowledge, such extraordinary abilities in matters of learn-
ing, military, judicial, political, mathematical, moral, rational, and divine, I say,
for every thing requisite and desirable, both as a man and a Christian, I think
it will be hard with many candles to find his equal. I believe few men knew
more of the art of policy and self-interested prudentials, but never man so
little practised them. If he erred in any thing (as error and humanity are in-
separable), it was in too much neglecting himself, seldom thinking it time to
eat, till he had done the work of the day, at nine or ten at night; and then
would sit up as long as any man had business with him. Indeed he was every
thing from a foot-soldier to a general. He is and shall be most dear to my
remembrance; and, of all the Saints I ever knew, I desire to make him my
precedent.”—Epistle preſived to Monarchy No Creature of God’s Making, 1652.
At the Restoration, Ireton’s bones were hung at Tyburn along with those
of Cromwell and John Bradshaw.
N E W G E R M A N Y.
M-NCW GERMANY, its Modern History, Literature, Philosophy, Religion, and
#| ?. Art," is the title of a work recently printed by Dr Arnold Ruge, “late
lº' Member for Breslau in the Frankfort Parliament,’ and representative of
Germany in the Central European Democratic Committee. It consists of
three essays or lectures: 1–4 Sefeſ, of the Historical Events of Germany since
1789, 2–7%e German Literaſure since Lessing, and 3–The Lodge of Humanism:
an exposition of Dr Ruge's revolutionary views. We think it well worth
while to give the readers of the English Republic an opportunity of judging of
the nature of the work; those who are sufficiently interested by the glimpses
we can give will not fail to study the volume. -
* London: Holyoake and Co., 147, Fleet Street, Price one shilling,

NEW GERMANY 367
I
The Reformation was the German Revolution, and its offspring was Pro-
testant Prussia and scientific liberty.
Prussia, founded by the Great Frederic, may be called New Germany: the
free-thinking portion, in opposition to Old Germany—Jesuitical Austria.
Prussia so becoming a distinct European power, the German Empire was
only a name; in reality it was dissolved into complete anarchy, every little
prince exercizing his despotism as he would, and the Germans as a nation
having no more existence.
Frederic, though a despot, was in advance of his subjects in liberal ideas: but
his successor abandoned the proud position of head of civilized Germany to
fall into the conspiracy of Pilnitz, when the German princes, supported by
English Tories, opposed the republican movement of France by an armed inva-
sion: an invasion that resulted in defeat, in the complete and formal dissolu-
tion of the old Empire, and in the dismemberment of the independent monarchy
of Frederic the Great, after the battle of Jena, in 1806.
This overthrow served to enlighten the Prussian Government, impelling it
toward a most wonderful regeneration of Prussia by democratic institutions,
which was called a ‘voluntary adoption of the results of the Revolution.”
The Prussian Prime Minister—Von Stein—sought to restore Prussia by
thoroughly reforming her institutions. He abolished the family despotism of
the towns, introducing self-government by the citizens, by his charter of 1808,
and replacing the old exclusive guilds with a freer system. Napoleon de-
manded his dismissal: Hardenburg was appointed in Won Stein’s stead. And
he pursued the same course. He abandoned the old method of keeping up the
army by the enlistment of idlers and vagabonds, and obliged every citizen to
serve for an appointed time. On leaving the army, every citizen became a
member of the landwehr or national militia. It was a great reform : for the
army was also made a school, the officers and private soldiers of the upper
classes having to teach the rest; flogging also was abolished, and the army
governed by honour rather than by fear. So a new nation was founded. The
Schools adopted gymnastic exercizes as a preparation for war; and the people
formed secret Societies against their conquerors, called the League of Virtue
(Tugendbund), while Fichte, the great pupil of Kant, delivered at Berlin,
under the eyes of the French generals, his patriotic appeals to the German
nation. Bonaparte laughed at all this, till the republican feelings of liberty
and national dignity, which had deserted the French camp, filled the heart of
Germany; and a fierce and general national insurrection, overthrowing the
French armies everywhere, proved that the best generalship in serious warfare
is the spirit of a free and noble-minded people.
IBut when the victory came, the kings, as usual, betrayed the peoples.
Bonaparte struck down, the national feeling was no longer wanted. The
escape from Elba indeed frightened Frederic William III into promising a
constitutional Government to his subjects, but Waterloo absolved him from
his promise. The last prominent step of liberal Prussia in Germany was at
the Congress of Aix-la-Chapelle in 1818, when Hardenburg had still influence
368 NIEW GERMANY
enough to demand in the name of Prussia, as a party to the treaty of Vienna,
the fulfilment of the thirteenth article of the German Act of Confederation,
which bound every German prince to introduce constitutional reforms into his
dominions.
Thereafter the retrograde and royal and jesuitical party reigned supreme.
The Universities were attacked, the self-government of the towns was crippled,
the army and the government fell into the hands of the poor mobility, and in
the thirty years since 1818, the whole constitution of the kingdom was per-
verted; and the Smaller principalities felt most happy in following such an
example. .
A conspiracy of all the princes, and—one would not think it possible—of the
magistrates of Hamburgh, Lubeck, Bremen, and Frankfort, was formed; a
secret meeting held at Vienna, in 1834; and a stipulation framed, which in
about seventy different clauses annihilated every obligation of the princes to
fundamental laws or resolutions of parliament, and promised armed interven-
tion in every emergency when a prince should not be able to stand against the
will of his people, as we have since seen in Hesse-Cassel. Prince Metternich,
who was in the chair, delivered a speech, in which he accused the constitutional
party in Germany of being the real cnemy of every good and sound state of
things. A formal treaty against any sort of constitutional Government—mind
the word constitutional—a conspiracy to put it down by military force, was
signed by all the Hohenzollerns, Habsburgs, Coburgs, and other burgs, and
for nine years secretly supported and openly and most impudently applied.
In Baden, for instance, liberty of the press had been granted by a law
enacted by Parliament, and published by the Government, when suddenly the
prince abolished by his personal authority, not the law, but the obedience to
the law, adopting every restriction he pleased. And the Badish courts of law,
without any exception, were base enough to condemn people who stood by
the law and opposed the contravention.
As long as the secret treaty of Vienna remained unknown to the public,
every one was at a loss in finding out the real cause of such violent and impu-
dent actions of the small courts against their Parliaments and their own laws;
and when in 1843, among the papers of the late M. Klüber, that stipulation,
together with the speech of the worthy chairman, was found and published at
Strasburg and Paris, an unanimous cry of indignation burst from every mouth.
The traitors were condemned by every honest man; and as soon as in 1848, in
Tebruary, the bell of Notre-Dame of Paris rang and the throne of Louis
Philippe was burnt, the indignant feeling of the German nation prevailed, and,
after seeing their soldiers beaten at Vienna and at Berlin, the despots granted
everything the people demanded.
They might have been destroyed, as they deserved to be. The Habsburgs,
as well as the Hohenzollerns, were in the hands of the population of Vienna
and Berlin. The victorious people, after having seen hundreds killed by artil-
lery and by skilled riflemen, after having tired to death the soldiers in the
streets, depriving them of all means to get food, after having conquered all the
army and expelled them from Berlin, entered the palace of the king and found
NEW GERMANY 369
him. They were outraged, they were enraged; they met him face to face, with
gun in hand, and they did not punish him for his treason and for his murder;
they gave him a horrible lesson, but they saved his life. Piling up all the
dead bodies from the barricades in the courtyard of the palace, they called him
out, forced him to kneel down, to take off his hat, and to sing with them a
psalm from the prayer book. After the performance, they shouted out: “Look
here: this is your work l’ They left a guard to watch the palace and their
murdered fellow-citizens. We have learned since how that generosity has been
requited. Had there been a republican party at that time, as there is one
formed now by the treason and cruelty of the courts, events would have taken
another turn. - -
The German Revolution of 1848 Dr Ruge calls #he Revolution of Pečićions.
The people, led by the Constitutional party, petitioned everywhere for the laws
and liberties conceded to them in 1815. Failing petitions, they fought. After
their victory, they wanted a government like that of England, with a free
Parliament for the whole Empire, beside the Parliaments of the several States.
They again petitioned their princes, and the princes consented; and the Sove-
reign German Parliament was elected, the diplomatic ambassadors of the Frank-
fort Diet were dismissed, and instead of the old aristocratic council of the
princes there sat, surrounded by the armies of thirty-three sovereigns, a demo-
cratic republic of the people. Of course the constitutional majority of the
Parliament dared not attempt to govern. They sat a year and a few months,
put the sceptre into the hands of the Archduke John, sent armies against
popular movements, supported the princes, and were put down by them. 175
republicans out of 700 representatives of the German nation were not enough
to convert the nation into a Republic.
II
But German philosophy has lived through all the chances, and survived the
disappointments, of political hope. The German mind is not ruled by the Ger-
man kings, but by Germany’s most eminent scientific men. When mental
slavery is broken, brutal force can not last. Thought freed, the world will
become actnally free. This seems to be the gist of Dr Ruge's argument, and
the reason for the review of German literature, from Lessing to the present
day, which occupies the second division of his book and is resumed in the
beginning of the third.
There is only one way to the victory of the good cause of liberty: that way
leads through the heart, and the heart of mankind is governed by its religion.
The end of the eighteenth century is called the time of enlightenment. The
spirit of Locke, Hume, Bolingbroke, Voltaire, Rousseau, Helvetius, Thomas
Paine, Frederic II, and Lessing, is the philosophy of enlightenment. Its religion
is the belief in God and immortality, which was called ‘natural religion,’ in
opposition to ‘revelation.” Its moral principle is virtue and the Republic ; its
art, in Germany, the poetry of Lessing, Göthe, and Schiller.
The heroes of enlightenment did not choose to have a knowledge of things
revealed, but to acquire that knowledge by the labour of scientific discovery.
370 NEW GERMANY
They did not choose to be governed by masters, but to govern themselves.
They have accomplished a revolution in religion, in art, in science, and in
politics. The great writers of that splendid period, English, French, and Ger-
man, have infused the spirit of enlightened progress into the hearts of all the
civilized nations of the world. -
Our philosophical ancestors, Kant, Fichte, and Hegel, then founded, on the
basis of this enlightenment, a system of science, organizing, beside logical and
natural philosophy, the moral, religious, political, and aesthetical world. And
now it is our duty to cultivate and to realize that system.
The German philosophers sifted the spirit of the age of enlightenment. They
asked: What is the mature of thought, and of the will P Is it to be free ?
What is the law of freedom of thought and will, its method and its procedure?
What would be a just constitution and a convenient development of human
society P How by art, religion, and science, do mankind rise to the real
dignity of their nature ? These questions concerned Humanity.
Another question was : What is nature in its reality, and what is the pro-
cedure of nature ? -
And in bringing both sides together, the question was . What is the relation
of the development of freedom to that circle of natural procedure ?
To the question of enlightenment—Is man free, and what is freedom ?—
Kant gave the following answer:- Thought and will are free; but reason, if
it tries to comprehend infinite objects, is involved in unsolvable contradictions;
and the will is only physically, not absolutely, free.”
What Kant arrived at was not the freedom of the thinking mind, but only
its independence of experience; not the freedom of the will, but only its inde-
pendence of the senses; and the knowledge of infinity, as well as the absolute
freedom of the will, are stated to be impossible.
He therefore who was not willing to give up freedom was obliged to give a
solution to the contradictions of Kant. This Fichte attempted to do. He
maintained the absolute freedom of men, and undertook, in his System of
Science (Wissenschaftslehre), the ‘methodical solution of all contradictions.”
While Kant declared the solution of the contradictions of the pure, as well
as of the practical, reason to be impossible, Fichte made it his principle to give
the solution of those contradictions, and stated the method by which it should
be performed. Like a hero, he braved the difficulty and overcame it. He has
touched the shore of freedom; a Columbus in the dominion of infinity, he soars
up to the absolute subject. He shows us the union of existence and thought,
or of Substance and subject, in the thinking man. But he did not carry out
either the system of the universe or the system of the intellect. That logical,
physical, moral order of the world which he proclaimed was yet to be drawn
from its source, arranged, and proved as a scientific system.
That work, as Fichte planned it, and after the very method pointed out by
Fichte, is the Hegelian system.
Kant and Fichte, contemporaries of the Revolution of 1789, establish
mental and absolute freedom ; Hegel organizes it.
So the Hegelian philosophy realizes that of Kant and Fichte, and offers the
NEW GERMANY 371
solution of all the problems of enlightenment. It is the realization of philo-
sophy. It gives us the law and system of “theoretical freedom,’ and shows
that all procedures, natural, moral, and intellectual, in their method are one
and the same—namely, the solution of contradictions. This is what has been
called the unity of thought and being.
Consistent Hegelian philosophy proclaims the autonomy of the universe as
well as of mankind, -- 's
To discover and expound the laws of thought and progress, to establish the
true theory of being, has been the great work of the German philosophers.
III
But from theory we must come to practice, from thought to action. Teal
freedom will exist when the contradictions between free thought and enslaved
mankind are dissolved. Free-thinking men make the unconscious self-deter-
mination of their history a self-conscious one. Only the free man is a real
human being; the realizing of this theoretical freedom is free Humanity. Such
humanizing of the world we call Humanism.
Every one endeavours to realize himself—to come up to the standard of
Humanity. The system and the method of realizing Humanity by knowledge
and thought, by determination and action, by religion and arts, is the realizing .
of the theoretical system. It is the humanized society—a free world pro-
ducing itself consciously by the working of its genius. Only such a realiza-
tion of the Hegelian system is real Humanism.
The Revolution has happened; the masses of the people have risen for
političal, religious, and social freedom. Every one in our days will rise up to
the real standard of Humanity; every one will be an equal citizen of the State,
an equal associate of the social work which society carries on and of its reward,
an equal champion in the struggle for the highest goods in the realm of truth
and ideality.
This wish of our century can only be fulfilled in a democratic and social
republic, and in free communities of the religion of Humanism.
That the counter-revolution is universal proves nothing but the universality
of the revolution. Counter-revolution is a protest against the liberty of man-
kind; the negation of that protest is given in the law of progress; it will be
the affirmation of universal.liberty.
Such a no is our yes. We shall speak it.
Yes! we shall speak it : the great Dionysia of Humanism are not yet over.
Liberty has inspired with enthusiasm the hearts of millions; it has its priests,
its prophets, and its martyrs proclaim it by their blood. Liberty is the genius
of our time. Our science is its truth, our poetry its garment, our religion its
cultivation, and even the arms of the tyrants are nothing but an offer on the
altar of that democratic divinity.
What, then, is the religion of our time
The labour of centuries has torn the veil from the statue of Truth, and we
venerate the visible divinity in her beautyńnd her power. The mysteries of
all religions are revealed; the gods of every altar are discovered; and from the
372 NEW GERMANY
sanctuary of the inner mind the ideal of Humanity beams, to which the gods
of all ages have endeavoured to attain. g -
The absolute idea of philosophy—a free person—is likewise the absolute idea
of religion.
The procedure of philosophy is thought: what is the procedure of religion?
The aspiration, the impulse, the enthusiasm of the mind to approach the
Supreme Being, the Real Being. It is an ideal ever before the mind. Religion,
therefore, aims at the perception and intuition of its object—that is to say, at
the idea and the ideal. In order to venerate the Supreme Being, one must
perceive it in the mind as an ideal. The gods of every nation are the ideals of
which that nation is capable. Ages of the world pass away before men discover
that the Supreme Being is their own being, that the Absolute Being is the ideal
of Humanity; but that conception is at the root of all deities and all religions,
and the god of a religion is good in proportion as he is human.
The principle of our society, by which it is pervaded and moved, is conscious
self-determination. It is the democratic and social republic.
1. The application of the principle of conscious self-determination to social
institutions in religion, arf, and philosophy, leads to the establishing of the
communities, schools, and academies of Humanism : for nothing but the union of
free men for the exercize of freedom and for its propagation among the suc-
ceeding generations, by a new life and purified instruction, can realize and
assure the intellectual conquest of our age. *::
2. The application of the principle of conscious self-determination to the
State and its constitution leads to the democratic republic, and the absolute
freedom of discussion and of public opinion.
3. The application of the same principle to property, labour, and human in-
tercourse, gives the deliverance of society in social respects, or the solution of
the social question.
The task of the democratic and social republic, therefore, is the CONSTITUTION
OF THE TRUE DEVELOPMENT of mankind in the departments of the ideal,
morals, and economy. The arrangements of human society in all these three
departments must be designed to produce the true man. -
Before it was known what the dignity of man and the reality of free develop-
ment were, these arrangements could not be attained to. This, thanks to the
labours of the German philosophers, is now possible, and practicable if revo-
lutionists choose to act.
We have not cared to give Dr Ruge's methods of reconstituting society.
The greater worth of his book consists in its showing how the most passionless
logic of thought justifies the acts of the ‘disturbers of society, how the purest
philosophy is but a theory and a vindication of the republican’s and the rebel’s
practice. He who sheds his bloodºor liberty is but working out the Hegelian
problem: for Hegel is one of us. Calm Science and fierce-eyed War are
HISTORY OF THE MONTH 373
fellow-pilgrims toward the future heaven, comrades on the way of revolution;
their words and works agree, and they sustain each other.
Rant, Fichte, Hegel, and the philosophers everywhere, are revolutionists in
the domains of thought. Thought is but the germ of action. Let us proceed
to the realization of theory.
HISTORY OF THE MONTH.
(From August 26th to September 26th.)
CHARLES STOLZMAN.
ON the 18th of September, died at Haverigg, Cumberland, Charles Stolzman,
One of the members of the Polish Centralization.
He was born at Warsaw in 1793. In 1809 he entered the army in the
Grand Duchy of Warsaw, and followed the French in their retreat through
Leipsic, going into exile in France. After the French war and the establish-
ment of the kingdom of Poland, remaining an artillery-officer in the Polish
army, he conspired in November, 1830, with the Belvedere ensigns, took part
in the rising of Warsaw, defended its entrenchments in October, 1831, followed
the retreating army and Government, and, promoted by General Bem for his
gallant conduct to the rank of lieutenant-colonel of artillery, went again into
exile—for the rest of his life.
During the revolution, he had belonged to what may be called the revolu-
tionary and patriotic party, to distinguish it from the diplomatic Czartoryski
party, which depended altogether upon foreign courts. In exile he joined his
friend Lelevel, the historian, and the democratic opposition. In 1833 he con-
spired with Colonel Zaliwski, who went with a number of volunteers to
Poland, to begin there a guerilla warfare, while Germany was to be roused to
arms by a rising in Frankfort. To support the latter Stolzman went, with
the Polish exiles who were settled at Dijon and Besançon, to Switzerland,
where, the Frankfort movement failing, they were obliged to remain. In
Switzerland he became acquainted and soon intimate with Mazzini, and joined
him in the Savoy expedition, which was baffled by the treachery of General
Ramorino. The consequence of this failure was the organization by Mazzini
of the association of Young Europe: formed of the committees of Young Italy,
Young Germany, Young Switzerland, and Young Poland, of the last of which
Stolzman was a leading member. This Young Europe was the germ of the
Central European Committee, founded in 1850. But the time was not then
ripe. The Polish Emigration itself needed a national democratic organization.
This the Polish Democratic Society was then preparing, while the Polish
374 * - -s r > -->
ſ HISTORY OF THE MONTH
Union, of which Lelevel was the head, was seeking to embrace larger masses
of men than were at all likely to be fit for such a purpose. The Union how-
ever persisting, the society of Young Poland was merged in it. Meanwhile
Stolzman and his companions, expelled from Switzerland and the Continent,
came to England. Here he was chosen a member of the Polish Committee in
Dngland; and when General Dwernicki, the head of the committee, went over
to the Czartoryski faction, and so occasioned a split in the body, Stolzman and
those who remained faithful to the Union formed themselves into one of its
Communes, and so worked till 1847, when, Stolzman taking the initiative, they
joined the Democratic Society, whose principles indeed they had always held.
In 1844 Stolzman published a work on Partizan Warſ&re, which, extensively
circulated in Poland, kept up the spirit of the people, showing them how to
depend upon their own resources. It was in 1844 that his and Mazzini's letters
were opened in the English Post-office, by order of Graham and Aberdeen.
When 1848 roused Europe, Stolzman endeavoured to revisit his native land,
but was unable to pass the frontier, and returned to England sorrow-stricken
and changed. His faith remained, but his strength was giving way. In 1852
he left London to reside at Brantwood. Soon after his health began to fail
rapidly. In the last few months, under a complication of disorders, he had
become a feeble old man. For the sake of sea-bathing, he went to a little
place called Haverigg, near Broughton-in-Furness; he had just been elected
to the Polish Central Democratic Committee, and was anxious to recover some
strength for his work, and for the longed-for return to Poland, if England
should dare be wise enough to aid Poland to rise against Russia. On the 18th
of September, he was taken with a paralytic fit, and in three hours was dead.
One more of us out of the battle, under God’s shield.
We buried him in the little churchyard of Millom, under the shadow of
Black Combe, within hearing of the sea. His comrades far away, one English
mourner stood alone beside the old soldier's grave, and he can speak of him
but with a full heart—a heart too full for many words. None was ever truer,
manlier, kindlicr, more soldierly, more patriotic, or more worthy of all honour-
able recollection than my ten-years' friend—Charles Stolzman. "W. J. L.
ABROAD.
The Swiss Federal Government, like the Belgian, is the humble servant
of the European tyrants: hunting the proscribed for the sake of M. Bonaparte
and Austria. Supposing Mazzini to be in Switzerland, the officials of the
debased republic turn out to hunt him, as yet without success, getting only the
scorn of all homest men and the following letter from Mazzini himself, rebuk-
ing their readiness to become the hangman’s lacqueys (valets de bourreau).
MAZZINI TO THE HELVETIC FEDERAL COUNCIL.
GENTLEMEN 1–You are seeking me everywhere, You are working your telegraph
clerks to death. You are alarming peaceful travelers, who are running from Switzerland
thinking she has become an Austrian province. You are ruining your homest, harmless
HISTORY OF THE MONTH 375
gendarmes by teaching them the tricks of detectives. At Lugano you send eighteen
police agents to find me in a house where I have never set foot. At Zurich you honour
me by buying my portraits. You are determined to have me.
It is very probable you will not have me. But suppose, after all, that I am in Swit-
zerland, suppose that you succeed in taking me. What will you do with me? Gentlemen
Will you give me up 2 To whom P. To the Pope?—to Piedmont?—to France?—or to
Austria? That is to say, to Alexandria, to Cayenne, to Spielberg, or to death? You
would not dare to do it, I know too well that from time to time, in the Tessin, poor
Hungarians are delivered up, who have deserted the banner of the executioner of their
country, and who believe themselves safe in touching Swiss ground. This is horrible
enough. But it is done in the night, noiselessly, like a crime, on the frontier, and against
unknown individuals. But I am known—the crime could not be committed with closed
doors. The tide would have time to rise. Throughout Switzerland, progressive or con-
servative, a cry of indignation would go forth, and the brand of shame would mark your
brows for ever with the two letters W.B., valets de bourreau.
You will not then do that, Gentlemen! But suppose that the surrounding powers
refuse me a safe passage—or suppose that I myself refuse, under your feeble guarantee,
to cross a hostile country—will you keep me in perpetual imprisonment? Why? In
virtue of what law P What have I done to Switzerland or against Switzerland P Do the
Swiss punish with perpetual imprisonment strangers who love their country, and en-
deavour from time to time to approach it 2
There are, among you or near you, Gentlemen! men who conspired with me in 1833;
others who came to grasp hands with me in 1836, at the time of the organization of
Young Switzerland, of which they approved, and when I was under the ban of an edict of
your Diet ; others, again, who were good enough to visit me in 1849 to congratulate me
on my conduct at Rome, and to solicit me, the proscribed of your Vororts of other days,
to reside in their canton. Could those same men sign, or even allow, without a protest,
an order of imprisonment against me? True they were not then in power, and now they
are ; but is that any reason for condemning me to perpetual imprisonment?
In 1848, I traveled openly through the whole length of Switzerland with a passport
in my own name, meeting only smiling faces and friendly shakes of the hand. The
decrees which had expelled me from Switzerland were then totally disregarded, or con-
sidered annulled by subsequent events. It is true that Italy was them in arms and on the
road to liberty; but would you have it said in Europe that, full of mercy and forgetful-
mess toward those who triumph, you proscribe only those who fall P
Through the bars of my prison I should remind you every day of these things. I
should remind you of them with a smile ; but this smile, Gentlemen would say more
against you to every homest mind than all your anger can now say of me.
No, Gentlemen it is not the proscribed of 1836 whom you persecute; he no longer
exists; the very form of your Government has changed since then. You republicans per-
secute in me the enemy of Austria ; and you persecute me, not through any love to
Austria—you hate her as much as I do, though with less courage, not because you con-
sider me wicked or culpable—on the contrary, you respect me, Gentlemen l in spite of
yourselves—you respect me, who remain unchanged,—but only because Austria is strong
and I am weak. -
This is what my smile would say to you; and it would be repeated to you by every
good and brave heart in Switzerland.
Gentlemen you can neither give me up nor imprison me. What, then, will you do with
me, if some day you happen to arrest me 3
376 - HISTORY OF THE MONTH
It matters little, you will do what you can. “Hier stehe ich : ich kann nicht &nders:
Gołł helfe mir’: " long ago I took these words of old Luther for my motto. They have
protected me till now, and they will do so perhaps yet. What is of more import, and of
which I need to say a few words now, since in Switzerland every one is silent, is the perse-
cuting zeal which, with the courage inspired by fear, you display, without proofs and
without reason, against all bearing the name of exile—who under such a title ought only
to be doubly sacred to you; the tyrannical injustice with which you, often without any
motive, and in obedience to every note and telegraphic dispatch that reaches you from
Milan or Paris, imprison men who in their own country have fought by action or by
word for the cause that you profess—liberty; the reckless cruelty with which you invari-
ably drive to England or America all those who leave your prisons innocent, as if there
were no mothers or sisters two steps from the frontier to bewail their departure; and
finally, the series of base, ignoble, nameless acts consummated (perhaps unknown to you)
by one of your proconsuls within the last six months in a canton on the frontier.
Switzerland ought to know of it. It is not the discovery of some cases of arms which
makes you proscribers to-day. You were so yesterday—you were so not only before the
blockade of the Tessin, or through gratitude after it was removed—you were so during
the blockade, when Austria repaid each concession with an insult, when you ought to
have protected your country against her, and not against us. You were so systematically,
and in a way that degraded your nation in the eyes of friends and enemies alike.
I know your laws, Gentlemen! and I respect them. But you overstep them. I belong
not to the policy of “every one for himself,’ which you seek to represent; but I accept it.
I submit to test your acts by this atheistic formula; and I say that every instant you
violate it against us.
You do not protect Switzerland against every menace of the infraction of her neutrality;
you intervene ceaselessly against the National Italian Party. You play the police, Gentle-
men / for Austria. - -
Your policy warrants you in preventing every contraband importation of arms to Italy;
it warrants you in hindering every armed invasion of neighbouring territories, and every
enrolment made with such a view; it warrants you, if facts of this kind are discovered,
in seeking their origin and punishing; it warrants you even, if you will, in keeping in the
interior, with all possible care, those of the exiles whose presence near the frontier might,
in consequence of some real and exceptional influence exercized by them on their com-
patriots, seem a provocation and defiance. I give you, you see, a sufficiently wide scope,
but I tell you that a single step beyond these limits is an act of abject solidarity with
Austria, an injustice to us, a violation of your principle and of your flag, for which your
constituents ought, for the honour of the country, to demand an account from you.
At Locarno, you arrested a young man of the Romagna, named Franceschi. You found
among his papers letters from me and others, proving that he belonged to our National
Party—that he was in correspondence with the patriots of his own country—that he was
preparing to return there in three days from the moment of his arrest,--nothing that
concerned Switzerland. You sent him to Berne—you kept him two months in prison,
and then sent him under escort to France, for England. This young man will trouble
you no more; worn out by grief and imprisonment, he has just died of cholera at Genoa.
Near Lugano you arrested another exile: a Lombard called Bassini. You found on
him some letters from I know not whom, relating to the affairs of his country—not a word
touching Switzerland. After three weeks’ imprisonment you sent him off to England.
* Here I stand : I can do nought else: God help me !
HISTORY UF 'í HE MONTH 377
At Coire you sought to arrest Chiassi, a Lombard workman, who is at this time in
London. You broke into his room, and carried off, I know not why, everything he pos-
sessed. This man had just been employed on the railway; he had never left Coire for an
instant ; you could bring no charge against him ; and I here declare, on my honour, that
he was entirely innocent of what you are pleased to call recent revolutionary practices.
You have, at this instant, in your prisons at Coire, a proscribed Lombard, Cheza,
against whom you could bring nothing except that of being a harmless wanderer in the
Engadine. He is poor. He, too, had just found employment on the railway. You will
Send him away ruined to England.
An artist, one of the best men I ever met on earth, beloved by all who knew him in
Switzerland and Italy, Scipione Pistrucci,” came to seek a refuge in the Tessin, having
been driven away from Piedmont. He was dying of asthma; he needed air and repose.
You tormented and harassed him. Forced to keep himself concealed in a friend's house,
he died. You brought to trial the two Swiss citizens who received him when he was
dying. You brutally expelled, in the midst of their sacred grief, his mother, daughter,
and sister, who had come to embrace him for the last time on this side of the tomb.
I could swell indefinitely the list of such facts as these I here cite; but as I am writing
only a letter I must stop. It is evident, Gentlemen that you regard us as a race
apart, as a caste of Pariahs or Helots, materials for persecution, to be handled at your
pleasure, and toward whom you have neither respect, nor humanity, nor justice.
Gentlemen we are no Helots. We are your equals in intelligence and in heart. We
are combatants in a sacred cause, whom you have applauded each time that this cause
has had a successful beginning, and whom you will welcome by the name of brothers as
soon as it has triumphed. Treat us now like men, as you ought. Do not insult misfor-
tune; it is cowardly and unworthy. Punish us if we violate your laws by our actions;
but respect us so long as such violation is not proved; honour us for our constancy, for
our patriotism, for our worship of the ideal. Men of liberty and of a republican creed do
not seek to ape the despotic ways of men of mere will (bon plaisir). And remember that
some of your best families bear Italian names, and that some of the great ideas that have
made you what you are have come to you from the proscribed Italians of the sixteenth
and seventeenth centuries. -
You talk of an asylum : do you offer it to the man, or only to his body ? We carry
our country with us on the soles of our shoes: do you expect that, in treading the soil of
the conspirators of Grutli, we should shake it off from us like vile dust? We carry away
with us, as the proscribed Israelites did their gods, our ideas, our vows, our love, the re-
membrance of our dead or dying brethren, the great hopes that God whispers to us in our
cradles, the idea of duty which binds us to their realization. Do you require that, before
entering your territory, we should deliver up all that to Austria P Do you think, like the
Jesuits, to take charge of our bodies on condition of debasing and annihilating our souls?
Shamel the asylum of the ancients made even crime inviolable; can not the republican
asylum of the nineteenth century save even virtue?
We conspire, you say: we correspond with our friends; we tell them to rise in insur-
rection. Certainly we do this. May we become useless as parasitical plants on the day
we cease to do so. But how do you know anything about it P Do you, to please Austria,
break the seals of our letters? And if you do, do not you feel on perusing them some-
thing in your heart which says to you: ‘These men are doing their duty; we would do
* Known and loved too in England, and not easily to be forgotten, E. E.R.
378 HISTORY OF THE MONTH
the same if, exiles in a foreign land, we had left our country invaded, tortured, decinated
by foreign soldiers l’
Repress our actions, Gentlemen! when they are public, and of a nature to bring down
upon you a responsibility which you do not feel in a condition to assume. That is right
enough ; but do not rake up what might remain hidden from you, for the sake of giving
pledges to a foreign despotism. And when, mindful ourselves of your responsibility, we
glide in the shadow, not showing ourselves, not even grasping the hands of the friends we
have among you, seeking only to meet the eye of a brother on your frontier, or to look
if there be aught stirring in that land of sorrow which lies beyond the Alps, then turn
away your eyes, and let your good-will accompany us.
Gentlemen! have a care. God holds mations as well as individuals responsible for any
violation of principle. Think of the future of your country, and forget not that France
is now expiating, in slavery and corruption, the assassination of Rome.
September, 1854. JosFPH MAZZINI.
Bomarsund has been taken, the fortifications are demolished, the stores have
been distributed among the poor inhabitants of the island. After which great
exertion of English and French valour, the allied fleets are to return home for
the winter, and Napier to be crowned with laurel by the fair hands of the good
old Lady Aberdeen. The Black Sea combined forces (French and British)
under Saint Arnaud (a 2d of December Saint) have fled, from the cholera in
their camp, toward Sebastopol, have actually landed at Eupatoria, and on the
20th were to be under the enemy’s walls; so it is yet possible that something
glorious, in the stone and mortar demolition way, may have been done
in the East, before the bad weather there puts a stop to our active operations.
And then Saint Arnaud may send to Paris for his laurels: from some of the
evergreens planted in Parisian blood, migh upon three years ago now. It is
time hero-wreaths were made of them.— The Russians have beaten the Turks
at Kars in Armenia; and Schamyl has beaten the Russians since. The Aus-
trians are occupying the Principalities, vice the Russians out on leave. Of
course the inhabitants expected them with indescribable and joyful impatience’
(as the fox in the fable did the second swarm of flies), and of course their
entry was greeted with equally joyous shouts of “Long life to the Sultanſ”
and “Long life to the Emperor of Austria!' This is all the story of the war.
And very creditable it is to the great mations engaged in it.
The Vienna Wanderer says that, the Prussian Government having expressed
a fear that the Western Powers intended, as one of their means of war against
Russia, to revolutionize Poland, all pretext for favouring Russia on this ground
has been taken away from the Prussian Government by the most positive assu-
rances of the Western Powers that the King of Prussia has nothing to fear for
his Polish territory, from a policy of resistance to the designs of Russia. The
Wanderer does not wander far from the fact.
In Spain the traitors have their full swing—only swinging in the wrong
place. The barricades have been put down, the National Guard will be staunch
to Espartero and O’Donnell, the Queen-Mother is let off; and the people will
get as much by this revolution as they have by previous ones, as they will by
HISTORY OF THE MONTH 379
ry
any future revolutions which they allow to be stopped half-way. St Just was
quite right about such matters. This last Spanish affair has not got half-way.
But they say the Republicans are yet at work beneath the surface.
‘Misery makes us acquainted with strange bed-fellows,’ and state-policy
(when not national) finds still mastier companions. Prince Albert has been
receiving the hospitality of the Emperor Napoleon at Boulogne, hob-mobbing it
with the blackguard at his festivals, personally expressing all the friendship
and admiration felt by our excellent Government for the December dynasty.
It is well not to be a prince, when princes have such dirty work expected of
them. Well may the Paris correspondent of L’Homme remark:
‘Louis Bonaparte lived six or seven years in London: the Queen’s palace was always
shut against him, the clubs hardly admitted him, and when some little drawing-room was
open to him, he only played there, thanks to his mame, the miserable part of a curiosity.
‘Now that crime has made an emperor of him, the Queen’s husband goes in grand
state to visit the adventurer whom hardly six years ago he would not have saluted.’
It is very well, you remark, for a discontented French Republican to say
this; what would an Englishman say ? Here is what a woman, writing as “an
Englishman,’ in default of men to speak plainlºnglish, did say, when less exalted
personages than the Queen’s husband disgraced themselves by diming with a
“When, a few weeks after the coup d’état, the pavé of the Boulevards still stained with
blood, the best and noblest sons of France smitten in liberty or life, English noblemen,
gentlemen, and ladies accepted the ostentatious hospitality of M. Bonaparte, and were
paraded to Europe as his guests, they accomplished a political and censurable act. Paris
murmured at it—England blushed. Under such circumstances, and at such a time, it
was not and could not be a private party, but a public scandal. Whatever his British guests
may have intended, Louis Napoleon meant and made it a demonstration. I do not for a
moment suppose they were accomplices—I am thoroughly satisfied they were dupes.
‘ But the gorgeous salons and lackeys of the Elysée, the melting viands, and the
luscious wines were, after all, a mockery and a lie. They were like the banquet of that
Lydian king who flouted the prescience of the Gods. The hashes and the joints were an
infernal stew of human viscera and limbs. And, whether our “countrymen” noticed it
or not, the writing on the wall was there : for, over the head of M. Bonaparte himself,
there glared in characters of blood the sentence of his comrade Proudhon :
| 22 >
“La propriété ! c'est le vo!
AT HOME.
Let us return home and solace ourselves with the foretaste of millennial
content provided for us here. Under the head of ‘Incendiarism at Manches-
ter,’ the Times informs us that ‘Not a week passes in Manchester without one
or two attempts to set fire to warehouses; and this has been going on for some
months past.” Pleasant condition of things At the Winslow Petty Sessions
(petty enough, in truth), two lads have just been sentenced by the reverend
and worshipful magistrates, for having stolen two turnips of the value of one
farthing each—(Prince Albert's friend at Boulogne stole on a more respectable
scale)—‘to pay one farthing damage, one shilling fine, and nine shillings and
sia'pence costs each, or to be imprisoned in Aylesbury gaol for one month.” It
does not appear what education the State had given these boys: but one of
380 . HISTORY OF THE MONTH
them had twice in his life been guilty of some slight offence, and the other
‘was looked upon by the constable as a bad character.”
Passing from the moral to the physical condition of our working classes
(meaning of course the human and christian portion of these working classes,
horses, dogs, &c. being well cared for) we find, again in the Times, the follow-
ing paragraph, Worth notice by benevolent individuals:—
‘There are myriads of our poorer fellow-subjects to whom it would be a mockery and
an insult to talk of the model lodging-house, of the model baths and wash-houses, of
savings-banks, of mechanics’ institutes, and of all the contrivances which modern
humanity and enlightenment have discovered for the benefit of toiling men. The per-
sons of whom we speak dwell in damp cellars, spotted with beads of filthy dew. They
lodge twenty or thirty in a room which is only fit for the habitation of two or three; or
the room in which they remain for a considerable portion of the twenty-four hours is
constructed over a pit, filled with indescribable pollution. Both sexes, all ages, the
living and the dead, lie higgledy-piggledy together, many feet below the high-water mark
of the neighbouring stream ; and it is to poor creatures in this piteous and forlorn con-
dition that we come with our recipes for substantial comfort. They are without religion
—without decency—without self-respect—without hope. How should they raise them-
selves P. Myriads and myriads of our fellow-subjects are wearing out the existence we
describe in unimaginable blind alleys and filthy courts. They are far too numerous to
be redeemed by any philanthropic thunder-clap.”
When benevolence really means good-will—will good for anything—will which
does—then benevolent individuals will find a remedy for this.
We never pretend to give all the occurrences of the month. Took for
farther particulars in the daily papers. Inough, perhaps, if in our scanty
space we call attention to one or two more important indications of the great
evils of the time: evils hardly to be removed without a radical alteration of
the present ‘order’ of Society.
T)REAM OF SEWASTOPOL’S FAT III.
SEVASTOPOL is won 1 Deplore all
Inmates of Windsor and Balmoral;
And with both wristbands rub thy een,
Bootless and breechless Aberdeen
WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.
No T 1 c E.
*.
We still want the following back numbers of the English REPUBLIC .
for which we shall be happy to return full price and postage.
1 —English Republic, 1852
2 —Religion, Family, and Property
23–Life of Eliot
36—Personal Conduct
52—A Year's History
53—English Republic, 1853
54—Free-Trade
55—Atheists and Atheism
75—What Fun
82—Russian Republicanism
83—Where is England?
84—The Remedy
88–89–Mazzini's Advice to the Party of Action
90—Louise Julien -
THE
ENGLISH REPUBLIC
GOD AND THE PEOPLE
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E D | TED
W. J. LINTON
PART 48 (Part XII, Wol. 3), DECEMBER, 1854, PRICE SIX-PENCE,
w. J. LINTon, Brianºwood; conrs-ron, windºrt NIERE.
LONDON :
J. P. Crantz, 2, Shoe Lane, Fleet Street;
J. Watson, 17, Thornhill Terrace, Hemingford Road, Islington;
J. Sharp, 47, Tabernacle Walk, Finsbury.
NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE :
J. Barlow, l, Nelson Street, and 28, Grainger Street.
ºmmºn

4.17
A H 0 M II, Y,
WHY hath God led thy noble beauty hither ?.
To lay upon my heart, a gather'd flower,
Through the brief time of passion; then to wither,
And drop away upon my coffin’d hour P
Is human life nought but a lusty living,
A day of pleasure nighted by the grave,
With no hereafter dawning, no forgiving
Of all the etermal hopes our spirits crave 2
Is Love the mere lamp of a wanton chamber,
Whose walls are grave-stones, ne’er so finely hid P
Is all the height where Love and Hope can clamber,
Alas! no higher than our coffin-lid P
Is Love a fool for all its future-yearning P
Wise only in the drunkenness of bliss P
Is there no flame divine within us burning?
Is Hope betray’d so cheaply with a kiss?
Why hath God led thy noble beauty hither?
Why doth celestial light inform thine eyes P
Is it to guide the lone wayfarer? Whither ?
The Star o' the East hangs not o'er Paradise.
Some girl with delicate skin and golden tresses,
And eyes that float in their voluptuous light,
Holding her boy-adorer in the jesses
Of her caprice, staying his spirit's flight,
Smoothing his folded pinions with light fingers,
Kissing his vigour to a pleasant Swoon,
Until the God sunk in the Dreamer lingers
Fondly beside her for the frailest boon,
Is this the highest end of all thy beauty P
O noble woman! art thou but a girl?
Hast thou no thought of all the scope of duty P
No aim beyond the fingering of a curl?
Why hath God made thee beautiful and loving :
Only to bear the bacchanal cup of life P
Cup-bearing Hebe | seek thou Jove's approving:
O Beauty be thou Strength's diviner wife,
AGATHON.
4.18
MARY WO L L STON ECRAFT.
tºmºsº
;:SºuT of the dead level of our modern fine-ladyism every now and then a
§ woman rises like a goddess standing above the rest: a woman of fair
s: proportions and unmutilated nature, a woman of strength, will, intel-
lect, and courage, practically asserting by her own life the truth of her equality
with man, and boldly claiming as her right also an equal share in the privileges
hitherto reserved for himself alone. None stronger, more independent, or more
noble, than Mary Wollstonecraft, one of the first, as she was one of the ablest,
defenders of the Rights of Woman. -
MARY Wol.ISTONECRAFT was born in 1759, on the 27th of April, the second
child of her parents, respectable common-place people of the middle-class, who
never comprehended and still less cared for the wonderful genius of their child.
Her early life seems to have been very painful. Her father was a man of
violent and unequal temper, now kind and indulgent, now harsh and tyranni-
cal; the mother was devoted to the eldest son, and treated her daughters with
much more severity than tenderness. To Mary she was peculiarly harsh,
thinking probably that a character so independent and a will so strong required
“breaking’ and ‘keeping down,” as is the case with most common-place parents
who have original characters to form. Mary alludes to her home-life in these
words, taken from the Wrongs of Woman : ‘The petty cares which obscured
the morning of my heroine’s life; continual restraint in the most trivial mat-
ters; unconditional submission to orders, which as a mere child she soon dis-
covered to be unreasonable, because inconsistent and contradictory; and the
being often obliged to sit in the presence of her parents, for three or four hours
together, without daring to utter a word.’ A sufficiently intelligible descrip-
tion of what her own young days had seen and suffered. Violence, cruelty,
blows, and even more than blows threatened: all these made the young girl’s
life one prolonged series of tortures, which saddened her whole character. Per-
haps, though, strengthening her mind by forcing on her so early the necessity
of self-sustainment, and obliging her to think and act and judge for herself.
One of Mary’s earliest friends was a clergyman, a Mr Clare, a delicate,
sensitive, deformed recluse, whose cultivated mind, however, was of great use to
Mary, brought up as she had been almost entirely without instruction, a mere
wild, beautiful child of nature, whose intellect was left to chance and to her-
self. Mr Clare was very kind to the young girl, and kept her in his house for
days and weeks together, giving her instruction and forming her tastes, sup-
plying in fact the workman’s skill to that glorious unknown marble. But
indeed every one out of her own family was conscious of her power of intellect,
and every one but those nearest to her, who ought by nature to have been
most interested in her, was anxious to help her forward in her mental culture.

M A R Y W 0 L L S T O N E C R A FT
(From a picture by Opie)

MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT 421.
Her family would have kept her back, and did so as far as they could ; and had
Mary Wollstonecraft been weaker and smaller than she was, the early tyranny
she lived under would have crushed her. But to compensate for this she
found friends and admirers wherever she turned; and, if unrecognized at home,
her worth was understood and acknowledged abroad.
About the same time, too, as her acquaintance with Mr Clare, began her first
passionate friendship, with a girl about two years older than herself—Fanny
Blood, for many years the lode-star of Mary’s heart, Fanny was a gentle,
gifted, spiritual, but weak woman, whose wish ever went beyond her will, and
whose sensitiveness suffered what her weakness had not the courage to end.
The two were fairly types of character and intellect: Mary’s power and force
of mature in strong contrast to Fanny’s timidity and gentleness, as the last in
her brilliant education threw Mary Wollstonecraft, unlearned as she was, into
the shadow of comparative ignorance. No one would have thought them that
the accomplished and intellectual Fanny Blood would owe her rescue from
oblivion solely to that wild girl, so frank and so untutored, who regarded her
as a superior being, and who despaired of ever attaining to her intellectual
station,-that undisciplined being whose mind was merely then a disordered
skein of tangled thoughts, without connection and without purpose. This
affection changed the whole current of Mary’s life. She began to study in
real earnest, stipulating for time and power to do so. But somehow matters
did not go on very smoothly : So when she was about nineteen she determined
to leave home and to go out as companion to a Mrs Dawson, a widow lady at
Bath: a lady, moreover, of such temper and habits as to render her companion’s
life one of unmitigated hardship. No one could live with her. After a few
weeks or months every one quitted her in despair. But Mary remained two
years with her, gaining such influence and controul as forced the lady into
more considerate treatment of her. This fact proves how great was her moral
power over others, even at that age, as indeed this moral power became after-
ward one of her chief characteristics.
After her mother’s death (her illness broke up Mary’s connection with Mrs
Dawson), she went to live with her friend Fanny ; and soon after, her father’s
affairs becoming embarrassed, going from bad to worse, Sweeping away all in
the wreck, her own portion and her sisters’ as well, and leaving them without
any provision for the future as without any resources for the present, she
determined on her means of livelihood. She was not the woman to sit idly
with her hands folded helplessly in her lap, while ruin was around her that
energy could repair. She formed her plans, which were that she, Fanny, and
her two younger sisters should open a day-school at Newington Green, which
they did, their establishment soon getting a reputation, and “answering,’ as
people say, perfectly. But after some time poor Fanny’s health gave way, and
she was ordered out to Lisbon for change of air. There she married a Mr
Hugh Skeys, in February, 1785, to die of premature confinement in the
- autumn of the same year. During her illness, Mary went over to Lisbon to
attend her, leaving her school and her connections to themselves, ready, as she
ever was in life, to sacrifice all of self for friendship, love, or principle.
422. MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT
On her return home—to find her School much decreased and her connection
wavering—she wrote her first work, Thoughts on the Education of Daughters,
receiving for it her first literary payment, which she handed over to Fanny’s
father and mother, who wished to get over to Ireland. That was essentially
Mary Wollstonecraft—that generous, noble act After this she gave up the
school and went to Ireland as governess to the daughters of Lord Kings-
borough, staying there a year, and then quitting them, as it appears, on
account of some change in their plans : a tour on the continent, in which she
was to have been included, being postponed. At Bristol, where she was with
Tord Kingsborough's family, she wrote her story, Mary: a Fiction. And then
she came up to London, determined to begin a literary life in good earnest,
and to make authorship her profession, if not her pride, partly urged thereto
by her publisher, Mr Johnson, whose kindness and friendliness formed an epoch
of immeasurable importance in her life: for without him perhaps she would
never have decided on literature as a profession, and might have gone on
through her whole life as governess or school-mistress, content with personal
influence and local superiority, instead of making herself a name that shall last
as long as women are loved or as genius is honoured.
The life she had chosen was not, however, all for gain or self. She spent
large sums on her family, educating her sisters as governesses and assisting her
brothers to better their situations. Her father himself was by this time
dependent on her : his affairs all so entangled and embarrassed that she took
them into her own hands to arrange as she best might. Her personal expences
she cut down to the Smallest possible amount, living always in the extreme of
economy that she might lavish upon others, spending on the pleasures and
well-being of her relatives whatever she could save from her own needs or
enjoyments. -
And now began the real life by which henceforth she was known; now she
came out fairly before the world as a thinker and a writer; now for the first
time she found her true intellectual sphere, and could measure herself with
her equals.
All the best people of the time loved Mary Wollstonecraft. Who could
have failed to do so P Beautiful, enthusiastic, true, sensitive, clever in intel-
lect, commanding in mind, the best part of a man’s mature united with the
lowingness and loveliness of a woman’s : who could have failed to love her P
Not Dr Price; not her own publisher, Mr Johnson; not Mr Bonnycastle, the
mathematician; nor Dr Fordyce; nor Fuseli. These were all men of worth
and note, and all acknowledged Mary Wollstonecraft’s superiority and glorious
nobility of soul. No light award in those days of woman’s silken slavery and
sugared degradation. Between Fuseli and herself indeed existed a very tender
and a very true affection, which, however, did not advance her much in any
way, filling her heart with regrets and tinging her mind with a sad and scornful
scepticism that neither brought her happiness nor led her up to truth.
And now Mary’s great work was written—a Windication of the Rights of
Woman—one of the boldest and bravest things ever published. Bolder them
than now, when the idea of woman's equality has become so familiarized among
MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT 423
us that America shows us even doctors, and lawyers, and clergymen, and
orators, all women, and when the fact that women have minds and the right to
use them is becoming slowly established among men. Mary Wollstonecraft
then stood quite alone in her doctrine : the very class she had defended turm-
ing the most bitterly against her, and the oppressed whom she championed
rending her to pieces as she stood fighting for them. As indeed was to be ex-
pected, being but natural, from those in whom long habits of slavery have eaten
out all independence and all moral dignity, in whose hearts oppression has
strangled the very instinct of justice. We have enough now of that slavish
submission of Englishwomen which is not wifely duty so much as the obedience
of the harem. It is a feeling wholly apart from that intelligent compliance
with the will of the nobler, the ideal of which female slavery is the mournful
reverse, and which exalts lie Uue who iſ humbled. Mary Wollstonecraft
broke lance against no such sacred temple as this, but simply against that
degradation which would lead a woman to make herself the toy and plaything
of men’s passions. Who shall dare to say she was wrong?
Of her relations with Mr Imlay it is difficult to form a correct opinion.
Not on account of the morality of the act, but on account of its ill success.
She took his name, she loved him, she bore his child; but his love for her was
transient, and evidently of a lower nature than hers: and so this greatest social
experiment that could be made turned out ill, and the sorrow and the shame
fell on her alone. She and Mr Imlay lived together for about a year and a
half, when by separation, by discontent, by inconstancy, by a thousand little
nothings which weigh a man down on the side of selfishness, Mr Imlay wished
to free himself from the connection, which eventually he did, almost breaking
Mary’s heart in the trial. The fault in this severance was in his want of frank-
mess. It might have been from an affectionate and timid fear to pain her; it
might have been that he wished her to wean herself from him, and so sought
to weaken her affections gradually; or it might have been from cowardice and
the shame of having it known what a base part he was playing. Be that as it
may, it is certain that for months—passing almost into years—he kept poor
Mary on the most horrible rack humanity can know, until at last she firmly
decided on ending the strife, and so broke off all relations, even of friendship,
with Mr Imlay : though ever retaining for him a warm and tender affection,
and, womanlike, never suffering any expression of censure against him for her
sake. It is certain that she loved him the most intensely of any one in life.
Her early friendship for Fanny Blood, her gratitude toward Mr Johnson, her
platonic attachment for Fuseli, which made her so unhappy in its moonlight
unreality, its mere vision of the bliss that might have been, and even her com-
nection and marriage with Godwin : none of all these or of other affections had
the same influence over her heart and life as this unhappy love for Imlay. It
was the shattering of the crystal, the drying up of the well of life; it was the
blighting of her honour, the ruin of her happiness. We doubt much if Mary
Wollstonecraft ever really recovered from the moral shock of this desolation,
or ever really loved or hoped as she had done before. The despair which made
that noble heart seek suicide so resolutely as she did could not have lightly
424. - MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT
passed away. Even as Godwin’s wife, Mary must have sometimes regretted
Imlay.
In 1797, she married Godwin, after having lived with him openly before, un-
married. The world upon this was shocked. Mrs Siddons and Mrs Opie, and
others of the celebrated women of that day, withdrew themselves from her now,
when, according to their code, she had made amends for her transgressions,
and had become an ‘honest woman.” As Mrs Imlay, all the world knowing that
no marriage ceremony had been performed, all the world had received and
courted her. When, yielding to the opinion she did not respect, she forsook
her own faith and became the legal wife of Godwin, the world forsook her in
return : a sharp punishment and an instructive lesson against all such tamper-
ing with conscience. In the month of September, 1797, Mary Wollstonecraft
died, leaving behind her a little girl—afterward Mrs Shelley—whose birth cost
the mother’s life. Leaving also an imperishable name wherever courage and
truth shall be revered and conscience held higher than conformity. She is one
of our greatest women, because one of the first who stormed the citadel of
selfishness and ignorance, because one of the bravest and one of the most com-
plete. Hers was one of those great loving, generous souls that make no bar-
gain between self and duty, that dare to follow out their own law and to walk
by their own light, that refuse vicarious help and work out their salvation by
their own strength, that appeal to God for judgement, not to man for approba-
tion. She was one of the priestesses of the future; and men will yet gather
constancy and truth from her example: so true it is that a good deed never
dies out, but extends its influence as far as Humanity can reach.
Mary Wollstonecraft's whole life proved her character in its dutiful self-
sacrifice and its strong independent will, in its noble adherence to principle
and its brave assertion of unbiassed judgement : so that when she was over-
persuaded into that marriage with Godwin, against her former faith, she com-
mitted her greatest sin, and her only one of that kind, the resigning of her
own opinion for that of the world’s, which world-opinion she lost by the
means she took to gain it, wherein was no injustice if some severity of sentence.
We have Mary Wollstonecrafts by the dozen among us in her abstract
ability: how many in her moral courage? Yet we have the same fight to fight
that she had, and the same things remain undone that she would fain have for-
warded with a helping hand. Who will take this stigma of cowardice and the
slave's degradation from the women of England P Who will show that we
have minds as subtle and wills as strong as Mary Wollstonecraft of the past P
Who will prove that if they will our women shall be free and noble, as God-
win’s wife would have made them, as Godwin’s wife did make herself P
Whose voice will answer us from the distance, whose hand meet us in the
darkness
E. L.
THE RE BE L L ION OF KIXT THE TA N N E R :
A CHAPTER OF THE SUPPRESSED HISTORY OF ENGLAND,
(Concluded from page 389.)
THE next day, being the 26th of August, 1,400 Switzers, good and valiant
soldiers, came from London and entered Norwich, and were received by the
earl’s forces, with many volleys of shot for joy; they being divided by parishes,
were liberally invited and courteously entertained by the citizens, as the
soldiers were, the whole time; the hearts of the people being revived, and the
rebels confounded with fear, at this doubtful knowledge of their overthrow.
However, being ascertained that the next day they must fight it out, trusting
to certain vain prophecies and superstitious rhymes that they had among them,
which were rung in their ears every hour; as– -
- The country gnoffes, Hob, Dick, and Hick,
With clubs and clowted shoom,
Shall fill the vale of Dussyn’s Dale,
With slaughter’d bodies soon.
And this—
The heedless men within the Dale
Shall there be slain, both great and smale.
Such was their preposterous stupidity, in applying these equivocating pro-
phecies to their delusion, that believing Dussyn’s Dale must make a large and
soft pillow for death to rest on, vainly apprehended themselves the upholsterers
to make, who proved only the stuffing to fill the same. Fed therefore with
this vain belief, they forsook that advantageous hill that in a great measure
had enabled them by its situation to do the damage they had done, and where
the earl’s horsemen would have been of little service : trusting to these follies
for success, and resolving to end the matter before famine obliged them to dis-
perse, for the earl had so stopped up the passages that no victuals could come
to their camp, and the want thereof hºd already begun to pinch them. They
fired all their cabins, huts, and tents, which they had built of timber and
bushes upon the hills, which almost darkened the sky with smoke; and, with
twenty ancients and ensigns of war, marched for the adjacent valley called by
that name, and there presently entrenched themselves, threw a ditch across
the highways, and cut off all passage, pitching their javelins and stakes in the
ground before them.
The Earl of Warwick, perceiving their doings, the next day, being the 27th
of August, setting his army in order, he marched out at Coslamy, now St Mar-
tim’s at the Oak Gates, with the Marquis of Northampton, Powes, Bray,
Ambrose Dudley, and the other noble and valiant gentlemen, a very choice
426 KET’s REBELLION
company, the Almains, with Captain Drury's band, and all the horsemen,
marching directly against the enemy. -
Yet before the army came in sight of the rebels, Sir Edmund Knevet and Sir
Thomas Palmer, Knights, were sent to acquaint them that such was the in-
credible mercy of the king that, if they would still repent and lay down their
arms, he would freely grant his pardon to all except one or two of them ; but
all refused it. Upon which, the earl, having given orders to both horse and
foot, gave the sign to begin the battle. The rebels, perceiving the attack
coming, placed all their gentlemen prisoners, bound with fetters and chained
together, in the front of the battle, to the end they might be killed by their
own friends, who came to seek their deliverance; but now, though it be true,
as David Saith, that ‘ the sword devoureth one as well as another, yet so dis-
creetly did Captain Drury charge the van of the rebels that most of those in-
nocent prisoners escaped. Myles, the rebels’ master gunner, levelled a cannon,
and, discharging it, struck the king's standard-bearêr through the thigh with
an iron bullet and the horse he rode on through the shoulder, so that both
died, which so vexed the earl and exasperated his army that he caused a whole
volley of artillery to be shot off at the rebels; and herewith Captain Drury,
with his own band, and the Almains, or lance knights (call them which you
will), being on foot, getting near the enemies, saluted them so severely with
their harquebut shot, and thrust forward upon them with their pikes so
strongly, that they brake their ranks asunder, by which means the gentlemen
prisoners shrank on one side, and most escaped their intended danger, though
some few were slain by the Almains and others that knew not who they were.
The earl’s light horsemen by these means came in so roundly that the rebels,
not-able to abide their valiant charge, were put to flight, and ran away like a
flock of sheep, and with the foremost their grand captain, Robert Ket, gal-
lopped away as fast as his horse could carry him. The horsemen that chased
slew them in heaps as fast as they overtook them, so that, the chase continu-
ing for three or four miles, there were slain at least 3,500, beside a great num-
ber that were wounded as they fled, seeking to escape out of danger. Thus,
as Fuller says, rage was conquered by courage, rebellion by loyalty, and num-
ber by valour.
Yet one part of them, the last litter of Ket’s kennel, that had not been
assailed at the first onset, seeing such slaughter made of their fellows, kept
their ground by their ordnance, determining, as men desperate, not to die un-
revenged, but to fight it out to the last. They were so enclosed with their
carts, carriages, and trenches they had cast up, that it had been something
dangerous to have assailed them within their strength. The earl being merci-
ful—a sure token of bravery—sent Norroy with promise of pardon of life if
they would lay down their weapons; if not, he would destroy every one of
them. They answered that, could they be sure of their lives, they would wil-
lingly do it, but took it only as a stratagem to get them into the gentlemen’s
hands, who, they well knew, would hang them all. Upon which, the earl gets
his army into battle array against them, and just before the onset sent to
know whether, if he came himself and assured them of pardon, they would
KET’s REBELLION 427
submit; to which they presently answered, that they had such confidence in
his honour that, if he would promise them the king's pardon, they would in an
instant lay down their arms, and rely on his and the king’s mercy. Upon
which he went directly to them, and ordered Norroy to read the king’s com-
mission openly on the spot, because therein was pardon promised by the king
to all that would lay down their weapons; which being heard, they all thank-
fully cried—‘God save King Edward l’ And so, by the earl’s wisdom and
compassion, were many saved and more bloodshed avoided.
The battle being ended, all the prey was given the same day to the soldiers,
and openly sold in the Market Place.
Thus were the rebels subdued by the valiant Earl of Warwick, and the other
nobles and gentlemen of the country; but not without loss of divers worthy
persons, both gentlemen and some of the chief citizens, in the heat of the fight,
beside abundance of the meaner sort : namely—Henry Willoughby, Esq., of
Willoughby, in Nottinghamshire, son of Sir Edward Willoughby, of the same,
and father of Francis Willoughby, of Wollerton, in the said county: a man so
well beloved in his country for his liberal housekeeping, great courtesy, upright
dealing, assured stedfastness in friendship, and modest behaviour, that the
country where he lived lamented his loss exceedingly. There fell, also, Master
Lucie, Esq., Giles Forster, Esq., and Master Throckmorton, gentlemen of no
small worship in their countries, with Henry Wilby, Esq., Thomas Lynsye, Esq.,
and many others. Four of these were buried in the chancel of St Simon and
Jude's Church, according to that parish register, in which I read thus:
* Henry Wylby, of Middilton Hall, in the county of Warwick, Esqr.
* Giles Foster, of Temple Balsall, in the same county, Esqr.
“Thomas Lymsye, of Charlecot, in the same county, Esqr.
* —— Lusonm (or Lucie), of , beside Northampton, Esqr.
‘Thes 4 esquires were slain in the king's army one Mushoulde IIcath the Tewesday
being the xxvijth daye of August, 1549, anno tercio Edwardi Sexti, and were all buryed
in the chauncell of this church in one grave.”
The remaining rebels that submitted, and all those that were brought in
prisoners (which were many), to keep them from making head again, were con-
fined this night, under guards of soldiers, in the public buildings and some
churches in the city, by the provident command of the earl, in order to receive
judgement, and have their fines and amerciaments set on them for their offences.
The next day, being August 28th, tidings were brought the earl that the
arch-rebel Ket had rode so fast that his horse tired and fell down in the flight,
and that, creeping into a barn of one Mr Richers, of Swannington, two of his
servants seized him, and carried him into their master’s house, who kept him
there in hold for his lordship. Upon which, the earl sent twenty horsemen
immediately, and brought him to Norwich. And the same day the earl sat in
judgement at the Castle, taking examinations to find who were the principal
beginners and promoters of this unhappy rebellion: and divers being found
guilty, nine of the principals (the two Kets excepted) were executed upon the
Oak of Reformation, which never till then deserved that name, among which
were two of their prophets—Bishop Rugg and Wilse—and Miles, the cunning
428 - RET’s REBELLION
cannoneer, who was much lamented because remorse kept him from doing
much mischief to the city, which his cunning enabled him to have done: being
hanged, drawn, and quartered (the usual death of traitours) in this manner:—
they were first hanged up, then presently cut down, and, falling on the earth,
their privities cut off, then their bowels pulled out alive, and cast into a fire,
their heads cut off, and their bodies quartered; their heads being fixed on the
tops of the city towers, and their quarters hung on the gates and other public
places for a terrour to others. Thirty were hanged, drawn, and quartered at
the gallows out of Magdalen Gates. In all, about three hundred were exe-
cuted ; of which, forty-nine suffered in like manner at the gallows by the Cross
in the market.
The gentlemen who had thus been misused endeavoured to stir up the earl
to execute a greater number of them, and constrained him to say openly –
*There must be measure kept in all things; and especially in punishment with
death we ought to beware that we do not exceed. I know well that such
wicked doings deserve no small revenge, and that the offenders are worthy to be
most sharply chastised; but yet how far shall we go Shall we not, at last,
show some mercy 2 Is there no place for pardon P What shall we then do P
Shall we hold the plow ourselves, and harrow our own lands P’
Now when information was laid against some of the chief rebels that sur-
rendered to the earl, that they were busy ringleaders, and some of the worst of
them, and therefore ought to suffer; upon Norroy’s telling him that on the
offer of pardon they first submitted, he declared that none to whom he had
given his promise of pardon should suffer. And this night the bodies of the
slain were buried, least their Smell should breed an infection.
On the day following, being the 29th of August, the earl, lords, and gentle-
men, with the citizens, repaired to the Church of St Peter, Mancroft, and gave
praises and thanks to God for their late success; and it was resolved that the
27th of August should be annually set apart as a day of thanksgiving in this
city for their great deliverance; which is entered in their city book in this
manner:—‘Be it remembered, that by the power of Allmightie God, and of
our sovereign lord the king's majestie K. E. VI, in sending down the noble
Erl of Warwicke his grace’s lyeutenant, with other nobills, and men of wor-
shipp, with his majesties poure into this worshipfull cittie, and by the goodness
of God upon the 27th August, A.D. 1549, the said Erl, &c., uppon Musholde
Hethe vanequyshed Rob. Kette, and all his hool number of adherents of their
most wicked rebellion, and ded suppresse them, and delivered this cittie from
the great danger, trouble, and peril, it was in, like to have been lost for ever.
‘Wherefore by the good advyce of the Lord Thomas Thirlby, now Bishop of
Norwich, with the assent of the mayor, shereves, &c., it is ordeyned and
enacted, that from henceforth for ever, upon the 27th of August yerely, for
the benefyte that we obteyned for our delyveraunce that day, the mayor for the
time being, shall commaunde his officers to gyve warmyng to every inhabitant
in ther ward to spef and shut in their shoppes; and both man, woman, and
child, to repaire to their parish churches, after they have rong in, at the houre
of seven of the clokke in the morning, there to remayn in supplication, &c.,
KET’s REBELLION 429
and heryng divine service, and to gyve humble thankes to God, and pray for
the king hartely, for that delivery of this cittie, &c. And the Servyce once
doon, that every parish ring a solempne peal with all there belles, to the laud
and praise of God, and the great rejoycing of the peopull for ever, and so to
departe every man to his busynes, &c. God save the king !” -
The citizens, filled with no less joy than the Jews when they had escaped
the sword of wicked Haman, unanimously extolled Warwick for his great
courage, attributing to his wisdom and good conduct the preservation of their
lives and families, and all their possessions, setting up over the gates of the
city, and their own gates and doors, the ragged staff, which was the cognizance
or badge of that earl. . -
Robert Ket, and William Ket his brother, were carried to Ilondon, and
committed to the Tower, and being shortly after arraigned of their treason, and
found guilty, were brought to the Tower again, and there remained till the
29th of November, on which day they were delivered to Sir Edmund Windham,
high-sheriff of Norfolk and Suffolk, who brought them down, the one to Wind-
ham, and the other to Norwich, where deserved punishment was executed
upon them both : for Robert Ket, the captain of these rebels, was carried to
the castle, had chains put on him, and a rope being fixed about his neck, was
drawn alive from the ground up to the gibbet placed upon the top of the
castle, and there left hanging, in remembrance of his villainy, till his body
being consumed at last fell down. And William, his brother, was executed in
the same manner at Windham, on the top of the steeple there, and was
hanged in chains, as his brother was at Norwich. And thus, by God’s mercy
and the earl’s courage, this fearful rebellion ended; though it appears from the
book of the Court of Mayoralty, by the entries there made, between 1549 and
1554, that the rebellious stomachs of the common people here were not so
soon brought down as their camp was dispersed.
For ‘21st September, 3d Edward VI-It was deposed, that Robert Burmam,
parish-clerk of St Gregories, said—“There are too many gentlemen in Eng-
land by fyve hundred.”
* 30th September—Will. Mutton, painter, justified his having pulled down
the penthouses of the shops in Norwich, saying that—“There was much
dysceyte to buyers from them.” The said Burnam being imprisoned, said to
Mr Mayor and the Aldermen—“Ye skrybes and pharasies ye seek innocent
bloode,” &c.; for which, at the following assizes, he was adjudged to the pil-
lory, and to have his ears nailed thereto, as a fautor of rebels.
‘Edmund Johnson, labourer, being at the late chapel in the Fields, talking
with Mr Chancellor’s servants, it chanced that one Bosewell should say that
“Robert Ket should be hanged,” and the said Johnson said—“It should cost a
thousand men’s lives firste.”
“24th November, 3d Edward VI.-John Rooke said—“Except the mercy
of God, before Christmas, ye shall see as greate a campe upon Musholde as
ever was, and if it be not thenne, it shall be in the spring of the yere, and they
shall come out of the Lord Protector’s countrithe to strenkith him.”
12th February, 4th Edward VI.-George Redman, servant with Mr Bakon,
430 KET's REBELLION
deposed that—“John Redhed, on Sonday, at nyght, being the xth of February,
1549, said he wold that Master Bakon, and others having on there gates the
Tagged staff, Schuld take them down, for ther were that are offendyed there-
Wythe, to the nombre of twentie persons and more; and he said that the afore-
said ragged staff Schuld be taken down; and that afore it was Lammes daye
next Comyng, that Ket Schuld be plucked downe from the toppe of the castle;
saying, also, that it was not mete to have any more kyngs than one.”
‘John Redhed, of St Martin’s Parish, worsted weaver, saith that—“Upon a
market day, not a month passed, whether it was Wednesday or Saterday, he
certenly knoweth not, being in the Market uppon his busynes, he sawe ij or iij
persones, men of the contrithe, standing together, and he harde th’ one of them
Speke to th’ other, looking uppom Norwich Castell towardes Kette, these
words:—“O Kette! God have mercye uppon thy sowle; and I trust in God
that the kyng's majestye and his counsail shall be enformed ones betwixte this
and Mydsomer even, that of their owne gentylmes thowe shal be taken downe,
by the grace of God, and buryed, and not hanged uppe for wynter store, and
sette a quyetness in the realme, and the ragged staff shal be taken down, also,
of their owne gentylmes, from the gentylmen’s gates in this cittie, and to have
no more kings but one within this cittie under Christ but K. Edward the syze,
God save his grace”: which persones he saith he never knewe them.
‘26th February.—One said that—“Five hundred of the Musholde men were
gon to the gret Turke and the Doffyn, and will be her again by Midsomer.””
Holinshed tells us it was generally thought that Will. Ket had been sure of
his pardon if he had not played the traitorous hypocrite, for upon his submis-
sion at first to the Marquis of Northampton, he was sent back to his brother,
to persuade him and the rest to yield, who though he promised to do so, upon
his coming into the camp, and seeing the great multitude about him, did not
Only dissuade him from it, but told him the marquis had but few soldiers with
him, and was nothing able to resist such a force as his. So that had it not
been for him, his brother and all the rest had accepted the king's pardon.
‘This Ket,’ as Fuller observes, was of more wealth than the generality of
those of his business’; and, as Stow says, “ could spend £50 a year in land,
and was worth in goods above a thousand marks”: which was true. His family
was one of the most ancient and flourishing families in Windham; for in 22d
Edward IV, John Knyght, alias Kette, was a principal owner there. After his
conviction, at a court held for the king’s manor of Windham, it was presented
—that Robert Knyght, alias Kette, who was hanged upon Norwich Castle, for
treason, died siezed of thirty acres of land held of the manor, and that it was
escheated to the king as lord, which he, by Robert Rochester, Esq., his super-
visor, of his great clemengy, regranted to William Knight, alias Kette, son and
heir of the said Robert, and his heirs for ever. And Thomas Kett, son of this
William, in 1570, had a grant from Queen Elizabeth of the liberty of faldage
in Northwood Moor, in Windham, for twenty-one years; and in 1606, Richard
Rette, alias Knightes, surrendered a messuage, &c., in the Said town, to John
and Samuel Knightes, so that the family still continued and enjoyed their
ancient patrimony.
431
THE MEN OF THE COUP D’ETAT.
*ºng
VICTOR SCHOELCHER has written an admirable pamphlet on the Dangers to
England of the Alliance with the Men of the Coup d’Etaff.” We sympathize
thoroughly with his indignation against these men, we accept his facts con-
cerning them as incontrovertible, we endorse his opinion of the danger threat-
ened always by any alliance with rascaldom ; but we are at variance with him
in his conclusions. We can not altogether agree to the following:— .
‘To have dealings with the government de facto, which is propped up by the blind
force of an army, submissive to discipline as a wheel is to the stream, is to deal exclusively
with the Decembriseurs, and not with France. If the English people will have this, so
be it; but let the case be well understood by them, let them not labour or hope to bring
others under illusions. We conceive that no one nation should have the insolent pre-
tension of meddling with the internal affairs of France; our patriotism emergetically
deprecates every sort of foreign interference, whether direct or indirect, in her interior
policy: but we persist in the opinion, that the eternal laws of morality forbid every civil-
ized government to make a compact with those rulers, the living personification of im-
morality, rejected by all parties, and left outside the nation until she is able, at no remote
period, to fell them to the ground.’
Let us never strain a point to our own advantage. When the Provisional
Government was installed in 1848, it was made, and rightly made, a subject of
complaint, that foreign governments were slow in recognizing it. What had
they to do with Orleanist or Republican P Enough that France had chosen
her own government. It was France and the representatives of France with
which alone the foreigner had to deal. It is the same now. England has no
right to step in between France and her Government now, any more than then.
It is only with the de facto Government that we (as a nation) can have any
thing to do. And it is idle to talk of the de facto Government—that which
actually does administer both the internal and external affairs of France—being
‘rejected by all parties, and left outside #he nation.” For good or ill, and how-
ever much we may regret it, M. Bonaparte rules France by France’s own allow-
ance. No foreign power enthrones him.
This alliance matter deserves to be looked into. Det us try to clear it from
the confusion into which it is thrown when judged of only through our feel-
ings. Like all other questions, it is amenable to reason. Let us canvass it
reasonably, though never upon any question was indignation more worthy of
€XCILS63.
The alliance of England and France is desirable and necessary. How shall
it be brought about, “if the laws of morality forbid” our Government to make
* London: N. Trubner and Co., 12, Paternester Row. Price two shillings.
4.32 THE MEN OF THE COUP D’ETAT
l -
a compact with the rulers of France P Through what means shall the two
peoples meet except through their Governments de facéo & For us to say to
France—Cleanse yourself from this emperor before we can ally with you / would
be the very interference with France's internal policy which M. Schoelcher
deprecates. Justly deprecates, we think: for a nation, like an individual, has
the right of regulating its own internal life, going through its own experience
to its own redemption. We as a nation have no more right to reject France,
because of the scab of imperialism upon its brow, than we should have to in-
terfere in the government of any other country. France has submitted to Louis
*Bonaparte.” Our business as a nation is with a nation: Bonapartist or not.—
that is not the question. A highly moral and strictly virtuous nation might
be allowed to rebuke another in some such fashion as this—We ally with you
for a great purpose, but truly we are somewhat ashamed of those with whom
in your name you bid us treat. But a highly moral and strictly virtuous nation
has not Aberdeens and Palmerstons for its own ministers. With good reason
to be ashamed of your own foulness, you are not in the nicest state to rebuke
a neighbour. The Tzar’s old friend and the apologist of the Decemberist are
very fit men to negociate an alliance with the Emperor of France.
The alliance of France and England is good. The alliance between the
Governments of the two countries is at least matural. The peoples have their
purpose to answer, and the Governments have theirs. Pity that we can not
on both sides of the Channel rid ourselves of the evil point of contact. Then
the real good and gain of our alliance, the Salvation of Europe, would be
attained. But there is no reason for our Government to be averse to Louis
*Bonaparte”; and there is no consistency in our people objecting to him, with
the men we have for our own rulers. Truly M ‘Bonaparte” stands alone as
Thief, Perjurer, and Assassin; but our rulers admired him at the moment of
his “daring, and adore him now that Theft and Perjury and Murder are
gilded with success. England and France are in the same predicament : each
ruled by men careless of morality or right, the misrulers in each case submitted
to by the people. Only this difference subsists: in France a coup d’état was
necessary, in England the result has been obtained in a more gradual and
business-like manner, better suited to the graver genius of our race. Indeed,
M Schoelcher any Englishman, with a conscience, might ask you—With
what face shall the ‘constituents, or the subjects, of a Coalition Government
rebuke the slaves of your Charlemagne-Mandrin P”
Let enslaved France and ‘free” England be thankful that, for whatever pur-
pose, their rulers have brought about this alliance. It is the only alliance
they ever made for us which we shall care to ratify when the ‘high contracting
parties’ have met with their deserts: that is, when Bonaparte is at the hulks,
and our masters are under the people’s feet. Let us sweep our own doors
clean before we call our neighbour names.
b Does the title need explanation P Translate it into Imperial Thief—for want of a
stronger phrase.
‘A Charlemagne by the Devil hewn out of a Mandrin,”
says Victor Hugo in his Chastisements,
THE MEN OF THE COUP D’ETAT 433
- &
Neither will we join in the cry against the Queen for inviting her ‘good
brother’ of Tecember 26 to share her Christmas festivities. Why should not
queens, as well as other individuals, keep Christmas in commemoration of the
preacher of human brotherhood P Does the presence of this Imperial Christian
shame the English nation ? Do not let us blame poor Victoria for that. If
we set her up as a gilded image for Aberdeen and Palmerston to hang their
rascalities upon, it is not her fauli. So much as ours. Tor the rest, an English
constitutional sovereign can do no wrong. The Ministers lord it over a con-
stitutional sovereign (God forbid Queen Victoria should be unconstitutional).
They are keepers of the royal conscience, and they ask the Ruffian to spend
his Christmas in the bosom of an English family at Osborne House or Windsor.
Wha? is that to the English Nation ? The English Nation has abdicated
in favour of a Parliament, which resigns in favour of a Coalition Cabinet. The
Tnglish Nation is non-existent. There is an English people, without con-
Science, without will, without hope or purpose:—it may possibly be stung
into vitality by some terrible disaster, such as ſhe annihilation of our brave
army in the Crimea, ; but else it is a corpse, fit to be trampled under foot by
the personal friends and accomplices of jail-birds and Swindlers and brothel-
keepers," fit to be dragged aſ the chariot-wheels of those whose alliance is
designed not as an advantage, but as a Snare for Europe.
Tor Victor Schoelcher is right enough in warning us of the dangers of this
alliance. One great danger already more than threatens us. Our moral
middle-classes, whose impulsive disgust, on hearing the first news of the
December villainy (success being yet uncertain), spoke out so plainly, telling
to all the world, even through the columns of the Times, that there was some
conscience in a ‘mation of shopkeepers,'—our moral middle-classes are already
killing conscience with the sophistry of success, with the humbug that the
Queen’s guest must be respected, that we must see in the cowardly Paris
Butcher only the leader of the gallant army of the East. The Lord Mayor
* Jail-birds, swindlers, and brothel-keepers: hard words you say. Achille Saint
Arnaud—alias Jacques Leroy—sevenieen taonths in the prison of La Pelagie for debt,
pawning the shifts of women with whorn he was connected, twice discharged from the
army for ill conduct, once punished for desertion, accused of appropriating money
intrusted to him, a unam of utterly vile and immoral life, one of the bloodiest of the
December brigands, and afterward somewhat more than suspected of stock-jobbing and
murder: is jail-bird too hard a word for him, for all he was comruander of the allied
army, a general after Bayard, and complimented by the Queen of England P
Is not jail-bird the proper designation (or one who has been an inmate of the lowest
prisons of New York, for the vilcsú misdemeanours ? That is M. Bonaparte, the friend
of Lord Palmerston, the host of Prince Albert, the guest of Queen Victoria. -
Is there any word but swindler for M. Morny, the promoter (since he made his for-
tune in J)ecember) of an anonymous company for working the coal-mines of Aubin,
the accomplice of M Veron in the fraudulent sale of the Constitution/tel. Accused of
the first, his action for libel was overthrown, and he stands cozovicted of the second.
Vieyra, a few days before the 2d of December appointed by M. Bonaparte to be the
chief of the National Guard of Paris, is also a swindler, branded by the tribunals for
having twice sold the same property; and in the archives of the Correctional Police he
is noted as a brothel-keeper.—See Biographical Notices annexed to MSchoelcher's Book.
434 . | THE MEN OF THE COUP D’ETAT
and Common Council of London will ask him to dinner; the Merchant-
Tailors will compete for the imperial uniforms; and all our bankers and our
wholesale, and retail traders be ready to illuminate in his honour, to run beside
his carriage, and admire the modern Nebuchadnezzar, spite of his madness and
his brutality. Shall we not do so? say they, in their simplicity. Is he not
the Emperor of France, the Governor whom our Government delights to
honour? What then P we answer. If there is no national conscience, must
there be no individual sense of decency P Let the Government receive him. Let
one abstract power receive the other, morality all apart. Let Government meet
Government. Let him—the Wile—since he comes as an ambassador be received
as such—by fºose áo whom he is accrediſed. But the people, not consulted by,
nor acting with, their Government, may at least protest—each man in his in-
dividual capacity, since there is no such thing as national action yet possible.
Ilet the Government receive the Emperor; let us reject the Man. Let our
men-of-war salute him, let our soldiers present arms, let all the ministers and
flunkies and other scarlet abominations of our system greet him with most
Supple obeisances. But let every honest man hold his nose as the Rascal
passes: for the smell of blood is yet upon him, for all Archbishop Sibour’s
catholic anointing. The stench may do for Downing Street or Windsor : let it
not infect our streets. There are foulnesses enough already in our muni-
cipalities and upon ‘Change without the addition of this ‘Napoleon.” There
is danger in this alliance of France and England—danger of respectable men
forgetting that the imperial purple of Admiral Verhuel’s son is after all only
the purple of the shambles. Our tone of morality is already low enough.
For our working-men—We do not forget how the brewers treated Haynau.
And there is the farther greater danger of this alliance being perverted to
evil ends. It is good that England and France should be united : not good
that a Knave and his associates should lead them. Whither will he lead them P
Tor what purpose has he allied ? Who knows? Our Government knows not.
Has he told his purposes His word has always been a lie. Will he make us
but a tool in his hands P Will he betray us? Who can tell? Let us hold
fast our friendship with France; but let us beware of him.
Ah! if France would rid herself of the Foulness, if England would rouse
herself from her slavish indifference to justice, then indeed might our alliance
lead the world through righteousness to peace. The two great nations, once
able to act as nations, would not fear the Russian and his lieutenants. One
glorious march through the heart of Europe, one hearty summons to the op-
pressed peoples to rally around our banner (ay ! but it must be the banner of
the Republic for that), and Russia, Austria, and Prussia are no more. CoS-
sack or Republican P. There, for all your present confrivances or complications,
is the only alternative. England and France free, the word of destiny would
be ours, as now, thanks to our rulers, and spite of our alliance, it is the Tzar’s.
Is there no hope for us? We wait, trusting to the good providence of God,
which out of evil still educes good. Maugre Western cowardice, and the un-
willingness of all the Cabinets, the European war has begun. The ‘statesmen’
are in the current of events, and will be carried beyond their depth. Mean-
THE SEA-BOARD 435.
while, let us, exiles and accursed for our belief in the progress of Humanity,
stand patiently by the stream of Time, watching till thrones and principalities
and powers are whirled along it. Inactive as we are compelled to be, we yet
may hurry some tyrant into the abyss, if, keeping our own lives pure and with-
out reproach, shunning all contact with successful Crime, we cease not to pray
aloud for vengeance on the injurers, for freedom to those who are in bonds.
Victor Schoelcher does well in repeating his denunciation of the December
conspirators. Victor Hugo is right : it is always a fit time to say—Yonder
is Nero ! And look the rope is already around the tyrant’s neck.
THE SEA-BOARD,
(From Victor Hugo’s Chastisemezžs.)
HARMODIUS
Night cometh—Wenus shines.
THE SWORD
Harmodius ! 'tis the hour.
THE WAY-SIDE
The tyrant passeth by.
- HARMODIUS
I am cold, return we
A TOMB
Stay
HARMO3OIUS
And thou?
THE TOMIB .
I am the tomb. Do speedily, or die!
A BARK ON THE HORIZON
I also am the tomb—I carry the proscribed.
- ...” THE SWORD
Wait we the tyrant here.
- IHARMOE) IUS
I am cold—that wind!
THE WIND
- - I pass.
My sound becomes a voice. I sow throughout all space
The cries of exiled ones, miserably perishing.
Breadless and shelterless, friendless and kinless too,
They die, with their sad looks for ever turn’d tow’rd Greece.
- A WOICE IN THE AIR
Nemesis Nemesis O thou Avenger rise.
THE SWORD
'Tis time. A shadow falls. Take we our chance of that.
436
THE SEA-BOARD
THE EARTH
I am fill’d full of dead.
THE SEA
And I am red with blood.
The rivers bring me down corpses innumerable.
THE EARTH
The dead gush out with blood, while men adore his shadow.
At every step he makes under the firmament,
I feel the dead to stir in me confusedly.
A CONWICT
I am a convict. Look! Behold the chains I bear,
Alas! because I fail'd to chase far from my door
One who, proscribed, had fled, a pure, true citizen.
THE SWORD
Aim not at the tyrant’s heart. In vain thou’lt seek for it.
IAW
I am the Law—I am a spectre slain by him,
JUSTICE .
Of me, a priestess, he has made a prostitute.
THE BIRIDS
He has tainted the free air, and we are flying hence.
LIBERTY
And I must fly with them. O rayless earth ! O Greece
Adieu.
A THIEF
We like this man. This tyrant and this lord,
Whom even the judge respects, and whom the priest admires,
Who is welcomed everywhere with heartening shouts,
Is liker far to us than to you, homest folk!
THE OATH
O potent gods ! for aye, let every mouth be closed.
All trust has now died out from hearts were earnestest.
Thou liest, Man / O Sun thou liest; you lie, ye heavens !
Blow, blow, ye winds o' the night ! and bear, O bear away
Honour and virtuous pride—chimera and sad dream.
THE COUNTRY
My son I am in chains. Son | I thy mother am.
I stretch my arms to thee from out my prison’s depth.
HARMODIUS .
What ' Smite him in the night, reëntering his home;
What 'neath this awful sky, beside these boundless seas
Poignard him here before the gulf obscure and dark,
In presence of the shadow of Immensity P
CONSCIENCE
Thou mayest slay this man and thy soul be at peace.
437
T H E L A S T W A R.
I
WE desire to substitute ideas for force, argument for violence, logic for the
sword, and this is why we have but amathemas for all those personal govern-
ments which are called Empires, Dictatures, or Monarchies.
Despotism pillages and slays, devastates and shatters, like a blind storm.
It peoples towns with dead, citadels with captives, highways with the pro-
scribed: it cuts off heads upon the scaffold, it erases accusing monuments, it
wages war against stones as against men : it is the rope and the Sabre, the
guillotine and the wheel; it is Cain-Caesar.
Dut these devastations, punishments, assassinations, torments, and agonies,
are not the most abominable of its crimes: it is not the monument, it is not
the stone, it is not the corpse, which cries out most loudly to heaven against
it ; it is the human conscience, violated like an open temple, humiliated, and
tortured, in its faith, in its liberty, in its honour. -
Let the thousands of captives writhe and weep on the bare stones of their
dungeon-tombs; let the caravans of exiles wander over the earth, ragged,
breadless, and unemployed; let the groups of martyrs fall decapitated in the
public Squares and be dragged into the charnel-house : verily this should hor-
rify the earth and render history implacable: but all these human ruins, broken
limbs, heads in the hangman’s basket, captives in irons, wandering exiles, all
these bloody ruins disappear beneath the generation which is rising, to-mor-
row’s flower, the new harvest, whose life covers the misery of the past !
What is not retrieved while Force lasts is the broken tribune, dead liberty,
muzzled thought, the prohibited scripture, the mind, the human conscience,
the public Soul condemned to the death of silence and of a night which is
worse than death.
And it is not only that tradition, the successive life of Humanity, is inter-
rupted, hurt, and mutilated; it is that character, the great human character, is
lessened, effaced, and lost in servitude. Souls are enfeebled, interests prostrate
themselves, the lip becomes a courtier, and the bravest live out of the way,
mute, impassible, mere marble statues.
Ay! these are the two great crimes of tyranny—the heart made cowardly
and the truth slain. Giving alms to Crime, we might silence our tombs, our
miseries, our tears, our lamentations, and our revenge: servants of the passage,
we know that we may be overwhelmed, that the melée of revolutions is as de-
vouring as that of battles: but the right of ideas—which is the whole of civil-
ization, and the right of consciences—which is all the honour of Humanity,
these we can not forget under pain of high treason against the successive and
permanent universality of life, against that supreme majesty which extends
from the atom to the highest knowledge, even to God.
4.38 THE LAST WAR
A g
This is why we curse that brute force which slays both souls and bodies,
that force which is the mother of corruption and the bringer-in of might.
‘Restore the light,” said Ajax, “and let all Olympus topple on me!” That also
is the word of the Revolution. II
The men of Right who combat Force have no love for war, that stupid and
savage game, where chance distributes victories, where the earth which asks
but for the sun drinks only blood, where death inscribes the tablets of justice,
and wherefrom we pass only to fall into the sorry servitudes of ‘fame.’
War is one of the most bestial, most monstrous forms of Force; and yet a
little while Humanity entering into the light will see in our great battles only
brutal and bloody follies. . -
We who have looked upon the lovely dawn of free civilization, we all detest
war as violence, as corruption, as a sacrilege against life and especially against
the spirit of life. We do not believe that the earth need be mamured with
human blood for the future to be fruitful; and we curse above all those wars
into which the enslaved peoples are dragged as to the shambles, for some
princely quarrel, for some courtisan’s caprice, for some spite of wounded pride,
for a lot of earth, for a fan, for a key, or for a tomb.
They who tell us that the nations are exalted by these fratricidal combats
forget, doubtless, that their victories are always for the benefit of the prince or
of the chiefs, and that the triumphant people has beyond its frontiers brother-
peoples, humiliated and despoiled, who will not forget. -
Is not this the history of our last days P -
No no more imperial or royal wars no more of the wars which create
Caesars, which invite invasions in reprisal, and which leave between the nations
centuries of hate Philosophy condemns them; true policy proscribes them;
and the future, which has other battles to engage in, those of Science,—the
future has problems enough without encumbering itself with an inheritance
of grudges and of death.
The only war to be entered upon, to be energetically pursued, to be carried
through with all the holy frenzies of belief, is that of the Revolution. The
Revolution at Paris, the Revolution at Wiema, the Revolution at Warsaw, at
Berlin, at Rome: here is the great cause to be served. And for this vast
work everything is lawful, everything is just, from the weapon—alas! so much
rusted—of old times, to the energetic charge of our militant democracies.
When a people shall have shaken off the yoke—be it Italy, France, Ger-
many, or Poland—let all the others bestir themselves, let holy federations start
forth, let salutary diversions be made, and let the battle be one and multiple.
The Governments will totter.
This will not be war, but a hunt of maleſ&ctors. It will be Justice; it will
be the Revolution. -
And when Europe shall be free, all the swords may return to their scabbards
as all the racks may be burned. It will be the hour of ideas. -
(CHARLEs RIBEYROLLES, in L’Homme of November 1.)
439
HISTORY OF THE MONTH.
(From Oct. 26th to Wov. 30th.)
T H E W A. R.
THE war still is, as it shall be for long, the one subject of absorbing interest.
Sebastopolis not yet taken. Slowly the siege ‘progresses’; and the fine weather
has passed away. Disease and demoralization it is said are in the Russian strong-
hold; their ammunition is failing them; their desperate sorties are repulsed :
and yet they do not yield. Great as are their losses ours are proportionately
greater. Their reinforcements, thanks to Austria easing them of the trouble
of occupying the Principalities, crowd upon us; our own numbers are fearfully
reduced by disease and by the sword. All that brave men can do, the allies
are doing; but yet Sebastopol is not taken. Instead, we are intrenching our-
selves, lest we in our turn be besieged. More men more men from England
and from France, lest we be, not dishonoured, but baffled. The task is harder
than was expected. It is well. Now we must rouse our energies, for the war
has become real. - * s
If Englishmen at home will do their duty, compelling an unwilling Govern-
ment to do its duty, to assert a clear and wise and honest policy, and to carry
it out honestly, promptly, and energetically, there is no fear : for again the
victors of the Alma have proved to us of what stuff the Englishman is made.
Two more battles, at Balaklava and at Inkerman, have crowned our troops with
honour, and given to the Tzar an evidence of the valour which, well-generaled
and armed for the Right, can overcome the greatest force of barbarism. -
The first battle was on the 25th of October, when the Russians, under
General Liprandi, attacked the besiegers, drove in the Turks, but were checked
by the 93d Highlanders. Triven back, the Russians were retiring with some
guns they had captured, when our light cavalry were ordered to charge them.
The Order was a mistake, or was mistaken. The men rushed upon destruction.
The enemy’s cavalry, infantry, and artillery, were in position, some 20,000
strong, at the distance of about half-a-league, and our light division, ordered to
wrest from them the captured guns, numbered but 700 sabres.
‘As they passed toward the front, the Russians opened on them from the guns in the
redoubt on the right, with vollies of musketry and rifles. They swept proudly past,
glittering in the morning sun in all the pride of war. Surely that handful of men is not
going to charge an army in position? Alas! it was too true—their valour knew no bounds,
and far indeed was it removed from its so-called better part, discretion. They advanced
in two lines, quickening their page as they advanced. At the distance of 1,200 yards, the
whole line of the enemy belched forth, from thirty iron mouths, a flood of Smoke and
flame, through which hissed the deadly balls. Their flight was marked by instant gaps in
our ranks, by dead men and horses, by steeds flying wounded or riderless across the plain.
440 HISTORY OF THE MONTH
The first line is broken ; it is joined by the second ; they never halt or check their speed
an instant : with diminished ranks, thinned by those thirty guns, which the Russians had
laid with the most deadly accuracy, with a halo of flashing steel above their heads, and
with a cheer which was many a noble fellow’s death-cry, they flew into the Smoke of the
batteries; but ere they were lost from view the plain was strewed with their bodies and
with the carcasses of horses. They were exposed to an oblique fire from the batteries on
the hills on both sides, as well as to a direct fire of musketry. Through the clouds of
smoke we could see their sabres flashing as they rode up to the gums and dashed between
them, cutting down the gunners as they stood. We saw them riding through the guns,
as I have said—to our delight we saw them returning, after breaking through a column
of Russian infantry, and scattering them like chaft, when the flank fire of the battery on
the hill swept them down, scattered and broken as they were. Wounded men and dis-
mounted troopers flying toward us told the sad tale—demigods could not do what we
had failed to do. At the very moment when they were about to retreat an enormous
mass of Lancers was hurled on their flank. Colonel Shewell, of the 8th Hussars, saw
the danger, and rode his few men straight at them, cutting his way through with fear-
ful loss. The other regiments turned and engaged in a desperate encounter. With
courage too great almost for credence, they were breaking their way through the columns
which enveloped them, when there took place an act of atrocity without parallel in the
modern warfare of civilized nations. The Russian gunners, when the storm of cavalry
passed, returned to their guns. They saw their own cavalry mingled with the troopers
who had just driven over them, and, to the etermal disgrace of the Russian name, they
poured a murderous volley of grape and canister on the mass of struggling men and
horses, mingling friend and foe in one common ruin. It was as much as our heavy
cavalry brigade could do to cover the retreat of the miserable remnants of that band
of heroes as they returned to the place they had so lately quitted in the pride of life.’
Of the 700, 150 returned in order; 400 were left dead.
‘It is magnificent, but it is not war,’ said, a French general, who saw the
charge. It was not war, but murder. Never braver feat of arms has been
accomplished: but to what end ? Only the proud consolation rests: that
Europe sees once more the heroic force of Azincourt and all our later
victories; and the enemy may learn, in spite of all the peacemen, that the
Grenville spirit lives among us yet.
The other battle was on the 5th of November, when the Russians stole on
us in the mist and rain through the valley of Inkerman, hoping to crush us by
mere weight. Here is the French account of the battle —
‘The plateau against which they were about to concentrate their attack was held only
by two English divisions, about 8,000 strong, who had to contend with 45,000, sup-
ported by forty pieces of cannon. Attacked right and left, they fought like lions, and
expended their ammunition even to the last cartridge. It was one of those Homeric
struggles unprecedented since the wars of the Empire. The Russians, though repeatedly
repulsed, returned to the charge with fresh forces. A small redoubt, which protected the
road, was three times taken and re-taken at the point of the bayonet. Eventually the
English, having exhausted all their ammunition, and the Russians not being allowed time
to re-load, the battle was continued with stones and the butt-ends of muskets.”
Reinforced by the French, our troops at length drove the Russians back with
a loss of 9,000 men, our own loss being 2,612, that of the French 1,700.
HISTORY OF THE MONTH 44].
f
So goes on the war. The Tzar, easily counting odds, gives us two men for
our one, till our forces are reduced from 27,000 to 12,000 men. True, our
and the French reinforcements are pouring in, but yet not so fast as the Rus-
sians: and what if the Black Sea become too winterly and prevent either the
landing of our succours or the embarking of the conquerors of Sebastopol.
Already rumour speaks of wrecks. The Tzar is long-headed; our statesmen
are only thick. Very complaisant also, we allow.
Sebastopol must fall. Neither England nor France can submit to be defeated
there. But if it stand through the winter? Can our beleaguered troops stand
as well? And even if we take it within a few days? What is won P What
remains to be done º Our triumph is a barren one, our work is but begun.
During the winter, happen what may, be sure that Diplomacy will do its worst
to make the victory or the defeat conducive only to the interests of the crowned
heads of Europe, among whom Nicholas is still recognized as at worst only a
a troublesome brother. There is yet no real intention of pushing the war to
extremities against him. They prefer peace at any price to war and victory at
the price of European freedom. Our Cabinet has indeed under its considera-
tion a plan for the restoration of Poland: but in what way P To be restored
in 1856, if Nicholas should no? by Žhen have come to terms ; NoT TO BE RESTORED
TILL 1856, because it is hoped ſhał & Russian occupation of Poland during '55
may so break the spiriffs of Żhe Poles #haff they will become fit for such a consfi-
Żułional government as Lord Palmerston would manufacture for them. It is a
villainous calculation, only well worthy a Coalition Cabinet. -
But events, like wild horses, take the bit between their teeth, and are carry
ing their ‘controulers’ beyond all calculations. What if, even though driven
out of the Crimea, the Tzar next spring should front the West with Warsaw
for his centre of operations, with Prussia for his right wing and the Austrian
force extending from Bessarabia to Piedmont as his left P Would Aberdeen
give in P Bonaparte dares not. Then the war must aim at the enemy’s heart;
and the Cromwell sword, dug from its grave, be pointed (O, by whose hand?)
toward Warsaw. There only lies the road to Peace. Charge through I
The costly victories of Alma, Balaklava, and Inkerman (think what blood of
our bravest, what tears and sufferings of widows and orphans these victories
have cost us !) shall not be but sacrifices to an empty pretence of peace.
Be glad, O ye oppressed nations—Poland, Italy, Hungary, and Germany
England must be on your side. England’s heart, however weakly beating, has
been with you; England’s arm, new nerved, must now strike with you—even
for England’s sake. Would only that we had been readier for the Right !
A WORKING MEN'S COLLEGE
Has been established at 31, Red-Lion Square, London, by Professor Maurice
and others known for their earnest kindly endeavours to improve the Social
condition of the poor. The regulations generally are in excellent spirit, and
the teachers act gratuitously. Their object is really to elevate the working-
men. The course of studies for the first term, November to Christmas, ’54,
(7 weeks) comprises Public Health, Geometry, English Grammar, the Law of
442 * HISTORY OF THE MONTH
Bartnership, Political Terms illustrated by English Literature, Natural Philo-
sophy and Astronomy, Machinery, Drawing, Arithmetic and Algebra, the
Geography of England as connected with its History, the Reign of King
John illustrated by Shakspere's Play, Vocal Music; and the Gospel of St John
for Sundays. But, doing all honour to the good intentions of the projectors,
gladly acknowledging also all the worth which they themselves would claim
for such an institution, we yet are bound to speak of it as but one of the thou-
sand schemes which do more credit to the hearts than to the heads of the pro-
moters, Schemes which are applauded as practical because they achieve some
momentary success, but which are about as practical as the medical treatment
which alleviates some little pain caused by a deep disease, leaving the disease
itself uncared for. No these social philanthropists are not practical. Theorists
as they may deem us, there is not a practical man among them. They are
all, we say it again with full allowance and gratitude for their most benevolent
intenſions and endeavours, they are all plaisterers and tinkers, one-sided, blun-
ering, and impracticable. Let them apply themselves to the real causes of
the illnesses of Society, instead of breaking their hearts over futile measures
of utopian alleviation. Let them look to the political before the social; let
them help the working man to the national recognition of his manhood. Then
the Republic will be able to educate him as a man.
BUETIC MEETINGS
On the 29th of November, in St Martin’s Hall, London, and at Newcastle-on-
Tyne, Kossuth taking part in the first, again commemorate the Polish insurrec-
tion, and give utterance to the real policy of England. Last year, the gathering
of the representatives of Republican Europe," was an act of faith and propa-
gandism; this year’s meetings have a farther signification. Then we spoke of
hope and duty; now we have to speak of instant policy and action. If Eng-
lishmen do their part, these commemorations are but inaugural of an English
movement to compel an English Ministry to reject the traitorous neutrality of
Austria, to reinforce our war by allying with Mazzini, Kossuth, and the Poles.
But how shall we compel any Ministry P Through Parliament P The
House of Commons is the obsequious tool of the Ministry. How reform Par-
liament P Through the privileged constituencies which elected it P. It is a
task for the whole People, the whole People which is required to find soldiers,
which is appealed to for a Patriotic Fund for soldiers' widows and orphans, but
which is allowed no voice in the purpose or management of the war. Only by
the People can a true policy be enforced. And the People is not free. We must
demand £he suffrage as the only means of insuring a successful issue.
Here are some of the most notable portions of M. Kossuth's speech:—
The English public have been told that there never was a position of more pressing
necessity, demanding so imperiously a mind that can forestall instead of waiting on events,
and can avert evils which it may be impossible to repair. That is perfectly just, though
somewhat of an after-fact wisdom, come out too late. But if it be just, then there is no
good service to England in lulling public opinion to sleep by advising it to let bygones
* Reported at page 23. ...]
HISTORY OF THE MONTH 443
be bygones. A forestalling mind must look to the past for instruction. And the great
lesson of accomplished facts is, that England’s policy in reference to the present war has
been wrong in its direction, and inefficient, unsuccessful, and disastrous in details. Your
gigantic armada in the Baltic is nearly without a laurel to rest its head upon. To do
Something effective there the coöperation of Sweden was a matter of prime necessity.
England did not get it because England’s policy was wrong. I told England six months
ago that the coöperation of Sweden was to be got only by calling Poland to arms. And
that was the answer which, three months later, King Oscar gave to General Baraguay
d’Hilliers. You have taken Bomarsund—a small matter, forsooth—yet when the time
comes that necessity will force you to remember Poland, and you shall have to thank her
for the advantage of getting Sweden over to your side, then Bomarsund would have
proved an acceptable offer to Sweden; but you blew it up, as if afraid of your own victory
—as if bent on the purpose not to have anything to offer to Sweden. What a gigantic
blunder England pretended to strike a blow at the commerce of Russia by blockading
her coast, and England just succeeded in turning Russian commerce to Prussia. England
has bent her mind on bringing Austria over to herself; she has sacrificed to this one aim
everything: numerous millions spent in vain, the life-blood of the flower of England spilt
in vain, principles, political reputation, the liberal character of the war, and the very
issue of the war—everything. And has your Government gained Austria? Has it gained
that Austria to whom it has sacrificed everything—that Austria of whom even the Times
is bound at last to acknowledge that “you are fighting her battle more than your own’?
What a proud sneering there was in official quarters when I, months ago, told the good
people of England that they believe they pay and bleed for freedom, when in reality they
are made to fight for Austria. Now it comes out at last, Truth will come out, like mur-
der will. Well, has your Government gained Austria P Go and read the well-founded
lamentations in the press—even the ministerial press—about the treacherous attitude
and the overbearing insolence of that Austria which your Government persisted in court-
ing with so much submission, and which, in return, facilitates the enterprizes of Russia,
insults your allies, and counteracts your combinations. It is not only that you have not
gained over Austria, but you have the Turks arrested in the midst of their victorious
<course; and the fruit of their heroic struggle, poor Wallachia, played over into the
treacherous hands of despotic Austria. There is the Turkish army paralyzed on the one
hand, and there is on the other hand the Tzar made and left free to throw overpowering
numbers upon the flank and the rear of your gallant ranks in the Crimea. There you
have the spirits of the Turkish army, high-flowing by the victories at Silistria and Giur-
gevo, now depressed,—the spirits of the Russian army, depressed as they were, now
restored. g tº * > º Last, alas ! not least, there is Sebastopol. Every
British heart has watched the great bloody drama there with intense anxiety. I am not
wanted to tell you the tale of your heart. I am not wanted to describe how your braves
have found there an entrenched camp with an army, instead of a fortress with a garrison
(as your Government appears to have anticipated), how new armies are pouring upon
your shattered ranks, as your Government does not appear to have anticipated, or clse it
would be more than error to act as the Government did, All I am wanted to do is to
quote from public reports these words—‘The question is no longer whether we shall
take Sebastopol or not. The siege of Sebastopol, though not raised, may be regarded as
at a stand-still. We are reduced to the defensive.” Such is the situation. ‘The tables
have turned : Russia is the besieger, you are the besieged.’ And at what price has this
situation been purchased ? Gentlemen on the 5th of July, ten weeks before England
embarked on that expedition, ilºadvised as well as ill-prepared, I, in a Speech, the coll-
444 HISTORY OF THE MONTH
tents of which would have been well for Great Britain to mind, spoke these words at
Glasgow—“Not one out of five of your braves will see Albion again.” Now it is a sad
tale; number your dead, your wounded, and your disabled—more than 20,000 men out
of 30,000 are already lost. My sad anticipations are literally fulfilled. And here at
home P Why here the number of widows and orphans applying for support to patriotic
charity amounts to 11,000. Such is the position. Now, with that position thus
analyzed, I call on contemporary age and on history to say whether I was exaggerating or
too harsh in saying that England’s policy has been wrong, that it has been successful no-
where, but inefficient, unsuccessful, and disastrous everywhere. But you are told for all
consolation that— No human foresight could have fully anticipated the extraordinary
position which you find yourselves in.” Now, as to this, I must say it is not true, Many
a man must have anticipated that position. I, for one, have foretold it fact by fact, and
word by word. And I certainly claim not the slightest perspicacity on that account. I
wonder how any thinking men could do otherwise than know all this. Yet, if such there
were, they could have used the modest light of my poor oil lamp. It is true the people
of Great Britain gave me tremendous cheers in return, and went home to toil on, and
then to sleep. It is as if I would have been mendicating favours for myself, whereas it
was England's honour, dignity, interest, and success, that I held up before their eyes.
They went to toil and to sleep, and the flower of your nation went to die; and now, after
my disregarded words have proved true, some of them (the Scottish press) say—‘The
words he spoke read like the inspiration of a seer, or a picture drawn from history.
Others (the Times) say—‘No human foresight could have anticipated the extraordinary
position in which England finds herself.” Extraordinary ! Why, what is there extraor-
dinary in the inexorable logic of concatellation between cause and effect 2 Is it extraor-
dinary that Sebastopol is found to be an entrenched camp with a numerous army in it P
Is it extraordinary that the Tzar is pouring whole fresh armies to its defence? The Tzar
has been left perfectly free, and with ample time afforded to do it; nay, in fact, he has
been invited to do it by the Turco-Austrian treaty, negociated under England's auspices.
The extraordinary in the matter is not that he has sent reinforcements to Sebastopol, but
that he has not sent double the number, and a month earlier. I take this to be so extra-
ordinary that I find only two explanations to account for it. The first is, that to begin a
war against Russia with a landing expedition in the Crimea is an idea so supremely ab-
Surd that the Tzar, giving more credit for perspicacity to his enemies than they deserved,
did not believe it until you actually landed off Eupatoria. Secondly, and chiefly, you are
indebted to Poland for not having to meet 100,000 Russians more at Sebastopol. If
England did disregard the fact that Poland is the most vulnerable part of Russia, the
Tzar was prudent enough to mind it. In the Crimea proud England and France attack
him ; he is content with opposing 100,000 men to them. On the Danube the flower of
the Turkish army, elated by victory, defies and menaces him ; he is content to oppose
them with 80,000 men. But to Poland, where there is not one man in arms, but where
the unquenchable fire of an heroic nation’s hatred is Smouldering, he sent an army of
300,000 men, to be prepared for emergencies. Some may tell you that this is due
chiefly to a precaution against Austria; but it is clear to demonstration that the Tzar
feels perfectly easy about the submissive obedience of his pro-consul in Vienna, or else
he certainly womld not have left the very existence of his 80,000 men on the other side
of the Pruth at the mercy of his good friend the Habsburg. Yes! it is the name of
Poland that you have to thank for the fact that your whole army in the Crimea, all
heroes as they are, have not fallen victims to overpowering numbers. gº fº g
I will not say that you will not take Sebastopol; leaders and men like those you have
HISTORY OF THE MONTH 445
there may do prodigies, though their position is certainly anything but satisfactory.
Whatever be the shadows which coming events cast over my soul, not for anything
would I throw a damp upon the spirits of those brave men, when all their spirits are re-
quired in the supreme trial they have to stand. Let us take for granted that they suc-
ceed; let us anticipate the sight, when the shattered ruins of that glorious army will
stand on the smouldering ruins of Sebastopol. Well, and after P If your secret aim in
this war has been solely the destruction of the Russian fleet—well, this will be achieved
at the sacrifice of the flower of both your nations; but this you never can dare avow ;
you never can avow that your only object in this war has been a rehearsal of Copenhagen
and of Navarino from mere jealousy. And if you have higher, broader aims, as have you
must, then, supposing you have taken Sebastopol, I ask—Well, and after ? The Crimea
taken is no security for the future to Europe. It is no barrier which defends, but an
acquisition which requires defence; and what Europe expects to have for issue from this
war is a material barrier against Russian preponderance, a moral barrier of free nations
against despotism. Oh, how different would be your position now if your Government
had not sacrificed your own safety to illiberal views, and your own success to regards for
the worst of despots and despotism. Suppose you had organized a brigade of Polish
exiles. (France, even the France of Napoleon, has a foreign legion: why not you, who are
not over-abundant in men, and have fought nearly all your continental wars with your own
money, but with foreign armies, your own braves acting the part which the old Guard
of Napoleon acted ?) Suppose you had organized a foreign legion of Polanders here, and
ordered Sir Charles Napier not to care about barren Cronstadt, but to take Riga, and
land the Polish legion; to call on Russian Poland to rise, and, to back them, land the
12,000 French who were despatched to the Baltic with such a pompous flourish of im-
perial words, and did so wondrously little there. Suppose this done; and suppose, at the
same time, the Anglo-French army in the East 100,000 strong, joining the 120,000
Turks, elated by recent victory, pushing on after the defeated Russians up Bessarabia:
where would be Russia now? and how different would be your position ? But Austrial
what with Austria? I hear the silent question of your heart’s anxiety. Well, of two
things one: either Austria would have let you do, and then the question requires no
answer, or she would have played false against you; and in this case you had only to
call on Hungary and Italy, and where would be Austria now P England takes but too
much the airs of looking down upon us with the commiseration of pride in politics, be-
cause I, or Mazzini, or Ledru Rollin, or these gentlemen here, or any of the proscribed
patriots of whatever land, are but poor exiles. England forgets that those elements to
which these now poor exiles belong may weigh to-morrow the destinies of Europe and
your own in the hollow of their hand. Why, for a passing moment, is not Bonaparte
doing it? Why, a few years back, you have seen him nothing more than an exile, less
entitled to reasonable hopes than the elements to which we belong, though not less miser-
able than some of us. You forget that revolution which we assemble to commemorate,
you forget how the very scythemen of slighted Poland have mown down the invincible
cuirassiers of Russia like grass; you forget that we Hungarians, abandoned, almost be-
trayed, by all the world, we alone have stood our ground, not only against that Austria
which England so much fears or so much loves, but stood our ground against that Russia,
beside which you are three Powers to fight. Prudence, justice, and humanity alike advise
you to look to nations for your allies, and lo! England flatters dynasties, and relies on
alliances with passing men, instead of looking to lasting nations. Whatever be my
opinions about Napoleon and your alliance with him, I will respect your feelings, and
will not say anything to hurt them; yet one consideration I would recommend England
446 HISTORY OF THE MONTH
well to weigh. Napoleon is a mortal man like whoever clse; he may die by many a
malady; he may be dying at this very moment; who knows? At all events, Napoleon
is but a passing meteor—the French nation is a lasting luminary. You are allied to
Napoleon; do you believe to have secured the alliance of the French nation ?" No you
have not. And why not P Because your alliance purports to barter away the freedom of
Poland, Tſungary, Italy, and Germany for the precarious and disreputable friendship of
the Habsburgs and the Brandenburgs. Such is your alliance with Napoleon. Now, do
you believe that the French nation, restored to its sovereignty, as certainly restored it
will be, ever would sanction such an alliance P No 1 by all that there is sacred to men,
never ! never ! -
Shift the theatre of the war; insist peremptorily on Austria's evacuating the Princi-
palities, and on siding with or against you; advise the Sultan to grant independence to
the Roumains, and arm them ; enlist the Polish emigration—not in Turkey, but here;
mind where the weak point of Russia is, and strike there. And wherever a Govern-
ment is playing false to you call on the nations it oppresses. These are your radical
remedies; but remember that, while in matters of internal progress you may say, by and
by we shall come to that, in a war everything depends on moments. Opportunity lost
is a campaign lost—may be even more. Poland is your surest remedy even to-day ; but
how much surer and easier would it have been six months ago. º tº tº
Come what may, in this war, England stands more in need of Poland and of Hungary
than Poland and Hungary stand in need of England. With us, victory; without us, de-
feat, or a disreputable insufficient armistice. You remember the tale about the nine
Sybilline books. Poland will be your Sybilline books. Three already are lost. Hasten
to buy the remaining six, or else, like the Roman king of old, you shall have to pay the
full price of all the nine for the last three. Mine is the advice, yours is the choice.
Smith O’Brien, now resident in Paris, has written a noble letter to Galignani’s
Messenger, repudiating an attempt on the part of some of his ‘friends’ to
obtain, through the intervention of M. Bonaparte, leave for him to return to
Ireland, on condition of his abstaining from politics. He says:– I would
rather remain for ever an exile from the land which I love, than return thither
under restrictions incompatible with my personal honour, or with the rights and
duties of an Irish gentleman.’
Again we are reminded of Ellis, Cuffy, and Dowling, still left to suffer in
Australia. It is too bad.
Will M Louis Bonaparte venture here P Let us, who have no share in the
government, welcome him as we welcomed Nicholas and Haynau—with univer-
sal execration. Let him see his accusation everywhere placarded. If it be
only a handwriting on the wall, let him read everywhere the sentence that
dooms him to perdition—the never to be forgotten or forgiven
2D OF DECEMBER
POSTs CRIPT.
My fourth year's work of propagandism is concluded. Theorist and enthusiast as f
may be deemed (and I am well content to be deemed so by the short-sighted votaries of
‘success') I am yet practical enough to ask myself what is the result of my endeavours, bold
enough to tell all men the reply. It is not unsatisfactory. The preaching of Repub-
licanism yet continues to be a labour. It has not subscribers enough to pay its cost.
Our germs of association are not yet, to my thinking, sufficiently important to need any
trumpeting to the world. I have yet to work and wait. Well, I am strong enough and
hopeful enough for both. I have lived down many Sneers, and now some few even of
those whom the age consents to honour are not ashamed to wish Good speed to my
attempt. New listeners are about me; new adherents are at my side. No old ones
have deserted me. So I have made way, be it never so slowly. Again, I am practical
enough to be content with this gradual and quiet growth. It is sure. Had it been less,
convinced of the truth of the principles I am endeavouring to propagate, I should not
have doubted of ultimate success. But it seems to me that I have had as much success
as even a sanguine man ought to have anticipated. Thus much I care to say for the
satisfaction of those of my readers with whom I have not yet the opportunity of other
communication. Perhaps before another year is out they will have come nearer to me.
In this volume I have been able in some measure to redeem my promise of reference
to the great men of our own race, especially those of the Commonwealth. Of that
noblest period of English history how can Englishmen know too much P Far, far yet
are We from knowing anything like enough. The more we know of it the better we
shall appreciate it, and we may so learn to become worthy of resuming its unfinished
task—the organizing a regenerated people, the leading a nation on ‘ that hard and difficult
way which leadeth to God and happiness.’ Is it not a task to be desired, to be at-
tempted by all true Englishmen, by all who have hearts as well as heads, courage as well
as capability of thought P Why is it that we must yet look to America, for the one man
fit, after Vane and Milton, to speak our English language—Theodore Parker, who is
not afraid to probe the depths of life, to assert, beyond all expediencies and policies, the
principles of human action,--who also is not afraid to act even as he speaks.
One word more on a personal matter: in reply to the still-subsisting accusation—
always recurring when no other fault can be found—of the fierceness and severity of my
language. I might answer in the words of Garrison, rebuked for the same offence —‘Is
there not cause for severity ? I will be as harsh as truth, and as uncompromising as
justice. I am in earnest—I will not equivocate—I will not excuse—I will not retreat a
single inch—and I will be heard.’ Why? Because of ‘the apathy of the people.” But
I would say more. Who are they who rebuke me? To they really object to my prin-
ciples under cover of objection to my manner of propagandism? To such objectors I
have no apology to offer. Or are my rebukers men who hold my faith? Let them not
hide their timorousness or sloth under so poor a cavil, but come out like men and teach
our principles in a better manner. Glad indeed shall I be to see men stronger and so
perhaps calmer, more equable and so perhaps more capable, than myself, leading our
republican force through the opponent atheism and immorality and indifference of the
448 POSTSCRIPT
present time. If they can fight the hard fight without wrath, it may be better for the
Cause, and certainly would be best for them. For myself, abhorrence of wrong yet stirs
my heart. It is a time of war. I use the pen in default of a sword. And I believe
that it is not enough to attempt to hold up the Ideal of Worth for men to worship; we
must strike down those who would prevent the unfurling of our Ideal.
We are in the battle. Woe to those who slumber, however beautiful their dreams |
It is the day of wrath. It is the day of revolution. Let us hold up great principles as
banners for the conflict; and let them be lovely and artistic so that an angel need not
scruple to sustain them. But the banner leads us to the fight, and in the melée we
must smite our adversaries. The Tzars and Bonapartes, the Palmerstons and the Verons,
—the despots, diplomatists, brigands, and petty larcenists, must be stricken in the face
and without mercy. There is but too much paltering. Let the truth be told, though it
hurt some tender consciences; let right be maintained & outrance. The gallant Seven
Hundred (the Three Hundred of Greek times no braver) who charged at Balaklava, are
not accused of fierceness and severity. We charge against worse odds. Our battle is as
chivalrously suicidal. But like them we will charge through. In the day of repub-
lican victory, when men have learned the worth of manhood, we shall not be rebuked for
our over-earnestness and daring : we shall be forgiven the offence of zeal. Let the
good—and the best are brave—let them judge me. “I have faith also in the unassum-
ing men, in the Unknown Gods, yet hidden under the workman’s blouse or under the
student’s coat. It is to them that I address myself. I borrow a friend’s words. It is
Mazzini who speaks. O ye Unkown Gods ! who yet shall make our England divinely
glorious, where are ye? since of our known and honoured the best are cautious and
afraid. Come forth and save us: for our bravery is being wasted in the Crimea, or else
lies dead in England, showing no sign of life except to grumble that an odd republican
does not measure his words like haberdasher wares. Where are the true hearts of
England scattered now, when never was so much need of union ? We would shout more
tunefully if other voices would swell the volume of our cry. Again let Mazzini speak,
as Milton would have spoken. Truly he speaks for Italy—Italy under the foreigner's
hoof and bound in diplomatic wyths, yet panting to be free. But does not England also
need freedom, if only to enforce the one strong blow at Russia, which shall give us hon-
ourable victory and Europe peace? It is the same want in Italy and in England.
*Unity of party is wanting. In God’s name let us create it. Who forbids it?
Let each of us love his country better than himself. Let each of us lay on the altar of
his country the vanity, the petty angers, the puerile jealousies, unworthy of men who
intend to found nations, the vulgar affections that emchain him, the silly conceit of a
fame which is nothing till the main object be attained. Let each of us take the laws
of his own duty from the inspiration of his own heart, and not from the atmosphere
which surrounds him, which has to be changed. Let us take up the high faith which
Milton and Cromwell taught with pen and sword, the faith in God and in the People,
and under that banner let us go forth to conquer.
W. J. L.
THE
ENGLISH REPUBLIC :
WOL, III.
THE
ENGLISH REPUBLIC
A NEWSPAPER AND REVIEW
5 D | T Ei)
BY
W. J . | | NTON
AND
PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY HIM AT
BRANTWOOD, CONISTON, WINDERMERE, WESTMORELAND,
1854

C 0 NT ENTS
*-*ss
1854
© * I
The Turkish Question º • T9
The Polish Anniversary, November 29, 1853 c 23
Universal Suffrage & 41
The Policy of Strikes 72
Slavery and Freedom 81
The Dead Nation . 105
Liberty and Equality 121
Fit Words & 181
Victor Hugo's Chastisements 188
The Maudlin Pickle 200
Nationality e 20I.
The New Map of Europe 212
The Royal Oak Apple 223
The Witches' Cauldron e’ 237
The Sovereignty of the People • 250
Ruge's New Germany 366-
Death Punishment º e t e e 381
Schoelcher's Dangers of the Alliance with the Men of the Coup d’Etat 431
- PostScript º g e º & 447
MEMOIRs
John Milton . . º 4.
Sir Francis Drake 56.
Oliver Cromwell 106
Lamennais 148
Robert Blake 182
Schamyl .. 218
Kosciusko º 242
Sir Philip Sydney 288
John Wycliffe 314,
Henry Ireton 361
Charles Stolzman e 373
40, 75, 115, 153, 196, 2
POETRY.
Mary Wöllstonecraft—E. L.
History of the Month
Singing O for the Republic
England Once
Good Lord! Deliver us e
Poverty is Slavery—Lachambaudie
The Somnambulist --
Diplomacy gone to Sea
º º 4.18
25, 263, 300, 338, 373, 410, 439
A Prayer , º . w 9.
Truth and Peace * * * *
Napier to the Baltic . g º § *
Vane’s Last Words * *
Tell the Tzar 9. te *
The Black Huntsman—Victor Hugo . t y
Working Men º * . * y
The Living—Victor Hugo . • * ,
A National Hymn . p º * 9
The Battle of Newbury , g v &
Prayer * 4- * 9. *
Thorough § º t w
To the Empress Eugenie w o
A Homily ſº e º g §
The Seaboard—Victor Hugo . $ s º
JoHN MILTON
The Law of Marriage g
Of Education
THEODoRE PARKER
The Christian Religion
Speculative Atheism
Practical Atheism . tº
On the Kidnapping of Anthony Burns
Speculative Theism . *
Practical Theism t *
The Public Function of Woman
POLISH DEMOCRATIC CoMMITTEE
To the Committees for Relief of the Refugees
To the President of the United States
ALEXANDER HERZEN
Russia and the Old World
To the Russian Soldiers in Poland
CHARLES STOLZMAN
Austria and the German Confederation • .
CHARLES RIBEYROLLES
Solidarity . * º • q
The Three Capitals * /
The Release of Barbès g g •
The Last War . º t * - º
JosìPH MAZZINI
God and the People
Of the Duty of Acting .
To the Helvetic Federal Council
To M. Fazy
105
T13
114
134
147
217
247
281
313
327
353
381
404
4.17
435
10
273
16]
205
252
303
305
345
390
II9
170
51, 98,
134
239
233
93
, 298
413
437
132
329
374
410
Louis KossuTH
Speech at Sheffield . ë tº e ë 265
Speech on Polish Anniversary, November 29, 1854 . , 442
WENDELL PHILLIPs - -
Speech at Framingham, Massachusetts . * & 34l
VICTOR: HUGO
Speech over the Grave of Felix Bony • à . 405
THOMAS CARLYLE •
Cromwell's Parliaments ë & & * 112
WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR -
On the Fast for K. Charles’ Martyrdom gº ë. § 80
Death of Blake * & & b it. 231
Mitchell and Meagher à * • $ & 344
Dream of Sevastopol’s Fall g tº • * - 380
England’s Foreign Policy . b g § 63
The People under God & * g º § 133
The Austrian Alliance § e e º & 146
The Church of England & & e t e 169
Royalty in Spain & ë t & ſº 223
A Few Hours in Preston g & tº th g 224
The Rebellion of Ket the Tanner dº & 282, 320, 354, 384,425
ILLUSTRATIONS
PORTRAITS “. . .
John Milton (with autograph) . * , $ * 5
Sir Francis Drake & tº * - º * 57
Oliver Cromwell (with autograph) º & ty 107
Lamennais (with autograph) $ ë. * & l49
Robert Blake (with autograph). © & & 183
Kosciusko tº & de tº , & ſº 243
Sir Philip Sydney . • tº . * 289
John Wycliffe . * & * e 315
Henry Ireton (with autograph). * • * 363
Mary Wollstonecraft © g * & & 419
The Help we gave to Spain. is & * g 65
The Royal Oak-Apple. t g & . 223
Map of Republican Europe . * ë i. ſº 217
Map of ‘Austria” ë © . e. * & e 233
THE FORMATION OF A NATION IS A RELIGION
- Mazzini,
N O T I C E .
We still want the following back numbers of the ENGLISH REPUBLIC :
for which we shall be happy to return full price and postage.
1 —English Republic, 1852
2 —Religion, Family, and Property
53—English Republic, 1853
82—Where is England?
83–Russian Republicanism
88–89—Mazzini's Advice to the Party of Action
THE
ENGLISH REPUBLIC
GOD AND THE PEOPLE
s
-ºš zºº.º. Sis-
2^ s". -------> T TT -->
* . . . ;-- " ". . . . ºs-Tºs-
_ -- * 2-cººke ºt,
---~s ^āº ~
E D | T E D
BY
WºtWTON
s-ºs---
PART 49 (Part I, Vol. 4), JANUARY, 1855, PRICE SIX-PENCE.
w. J. LINTory; Branºrwood, conrsºron, wriNor:RNIERE.
LONDON :
J. P. Crantz, 2, Shoe Lane, Fleet Street;
J. Watson, 17, Thornhill Terrace, Hemingford Road, Islington;
J. Sharp, 47, Tabernacle Walk, Finsbury.
t NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE :
J. Barlow, l, Nelson Street, and 28, Grainger Street.

NOTICE.
Two ENGRAVINGs will be given with the February Part.
We should be glad to receive the Names and Addresses of any of our Readers
with whom we are not yet in direct communication.
ENGLISH RE:
1855
A HAPPY NEW YEAR, TO ENGLAND ! Ayl the best happiness of an
honest life. How shall England become homest, integral, whole P For the
fullness and completeness of honesty is integrity, and to maintain integrity is
to be whole. But England is not whole. Anarchical and disunited, there is
nothing wholesome in its life. It has yet no power of living homestly, is not
capable of integrity, can not be whole. I closed my last year’s yolume with
a prayer for union. I begin the new year with the same. Let us have an
English party, the groundwork of an English Nation Who will not say
Amen & even though not believing, as I believe, that an English Nation means
the English Republic.
The English Republic, the Commonwealth of England: is there not magic
in that phrase to stir some little of the dust that lies upon the grave of Crom-
well and his Peers ? - 2. -
We are utopians, theorists, dreamers, enthusiasts, famatics, madmen; in a
word, we are Republicans. Our hope, our prayer, our endeavour, our passion,
and our life, all is resolved into that one word—REPUBLIC. We pursue
our aim steadily, uncompromisingly, through evil report as through good, pass-
ing by discomfiture and defeat, turning neither to the right hand nor to the
left. We are utterly impractical. All the practical men say so.
We are “unpractical’ because, the diseases of society being deep-rooted, we
would probe them to their roots, and not rest content with any constitutional
palliatives. We are “unpractical’ because, this English Society being in dis-
order, disorganized,” and unprincipled, we endeavour to provoke attention to
the first principles of life, and to have them inquired into, in order that the
true organization of society may be understood. We are “unpractical’ because
we bid men to combine their emergies for one great radical reformation instead
of wasting ten times the same energy in desulſory exertions for little paltry,
* Think only of Preston strikes and of the necessity of private subscriptions to pro-
wide for our soldiers' widows and orphans.

2 THE ENGLISH REPUBLIC
unavailing changes. We are “unpractical’ because we say that when the house
is rotten at the foundations it is not wise to rebuild it brick by brick, an odd
brick in One story and then one in another, without plan or purpose; because
we insist that the work of the wise builder is to lay sure foundations, first
clearing out the rubbish in his way. We are “unpractical’ because we are
Republicans (there can be no more excellent reason); because we would have
an united English Nation instead of an anarchical English People; because We
think and talk of Justice, depend on Right, and appeal to God.
And the ‘practical” men P What are they doing? They mind their shops,
while the country needs their counsel and their service. They watch lest some
shopman or shop-lifter rob the window or the till, and leave the whole trade
of England, all of England’s interests, nay, even the stability of England as an
independent power, to the carelessness or bungling of inefficient Ministers, to
the tricks and villainies of approved Knaves. Is this so very practical ? The
whole labour-market may be disturbed by an eight months’ battle between the
employers and the employed : your practical men look on and take no care for
peace or prevention for the future. The country goes to war : your practical
men ask not for what purpose or at what cost, care not how it shall be con-
ducted, leave its conducting indeed to men motoriously incapable, and content
themselves with grumbling at every new disaster. At last the country is in
danger. Whose concern is that P We impracticable republicans would say—
It concerns us all. But your practical men reply—It concerns only the privileged
constituencies, who very wisely do not concern themselves about it, but leave
it to their representatives, who turn over the whole concern to the hands of L
Lord Aberdeen. Quite coneern enough for us that, we should suffer the con-
sequences of Lord Aberdeen’s mismanagement. So never a practical man in
England bestirs himself to get England’s business done to England’s mind. It
is so not only with this war; it is so, as we said before, with the great labour
question (the civil strife which may be worse than foreign war); it is so with
every national matter, with every matter, rather, which ought be mational. It
is not considered practical to unite for national purposes. Well-a-day ! we
republicans may be very utopian, but these practical men of Gotham
The Good Lord deliver us !
In saddest earnestness is there any practicality, any wisdom, any sense in
leaving all national affairs to chance, to the caprice or will of only that small
section of society which appoints and anoints a Coalition Cabinet, which
deputes and suffers an Aberdeen to direct the issues of a war in which our
prosperity, our honour, our very existence, may be jeopardized?
It is not now that we care to dwell upon the results of a Republican Govern-
ment superseding the present effeteness of our constitutional and representative
system. It is not because in the Republic the nation will be at once educator,
banker, and assurer from accident or outrage of every one of its subjects, be-
cause in the Republic there will be unity and harmony of life, and order and
prosperity and progress as the results of that, it is not because of this that
we speak now of the immediate necessity of an English party; but solely for
the sake of this war in which we are involved, from which we can not escape,
THE ENGLISH REPUBLIC §
and for whose carrying out to a successful end we need the utmost strength of
the whole nation.
The strength of the whole mation. How shall that be brought into action ?
For what should it be called into action ? For what P Why, if we had a
Government equal to the emergency, that Government would itself call out
the people to aid it with their most patriotic energies. The best Government
would be glad of that added strength. And having an incapable Government,
—we may say, a Government not merely incapable, but absolutely unwilling to
drive the war through to the right mark,-the people’s action is but the more
necessary. How shall they act P There is but one way. Parliament, it is
evident, will not compel the Ministry. The privileged constituencies, it is
plain, will not choose a very different Parliament. But if Parliament would
act and the constituencies choose, still that is not the whole people. When
you need soldiers and funds outside the constituencies, it may be wise to pre-
vent grumblers and opponents outside. Bring the whole people into your
council. It is not enough to call public meetings, and pretend that way to
have consulted the people. Organize them as a people; give them the suffrage;
let their voices decide the war, their will determine its course : they will not
grumble them at the cost, and none need fear the issue.
But who is to give them the suffrage P Truly they may wait till the peace,
when the Russells and other tinkers will be happily gathered to their fathers,
before the Coalition Cabinet will bring in such a Reform Bill as that. Shall
we wait, O practical men for the advent of some heaven-descended minister
or shall we ourselves care for the matter, and think, not who shall give, but
how we shall take the suffrage P The one question is—Is it well in time of
war—a war we know not how desperate—to have a weak and divided nation,
so weak through its divisions that a little knot of ‘statesmen’ mislead it as
they will? or is it well that the whole people should decide upon the morality
of the war, the objects of the war, and the policy by which those objects shall
be attained P. If this last is well, then let practical men begin the formation of
an English Party, whose purpose shall be to unite and organize the whole
English people, as only freemen can be united and organized, by bringing them
all within the pale of the law. So shall this war be England’s, instead of
Aberdeen’s. So shall England be strong enough to overstep reverse, to
trample even over defeat to victory.
Impracticable as we Republicans are, and possessed by our one idea, we yet
are the first to urge this most practical action; we are ready to unite upon it
with men of all parties. In truth it is no party question. How England may
be made one, how the whole will and strength of England may be best brought
to bear against the danger threatening us from without : this is a question for
all Englishmen of whatever political denomination. Let us dare to trust the
mation’s destiny to the nation’s hands. What if the aristocracy and the squires
come in on the shoulders of the people * If they will lead the march of Eng-
land as bravely as Lord Cardigan led that charge of cavalry at Balaklava, we
will not hang back to pelt them with the name of ‘Tory.’ What if our manu-
facturers and merchants be intrusted with the war 2 If they will be hones;
4. THE ENGLISH REPUBLIC
and not sell the country, we will forgive them, till the day of European peace,
for all the sins and stupidities of capitalists. What if—as we believe—univer-
sal suffrage be but the first step to the abolition of representative government,
to the people making their own laws, to the Republic,+who is he who fears
to strengthen his country because he shudders at the coming of political revo-
lution ? Cowardly knave and fool! wiłł keeping England too weak to main-
tain her place among the nations prevent inevitable change P. Make England
strong enough to fight this European battle. We republicans care not now to
ask how it will be fought. We dare trust to the conscience of England. If
that conscience, yet unenlightened, mistake its duty toward the Itations, reject
or defer the Republic, we can wait. We ask only that England—and not a
section of England—shall decide, that England shall rule its own course, that
Bngland shall act; and we dare trust the rest to Time and God.
The political enfranchisement of the whole nation, with which begins the
political education of the whole IIation : this is the first step toward a sound
and healthy condition of society. Where is the use of a Bright on one side or
an Urquhart on another preaching for or against this war * Where is the use
of the millions making it their daily conversation ? The war is conducted by
a few, and the many only subscribe to a patriotic fund to supply lint and plais-
ters. It would be more patriotic if the many insisted on taking part in the
conduct of the war, instead of only in its consequences. Let the will of Eng-
land be ascertained let it be done ! I let us lay aside every party question to
push this one most immediately important— *
TEII, SUFFR.A.G.E–FOR THE RIGIIT CONIDUCT OF THIE WAR.
Come what may, and independently of my republican hopes, as an English-
man I advocate this. As a republican I believe that every step toward justice,
every act of common sense, is an advance toward the Republic. Supposing I
am right, is that a reason for the monarchist to hold back P Do justice, O
honest conservative though even the heavens fall. And you who, not troubled
about honesty, care only to defer ‘the deluge' beyond your own day ! think if
opposition is always the best deferrer. Keep this great people as helots; drag
them through a severe war, through difficulty to dishonour: will that avert
your own doom Lead England against the nations, and again put down the
liberties of Europe: even if your slaves are not ashamed of their task, if remorse
sting them not to turn against you,-when Europe is under the Cossack hoofs,
will you be left to lord it here * This war is the triumph or the overthrow of
Despotism. If the triumph, England also shall not escape. And if the over-
throw—What are ye who have made our very name a bycword, that we should
remain the only slaves in Europe for your pleasure ? Be sure this war brings
Tevolution. You must ride Revolution or be trampled underneath it. Ours
is friendly advice. Do not provoke the angry coming of the Republic.
Why should we need a second Cromwell ? Why should not the inevitable
change be peacefully accomplished, the Republic happily acclaimed by all P
Everything might be done so well, if men dared only listen unto Justice, and
act as if they believed in Right.
THE SPRING-FLOOD OF LIBERTY - 5
What I have written is written also for my own party. Friends ! let our
prompt and earnest action move toward this end—the suffrage for the right con-
duct of the war. Tiet this purpose be ever present with us, and let us lose no
opportunity of urging it. This is our first point to make. This is the lever
with which to raise the future.
But meanwhile let us not neglect to thoroughly learn and teach the prin-
ciples of Republicanism. Let us be even more earnest than hitherto, associat-
ing and organizing: for the times are ripening fast.
- W. J. LINTON.
-*-
THE SPRING-FL00D OF LIBERTY,
ON | On
Let the surge roll on,
Till the stranded ship be free :
Waken the blast ;
Let the waves rise fast
Of the tide of Liberty
One by one,
Till the tale be done,
Let the ocean-units rise,
To Hope's lorn bark
At tempest-mark
On the Rock of Agonies.
On 1 on 1
Beye link’d as one !
Let the living stream pursue
Its steady course
With a giant's force
What sea-wall stoppeth you?
On On!
Tiet the tide roll on!
Though our vanguard fall like rain,
Let the rearmost wave
Pass over their grave
Till we wear our own again
On 1 aye on 1
Walls are but stone :
Who boundeth the mighty Sea?
Though a monarch stand
On the drifted sand,
Still flowest thou, Liberty -
SPARTACUs.
T H E N E XT C A M P A H G N.
§NE campaign of the European War is over. England and France have
measured strength with Russia; have gained great glory at Alma, at
Balaklava, and at Inkerman; and have suffered discomfiture, in so far
forced to retard the siege of Sebastopol.
What business had we in the Crimea The war was on the Danube banks.
Why did we neglect Silistria to go to Sebastopol. All we could do there was
to demolish the walls and destroy the fleet. Set the lives of our brave soldiers
against the stones of Sebastopol, and our best bargain is poor enough. As to
the fleet, our own might have destroyed that, the first time it ventured out.
Till when, what its worth P What if we have and hold the Crimea, and colonize
it? Some folks suggest that, as an after-thought, to turn our barren victory to
account. What then * The main object of the war—the crippling Russia—
is as far off as ever. Surely we did not go to the Crimea to found a colony.
Töussia can reach Constantinople by land. She does not need a fleet to get
there. Will our Anglo-French or Franco-Anglian military colony help some
day to drive Russia back P Supposing, of course, that, content with the con-
quest of the Crimea, and the moral guarantee of Austria occupying the Prin-
cipalities for the sake of Turkish independence, we might now be disposed to
treat with the ‘ defeated” Tzar.
Make peace with the Tzar: and in a few years, Austria gives up the Danubian
keys; some new opportunity invites the Russian to the sick Turk’s chamber;
our military colonists (even should England and France be always in alliance)
are too far off to play sentinels; and our colony will flourish admirably when
the Tzar is crowned at St. Sophia's.
They say St Arnaud decided the Crimean expedition. It may be only a ru-
mour: he was capable of it. Perhaps our English Bunglers (Ministers would
be a very misfitting term) had as much to do with it as any French Knave.
There is quite capacity enough for treachery though in our own Cabinet. Any-
how we were led into a trap, very much to the satisfaction of Russia. Only
the valour of our brave soldiers—French and English—must have considerably
alloyed that satisfaction. No fault that of Aberdeen.
Next spring what may be the position? Turkey, rid of the invader, can
relax her exertions; her generals and statesmen may go to sleep. France and
England, turning Russia out of the Crimea, may fortify Perekop to secure their
conquest, and, for want of other occupation, expend their ammunition in volleys
over our heroes' graves. Then the Turkish War is at an end. But the
European P. That is but beginning.
The Russian army may be counted at at least one million men. Prussia and
Austria, on a war footing, can bring forward each half a million more. It is
said Austria, Prussia, and Bavaria are coming, or, it may be, have come, to an

THE NEXT CAMPALGN 7
understanding. (Was there ever any real discord between them?) Does
Bavaria affect a leaning to the West ? Take Warsaw as the Tzar’s centre of
operations ! See what an admirable right wing is formed by the Prussian half
million, extending from Tilsit to the Rhine, while Austria acts upon the left
from Milan to the Danube mouths. An excellent disposition of forces, helped
materially by the policy which admitted Austria into the Principalities as a
neutral power. -
But Austria and Prussia may still keep to their neutrality. Only it must be
confessed the attitude is an imposing one. Austria and Prussia only wish for
peace, would act as moderators of the war. England and France surely ought
to be content with the Crimea, and Turkey be more than contented with Aus-
trian occupation. “And now we neutrals invite you to adjust your differences.
Russia is sufficiently humbled. We will give bail for future good behaviour.
Will you accept our offer P Or With two millions of men in battle array
we will not question the alternative.’"
Lord Aberdeen would of course give in. Would England P France would
not ; and so ‘Bonaparte’ dares not. Watch him lest he betray you; but it
may be his interest to be loyal this once. It is war them. On the one side
Trance and England, on the other two millions of the Barbarians. That is for
our next campaign. -
How shall we plan to meet them P Steal through little Russia to the rear P
To be hemmed in by the Austrian army of the Danube. Send another fleet
into the Baltic, and throw an army at St Petersburg P Perhaps Cromstadt may
be as obstinate as Sebastopol. There is but one plan of the campaign: direct
to the heart of Europe, we from Riga and the French across the Rhine to
Warsaw, rousing the peoples on our march. ‘Partant pour la Syrie' must give
place to the Marseillaise. It will—it must be a republican march, though
young Verhuel play Marceau by deputy, and the Marseillaise be sung with
English words as well as French.
Our Ministers prepare for the worst. By the worst they mean the restora-
tion of Poland. They intend to restore Poland, but hope not to do so till
1856. By then the yet beating heart of Poland may be trampled out by a
year of Russian" occupation, and the remnant be ready to accept a constitution
of Lord Palmerston’s manufacture. And Italy and Hungary P “We shall
settle about them after the victory.”
No! but before the fight. France and England will not be strong enough
* Since this was written, ‘Austrian has allied with the Western Powers. What becomes
now of your argument P’ We sce no occasion to alter a word of it, even if the ‘alliance’
has no secret clause. Perhaps we may put our ally in the battle's van, and let Francis
Joseph occupy Poland. The alliance at best amounts to this:—If Russia is hard pressed,
Austrian treachery can spoil our victory; if Russia drives us hard, the Austrian will
desert us at the moment. There is nothing new in these tactics. Austrian alliance is as
much a pretence as Austrian meutrality. Neither is anti-Russian. *
* Or Austria, after the fashion of the Principalities. Austria has been so well paid for
her neutrality that it is no wonder she is tempted to ‘alliance.” O England, England I
how long will you be led by the fools or knaves who can ally with Austria. Fools or
knaves? ‘Credulous and commiving,” said Disraeli: not without reason.
8 CROMWELL’s SWORD
to meet the two millions of the Tzar. We must, then, treat with Mazzini,
with Kossuth, and with the Poles. We shall need all their help. The next
campaign is the beginning of the Revolution. And when France and England
return home victorious, will young Verhuel be able to stifle the shout—
. * Qu’un sang impur abreuve nos sillons !’
or will our own new Ironsides, hot from Republican Poland, wait Lord John
Russell’s leave to vote the laws of England P - -
Ay! the days are coming ! Let us hope “God and our Right !”
CR 0 MW E L L'S SWORD.
Air–The Marseillaise.
Awake, thou Sword of England’s glory ! .
The day of strife dawns on thy grave:
Gleam again as in our old story !
Let thy flash light the brow of the slave!
Bright flash! light the brow of the slave.
Too long, O Sword! hast thou lain sleeping:
Leap forth from thy tomb to the fight !
The nations depend on thy might;
And their hopes are yet in thy keeping.
O Hope! thou must be strong:
O Life maintain her song:
True Sword flash forth to Smite down Wrong :
Our England for the Right !
Awake, thou Sword of England’s glory !
The Cromwell wrath now summons thee:
Gleam again as in our old story !
Let thy flash light the path of the free!
Bright flash light the path of the free.
No more, brave Sword ' shalt thou lie rusting:
Leap forth from thy sheath to the fight !
True honour again make thee bright;
And our truth have strength’s own adjusting.
O Truth ! thou shalt be strong:
Our lives maintain the Song:
True Sword flash forth to smite down Wrong:
Our England for the Right!
- r SPARTACUS.
CONSTITUTIONAL GOVERNMENT.
ONSTITUTIONALISM is but a halting-place between Despotism and the
Republic. It is the transition state of nations.
H. Over despotism it has one immense advantage. Between the
governors and the governed (when these are two different classes) there is
always war. Under a despotism it is the war of the sword or of the dagger.
Constitutionalism substitutes for this a war of words.
The liberty of speech, the opportunity of freely expressing one’s thought, the
appeal to reason instead of to brute force alone: this is surely an immense ad-
vance in the progress of Humanity. And this is the result of that compromise
between arbitrary rule and universal right which is called Constitutional
Government. -
Nevertheless, Constitutional Government is but a compromise. And a com-
promise is never final. Between two opposing principles there must be war,
until One entirely swallows up the other. Whatever compromises, truces, or
conventions, may suspend the war or alter the mode of warfare, the two oppo-
ment principles, Monarchy and Republicanism, must fight out their irrecon-
cileable quarrel.
Constitutional Government is a compromise. So long as both parties are
content to keep to the terms of that compromise, so long the compromise will
last. And most constitutions have in them a remarkable elasticity, a capability
of stretching to an indefinite extent, if the framers of the constitution or those
who find their advantage therein are wise enough to make use of it, with never
So little recognition of the new powers continually outgrowing ancient bounds.
Constitutional Government is a compromise between private or class tyranny
and the sovereignty of the whole People. By the governing it was invented
as a sort of capitulation. It was Monarchy, like the beaver in the fable, biting
off a desirable morsel, to save its life from the hunters. If the hunters could
be content with morsels, Constitutional Government might be a finality. But
it has been accepted by the People only because the People was not able to lay
hold on more. The People will hunt Monarchy to the death. It is only a little
time that has been gained for monarchs by all their charters and constitutions.
lºven the great gain of Constitutionalism, that of substituting argument for
force, reason for bloodshed, is not absolute. The governing powers have not
kept faith with us. They have everywhere disarmed the People; and though
they allow us only the constitutional means of petition and remonstrance, they
still uphold their own authority by the red hand. So the constitutional com-
promise has come to be only a trick, a delusion, and a smare. We pile up our
arms the while we read the Charter, and are shot down by armed Constitu-
tional Monarchy if we dare speak too loudly of its provisions,

10 CONSTITUTIONAL GOVERNMENT
For a compromise or treaty to be final it must be based on enduring prim-
ciples. Upon what is Constitutionalism based ?. Upon no principle at all.
Monarchy was beset; the People pressed so hard upon it that it cried out for
a breathing-while, and the People, not knowing the monarch’s weakness or its
own strength, consented to the truce. From the days of the ‘good Sir Simon’,
till now, our history has been a succession of these truces, broken by either
side when it felt itself strong enough. Why not There could be no peace
between the antagonists. There never can be. One must destroy the other.
The principle of Monarchy is Divine Right, the assertion of an exceptional
superiority. The principle of Republicanism, which is the sovereignty of the
whole, utterly denies any exceptional superiority, asserts the Equal Right of all
Humanity. Between Yes and No how can there be any lasting compromise ?
Monarchy, it is true, no longer believes in its right. ‘By the grace of
God’ may still be stamped on the current coin; but they do not believe it at
the Royal Mint. ‘By the grace of God’ means now by the allowance of the
People : that is to say, so long as the People can be kept in ignorance and un-
armed. The first charter granted by a king (that is to say, forced from him :
for kings grant no freedom but on compulsion) was the death-warrant of
Monarchy. It was the acknowledgement of the falsehood of Divine Right, the
admission of the popular lever which will not rest till the throne be overturned.
Constitutional monarchs reign by the grace of the People: that is to say,
the popular right is above the regal. The constitutional monarch is not sove-
reign, but sovereign’s substitute, focum fezens for the People, till the People is
wise enough to rule itself. Governments now-a-days do not scruple to own
this: nay, put it impudently as preamble to their most arbitrary acts. They
calculate upon the blindness of the People, which seldom cares to see that
what it allows it could also disallow. Monarchy exists only on sufferance.
These are the two principles—the equal sovereignty of the whole People on
the ground of matural and imalienable right, and the sovereignty of a part of
the People on the ground of some exceptionable right. The Divine Right of
the old monarchists was intelligible enough, but is now altogether exploded.
The only new ground that has been found out by the learned is that of the
Constitution. But the Constitution is only a convention between the People
and the Monarch. The People may be weak enough to put up with a limited
monarchy, or the Monarch may be content with his limitations; but no such
convention or content can alter the nature of things. A compromise between
two principles does not make one a whit less false or the other a jot less true
than either was before the compromise. Monarchy or Republicanism, the
usurpation of a part or the rightful sovereignty of the whole : these two ad-
verse principles remain at issue during all your compromises. The battle must
be fought out, the false principle must be overthrown : or there is no strength
in Truth, and God’s great law of Justice is at fault.
But ‘when two parties make a truce they should abide by it.’ It depends
on the terms of the truce. Monarchy and Popular Sovereignty (Republicanism)
are as opposite as black and white. If the truce stands only as an admission
that black with a slight tinge of grey is the same thing as white, then one
CONSTITUTIONAL Govi-RNMENT 11
would say such a truce can not last. Whatever number of men may for a time
and special purpose assent to such a misstatement, the common sense and con-
science of all men must one day repudiate it. If the truce is solely on the
ground that neither party is at this present strong enough to utterly crush the
other, then any accession of strength on either side is sufficient reason and
justification for the resumption of hostilities. Monarchy has never let its
strength lie idle.
Between whom has the compromise of Constitutional Government been
made P Between the People desirous of freedom, but too weak to conquer its
full freedom, and too ignorant (even had it been stronger) to know what the
fullness of freedom really is, and this or that Monarch, or Monarchical Class,
whose sole object was to obtain for itself the longest possible renewal of its
lease of power. The liberal monarchs who have granted charters and constitu-
tions have been very wise in their generation, and the Peoples perhaps for the
time being could have done no better than they did.
What have we to do with that * The bargains made by the men of former
times are not binding upon the men of the present. If we are wiser or stronger
than of old, let us take the advantage of it. If formerly they voted black to
be white, or consented to the constitutional middle term, calling grey white,
what is that to us? That did not alter the natural opposition between black
and white, between the darkness of tyranny and the sunny light of freedom.
Whatever might have been satisfactory in dark ages, how are we bound to dwell
in the twilight P -
One thing is apparent on the face of every constitution—a recognition of
the People’s consent, instead of the old pretence of divine prescription, as the
ground of monarchical authority. The only safe ground of Monarchy is so cut
away. The new position is untenable. If yesterday the People, in the exercize
of its right, consented, to-day the People may withdraw its consent. The
House of Brunswick came in by the choice, or, more exactly speaking, by the
permission of the People. If the People was necessary to permit its coming
in, the People may permit its going out. If Monarchy exists only by the con-
sent of the People, the People may at any time vote the abolition of Monarchy.
The sovereignty rests with the People; more than that, being natural to the
People and imalienable, it can only be abdicated by an act of high treason
against Humanity. Monarchy therefore exists only in virtue of a vicious com-
promise between the People’s conscience and the People’s ignorance or weak-
ness. Our argument is strictly constitutional.
But Constitutionalism is not merely to be assailed on the ground of its
instability; it is objectionable for the very reason that every compromise is, L
namely, because it weakens faith in principles, deadens the conscience, and con-
fuses the understanding. Men have so long submitted to compromise that it
seems to them like a normal state. Constitutionalists too have been crafty.
They not only disarmed the People, but they also took care that the liberty of
speech, which was to be instead of other weapons, should be of as little avail
as possible. In this country they have given all the ‘better classes’ an interest
in the Government, and to the People they have left the power of petitioning
12 THE HUNTED ERMINE
their Parliament. The potency is about equal whether the petition lies on or
under the Commons’ table. They have brought up the People too in a blind
belief that the overthrow of the Constitution ought only to be accomplished
through constitutional means, none of which are available ; and so the transition
state seems more durable than was at first to be expected. Trusting to peti-
tions and to parliamentary formulas, unarmed, without conscience or daring,
hoodwinked with the pretence of government being installed by popular con-
sent, and blind to the social Consequences of government in the hands of a
class, -the People of this ‘free monarchy’ (the very expression is contradictory)
seems likely to enjoy its Constitution for another generation or two at least.
It is content to wait till its master enlarge the girth. .
This is the sad and silly expectation of reform originating in Parliament.
The classes that now hold exclusive legislative power know too well the
material advantages of that to give it up of their own accord. If ever reform
shall commence with them, it can be only to supersede and prevent revolution
from without. It is the fable of the beaver again: a fable always lost upon
the People, which ever stops the chase at the smallest instalment, and cheers
the wonderful liberality of the fugitive. There is as little honesty or attention
to principle as there is wisdom in the popular proceeding.
But so it will continue to be till the People has become wise enough to
see that to make the laws for a nation is to rule the life of that nation and the
lives of every one within it; till it has fully learned that its sufferings, its
misery, its degradation, are nearly all the natural consequences of its slavery;
till it has sense enough to perceive that it is slavery to be under any master
whatever; and till it finds conscience, and through conscience courage enough
to refuse any compromise between Right and Wrong. Then the People will
renew the too-long intermitted fight against Monarchy (for the petty skirmishes
of your Radical Reformers have been only stretchings of the constitutional
compromise), and Revolution will bring in the Republic.
Or it may be only a Democracy. The difference between Democracy and
Republicanism will be worth our farther consideration.
THE HUNTED ERMINE,
(A NEW WIE R. SION OF THE OLD FABLE.)
Scarlet robe and fur of Ermine
For the Sovereign : ‘Sovereign Guelf?”
TNO Why wait ye P Till the vermin
May be pleased to skin itself?
S.
H E N R Y M A. R. T. E. N.
§ father, Sir Henry Marten, was the most eminent civilian of his time,
sº had carried off all the honours at Oxford, was an Admiralty judge, and
twice Dean of the Arches. In the Parliament of 1628 he represented Oxford,
and in the Long Parliament sat for St Ives, in Huntingdonshire. He was a
moderate man, acting generally on the liberal side.
Harry Marten was educated first at a Grammar School at Oxford and after-
ward in the University, where, at the age of seventeen, the degree of B.A. was
conferred upon him. He then traveled for some time, and on his return mar-
ried a rich wife of his father's choice, from whom he separated after she had
borne him a daughter.
In 1640, says Forster (in his Statesmen of the Commonweal/ſ), “he offered
himself for Parliament to the electors for the county of Berkshire. His name
had already become known as that of a man of eloquence and wit, and as the
adviser of some of the most eminent public men of the time. He had con-
tracted friendships with Hyde (Lord Clarendon), with Nathaniel Fiemmes, with
Hampden, and with Pym. He had also, in 1639, spiritedly refused to con-
tribute a single sixpence toward the maintenance of a war against his fellow-
countrymen in Scotland. These were his claims, and an immense majority of
the Berkshire electors at once cheerfully acknowledged them.
‘Marten’s life, up to this time, had been one of extreme gaiety. “He was a
great lover of pretty girls,” says Aubrey, “to whom he was so liberal, that he
spent the greatest part of his estate.” Men wondered at first, therefore, in
those times of Solemnity and precision, when they saw a man so free in living,
and so liberal in speech, admitted to the intimacy of the gravest and most re-
ligious men of the age. They had yet to learn, what to the penetrating glance
of the leaders of this Parliament had been already revealed, that under the
condemned habits of recklessness and dissipation lurked in this case one of the
most active and useful dispositions, one of the most frank, liberal, and bene-
volent spirits, in a word, one of the best and most serviceable politicians that
the country had produced.
“Nor were they long in learning this. Marten at once took an active part
in the proceedings of Parliament, and everybody saw that, if he was the wittiest
and most pleasant, he was also one of the most ardent and uncompromising of
the opponents of Charles. “He was a great and faithful lover of his country,”
says Aubrey : “his speeches were not long, but wondrous poignant, pertinent,
and witty. He was of an incomparable wit for repartees; not at all covetous;
humble, not at all arrogant, as most of them were ; a great observer of justice,
and did always in the House take the part of the oppressed.” The shafts he


14 HiðNBY MíARſſſf.JN
shot at Charles struck deeper for the very reason that, in other circumstances,
might have turned them aside comparatively harmless; and the name of Harry
Marten, once a signal for laughter only, became a terror in Whitehall.”
Harry Marten is said to have been the first who openly avowed republican
principles. Clarendon relates that he, one day meeting Marten, and falling
into conversation with him, pressed him to confess his views, on which Mar-
ten, after a pause, replied—‘I do not think one man wise enough £o govern als
all’: a remark quite astonishing to the courtly Clarendon, since, as he observes,
Mr Marten was “possessed of a very great fortune.’
On all occasions Martem seems to have been the trusted helper of the repub-
lican party, and when Charles left London, in July, 1645, to raise his standard
in Nottingham, was one of the fifteen appointed by Parliament as a Committee
of Public Safety, ‘to take into consideration whatever might concern the safety
of the kingdom, the defence of the Parliament, the preservation of the peace of
the kingdom, and the opposing any force which might be raised against the
Barliament: this committee to meet when and where they pleased.’
He also was one of the first of those who received commissions as colonels
of horse; and his name, with those of Pym and Hampden, was especially ex-
cepted by the king from any hope of pardon.
Quick-tongued, witty, and careless, he seems to have been in numerous
scrapes, judging from the many anecdotes of his humour. In one instance he
could not contain himself in the House, but broke out, defending the expres-
sions used by a Pmritan minister in a ‘seditious libel’—that ‘it was better one
family should be destroyed than many.’ And some one rising to move that
Mr Marten should explain what family, he interrupted him with the blunt
reply—‘The king and his children.’ There seems to have been some impru-
dence in the haste of these words, for which even his friends condemned him;
and for them he was expelled the House and committed to the Tower. A
fortnight after he was discharged without even the payment of fees; but he
did not resume his seat for a year and a half.
His fortune was now by his father’s death increased by £3,000 a year; and
the whole county of Berkshire rang with the festivities of the Vale of the
White Horse, where his principal mansion was: his liberality and personal
courtesies winning him great popularity. He did not however forget his public
duties. After his expulsion from the House of Commons, he continued to
hold his colonel’s commission, and was present in several skirmishes and
engagements. He also contributed, out of his own resources, upward of
£3,000 to the Parliamentary Commissioners for the maintenance of the war.
During its progress, it may be added, he lost estates to much larger amount,
and at its close found himself in fortune a ruined man.
On the 6th of January, 1645-6, the House of Commons, on the motion of
Vane, recalled him, expunging from its minutes the order for his expulsion.
From this time he is to be found prominent in every transaction of importance,
fast bound in closest friendship with Vane and Cromwell and St John.
His wit was not merely exercized in the way of satire. He could use it also
to save either friend or enemy. When the mad old Welsh royalist, Judge
HENRY MARTEN 15
Jenkins, insulted the House, it was Marten's interposition that saved him from
a hasty death. ‘Mr Speaker,” said he, “every one must believe that this old
gentleman here is fully possessed in his head that he is pro aris et ſocis mori;
that he shall die a martyr for this cause; for otherwise he never wou’d have
provok'd the House by such biting expressions; whereby it is apparent that if
you execute him, you do what he hopes for and desires, and whose execution.
might have a great influence upon the people, since not condemned by a jury:
wherefore my motion is, that this House wou’d suspend the day of execution,
and in the mean time force him to live in spight of his teeth.” “Which motion
of his put the House into a fit of good humour, and they cry’d, Suspend the
day of execution.” He did the same good service for Davenant, the Cavalier
poet, who had not very reputably lost his nose. Marten observed that by the
Mosaic law sacrifices were required to be pure and without blemish. Davenant
being neither, the execution was deferred, and the after-interposition of Milton
and Whitelocke saved the blemished sinner. - -
In the long struggle between the Presbyterians and Independents, Marten
took part with the latter, and was one of the most active of the king’s oppo-
ments, holding that it was impossible to treat with him after all his dissimula-
tion and perfidy. He urged the immediate settlement of a new form of govern-
ment; and when, on Charles’ rejection of the first propositions made to him by
the Presbyterian majority, the commissioners appointed to treat with him were
thanked by the House for their conduct in the affair, he startled the members
by the sharp remark—‘Nay, are not our thanks rather due to the king, who
has rejected our offer?"—and carried out his meaning by a motion that no more
propositions should be tendered.
When Fairfax marched upon London to overawe the Presbyterians, Marten
was with him in his capacity of colonel; and he and Ireton are understood to
have mainly drawn up the addresses and other manifestations that issued from
the council of officers on behalf of the army. Here is an extract from one of
their papers, which may show the spirit in which they moved:—
‘And because the present distribution of elections for Parliament members is so very
unequal, and the multitude of burgesses for decayed or inconsiderable towns (whose in-
terest in the kingdom would in many not exceed, or in others not equal, ordinary villages)
doth give too much and too evident opportunity for men of power to frame parties in
Parliament to serve particular interests, and thereby the common interest of the whole is
not so minded, or not so equally provided for, we therefore further desire, That some
provision may now be made for such distribution of elections for future Parliaments as
may stand with some rule of equality or proportion, as near as may be to render the Par-
liament a more equal representative of the whole; as for instance, that all counties or
divisions and parts of the kingdom (involving inconsiderable towns) may have a number
of Parliament men allowed to their choice proportionably to the respective rates they
bear in the common charges and burdens of the kingdom, and not to have more, or some
other such like rule. And thus a firm foundation being laid, in the authority and con-
stitution of Parliaments, for the hopes at least of common and equal right and freedom to
ourselves and all the free-born people of this land, we shall, for our parts, freely and
cheerfully commit our stock or share of interest in this kingdom into this common bottom
16 HENRY MARTEN
of Parliaments; and though it may, for our particulars, go ill with us in one voyage, yet
We shall thus hope, if right be with us, to fare better in another.
Two days after Colonel Pride had purged the Parliament, Marten entered
the House arm-in-arm with Cromwell, and rising afterward in his place moved
that the Speaker should return thanks to the general for his services.
Marten was a member of the committee of thirty-eight appointed to prepare
the accusation against Charles; he was a member of the committee of the
Executive Government—the first Government of the Commonwealth. On the
9th of January, 1649, he brought into the House the report for the construc.
tion of a new great seal (that with the famous inscription—‘In the first year
of Freedom by God’s blessing restored’); on the first day of the king's trial he
and Cromwell might have been scem sitting one on each side of the escutcheon
bearing the new arms of the Commonwealth; and he with Thomas Scot, Ireton,
Harrison, Say, Lisle, and Love, prepared the draft of the final sentence, pro-
nounced by John Bradshaw on the ever to be remembered 27th of January,
1649—" That the court being satisfied in conscience that he, the said Charles
Stuart, was guilty of the crimes of which he had been accused, do adjudge him
as a tyrant, traitor, murderer, and public enemy to the good people of the
nation, to be put to death by severing his head from his body.”
The Warrant may be worth reprinting here with its list of noble names:—
‘Whereas Charles Steuart kinge of England is and standeth convicted, attaynted,
and condemned of High Treason and other high Crimes And sentence uppon Saturday
last was pronounced against him by this Court to be putt to death by the severinge of
his head from his body Of wº" sentence execution yet remayneth to be done These
are therefore to will and require you to see the said sentence executed In the open Street
before Whitehall, uppon the morrowe being the Thirtieth day of this instante moneth of
January betweene the hours of Tenn in the morninge and Five in the afternoone of the
same day wº full effect And for soe doing this shall be yo' sufficient warrant And
these are to require all Officers and Souldiers and other the good people of this Nation of
England to be assistinge unto you in this service Given under our hands and Seals.
To Colone// Francis Hacker Colonell Huncks and
Lieutenant-Colonell Phayere and to every of them.
John Bradshawe, Thomas Grey, Oliver Cromwell, Edward Whalley, Michael Livesey,
John Okey, John Dawes, John Bourchier, Henry Ireton, Thomas Maulveerer, Hardress
Waller, John Blakiston, John Hutchinson, William Goff, Thomas Pride,” Peter Temple,
Thomas Harrison, John Hewson, Henry Smyth, Peregrine Pelham, Richard Deane,
Robert Tichborne, Humphrey Edmondes, Daniel Blagrave, Owen Rowe, William Puer-
foy, Adrian Scrope, James Temple, Augustus Garland, Edmund Ludlowe, Henry Marten,
Vincent Potter, William Constable, Richard Ingoldesby, William Cawley, John Barkstead,
*Isaac Ewer, John Dixwell, Valentine Wauton, Symon Mayne, Thomas Horton, John
Jones, John More,” Gilbert Millington, George Fleetwood, John Alured, Robert
Lilburne, William Say, Anthony Stapley, Gregory Norton, Thomas Challomer, Thomas
Wogan, John Venn, Gregory Clement, John Downes, Thomas Wayte, Thomas Scot,
John Carew, Miles Corbet. -
* These two names are from Forster: the signatures in the warrant are illegible,
HENRY MARTEN 17
In the acts following the king's punishment Marten was a principal. On
the 6th of February he clinched the vote for the abolition of the House of
Lords, as useless and dangerous, with the sarcastic amendment that they were
‘useless, but not dangerous’; and he proposed the taking down of the king's
statues, following up the vote ‘That kingship in this nation hath been found
by experience to be unnecessary, burdensome, and dangerous to the liberty,
Safety, and public interest of the people, and ought therefore to be abolished.”
On the 17th of February he took his seat in the Council of State alongside of
Cromwell, Bradshaw, and Ludlow : Vane afterward joining them. Here he
was remarkable for his religious toleration; and it was he who first proposed
an act reserved for Cromwell to accomplish—the repeal of the statute for the
banishment of the Jews. Marten was again in the Council in the second and
fourth years of the Commonwealth. After the dissolution of the Long Parlia-
ment by Cromwell, Marten refused to acknowledge the Protector’s authority,
remaining in opposition with his friend Vane, and in consequence excluded
from all of Cromwell’s Parliaments. On the reinstatement of the Long Par-
liament, after Cromwell’s death, he resumed his seat, to endeavour with Scot
and Vane to save the expiring liberties of England. But in vain. Cromwell
himself had hardly maintained a government in advance of the age. They,
great as they were, might well fail when the master spirit was no more.
On the Restoration, Marten was absolutely excepted from pardon, but sur-
rendered along with Scot and others, resolved to take his trial. Trial it was
not. Nor was it any use for him to plead—That he could be no traitor, nor of
an unpeaceable disposition, who had only given obedience to the de facto
authority, the ‘king” not being in execution of his office, but a prisoner.
Seeing also that he confessed he ‘did adhere to the Parliament’s army hearfi!y,’
what else but a verdict of guilty could be returned, ‘after a little consultation,”
by a royalist jury P. He was condemned to death, but Lord Falkland and other
peers even of the opposite party are said to have interested themselves for him,
and the generous monarch who had murdered Vane commuted Marten’s sen-
tence to imprisonment for life. He himself petitioned the two Houses on the
ground that he had surrended himself upon the Restoration in consequence of
the king’s ‘declaration of Breda,” and that, ‘since he never obeyed any royal
proclamation before this, he hoped that he should not be hanged for taking the
king’s word now.’
His first prison was the Tower : his next at Windsor, whence, ‘because he
was an eie-Sore to majestie, he was removed to Chepstow Castle, Monmouth-
shire; it would seem also for his greater humiliation, because of the esteem in
which he had been held in those parts. He lingered in bonds for twenty years:
only in his latter days allowed the comfort of his wife’s sympathy and the visits
of his daughter. One anecdote is all we hear of the long life-burial of the gay
and witty and active Harry Marten. In the last few years of his life the old man
was allowed to walk outside the castle walls. It was his pleasure to speak with
a man in a neighbouring village. This man asked him one day, if the deed was
to be dome again, would he sign the warrant for Charles’ death. Marten told
him—Yes!—and his questioner would never more admit him into his house.
18 ‘VICTOR IIUGO ON THE WAR
In 1681, while at dinner, he was struck by apoplexy, and fell dead from his
chair. The following verses were found in his room, apparently his latest
thoughts:— -
Here, or elsewhere, (all 's one to you—to me!)
Earth, air, or water, gripes my ghostless dust,
None knowing when brave fire shall set it free.
Reader l if you an oft-tried rule would trust,
You 'll gladly do and suffer what you must
My life was worn with serving you and you,
And death is my reward, and welcome too,
Revenge destroying but itself. While I
To birds of prey leave my old cage, and fly.
Examples preach to th’ eye : care, them, mine says,
Not how you end, but how you spend your days.
Little as Harry Marten is remembered, there have been few names so great
in England’s History, few greater in that grandest period of our nation’s life.
WICTOR, HUGO ON THE WAR.
-—is
SPEECH AT JERSEY, Nov. 29, 1854, ON occASION OF THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE
|POLISH REWOLUTION.
PROsCRIBED !—The glorious anniversary which we are now celebrating brings
Boland back to our memory; the situation of Europe brings her likewise back
to events. -
How P I will try to tell you.
But first let us examine this situation. *
At the point where matters stand and in face of the decisive facts which are
preparing, it is important to be exact.
Let us begin by correcting an almost universal error.
Thanks to the clouds astutely cast on the origin of the affair by the French
Government, and complacently rendered yet more dense by the English Govern-
ment, in England as in France they now generally attribute the war in the East,
that continental disaster, to the Emperor Nicholas. They deceive themselves.
The war in the East is a crime; but it is not the crime of Nicholas. Do not let
us lend to this rich man. Let us reëstablish the truth.
We will form our conclusions afterward.
Citizens ! the 2d of December, 1851—for it is necessary always to go back
to that, so long as M. Bonaparte shall be in power: it is from this horrible
source that all events will issue, and all events, whatsoever they may be, having
this poison in their veins, will be unwholesome and venomous and will rapidly
VICTOR HUGO ON THE WAR. I9
gangrene. The 2d of December, then, M. Bonaparte does what you know; he
commits a crime, erects this crime into a throme, and seats himself thereon.
Schinderhammes declares himself Caesar. But for a Caesar there needs a Peter.
When one is emperor, the Yes of the People matters very little ; what is want-
ing is the Yes of the Pope. It is not enough to be perjurer, traitor, and mur-
derer; he must be also consecrated. Bonaparte the Great was consecrated ;
Bonaparte the Little would be so too.
The question was—Would the Pope consent P
An aide-de-camp named de Cotte, one of the religious men of the day, was
sent to Antonelli, the Consalvi of the present time. The aide-de-camp had but
little success. Pius VII consecrated Marengo; Pius IX. hesitated to consecrate
the Boulevard Montmartre. To mix the old Roman oil with this blood and
filth was a grave matter. The Pope shammed disgust. It was an embarrass-
ment for M. Bonaparte. What was to be done P What measures must be
taken to convince Pius IX P How does one convince a girl? So one Com-
vinces a Pope. By a present. This is all the history.
A PROSCRIBED (Citizen BIANCHI): These are sacerdotal manners.
VICTOR HUGo interrupting himself ; You are right ! It is long since Jere-
miah cried to Jerusalem, and Luther to Rome, ‘Prostituted!’
M. Bonaparte then resolved to make a present to M. Mastai. What present P
Here is what actually happened.
Citizens ! there are two Popes in this world: the Latin Pope and the Greek
Pope. The Greek Pope, who is also called the Tzar, weighs down the Sultan
with the weight of all the Russias. Now the Sultan, possessing Judaea, pos-
sesses the tomb of Christ. Pay attention to this. For ages past the great
ambition of the two catholicisms, Greek and Roman, has been to be able to
penetrate freely into this tomb, and to officiate there, not side by side frater-
mally, but the one excluding the other, the Latin excluding the Greek or the
Greek excluding the Latin. Between these two opposing pretensions, what
did Islamism P. It held the balance even—that is to say, the door shut—and
allowed neither the Greek cross nor the Latin cross—that is, neither Moscow
nor Rome—to enter into the tomb. Great heart-breaking, especially for the
Tatin Pope, who affects Supremacy
Now, as a general thesis, and without regard to M. Bonaparte himself,
what present should be offered to the Pope of Rome, to determine him to con-
secrate and crown any sort of bandit P. Put the question to Machiavel, and
he would answer you—“Nothing more simple. Make the balance at Jerusalem
lean to the side of Rome; break before the tomb of Christ the humiliating
equality of the two crosses; put the Eastern Church under the feet of the
Western; open the sacred door to the one and shut it against the other; insult
the Greek Pope; in a word, give to the Latin Pope the key of the sepulchre.”
This is what Machiavel would reply. This is what M. Bonaparte under-
stood: it is what he has done. They have called this, you may remember, the
affair of the Holy Places.
The intrigue was conceived, at first secretly. The agent of M. Bonaparte
at Constantinople, M. de Lavalette, demanded from the Sultan, on the part of
20 VICTOR, HUGO ON THE WAR
his master, the key of the tomb of Jesus for the Pope of Rome. The Sultan,
weak, troubled, already giddy with the thought of the end of Islamism, and
pulled opposite ways by his fear of Nicholas and his fear of M. Bonaparte, not
knowing which Emperor to listen to, let go and gave up the key. M. Bona-
parte thanked; Nicholas was vexed. The Greek Pope sent to the Seraglio his
legate à lałere, Menschikoff, horsewhip in hand. He required as a compensa-
tion for the key given to M. Bonaparte for the Pope of Rome something more
solid, nearly all that remained of the Sultan’s sovereignty. The Sultan refused;
France and England supported the Sultan; and you know the rest. The war
in the East broke out. Such are the facts.
Render we to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s ; and let us not give to
Nicholas what belongs to December the Second. M. Bonaparte, pretending to
be consecrated, has dome all; the affair of the Holy Places and the key are the
origin of all. Now see what has come out of this key.
At this present time Asia Minor, the islands of Aland, the Danube, the
Tchermaia, the White Sea and the Black Sea, the North and the South, behold
cities, which were flourishing a few months ago, all in smoke and ashes. At
this moment Sinope is burned, Bomarsund is burned, Silistria is burned, Sulina
is burned, Varma is burned, Kola is burned, Sebastopol is burning. At this
present time, by thousands and soon by hundreds of thousands, French, Eng-
lish, Turks, and Russians are cutting each other’s throats in the East before a
mound of ruins. The Arab comes from the Nile to get himself killed by the
Tartar from the Volga; the Cossack comes from his Steppes to be killed by
the Scotchman from the Highlands. Batteries thunder against batteries; pow-
der-magazines blow up ; bastions crumble away; redoubts are burst through;
cannon-balls riddle vessels; the trenches are under the bombs, the bivouacs
are under the ruins ; typhus, plague, and cholera drive down with grape-shot
on the besiegers and the besieged, on the camps, on the fleets, on the garrison,
on the city, where a whole population, women, children, and old men, die in
agony. Shells destroy the hospitals; a hospital takes fire, and 2,000 sick are
‘ calcimed,’ says a bulletin. And tempest mingles withal: it is the season: the
Turkish frigate Bahira founders with its sails set ; the Egyptian two-decker
Abad-i-Djihad is engulphed with seven hundred men; the winds dismast the
fleet; the screw-ship Prince, the Sea Nymph frigate, and four other war-
steamers, go down; the Sanspareil, the Samson, and the Agamemnon are
stranded in the hurricane ; the Retribution escapes only by throwing her guns
overboard; the 700-gun ship Henri IV perishes near Eupatoria; the despatch-
boat Pluto is disabled; thirty-two transports laden with men go on shore and
are lost. On land the mélées become every day more bloody: the Russians
brain the wounded with the butt-ends of their muskets; before the day is out
the heaps of dead and dying hinder the manoeuvres of the infantry; in the
evening the field of battle makes old generals tremble; the English and French
corpses are mingled with the Russians, as if they had fought even with their
teeth. “I have never seen an/ſhing /i/e iſ,'—cries old Lord Raglan, who has seen
Waterloo. And yet they will go still farther. It is announced that they are
going to employ against the unhappy city ‘new’ means which they hold ‘in
VICTOR, HUGO ON THE WAR 2].
reserve,” and at which they themselves shudder. Extermination is the cry of
this war. The trenches alone cost a hundred men a day. Rivers of human
blood flow ; a river of blood at Alma, a river of blood at Balaklava, a river of
blood at Inkerman; 5,000 men killed on the 20th of September; 6,000 on the 25th
of October; 15,000 on the 5th of November. And this is only the beginning !
Armies are sent ; they melt away. It is well. Go, send others | Louis Bona-
parte repeats to ex-General Canrobert the imbecile speech of Philip IV to
Spinola–Marquis / fake Breda. Sebastopol was yesterday a sore; to-day it
is an ulcer; to-morrow it will be a cancer: and this cancer is devouring France,
England, Turkey, and Russia. Behold the Europe of Kings O Futurity
when wilt thou give us the Europe of the Peoples P
I continue. -
After each engagement the vessels take cargoes of wounded which fill one
with horror. Only to quote figures that I know—and I do not know the tenth
part of them—400 wounded in the Panama , 449 in the Colombo, which had in
tow two transports equally laden, and of whose numbers I am ignorant; 470 in
the Wulcan ; 1,500 in the Kangaroo. They are wounded in the Crimea, and
their wounds are dressed at Constantinople. Two hundred leagues of sea!
eight days between the wounding and the dressing ! On the way, during the
journey, the neglected wounds become terrible; the mutilated Wretches, trans-
ported without help, without comfort, miserably piled up one against the
other, see the vermin of the tomb creep from their broken legs, their crushed
ribs, their cloven skulls, their opened bodies; and under this horrible swarm
they rot before dying on the pestilential middle-decks of the steam ambulances,
immense grave-ditches full of living men eaten by worms. I do not exaggerate.
I have here English journals, ministerial journals. Read for yourselves. Yes!
I say again, without help. Four surgeons in the Vulcan, four surgeons in the
Colombo, for 919 dying men As to the Turks, they do not dress their wounds
at all.— I am only a demagogue and a blood-drinker : I know that very well;
but I would rather have fewer chests of blessed medals in the camp at Bou-
logne and more surgeons in the camp at the Crimea.
In Europe, in England, and in France, the recoil is terrible. Failures on
failures, all business suspended, commerce in its last agony, industry dead. The
follies of the war display themselves; trophies present their balance-sheet.
Take that of the Baltic alone, and calculating only what has been spent for the
campaign, each of the 2,000 Russian prisoners taken at Bomarsund costs
Trance and England 336,000 francs (£13,440) a head. In France there is
misery. The peasant sells his cow to pay the tax, and gives his son to feed
the war: his son, his own flesh ' What they call flesh you know ; the uncle
baptized it. Each regime sees man from its own point of view. The Republic
calls it the people's flesh; the Empire calls it cannon-flesh. And famine
completes this misery. As it is with Russia that we fight, no more corn from
Odessa. Bread is failing. A kind of Buzançais" cowers under the popular
* Alluding to a bread-riot, for which four men were guillotined in the reign of the
good king Louis Philippe,
22 WICTOR, HUGO ON THE WAR
ashes and casts its sparkles here and there. At Boulogne a famine-riot,
repressed by the gendarmes. At Saint-Brieuc women tear their hair, and rend
the corn-Sacks with their scissors. And levies upon levies. Loans upon loans.
140,000 men this year only, for a beginning. Millions are engulphed with
regiments. Credit founders with fleets. Such is the situation.
All this proceeds from December the Second.
We, Proscribed whose hearts bleed for all the wounds of our country and
for all the sorrows of Humanity, we regard this lamentable state of things with
increasing anguish.
Let us insist on it, let us repeat it, let us cry it aloud, so that “all may
know it, and that it never may be forgotten henceforth, I have just proved it
With the facts in my hand, and it is incontestable, and history will say it too,
and I defy any one to deny it : all this is the issue of December the Second.
Get rid of this intrigue called the affair of the Holy Places, get rid of the
key, get rid of the desire to be consecrated, get rid of the present to be made
to the Pope, get rid of December the Second, of M. Bonaparte, and you have
Ilo war in the East.
Yes! those fleets, the most magnificent in the world, are humiliated and
Weakened; that gallant English cavalry is exterminated; the Scotch Greys, those
mountain lions, our own Zouaves, our Spahis, our Chasseurs of Vincennes, our
admirable and irreparable regiments of Africa, are sabred, hacked to pieces,
annihilated; yes! those innocent populations—our brothers, for we know no
strangers—are crushed; yes! among so many others, that old General Cath-
cart and that young Captain Nolan, the pride of the English uniform, are
sacrificed; yes! civilization yields to the horror of this war, in which, from
being besiegers, we have become besieged; yes! entrails and brains, plucked out
and scattered by the grape-shot, hang on the briars of Balaklava or spatter the
walls of Sebastopol; at night the battle-fields, full of dying, howl like wild
beasts; the morning lights up that terrible charnel-house of Inkerman, where
women, with lanterns in their hands, wander hither and thither among the
dead, seeking their brothers or their husbands, even as those other women,
three years ago, on the night of the 4th of December, looked among the
corpses of the Boulevard Montmartre; yes these calamities are covering
Europe, this blood, all this blood, flows in the Crimea, these widows weep,
these mothers wring their hands, because M. Bonaparte, the assassin of Paris,
has taken a fancy to be blessed and consecrated by M. Mastai, the smotherer
of Rome !
And now let us reflect for a moment It is worth the trouble.
Surely, if among these intrepid French regiments, which, side by side with
the valiant English army, fight before Sebastopol against all the Russian
forces, if among these heroic combatants there be any of those wretched sol-
diers who, in December, 1851, dragged on by infamous generals, obeyed the
doleful watchwords of the Snare, the tears will come into our eyes, our old
French hearts all moved; they are sons of peasants, they are the sons of work-
men; we ask pity for them, we say—They were drunk, they were blind, they
were ignorant, they knew not what they did; and we raise our hands to heaven
VICTOR, HUGO ON - THE WAR 23
supplicating for these unfortunates. The soldier is a child; enthusiasm makes
him a hero, passive obedience may make him a bandit : if a hero, others steal
his glory; when a bandit, let others also bear his fault. Yes! before the mys-
terious chastisement which is beginning, my God! mercy for the soldiers, but
for the chiefs—do
Yes, Proscribed leave Him to do justice. And lo! this war in the East, I
again remind you, is the same fact of the 2d of December, arriving, step by
step, and from transformation to transformation, to its logical consequence—
the conflagration of Europe. O bewildering depth of expiation 1 December
the Second turns upon itself, and after having killed ours destroys its own.
Three years ago it called itself Coup d’Etat, and it assassinated Baudim to-
day it is called the War of the East, and it executes St Arnaud. The ball which
on the might of the 4th, by the order of Lourmel, slew Dessoubs before the
barricade of Montorguiel, rebounds in the darkness, one knows not according
to what formidable law, and returns to strike Lourmel in the Crimea. We
have not to meddle with that. These are the left-handed lightning-strokes: it
is the shadow which strikes : it is GoD !
Justice is a theorem : chastisement is rigid as Euclid: crime has its angles
of incidence and its angles of reflection: and we men tremble when we see in
the obscurity of human destiny the lines and figures of that enormous geometry
which the crowd calls Hazard, but which the thinker calls Providence.
What is most curious—let us say in passing—is that the key is useless.
The Pope, seeing Austria hesitate, and beside foreseeing, no doubt, his ap-
proaching fall, persists in recoiling from M. Bonaparte. M. Bonaparte does
not wish to fall from M. Mastai to M. Sibour; and the result is that he is not
consecrated and will not be—for athwart all this comes the terrible laugh of
Providence.
I have exposed the situation, Citizens ! At present—and it is by that I wish
to end, and this brings me back to the special object of this solemn gathering—
the question is how the two great Peoples shall get out of this grave and ter-
rible situation: for England has staked her commerce and the East, and France
has staked her honour and her life. France has a means : to deliver herself,
to shake off the mightmare Empire crouching on her breast, to rise again to
victory, to power, to prečminence, by liberty. England has another : to finish
where she ought to have begun; no longer to strike the Tzar on the heel of
his boot, as she does now, but to strike him to the heart—that is to say, to
raise up Poland. Here, in this same place, precisely a year ago to-day, I gave
this counsel to England: you may remember it. On that occasion the journals
which support the English Cabinet characterized me as a ‘chimerical orator.”
And now the event confirms my words. The war in the Crimea causes the
Tzar to Smile ; the war in Poland would make him tremble. But war in
Poland is a revolution ? Undoubtedly. What matters that to England P
What does that matter to this grand old England P. She fears no revolutions,
having liberty." Yes! but M. Bonaparte, being despotism, fears them, and
* Bitter irony, M. Hugo But too well deserved. E. E.R.
24. MAZZINI TO THE POLISH DEMOCRATIC COMMITTEE
would not have them. He would not It is then to M. Bonaparte and to his
personal fear of revolution that Ingland sacrifices her armies, fleets, finances,
her future, India, the East, all her interests. Was I wrong in saying, two
months ago, that for England this alliance with M. Bonaparte is not only a
moral diminution, but a catastrophe P
It is the alliance of M. Bonaparte which for a year past has ruined all Eng-
lish interests in this war in the East. Without M. Bonaparte, England would
to-day be successful in Poland, instead of suffering a check, perhaps a disaster,
in the Crimea.
No matter. What is in the constitution of things can not be altered. Situ-
ations have their logic, which finishes always by having the last word. War in
Poland—that is to say, to use the transparent phrase adopted by the English
Cabinet, ‘a system of aggression fºam/ly continental’—is henceforth inevitable.
It is the immediate future. While I speak, Lord Palmerston is consulting
about it with Bonaparte at the Tuileries. And, Citizens ! this shall be my last
word :—War in Poland Yes! it is Revolution in Europe.
Ah! may the destiny be accomplished
Ah! may fatality be on those men, those executioners, those despots, who
have torm from so many noble peoples their sceptre of Nationality I say
sceptre, not life. For, O Proscribed it is necessary to repeat incessantly, to
appal baseness and to rouse courage : The seeming death of the Peoples, how-
ever livid and icy they may appear, is an Avatar brooding over the mystery of
a new incarnation. Poland is in the sepulchre, but she has the clarion in her
hand; Hungary is in her winding-sheet, but she has the Sabre in her grasp ;
Italy is in the tomb, but the flame is at her heart; France is in the pauper’s
grave, but she has the star upon her brow; and all these signs, O Friends !
announce to us that in the coming spring—in the spring, that hour of resur-
rections, as the morning is the hour of awaking—all the earth shall tremble in
the dazzling glory of its joy, whem, Suddenly uprising, these grand corpses shall
open wide their mighty wings!
LONG LIVE POLAND ! LONG LIVE THE UNIVERSAL REPUBLIC !
MAZZINT TO THE POLISH DEMOCRATIC COMMITTEE.
ON occASION OF THE MEETING AT ST MARTIN’s HALL, Nov. 29, 1854.
My FRIENDs —You are going to celebrate the twenty-fourth anniversary of
your glorious Insurrection. Let me, one of the oldest friends of Poland, send
a few—sad, not discouraged—words for you to your Chairman, and join you
from afar, and bless—with the many who will, I hope, attend your meeting—
your hopes, your efforts, and above all your constancy.
MAZZINI TO THE POLISH DEMOCRATIC COMMITTEE 25
Sad, I said, but not discouraged. Sad, because, had there been a single
statesman, or a single man truly devoted to noble purposes, in the councils of
England and France, you might, proud in the consciousness of a great
European deed achieved, have celebrated this twenty-fourth anniversary at
Warsaw ; Sad, because one year more has elapsed, and your emergies, which
might have fought and won for the good of all, are still left, owing to a weak,
mistaken policy, to wear out, comparatively useless, in exile and misery; sad,
because I See a war, which might have been, and in the feeling of the English
people was, the sacred war of Right and European Liberty against brutal
Force and irresponsible Tyranny, sinking down, through trembling inept rulers,
to the proportions of a vulgar contest for a temporary local interest such as
might have prompted a war before the Westphalian treaty ; because I hear,
throughout the whole continent, the complaint of the millions who had hailed
the unfurling of the British colours as the spreading of a hopeful rainbow
amid the storm, now turning sceptically, disappointed, and fearing that the
triumph will only lead to a confirmation of European despotism; because I
read of thousands and thousands of brave young sons of my second country,
England, heroically falling on the Crimean fields, and I know that they would
heroically conquer, were it not for the long-cherished, unattainable, and, if
attainable, equally fatal, dream which dooms the British Cabinet and checks
the Onward course of the British Nation—the Austrian alliance. Woff dis-
couraged, because I trust something which is above all narrow, atheistic, little
combinations of Cabinets, the uncontroulable tide of events, the slow but firm
rising good sense of the English People, God, and ourselves.
Do not forget it, Friends ! in the agitation which you are endeavouring to
promote : If you, the only matural allies of England in a contest with Russia,
are still unhelped, unhelping, solemnizing mournfully the past life instead of
Creating the new one, it is only because a portion of Poland, Galicia, is an
Austrian province ; if England is now summoning all her emergies, straining
every nerve to bring out reinforcements to the field, while neglecting the
decisive help of a powerful army, the army of the Polish People, hanging on
the flank of the enemy, and ready to answer England’s call, it is only because
an English Cabinet chooses to court an ever-betraying power, and has promised
Austria that she shall not lose by justice what she has conquered by crime.
Let it be your watchword. Dispel the dream. Drive off the incubus from
noble England’s heart. It is the only way in which you can repay England’s
hospitality. For England’s honour and fates are now at stake, and they will
not be safe while the black spot, alliance-seeking with crime and falsehood,
lingers on her beautiful flag. Speak the truth boldly If Englishmen do not
awake to it while their best are dying, they never will. Quote facts: they are
abundant and irrefutable; you have only to sum up the events of the campaign.
If the conquering Turkish army in the Danubian territories has been com-
pelled to halt, and rest has been given to a beaten, demoralized enemy, if the
allies have been kept back So long from the field of active conquest,--if a vigor-
oùs blow has not been struck when Russia, trusting diplomacy and peace-
parties, had evidently not prepared to resist it, if all the best Hungarian,
26 HISTORY OF THE MONTH
Italian, German officers have been refused service in the Turkish-European
army, if the Polish Legions have not been formed,—if the Crimea expedition
has been decided upon so late and in so unfavourable a season, it is owing to
Austrian tactics, to Austria's contemplated alliance. If, strange to say, a
reserve, now claimed, has not been formed, it is owing to the fondly-nursed
illusion of an Austrian active coöperation. If Omar Pacha does not now push
onward, and does not accomplish the only operation which could save the in-
vading army, it is because no general can advance, leaving a mass of forces, the
intentions of which are not known, on his flank and rear. The war now waged
in the East exhibits the double inconceivable fact of an army—Poland—ready
to operate on the flank of the enemy left unavailable, and of another army
enabled, through the position it has been allowed to take before declaring its
intentions, to cut off at will the communications of the allied forces.
Yes! through the occupation of the Principalities, the sole result of so many
imprudent and cowardly concessions, Austria stands now the arbiter of the
fate of the campaign. And to conquer this result, the seed of a second war
too—for Austria never relinquishes what she grasps at—English rulers have
allowed the war to lose all that made it just and Sacred before God and man,
a Principle inscribed on its flag, a high god-like purpose, the sympathies of all
Nations, the certainty of a long peace at the end of the contest, the supreme
consolation for those who die of feeling that their death is a noble martyrdom
for a lasting progress of mankind through England. They have disheartened
Hungary and Italy. They forsake Poland. They isolate their own country.
They endanger the success of the war. -
It can not last. May your meeting prove a leading step to a clearer view of
the position | Events will very soon do the rest.
Yours in thought and action,
JosłPH MAZZINI.
HISTORY OF THE MONTH.
(From Nov. 30% fo Dec. 25th, 1854.)
THE WAR.
THE Black Sea hurricane of the 14th of November is the one event of the
month, closing the glorious, but ill-managed and disastrous campaign of 1854.
On shore, tents were overthrown and swept away, scarcely one left standing,
rain falling in torrents, the camp next day a ‘sea of mud.’ The sea was strewn
with wrecks. France and England have each lost, it is calculated, more than
a million of money, scores of ships, cargoes of winter clothing, provisions, am-
munition, and many valuable lives. Still the siege ‘proceeds”; only there is
no progress to report. And reinforcements arrive (not before they are needed),
HISTORY OF THE MONTH 27
and needful succours for the suffering are arriving also. The Government
seems to be trying its best in these respects, but is so bewildered that even the
War Minister does not know what our forces really are (See the discrepant
słażements of Ministers to the House).
But the Incapable Ministry is capable of one thing—treason. For the new
treaty of alliance with Austria, aptly concluded on the 2d of December, is
nothing less than treason, unless the Ministers are idiots. Lord John Russell
himself is forced to confess that the meaning of the main article is “not very
precise.” Here are his own words to Parliament, heard and accepted by Par-
liament; we need not afterward quote the treaty. But its provisions are trans-
parent enough even if Lord John had not thus explained them:—
‘Austria has agreed with us that IF she should be at war with Russia, a treaty offen-
sive and defensive should exist between Austria, England, and France. She has likewise
agreed that, before the end of the year, she will take into further consideration what
steps she will be prepared to take with respect to the terms of peace with Russia. Now
I understand the meaning of that article, certainly, as not containing anything very
precise. I understand, however, the meaning of that article to be, that IF England and
France shall purpose conditions of peace which are in conformity with the four bases,
and which seem to Austria to come within the terms of those bases, and IF Russia shall
refuse her assent to such treaty of peace, then Austria will no longer hesitate, but take
part in the alliance, and that an offensive and defensive alliance will take place. I do not
wish to overstate the engagement in any way; and I admit that Austria might still, at
the last moment, say that the terms would reduce Russia too much, and diminish too
greaffy her weight in Europe, and that she never could be expected to agree to them.
Such might be her language. SHE LEAVES HERSELF AT LIBERTY TO SAY THIS WITHOUT
ANY BREACH OF FAITH.”
This is the explanation of the English statesman. Austria, if she go to war
with Russia, will accept our help. Austria will consider what else she shall
do. Austria may back out of everything ‘withou? any breach of faith.” It is
worth having a treaty to such effect. And very much worth having a Parlia-
ment which, having such an account of its Ministers’ doings, accepts it as
generally satisfactory, and continues to repose its trust in their capacity. It is
time the People stir to impeach—not the Ministry, but the Parliament.
Toward that end (for it will have to come to that, if there is any earnestness
in Englishmen) we are glad to chronicle the formation of an
ANGLO-POLISH COMMITTEE
(springing directly from the Anglo-Polish Meeting of the 29th of November, at
St Martin’s Hall)—whose object is “to make effective the growing public opinion
that the reëstablishment of Poland is the pressing necessity of the present
crisis, and an essential condition of permanent peace.” The following is the
Committee’s address:— -
‘FELLOW-CountRYMEN, -If ever there was a time when it was the duty of English-
men to think seriously and to speak boldly on questions affecting our foreign policy, such
a time is the present. If ever it was disgraceful in Englishmen to abandon to the
uncontrouled will of an Executive the honour and interests of England, the liberties of
Europe, and the progress of the world, it is now. -
28 HISTORY OF THE MONTH
‘We are at war. We pay for the war, we bleed and die for the war: should we not
claim some voice in its management, some knowledge of its aim and end? Are we con-
tent to leave our home affairs to the discretion of Government? are we not jealous of
the most trifling exercize of irresponsible power? And have we, then, no interest, no
duty in this struggle, in which we are spending the wealth of our country, and lavishing
her noblest blood P - e
• ‘We are at war. What for P The great heart of England answers—For justice and
for freedom; to repel the encroachments of barbarism, and to assert the rights of Nation-
alities. But are we sure that these are the objects of our rulers ? Have we such con-
fidence in our Government, that we can safely leave the matter passively in their hands 2
Are there no tendences visible of their too great concern for the dynasties, and too great
indifference for the peoples interested in this war? Englishmen l it depends on your
decision whether the war shall be a grand effort by the nation in behalf of liberty, or, as
John Bright believes, the wickedest thing this country has ever done. We call upon
you to declare which it shall be. -
‘We are at war. Why? Because in the past we have Sacrificed cycrything for peace,
—peace for the moment; because we permitted the perpetration of that giant wrong,
the partition of Poland, acquiesced in its re-division in 1815, and stood tamely by when
its last remnant, Cracow, was absorbed in 1846; because we suffered the barbarian
hordes of Russia to crush out the life of the Magyars; because, in one word, we have
been content to stave off the crisis, and have neglected our duty in not maintaining, as a
matter of safety no less than of right, the independence of European Nationalities.
‘We are at war. The crisis has come. With the power we have thus allowed to
aggrandize herself we now stand face to face in mortal conflict, Russia occupying
Poland, which should and would have been our barrier against her. We have made
tremendous mistakes; now we are suffering for them. After crime comes suffering,
but with suffering comes, to the noble, repentance and a better future: shall it not be so
with us? Englishmen I let us demand of our Government the immediate recognition of
Poland; first, because it is right; secondly, because there is our enemy’s weakness, and
consequently our strength; thirdly, because only by the restoration of Poland can the
power of Russia be curbed, and a guarantee obtained for the permanent peace of Europe.
‘Fellow-Countrymen the peril is imminent;—watch, think, act;-petition Parlia-
ment, address the Queen, influence your Representatives. By an homest purpose, vigor-
ously carried out, England may maintain unimpaired her glorious prerogative of teaching
the nations how to live; by a timid policy she may patch up an inglorious and precarious
peace, and, after all her enormous sacrifices of blood and treasure, leave to future ages
only the sad warning, how certain is the fall of a great Nation when she becomes
unmindful of the duties of her position.
‘The Committee solicit assistance both personal and pecuniary, and will be glad to
receive and happy to give advice and suggestions on all points connected with their
object. They are prepared to furnish drafts of Petitions where required.
- ‘ P. A. TAYLOR, Chairman.
‘10, Southampton Street, Strand, London.’ ‘J. M. Moir, Secretary.”
With what influence we have we would second the aim of this Committee. And
we bid our republican friends to give it their most strenuous assistance. The
Polish policy is the only policy for England, a policy to be forced on Parliament
and the Ministry, no matter what or how many open or secret treaties may
HISTORY OF THE MUNTH 29
have been or may be signed or sealed with an ally who—again referring to
Lord John Russell’s understanding—may back out of everything ‘without any
breach of faith.” If the men who compose this Anglo-Polish Committee are
in earnest—as we believe them to be—they will not relax their endeavours,
any Austrian alliance notwithstanding, till they have roused the whole country
to insist upon the reëstablishment of Poland in all its integrity, as the only
true policy of the war, as the only basis of peace in Europe.
In Newcastle-on-Tyne a similar Committee is formed, and will do good work,
especially if acting in harmony with the other. -
Well, and Parliament will not care for the country. Be it so | Then comes
the point at which we aim—the proved necessity of reſorming Parliament.
Then needs must be opened the question, which, if English politicians (even to
our earnest friends of these Anglo-Polish Committees) could ever see two steps
beyond their actual position, would be very plain to all men now : that if Par-
liament is to obey the country, there must be universal suffrage. So we come
round to our first prescription: the suffrage—for the right conduct of the war.
Again we say, since Ministers will not adopt the English policy, since Par-
ment will not compel them, since the present limited constituencies will not
compel the Parliament, and all this stands clear to all men,-the common-
sense method would be to fall back at once upon the People, as the source of
all power. It is just the child's story of the Old Woman and her Pig. It is of
no use for our political old women to appeal to the ministerial pigs: it will
never please them to get over the stile. It is of as little use to appeal to the
parliamentary sticks: they will never beat the pigs to any purpose. There is
no fire in the constituencies, to burn up the sticks. The popular deluge must
come : or there will be no reaching home to-night.
FOREIGN TROOPS IN ENGLAND.
Of a piece with our Ministers’ treacherous complicity with Austria and treason
against the liberties of Europe is their measure for bringing a foreign army
into England. Of course they do not think these foreigners would be employed
in case of a strike or a movement for the Suffrage. If Englishmen be fools
enough to permit the landing of a single ship-load of these Queen’s Mercenaries,
they will deserve all that is preparing for them. Is not the ministerial game—
which is the Coburg game also—plain enough now P Our own troops and new-
raised militia are to fight the battles of Austria, and Austrian or other foreign
troops are to mount guard at home. We have men enough to fight our own
battles; and, if those battles are for the Right, the country may be trusted.
And beyond our home resources are the oppressed peoples, Poles, Hungarians,
or Italians: whose services are not intended by this Foreign Mercenary Bill.
10,000 Poles or Hungarians would not need coming to England to be drilled,
on their road #o Russia. Nor would they require to be paid by the overtaxed
Englishman. Yes! overtaxed so long as the war is not English. Not else. But
we have ground for grumbling, when our sweat and blood and tears can buy
only an alliance with Austria, and the certain fruit of Austrian perfidy. Make
the war English—which is European—for Freedom's need is one abroad as at
30 HISTORY OF THE MONTH
home—and there will be no occasion for foreign troops—even to be drilled—
in England. And for England’s own defence why not arm all Englishmen—a
national guard P O for fear Of what P
The Bill has passed, carried by 173 ‘liberal’ supporters of the Austrian
Coalition against 135 Tories. It is infamous. Infamous that the Ministers
should be so defended; infamous that the People should have none but their
natural enemies, the Tories, with sufficient grace, even for their own purposes,
to even half oppose so un-English a measure. We say with Colonel Sibthorp—
‘The conduct of Ministers is underhanded, low, dirty, mean, cowardly, unworthy
of Englishmen. The Lord have mercy on such a set.” The Lord help us to be
rid of them first And we endorse the words of Sir W. Napier to the Times—
‘You say that Ministers will go out if the country refuses to accept their de-
grading measure. So let it be | Let them slink away, while the universal
shout arises of “God and our Right.” Yes! though they give place to Disraeli,
or to the Devil. But have a care that our shout is really for the Right.
Let us turn from the contemplation of ‘Statesmanship” to refresh ourselves
with the Court Calendar. The Sovereign People may do nought; but there is
still a pleasant novelty in
‘ROYAL DOINGS.
POPE PIUs IX has discovered that not only was Christ conceived without sin,
but that the same thing curiously happened to Christ’s mother; it is not yet
known what may have happened to the grandmother and higher branches of
the family. Here is a rare telegraphic ammouncement for this age of catholic
(we mean universal) enlightenment.
* Vienna, December 10, 1854.
‘The Pope, officiating at St Peter's, promulgated at 11 o'clock, after the Gospel, the
expected decree. The Immaculate Conception is declared to be the faith of the Church,
and whoever denies it a heretic. Two hundred bishops were present. Never were seen
such crowds. Rome is drunk with joy.”
No doubt of Roman joy; for to be assured of somebody’s immaculate con-
ception must make ample amends for the centuries of papal atrocity from the
time of Caesar Borgia to the bloody reign of Pio Nono, Vicar of Christ, King,
&c. of Rome, ‘by the grace of French bayonets,'—as Mr Duffy, the papal
editor of the Irish Nation, once ventured to affirm. Truly it would be a
shocking thing if the European War, bringing in the Republic, should rid Rome
of Popes and their immaculate conceptions. Lords Aberdeen and Russell
should indeed guard against that, and Parliament and Exeter Hall be glad to
back them. The immaculate conception—like all other dogmas of the Church’s
faith—was settled, it seems, by vote : the odd man—as Selden profanely says
—acting for Holy Ghost. Four-fifths of the votes were given by proxy. But
it is all sealed with the “leaden Seal of St Peter’; so it is safer to disbelieve in
the honour of the Austrian-English Government than in the new papistic folly.
That is something. A few days ago the two things were on the same footing.
THE KING OF PRUSSIA also has been exposing himself: disinterring the
soldiers killed in defence of his royalty in 1848, not to treat them as our
‘Merry Monarch’ treated the bones of Blake and Cromwell, but to entomb
HISTORY OF THE MUNTH 31
them under a royal monument, as martyrs deserving of all honour. And the
‘beautiful Berliners,’ in full assembly, did not even hiss their monarch. Karl
Sand! Karl Sand! why didst not thou rise from the dead to invite his Majesty
also under the monument. But it was in '48 they should have buried him.
SPAIN too sees an inopportune resuscitation of the Disreputable. The Cortes,
complaisant as an English Parliament, votes of course for the throne of
Isabella II, as necessary for the salvation of the country. Doubly-happy
Spain! free to enjoy an immaculately-conceived Virgin in its Church, and an
Isabella in the State; with an Espartero as lord keeper of its liberties. But
we may ask pardon for comparing the Cortes to our own Chamber of Mutes
(mutes in truth, for all they filled forty columns of the Times with their first
might’s imbecile palaver). There is an out-speaking and active minority in the
Spanish Chamber, the nucleus of a republican party which does not fear to
prophecy the abolition of the monarchy.
‘The eternal phrase of Kings,’ said Senor Orense, ‘is “They have deceived me.” That
is what Donna Isabella II said in her manifesto of the 26th of July—“They have
deceived me during eleven years; I have not known what passed in the country.” I
care little for persons, Semors be they kings or not : but nevertheless I will say that you
have given its death-wound to the throne of Donna Isabella II. It is impossible she
should have prestige to reign, and there will probably happen to her what happened to
her father and to her grandfather.’
What else should happen to ‘a thing’ that since the revolution of July had
only ‘remained in the Palace without exercizing the functions of a Queen’?
Bold words in Parliament, but not too bold when a man even like Prim, who is
not a republican, is obliged to say—‘I will vote for the monarchy’—but ‘for
Isabella II, never!’ Bold and very uncourtly words: but fit to be uttered in
Parliament when even the Times can write a paragraph like this —
‘It would serve no purpose now to speculate on the fate reserved for the Spanish
branch of the Bourbons. Judging from the past, there is no reason to suppose that they
will long continue on the throne. The House of Bourbon is defunct, and the cause of
its dissolution is its gross immorality.”
We differ from this on one point only. It is worth while to speculate on the
fate of royalty everywhere. It is worth while to think what is coming to all
Burope, when even in loyal Spain the continuance of monarchy is debated in
Parliament, and a minority of nineteen can be found to reject the existing
monarch. It may be worth while, too, to speculate whether only a respectable
private character is qualification enough for any monarch. And however re-
spectable our own may be, if ‘Evil communications corrupt good manners,”
and ‘You know a man by the company he keeps, it may be best that Monsieur
and Madame Bonaparte Verhuel should not come visiting to Windsor.
Of our own royal doings we have nothing much worth quoting (we are too
constitutional for that)—except it be that his Royal Highness, George Duke of
Cambridge, coming home invalided, expresses his ‘personal’ gratitude for the
noble conduct of both officers and men on the field of Inkerman (which we
take to be an impertinence of his royal highness): and that the Queen is made
by her ministers to say on opening Parliament—‘in those clear, distinct tones,
32 HISTORY OF THE MONTH
so often celebrated,” (see Spectator) that she anticipates important advantages
from the alliance with Austria (how important Lord John Russell, who probably
wrote the Speech, has explained to us); and that she feels assured we shall
“exhibit to the world the example of a united people,’ ‘obtain the respect of
other nations,’ and, ‘by the blessing of God, bring the war to a successful ter-
mination’: all which everybody knows, since the Austrian treaty, to be minis-
terial humbug; and which, we suggest, it is neither gentlemanly nor loyal of
the Ministers to put into the Queen’s mouth. But constitutional loyalty is not
over nice; and in statecraft as in priestcraft the conceits are not all immaculate.
BE ASSURED ! is the title of an able article in a late number of House-
hold Words, on the advantages of Mutual Assurance Societies, ending thus:–
“AND IF ALL Join in these mutual arrangements, the effects will be two—loss and
suffering will not fall so heavily on any one person; and every member of the community
will be directly benefited by the honesty and carefulness of all the others.’ *
If all join—and truly it would be well for all to join—it is the Nation in-
suring itself: of course no longer in private, but in public assurance offices.
Is Mr Dickens arguing for the Republic without knowing it P
BE AssuTED ! we say also to those of the Exiles who may be at all alarmed
at the expressions vented through Sir Robert Peel on the first might of Parlia-
ment, threatening the expulsion of Victor Hugo and Kossuth for speaking
truth in England. Be assured None heeds our court-fool, the fool of our
sovereign Parliament. This buffoon is below contempt, and but too much
honoured by Victor Hugo’s passing notice in the following
REPLY TO BONAPARTE THE LITTLE AND PEEL THE LESS.
I inform M. Bonaparte that I am perfectly aware of the means he employs, means
quite worthy of himself; and that I have read with interest what has been said of me, a
few days since, in the English Parliament. M. Bonaparte has driven me from France
for having taken up arms against his crime, as was my right as a citizen and my duty as
a Representative of the People ; he has driven me from Belgium for my Napoleon the
Little ; he will perhaps drive me from England for the protests which I have made, am
making, and will continue to make. So be it! That concerns England more than me.
A triple exile is nothing. For me America is well enough; and, if it suits M. Bonaparte,
it suits me also. Only I warn M. Bonaparte that he has no better ground against me—
who am but an atom, than he has against Truth and Justice—which are very God. I
declare to December II that the Expiation will come, and that whether from France,
Belgium, England, America, or the tomb’s depth—if men's souls live, as I believe and
assert—I will hasten its hour. M. Bonaparte is so far right: there is indeed a “per-
sonal quarrel’ between me and him—the old personal quarrel of the judge upon the
bench and the accused at the bar.
Jersey, December 22, 1854. - WICTOR HUGO.
THE FORMATION OF A NATION Is A RELIGION.
That hard and difficult way which leadeth to God and happiness.
|
How that which is the ordinance and institution of God may become also the
ordinance and statute of man.—Vane. \
Justice is not only the guarantee of all society; it is indeed its reality, its foundation,
and its substance. A society in which it is ignored is only the semblance of a society,
without reality, false and void.—Michelet.
The government of all, by all, and for all. You see what consequences must follow
from such an idea, and the attempt to reënact the Law of God into political institutions.
There will follow the freedom of the people, respect for every natural right of all men,
the rights of their body and of their spirit—the rights of mind and conscience, heart and
Soul. . . The ultimate consequence of this will be the material and spiritual welfare
of all—riches, comfort, noble manhood, all desirable things.--Theodore Parker.
What is man born for but to be a reformer, a remaker of what man has made, a
renouncer of falsehood, a restorer of truth and good, imitating that great Nature which
embosoms us all, and which sleeps no moment on an old past, but every hour repairs
herself, yielding us every morning a new day, and with every pulsation a new life.
Emerson.
Let it not grieve us that we have been instruments to break the ice for others. The
honour will be ours to the world’s end.—Old Puritan Consolation.
They say—Have a care your words are too bold: you want prudence. Is it now a
question of prudence? It is a question of courage. In the hours of a battle to the death
glory to those who have words without precaution and sabres without sheaths.
Wictor Hugo.
To conquer we must have daring, yet more daring, always daring.—Danton.
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33
THE MEANING OF THE WAR.
== #. meaning of the war. If it has a meaning. Why are we fighting 2
| (; What are we fighting for P Is it too soon for Englishmen to consider
ºil that * Let us hope we are not hurrying any practical man.
The general understanding is that we are at war because the Tzar wished to
incroach upon Turkey, and our Ministers thought that England’s interest
(no one ever supposing that English Ministers now-a-days trouble themselves
about England’s duty) required our interference. Victor Hugo however tells
us (see his speech at Jersey on the 29th of November) that we are at war
because M. Louis Bonaparte first incroached on Turkey for the sake of ingra-
* himself with and so getting consecrated by the immaculate Pope Pio
O110. -
As it seems to us, neither Victor Hugo nor the popular understanding
answers the question sufficiently.
Certainly Victor Hugo’s statement is exact. The first of the series of attacks.
upon Turkey which brought on this war was M. Lavalette’s insolent demand
for the key of the Holy Sepulchre for the head of the Latin Church. That
gave to Nicholas the opportunity of interfering: and so came on the war.
But Nicholas would have found an opportunity even if this special one had
not been provided for him. Russian policy has this one advantage over Eng-
lish : it is a policy, and consistent with itself. Since Peter the Great, Russia
has never Swerved from its one aim—the Empire of the East. The prime
cause of the war goes back to Peter the Great. And for the immediate occa-
sion, if M. Bonaparte had not been so complaisant as to furnish it, the mere
weakness of ‘sick” Turkey would have been pretext enough. The time was ripe.
Our popular understanding of the war is also correct so far as it goes. Our
Ministers did say, and were right in saying, that English interest required some
interference; but they never intended that interference should go so far. Step
by step the war has been forced upon them—against their intention, against
their will. But the time was ripe. . - -
This compelled action—so unexpected—is the key to all the insufficient pre-
parations for war with which our Coalition Cabinet has been reproached. Why
do we reproach them, when nearly everybody knew, or might have known, after
the publication of our ambassador's correspondence, that not one of our Minis-
ters had any serious intentions hostile to the Tzar P. It was a mere folly to
leave them to do the work they had no mind for. The brave blood so vainly
shed in the Crimea rests on the heads not only of the Tzar’s English Ministers,
but also on the country that knew them to be either knaves or fools, and yet
allowed them to remain its Ministers.
But we are not yet at the meaning of this war. Why are we fighting, and
for what - -


34 THE MEANING OF THE WAR.
We will not go back again to Peter the Great. So few people study history
that such remote references are puzzling. Let us keep within the ken of the
newspaper-reader. s
Why are we fighting P Because, after Revolution had broken out in Europe
in '48, and when there was a chance of Freedom obtaining a footing in Italy
and Hungary, Lord Palmerston and his gang of ‘liberals’ commived at the
French invasion of Rome, and permitted the Russian invasion of Hungary.
Then our complicity with wrong—no doubt dome with the best intentions, as
the most hellish work always is done by tyrants and their diplomatic tools—
paved the way for December the 2d with the consequent affair of the Holy
Places, and moreover informed Nicholas of the good dispositions entertained
toward him by the wise (wise as liberal) statesmen of the West. *
We are fighting because unprincipled politicians and peacemen and a coward
people permitted a wrong that did not seem to concern us. Five years ago
The curse has come home soon to roost ; the judgement has quickly overtaken
us. Was it worth while consenting to the blood of Hungary for a five years’
‘peace’? -
Now perhaps some few honest men among us may think it would have been
as well if the heroes of Alma and of Inkerman could have written Rome and
Hungary on their banners. We should not now be needing to pick up any
foreign mercenaries we can find (warranted not republican) to reinforce our
troops besieged before Sebastopol.
We are compelled to fight now because the English people, being unprin-
cipled and cowardly, have been content to allow unprincipled cowards to rule
our destinies. Like to like | The blood of all those who have fallen in this
Turkish war is on our heads. We have that blood too to expiate as well as
the blood of the defeated republicans.
We are compelled to fight now because we were cowards them. The Tzar
thought we were base enough to be bribed or bullied into anything. So our
Ministers were. But the bribe was not enough and the bullying went too far.
Tor very appearances' sake it became necessary to bluster a bit in return.
Hard words, though they meaned nothing, brought on blows, and we were at
war before our Ministers were aware of it. Aberdeen hardly believes it even
now. The rest of the Ministers have found it out, and are sorry for it.
And for what are we fighting P To make a pretence of opposition to Russia,
in order to cover presently a new treaty of Vienna, when each of the Powers
shall make some concession to purchase the hearty good-will of the rest—so
that peace based upon mutual interest (it is only upon interest wrong-doers can
base their agreement) may last for ever. But man’s for ever is not God’s. It
was for ever they arranged in 1815; and the managers are not dead now.
We are to have a parody of the second Caesarean triumvirate : Russia, that
new power in Europe, the yet barbarian, standing for the young Augustus,
debauched France for Anthony, and poor credulous Aberdeemed England for
the weak and confiding Lepidus. Each in due course will proscribe his dearest
friend in proof of his sincerity. France (since M. Bonaparte is France now)
will give up Poland and the vengeance for Waterloo; England will agree to
THE MEANING OF THE WAR 35
partition Turkey and expel the refugees. Russia can consent to abandon
young Francis Joseph and our beloved brother-in-law at Berlin.
Then comes the sharing of our new empire. Why not France have Italy
and the Rhine, Russia have Turkey and the Slavonic countries, England—
Lepidus again—generously be content with Egypt (the Tzar’s first munificent
offer) and with a new arrangement of ‘Germany’ under our ex-Prussian
brother-in-law, if his infirmities permit P Spain, and Holland, part of Sweden,
Norway, and Denmark, we can govern by our lieutenants.
Let us complete the parallel. Anthony and Augustus were too strong for
their copartner; and England, crippled and disabled by War, hemmed in by a
circle of custom-houses (the old Napoleon policy), her veins exhausted, her
coffers drained, may play the part of Lepidus to the end. Then the august
Barbarian overcomes the worn-out Profligate, and the will of Peter and the
prophecy of Napoleon meet at the one culminating point—Europe Cossack.
Is it for this we are fighting P Truly it would seem like it, when we never
aim at the heart of Russia, when we ally with Austria, who—it can not
be gainsaid—is at least Russia’s lieutenant in the Principalities, when, so
far from availing ourselves of the proffered services of the oppressed peoples of
Turope, we undertake moſſ to use them against our ‘ enemy’ (for there is an
understanding to that effect not only between us and Austria, but between our
Government and the Tzar), when our rulers not merely reject the only allies
who could be heartily with us, but also refuse to trust the English people.
When all this is taken into consideration, at what conclusion can any same
man arrive, except that the object of the war is something not intended to be
understood by the Tinglish people—something which will not bear the light?
If we are not fighting for a new Vienna treaty, for what are we fighting P
If we were fighting for a new Vienna treaty, what better, what other means
than those now taken could be adopted by our rulers ?
We are fighting for a Vienna treaty, in order that the despoſs may keep down
European Freedom. And this #ime European Freedom means English Freedom.
This is what our Government means. This is what we are blindly doing. We
are taking upon ourselves the curse of Cain, in order that we may be stricken
down like Abel, or rather like Abel's silly sheep. We are about to make this
war (as Mr Bright says) the wickedest war on record—ay ! when it might be
the holiest and noblest of enterprizes; and the reward of our foolish criminality
is to be defeat, and shame, and ruin.
If we are not fighting for this, in God’s name for what are we fighting P Is it
for European Freedom P What when we dare not trust Poles, Italians, or
Hungarians under our liberticidal banners ?" Is it for English honour? What!
when an English Parliament proclaims to all the world that we have already
emptied our heroism into the Crimea—that all the rest of us in England are
bastards, slaves, and weaklings, unfit even to be cannon-flesh,_and that the
* They talk of recruiting in Spain and Switzerland, and bringing their recruits here to
drill, on the way to the East. And good Polish officers in Turkey are refused employ-
ment, and tried Polish soldiers, who do not need drilling, starve in London streets. Is
not the intention of our Government plain 9
36 THE MEANING OF THE WAR
honour of England must be trusted to any of the scum of Europe that will be
content with the infamously low wages of an English soldier, with the English
soldier’s privilege of promotion to the triangles P. We are fighting for European
Freedom and for England’s honour, are we? with Austria for our ally, and the
rascaldom of Europe for our British contingent in the Grand Army. What
English idiot, without the disgraceful M P tacked to his name, will say that
there is any look or likelihood of Freedom’s victory, or any hope of real honour,
in the course our Ministers and Representatives have so villainously marked out.
We have been forced into this war because, only five years ago, we were
such cowards, such Sordid and miserable fools, as to neglect our duty to the
Nations—to Humanity—to the Right. We are fighting now, under very
liberal leadership, in order that European liberty may be absolutely trampled
out, and English liberty become poorer, emptier than ever. Ask the overtaxed,
the unemployed, the starving operative, if there is need of that.
Is it so difficult to understand the object of this war P Louis Bonaparte as
generalissimo, Austria for ally, and a foreign garrison in England while the
lives of our bravest are wasted in ill-planned attacks upon any eveep; the vifa/
parts of Russia Who can mot, or will not, see that the war is not against
Russia, but against Freedom. Ay! a Saint Arnaud and a Canrobert, fresh from
the cowardly massacre of December, do better than a righteous Cromwell to
lead our armies to disaster.
And we are wilfully led there. That is to say, the course of policy which
must end so is wilfully adopted and remorselessly pursued. It is a disappoint-
ment when Tnglish valour, as at Alma, at Balaklava, and at Inkerman, will
conquer in spite of all their management. But this can not last. Misleading,
even when not wilful, can render valour worthless or wear it out. And, Lord
what a quiet, orderly, slave people we shall be, after the next peace of Vienna,
when, weary of war, our bravest used up, and we in England used to our
foreign garrison, no disturbances or discontent need any more be apprehended
either in the manufacturing or in the agricultural districts of our happy Eng-
land." Then our Helots, having the manhood well-ground out of them, may
possibly be allowed the gentle exercize of the ‘franchise,’ to choose their own
representatives—oxen somewhat sleeker than themselves. Then our Aberdeens
may be really viceroys of the Tzar. Better so, say our masters—the masters
to whom we submit our lives, our Consciences, and our honour, better so than
that English soldiers should learn from European republicans the Rights of
Man—as the French learned in America—and return victorious to accomplish
the necessary revolution at home.
That is the meaning of the war.
b Would they not employ their Swiss against us? See the Times of a year ago. Then
it was—‘We feel bound to call attention to the utter/y inadequate provision made in
those parts of the country’ (Preston, Blackburn, &c.) against those contingencies of
riotous outbreaks to which they are notoriously subject’s recommending military force.
37
ON THE NEW FOREIGN ENLISTMENT BILL,
BRAVELY fought our brave at Alma,
Bravely stood at Inkerman,
Boldly charged at Balaklava
Valour's over-daring clan:
We who could all this so lately,
Tet us say again we can /
Tºnglish thewes are not exhausted,
English daring is not spent ;
We have sinewy strength and spirits
Brave and bold as theirs who went
O'er the seas to Balaklava
When war first was imminent.
Who would libel English courage?
Who would measure England’s force?
What is he, so Russian-hearted,
Dams our valour at its source;
Asks some Stranger to bestride us,
Counting England as a corse P
Foul befall the un-English coward
With his doubts of English zeal |
Give each hand a freeman’s weapon,
And for England’s Commonweal
Never shall be need of hiring
Foreign hand or foreign steel !
Brothers of the brave at Alma,
Brothers of the daring clan
Rode to death at Balaklava,
Waited death at Inkerman,—
We will follow up the battle
Well as they who led the van.
But the battle must be Freedom’s,
We must know whereto we 're led;
Never let Scorn say of England—
Generously her heroes bled,
But the cause was all so worthless
That the happiest are the dead
Give us our old battle-challenge—
‘Now may God maintain the Right !”
38 DANGERS TO THE RIGHTS OF MAN
See our thousands, hundred thousands,
Keep the unbroken line of fight,
Though all ride like our Seven Hundred
Through the closing jaws of Might.
Give us but a righteous quarrel—.
We will hold it gainst the world :
Ay! even single-handed will we,
Till great Victory hath hurl’d
Europe's tyrants to destruction.
Now may England’s flag be furl’d.
Give us but a righteous quarrel,
We no mercenaries need.
Poles, and Magyars, and Italians,
Germans, all who would be freed,
Crowd around our glorious banner.
O the Right is strong indeed
DANGERS TO THE RIGHTS OF MAN IN AMERICA.”
( THEODORE PATRIKER.
And he gave them their request, but sent leanness into their soul.
Psalm cvi, 15.
NATIONS may come to an end through old age—the decay of the family to
which they belong, through outward violence, or through their own vices—
moral or political. The dangers which threaten America are from the last of
these causes.
Look at some of these dangers. I shall pass by all that are trifling. I find
four great perils. Here they are :—
I. The Danger from our exclusive Devotion to Riches.
II. The Danger from the Roman Catholic Church, established in the midst
of us. -
III. The Danger from the Idea that there is no Higher Law above the
Statutes which men make.
IV. The Danger from the Institution of Slavery, which is based on that
atheistic idea last named.
* Abridged from 4 Sermon of the Dangers which threaten the Rights of Man in
America, preached at the Music Hall, Boston, on Sunday, July 2, 1854.
Jo ANGERS TO THE RIGHTS OF MAN 39
I. OF THE DANGER FROM our ExCLUSIVE DEVOTION TO RICHES.
Power is never left without a possessor : when it fell from the theocratic
and military classes, from the priest, the noble, and the king, it passed to the
hands of the capitalist. In America, ecclesiastical office is not power; noble
or royal birth is of small value. Money is power; the only permanent and
transmissible power: it goes by device. Money ‘can ennoble sots and slaves
and cowards.’ .
It gives rank in the Church. The millionnaire is always a saint. The priests
of Commerce will think twice before damning a man who enhances their salary
and gives them dinners. In one thing the American Heaven resembles the
New Jerusalem : its pavement is ‘of fine gold.” The capitalist has the chief
seat in our Christian synagogue. It is a rare minister who dares assail a vice
which has riches on its side. Is there a clergyman at the South who speaks
against the profitable wickedness which chains three million American men P
How few at the North -
In Society money is genteel; it is always respectable. The high places of
Society do not belong to ecclesiastical men, as in Rome; to military men, as in
St Petersburg; to men of famous family, as in England and Spain; to men of
Science and literature, men of genius, as in Berlin; but to rich mem.
Money gives distinction in Literature, so far as the literary class can con-
troul the public judgement. The colleges respect a rich man’s son; they name
professorships after such as endow them with money, not mind. Critics respect
a rich man’s book; if he has not brains, he has brass, which is better. The
capitalist is admitted a member of the Academies of Arts and Sciences, of col-
legiate Societies; if he can not write dissertations, he can give suppers, and
there must be a material basis for Science. At anniversaries, he receives the
honorary degree. ‘’T is easier to weigh purses, sure, than brains.” A dull
scholar is expelled from college for idleness, and twenty years later returns to
New England with half a million of money, and gets his degree. As he puzzles
at the Latin diploma, he asks—‘If I had come home poor, I wonder how long
it would have taken the “Alma Mater” to find out that I was ever a “good
scholar,” and now “merited an honorary degree”—facts I never knew before.”
In Politics, money has more influence than in Turkey, Austria, Russia, Eng-
land, or Spain. For in our politics the interest of property is preferred before all
others. National legislation almost invariably favours capital, and not the labour-
ing hand. The Federalists feared that riches would not be safe in America—the
many would plunder the wealthy few. It was a groundless fear. In an Indus-
trial Commonwealth, property is sure of popular protection. Where all own
hay-ricks, no one scatters fire-brands. Nowhere in the world is property so
secure or so much respected : for it rests on a more natural basis than else-
where. Nowhere is wealth so powerful in Church, Society, and State. In
Rentucky, and elsewhere, it can take the murderer’s neck out of the halter. It
can make the foolish wise; the dull man, ‘ eloquent’; the mean man, ‘honour-
able, one of our most prominent citizens’; the heretic, “sound orthodox’; the
ugly, fair; the old man, a desirable young bridegroom. Nay! vice itself
becomes virtue, and man-stealing is Christianity.
46 in ANGERS TO THE RIGHTS OF MAN
Here, nothing but the voter's naked ballot holds money in check; there are
fió great families with their historic tradition, as in all Europe; no bodies of
literary or Scientific men to oppose their Genius to mere material Gold. The
church is no barrier, only its servant : for when the minister depends on the
wealth of his parish for support, you know the common consequence. Lying
rides on Obligation’s back. The minister respects the hand that feeds him :
‘the ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib.” Yet now and then
a minister looks starvation in the face and continues his unpopular service of
God. No political institutions check the authority of Wealth; it can bribe and
buy the venal; the brave it sometimes can intimidate and starve. Money can
often carry a Bill through the legislature—state or national. The majority is
hardly strong enough to check this pecuniary Sway. *
In the ‘most democratic' States gold is most powerful. Thus, in fifteen
States of America, three hundred thousand men own thirteen hundred millions
of money invested in men. In virtue thereof they controul the legislation of
their own States, making their institutions despotic, and not republican ; they
keep the poor white man from political power, from comfort, from the material
means of education and religion; they destroy his self-respect, and leave him
nothing but his body; from the poorest of the poor they take away his body
itself. Next they controul the legislation of America; they make the Presi-
dent, they appoint the Supreme Court, they controul the Senate, the Repre-
sentatives, they determine the domestic and foreign policy of the Nation.
Einally, they affect the laws of all the other sixteen States, the Southern hand
colouring the local institutions of New Haven and Boston.
That is only one example—one of many. Russia is governed by a long-
descended Tzar; England by a Queen, Nobles, and Gentry—men of ancient
family, with culture and riches. America is ruled by a troop of men with
nothing but money and what it brings:—three.hundred thousand slave-holders
and their servants, North and South. Boston is under their thumb; at their
command the Mayor Spits in the face of Massachusetts-law, and plants a thou-
sand bayonets at the people's throat. They make cartridges under the eaves
of Fameuil Hall.” -
Accordingly, money is the great object of desire and pursuit. There are
material reasons why this is so in many lands; in America there are also social,
political, and ecclesiastical reasons for it. ‘To be rich is to be blessed:
Poverty is damnation’: that is the popular creed.
The public looks superficially at the immediate effect of this opinion, at this
exceeding and exclusive desire for riches. They see its effect on Israel and
John Jacob, on Stephen, Peter, and Robert : it makes them rich, and their
children respectable and famous. Few ask—What effect will this have on the
nation ? They foresee not the future evil it threatens. Nay! they do not
consider how it debauches the institutions of America—ecclesiastical, academic,
social, political; how it corrupts the hearts of the people, making them prize
* The great popular meeting-place, as was here in times long gone by the Crown-and-
Anchor, and more lately White-Conduit-House.
DANGERS TO THE RIGHTS OF MAN - 4].
money as the end of life, and manhood as only the means thereto, making
money master, and human nature its tool or servant, but mo more.
The political effect of this unnatural esteem for riches is not at all well
understood. History but too plainly tells of the dangerous power of priests
or nobles consolidated into a class, and their united forces directed by a single
able head. The power of allied kings, concentrating whole realms of men and
money on a single point, is all too boldly written in the ruin of many a State.
We have often been warned of the peril from forts, and castles, and standing
armies. But the power of consolidated riches, the peril which accumulated
riches may bring upon the liberties of an industrial Commonwealth, though
formidably near, as yet is all unknown, all unconsidered too. Already the
consolidated property of one-eightieth part of the population controuls the rest.
Two special causes, both exceptional and fleeting, just now stimulate the
acquisitiveness of America almost to madness : one the rapid development of
manufacturing power, which, combined with the almost universal education of
the people, gives an immense stimulus to the pursuit of wealth; the other the
discovery of gold in California and Australia.
Beside, the form of American industry is changed. Once, New England and
all the North were chiefly agricultural; manufactures gad commerce were con-
ducted on a small scale; and therein each man wrought on his own account.
There was a great deal of individual activity, individuality of character. Few
men worked for wages. Now, New England is mainly manufacturing and
commercial. Vermont is the only farming State. Mechanics, men and women,
work for wages,—many in the employment of a single man, thousands in the
pay of one company, organized by superior ability. The workman loses his
independence, and is not only paid, but governed also, by his employer’s money.
His opinions and character are formed after the prescribed pattern by the mill
he works in. The old military organizations for defence or aggression brought
freedom of body distinctly in peril; the new industrial organizations jeopardize
freedom of mind and conscience: all New England is a monumental proof.
Another change also follows: the military habits of the North are all gone.
Once, New England had more firelocks than householders; every man was a
soldier and marksman. Now, the people have lost their taste for military dis-
cipline, and neither keep nor bear arms. Of course a few holiday soldiers,
called out by a doctor and commanded by an apothecary, can overawe the town.
The Northern, Eastern, and Middle States are the great centre of this indus-
trial development. In consequence, especially in New England, the greatest
intellects are engrossed by trade and manufactures; and politics are shunned
and neglected in the same way as the mass of men avoid military discipline.
Only the South sends its ablest men to Congress, and they rule the Union.
The national effect of this estimate and accumulation of riches is to produce
a great and rapid development of the practical understanding, a great love of
vulgar luxuries,—it may be also a certain refinement. -
But there is no proportionate culture of the higherintellectual faculties—of the
Reason and Imagination; still less of the yet nobler powers—moral, affectional,
and religious. The chief things taught are Arithmetic and Elocution; not the
42 . DANGERS TO THE RIGHTS OF MAN
art to reason and create, but the trade to calculate and express. Everything
is measured by the money standard. ‘The protection of property is the great
object of government.” The politician must suit the pecuniary interest of his
constituency, though at the cost of Justice; the writer, author, or editor, that
of his readers, though at the sacrifice of Truth; the minister that of his audience,
though Piety and Morality both come to the ground: Mammon is a profitable
god to worship—he gives dinners.
TI. OF THE DANGER FROM THE ROMAN CATIOLIC CHURCH.
The Catholic population is not great in numbers. In 1853, there were in
America. 1,712 churches, 1,574 priests, 396 theological students, 32 bishops,
7 archbishops, church property worth about 10,000,000 dollars, and 1,728,000
Catholics. But these are united into one compact body, not under the better
religious orders—which do not visit America, but under the Jesuits; they
again all under the direction of a single head. One shrewd Protestant minister
may be equal to one Jesuit, but no ten or forty ministers are a match for a com-
bination of ten Jesuits, bred to the business of deception, knowing no allegiance
to Truth or Justice, consciously disregarding the Higher Law of God, with the
motorious maxim that ‘the end justifies the means,’ bound to their order by
the most stringent oath, and devoted to the worst purposes of the Catholic
Church. …”
All these priests owe allegiance to a foreign head. It is not an American
Church; it is Roman, not free, individual, but despotic; may, in its designs not
So much human as merely papal.
The Catholic Church opposes everything which favours Democracy and the
natural rights of man. It hates our free churches, free press, and above all our
free schools. No owl more shuns the light. It hates the rule of majorities,
the voice of the people; it loves violence, force, and blood.
The Catholic clergy are on the side of Slavery. They find it is the dominant
power, and pay court thereto that they may rise by its help. They like
Slavery itself; it is an institution thoroughly congenial to them, consistent
with the first principles of their church. Their Jesuit leaders think it is “an
ulcer which will eat up the Republic,’ and so foster it for the ruin of Demo-
cracy, the deadliest foe of the Roman hierarchy.
Beside, most of the Catholics are the victims of oppression, poor, illiterate,
oppressed, and often vicious. Their circumstances have ground the humanity
out of them. No sect furnishes half so many criminals. I am told there is
not in all America a single Catholic newspaper hostile to Slavery ; not one op-
posed to tyranny in general; not one that takes sides with the oppressed in
Europe. There is not in America a man born and bred in the Catholic Church
who is eminent for Philosophy, Science, Literature, or Art; none distinguished
for Philanthropy . The water tastes of the fountain.
Catholic votes are in the market; the bishops can dispose of them,-poli-
ticians will make their bid. Shall it be the Sacrifice of the free schools P or of
other noble institutions P In Some States it seems not unlikely.
I do not think our leading men see all this danger. But the baneful in-
DANGERS TO THE RIGHTS OF MAN 43
fluence of the Church of the Dark Ages begins to show itself in the press, in
the schools, and still more in the politics, of America. Yet I am glad the
Catholics come here. If, with Truth and Justice on our side, the few Catholics
can overcome the many Protestants, we deserve defeat. We should be false to
the first principles of our democratic theory, if we did not grant them their
imalienable rights.
III. OF THE DANGER FROM THE IDEA THAT THERE IS No HIGHER LAW
ABOVE THE STATUTES OF MEN.
Of late years it has been industriously taught in America that there is no
Taw of Nature superior to the Statutes which men enact; that Politics are not
amenable to Conscience or to God. Accordingly, the American Congress
knows no check in legislation but the Constitution of the United States and
the will of the majority; none in the Constitution of the Universe and the
Will of God. The atheistic idea of the Jesuits, that the end justifies the
means, is made the first principle in American politics. Hence it has been
repeatedly declared by ‘prominent clergymen’ that politics should not be treated
in the pulpit ; they are not amenable to religion; Christianity has nothing to
do with making or administering the laws. When the Pharisees and Sadducees
have silenced the Prophet and the Apostle, it is not difficult to make men
believe that Macchiavelli is a great Saint and Jesuitism the revealed religion of
politics | Let the legislators make what wicked laws they will against the
Eights of Man; the priest of commerce is to say nothing. Nay, the legislators
themselves are never to refer to Justice and the Eternal Right, only to the
expediency of the hour.
Then, when the Statute is made, the magistrate is not to ask if it be just—
he is only to execute it ; the people are to obey and help enforce the wicked
enactment, never asking if it be right. The highest virtue in the people is—
umquestioning submission to the Constitution; or, when the Statute violates
their conscience, to do “a disagreeable duty’. Thus the political action of
the people is exempted from the jurisdiction of God and his natural moral law.
Christianity has nothing to do with politics |
Within a few years this doctrine has been taught in a great variety of forms.
At first it came in with evil laws, simply as the occasional support of a measure;
at length it is announced as a Principle. It has taken a deep hold on the
educated classes of the community : for our ‘superior education’ is almost
wholly of the intellect, and of only its humbler powers. It appears among the
lawyers, the politicians, the editors, and the clergy. Some deny the natural
distinction between right and wrong. ‘Justice’ is a matter of convention;
things are not ‘true,” but ‘agreed upon’; not ‘right,’ only ‘assented to.”
There is no moral obligation.’ Government rests on a compact, having its
ultimate foundation on the caprice of men, not in their moral nature. What
are called Natural Rights are only certain conveniences agreed upon among
men; legal fictions—their recognition is their essence, they are the creatures
of a compact. Property has no foundation in the nature of things; it may
consist of whatever the legislature determines: of land, cattle, food, clothing, or
44 DANGERS TO THE RIGHTS OF MAN
of men, women, and children. Dives may own Lazarus as well as the dogs
at his gate. There is no political morality, only political economy.
This conclusion is one of the worst results of materialism and practical
atheism. It takes different forms in different nations. In a monarchy it has
for its axiom ‘The king can do no wrong; he is the Norm of Law—/ow Regis
vow Dei.” In a democracy, ‘The majority can do no wrong; they are the Norm
of Law—Woa, Populi voz Dei.’
It is not surprising that this doctrine should be taught from the pulpit in
Catholic countries. It belongs also to the sensational philosophy which has
done so much to break to pieces the theology of the Dark Ages, and does not
astonish one in the sects which build thereon. But at first sight it seems
amazing that American Christians of the Puritanic stock, with a philosophy
which transcends sensationalism, should prove false to the only principle which
at once justifies the conduct of Jesus, of Luther, and the Puritans themselves.
For, certainly, if obedience to the established law be the highest virtue, then
the Patriots and Pilgrims of New England, the Reformers of the Church, the
glorious company of the Apostles, the goodly fellowship of the Prophets, and
the noble army of Martyrs, may, Jesus himself, were only criminals and traitors.
Thus both national and party politics are taken out of the jurisdiction of
morals, declared not amenable to conscience, in other words, are left to the
controul of political Jesuits. An American may read the natural result of
such principles in the downfall of the Grecian and Italian Republics, or wait
to behold it in his own land.
IV. OF THE DANGER FROM THE INSTITUTION OF SLAVERY WHICH RESTs
ON THIS FALSE IDEA.
Slavery is the child of Violence and Atheism. Brute material force—that is
its father; the atheistic idea that there is no Law of God above the passions of
men—that is the mother of it. -
There can be no national welfare without national Unity of Action. That
can not take place unless there is national Unity of Idea in fundamentals.
Without that, a nation is a ‘house divided against itself”; of course it can not
stand. It is what mechanics call a figure without equilibrium ; the different
parts of it do not balance.
Now, in the American State are two distinct ideas—Freedom and Slavery.
The Idea of Freedom first got a national expression seventy-eight years ago
next Tuesday. I put it in a philosophic form. There are five points in it.
First—All men are endowed by their Creator with certain matural rights,
among which is the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
Second—These rights are inalienable; they can be alienated only by the pos-
sessor thereof *; the father can not alienate them for the son, nor the son for
the father; nor the husband for the wife, nor the wife for the husband; nor the
strong for the weak, nor the weak for the strong; nor the few for the many,
nor the many for the few ; and so on.
° No, not even by the possessor. A man has no right to sell himself into slavery, to
abdicate his manhood, to renounce his right which is his only means of duty. E. E.R.
DANGERS TO THE RIGHTS OF MAN 45
Third—In respect to these all men are equal; the rich man has not more,
and the poor less; the strong man has not more, and the weak man less —all
are exactly equal in these rights, however unequal in their powers. .
Tourth—It is the function of government to secure these natural, inalien-
able, and equal rights to every man.
Eifth–Government derives all its divine right from its conformity with these
ideas, all its human sanction from the consent of the governed.
That is the Idea of Freedom. I used to call it ‘the American Idea”; it was
when I was younger than I am to-day. It is derived from human mature; it
rests on the immutable Laws of God; it is part of the natural religion of man-
kind. It demands a government after natural Justice, which is the point com-
mon between the conscience of God and the conscience of mankind; it is the
point common also between the interests of one man and of all men.
Now this government, just in its substance, in its form must be democratic :
that is to say, the government of all, by all, and for all. You see what conse-
quences must follow from such an idea, and the attempt to reënact the Law of
God into political institutions. There will follow the freedom of the people,
respect for every natural right of all men, the rights of their body and their
spirit—the rights of mind and conscience, heart and soul. There must be some
restraint—as of children by their parents, as of bad men by good men; but it
will be restraint for the joint good of all parties concerned, not restraint for
the exclusive benefit of the restrainer. The ultimate consequence of this will
be the material and spiritual welfare of all,—riches, comfort, noble manhood,
all desirable things.
That is the Idea of Freedom. It appears in the Declaration of Indepen-
dence; it reappears in the Preamble to the American Constitution, which aims
‘to establish Justice, ensure domestic tranquillity, provide for the common
defence, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of Liberty.”
That is a religious idea; and when men pray for the “Reign of Justice’ and
the ‘Kingdom of Heaven’ to come on earth politically, I suppose they mean
that there may be a Commonwealth where every man has his natural rights of
mind, body, and estate.
Next is the Idea of Slavery. Here it is. I put it also in a philosophic
form. There are three points which I make.
First—There are no natural, inalienable, and equal rights, wherewith men
are endowed by their Creator; no natural, imalienable, and equal right to life,
liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
Second—There is a great diversity of powers, and in virtue thereof the strong
man may enslave and ruin the weak, for his interest and against theirs.
Third–There is no matural law of God to forbid the strong to oppress the
weak, and enslave and ruin the weak. \
That is the Idea of Slavery. It has never got a national expression in
America; it has never been laid down as a Principle in any act of the American
people, nor in any single State, so far as I know. All profess the opposite;
but it is involved in the measures of both State and Nation. This Idea is
founded on the selfishness of man; it is atheistic.
46 DANGERS TO THE RIGHTS OF MAN
The idea must lead to a corresponding government; that will be unjust in
its substance,—for it will depend, not on natural right, but on personal force ;
not on the Constitution of the Universe, but on the compact of men. It is
the abnegation of God in the universe and of conscience in man. Its form will
be despotism, the government of all, by a part, for the sake of a part. It
may be a single-headed despotism, or a despotism of many heads. But, whether
a Cyclops or a Hydra, it is alike ‘the abomination which maketh desolate.’
Its ultimate consequence is plain to foresee—poverty to a nation, misery, ruin.
At first, Slavery came as a Measure; nothing was said about it as a Principle.
But, in a country full of schoolmasters, legislatures, talking men, a measure
without a principle to bear it up is like a single twig of willow cast out on a
wooden floor; there is nothing for it to grow by—it will die. So of late the
principle has been boldly avowed. Mr Calhoun denied the self-evident truths
of the Declaration of Independence; denied the matural, imalienable, and equal
rights of man. Many since have done the same—political, literary, and mer-
cantile men, and, of course, ecclesiastical men; there are enough of them always
in the market. All parts of the Idea of Slavery have been affirmed by pro-
minent men at the North and the South. It has been acted on in the forma-
tion of the Constitution of every Slave State, and in the passage of many of its
laws. It lies at the basis of a great deal of national legislation.
Hear the opinions of some of our Southern Patriots :—‘Slavery is coèval
with Society’: ‘it was commended by God’s chosen Theocracy, and sanctioned
by His Apostles in the Christian Church.” All ancient literature ‘is the litera-
ture of Slaveholders’; ‘Rome and Greece owed their literary and national great- .
ness exclusively to the institution of Slavery’; ‘Slavery is as necessary for the
welfare of the Southern States as sunshine is for the flowers of the prairies’;
‘a noble and necessary institution of God’s creation.” “Nature is the mother
and protector of Slavery’; ‘Domestic Slavery is not only natural and necessary,
but a great blessing.’ ‘Free Society is a sad and signal failure’; it “does well
enough in a new country.’ ‘Free Society has become diseased by abolishing
Slavery. It can only be restored to pristine health, happiness, and prosperity,
by reinstituting Slavery.’ ‘Slavery may be administered under a new name.’
‘Free Society is a monstrosity. Like all monstels, it will be short-lived. We
dare and do windicate Slavery in the abstract.” The negro ‘needs a master to
protect and govern him : so do the ignorant poor in old countries.’
These two ideas are now fairly on foot. So long as they exist in the nation
as two political forces, there is no national unity of Idea, and of course no unity of .
action: for there is no centre of gravity common to Freedom and Slavery. They
will not compose an equilibrious figure. You may cry- Peace! Peace l’ but so
long as these two antagonistic Ideas remain, each seeking to organize itself
and get exclusive power, there is no peace ; there can be none.
The question before the nation to-day is—Which shall prevail: the Idea and
Fact of Freedom, or the Idea and Fact of Slavery ; Freedom exclusive and
universal, or Slavery exclusive and universal P The question is not merely—
Shall the African be bond or free ? but—Shall America be a Democracy or a
Despotism? For nothing is so remorseless as an idea, and no logic is so strong
DANGERS TO THE RIGHTS OF MAN 47
as the historical development of a national idea by millions of men. A measure
is nothing without its principle. The Idea which allows Slavery in South
Carolina will establish it also in New England. The bondage of a black man
in Alexandria imperils every white woman’s daughter in Boston.
There are only three ways of settling this question. The Union may be rent
asunder; the Idea of Freedom may destroy Slavery; or the Idea of Slavery
may destroy Freedom. If the last, then the wicked will walk on every side,
for the vilest of men will be exalted, and America become the mock and scorn
and hissing of the nations will go down to worse shame than was ever heaped
upon Sodom : for, with her lust for wealth, land, and power, she will have
committed the crime against mature. Then America will be another Gomorrah
—for the Dead Sea will have settled down upon us with nothing living in its
breast, and the rulers will proclaim-Peace where they have made solitude.
Judging from present appearances, this would seem most likely.
That Freedom may triumph over Slavery does not seem likely, since only
two national steps have been taken against Slavery since the formation of the
Constitution, the last abolition of the African trade in 1788 (really done then,
formally twenty years later); and the Federal Government becomes more and
more addicted to Slavery. On the other hand, nine great steps have been openly
taken since ’87 in favour of Slavery. First, America put Slavery into the Con-
stitution. Second, out of old soil she made four new Slave States. Third,
America, in 1793, adopted Slavery as a Federal institution, and guaranteed her
protection for that kind of property as for no other. Fourth, America bought
Louisiana in 1803, and put Slavery into it. Fifth, she made Missouri a Slave
State, and then Arkansas. Sixth, she made Slavery perpetual in Florida.
Seventh, she annexed Texas. Fighth, she fought the Mexican War, and plum-
dered a feeble sister republic of California, Utah, and New Mexico, to get
more slave soil. Ninth, America passed the Fugitive Slave Bill. In this very
year, before it is half through, America has taken two more steps for the
destruction of Freedom. The repeal of the Missouri Compromise and the
enslavement of Nebraska: that is the tenth step. Here is the eleventh : the
Mexican Treaty, giving away ten millions of dollars and buying a small strip of
worthless land, solely that it may serve the cause of Slavery.
Worse things are behind. Slavery has corrupted the mercantile class. Almost
all the leading merchants of the North are Pro-Slavery men. They hate free-
dom, hate your freedom and mine ! This is the only Christian country in which
commerce is hostile to freedom." It has also corrupted the political class;
it has debased the Press; corrupted our Colleges, our Schools, our Churches,
our Judges, our Federal Courts, and our State Governments. But even this
is not the end. Here is the programme of the next attempt—a new political
Tragedy in five acts.
I. The acquisition of Dominica, and then all Hayti, as new Slave Territory.
II. The acquisition of Cuba, by purchase, or else by private filibustering and
public war, as new Slave Territory.
"You will find that commerce is the same everywhere. The free-trading monopolist
always hates freedom, which would spoil his monopoly of the labour-market. E. ER.
48 - ALGIERNON SYDNEY
III. The reëstablishment of Slavery in all the Free States, by judicial
‘decision’ or legislative enactment. Then the Master of the North may ‘sit
down with his Slaves at the foot of Bunker Hill Monument’ſ
IV. The restoration of the African Slave Trade, which is already seriously
proposed and defended in the Southern journals. Nay, the Senate Committee
on Foreign Relations recommended the first step toward it—the withdrawal
of our fleet from the coast of Africa. You can not escape the consequence of
your first principle: if Slavery is right, then the Slave-trade is right; the traffic
between Guinea and New Orleans is no worse than between Virginia and New
Orleans; it is no worse to kidnap in Timbuctoo than in Boston.
W. A yet further quarrel must be sought with Mexico, and more Slave Ter-
ritory be stolen from her.
All this looks as if the third hypothesis would be fulfilled, and Slavery
triumph over Freedom. Then the preamble to our Constitution might read—
‘To establish injustice, ensure domestic strife, disturb the general welfare, and
inflict the curse of bondage on ourselves and our posterity.’ Then we shall
honour the Puritans no more, but their Prelatical tormentors; nor reverence
the great Reformers, only the Inquisitors of Rome. Yes! we may tear the
name of Jesus out of the American Bible; yea, God’s name; worship the Devil
at our Lord’s table, Iscariot for Redeemer
See the steady triumph of Despotism Ten years more like the ten years
past, and it will be all over with the liberties of America. Everything must go
down, and the heel of the tyrant will be on our neck. It will be all over with
the Rights of Man in America, and you and I must go to Austria, to Italy, or
to Siberia, for our freedom, or perish with the liberty which our fathers fought
for and secured to themselves, not to their faithless sons. Shall America thus
miserably perish P Such is the aspect of things to-day !
So it was in the days of old : they ate, they drank, they planted, they builded,
they married, they were given in marriage, until the day that Noah entered
into the Ark, and the Flood came and devoured them all !
A L G E R N 0 N S Y D N E Y.
§ORE known for his death than for his life, the name of ALGERNoN
; | | SYDNEY yet stands among the highest on the monument of England's
§§§ glory.
Algernon was the second son of Robert, Earl of Leicester, and grand-
nephew of Sir Philip Sydney. He was born in 1617 or ’22. Of his education
and early life we know little except that in 1636 he went to Paris with his
father (then ambassador to the Court of France), and that afterward he was in
Italy. Intended to be a soldier, service was sought for him under the Prince


Y D N E Y
C
}
E R N () N
(;
A. I,

ALGERNoN syDNEY - 49
of Orange; and, failing that, his father, being Lord Lieutenant of Ireland,
sent him there with a troop of Horse, where he highly distinguished himself
against the rebels. After two years he was recalled to England, and, embracing
the popular cause, though his father adhered to the king, was appointed to the
Command of a troop in Manchester’s army. In the course of a few weeks he
obtained the rank of lieutenant-colonel, and fought with much gallantry at the
head of his commander’s regiment in the battle of Marston-Moor. On his re-
covery from the wounds which he had received in this action, he was promoted
to the command of a regiment in Sir Thomas Fairfax's army. “Sanctus amor
patria daff animum’ (the holy love of country inspires me) was the motto he
chose for his banner, and it become the watchword of his life. -
In 1646 he was appointed commander of the cavalry forces in Ireland; but
the service was much impeded by a misunderstanding with Lord Inchiquim, and
Sydney returned to England in the following year. In 1648, he was named
governor of Dover Castle; and, when it was determined to bring the king to
trial, he was appointed one of the commissioners. He attended several of the
preliminary consultations in the Painted Chamber, but retired into the country
before the monarch was arraigned. It may however be added that Sydney ap-
proved of the sentence of the court. When at Copenhagen, after the revolution, it
being observed to him one day in company that he had not been guilty of the
late king's death, he indignantly replied—‘Guilty do you call that guilt
Why, it was the justest and the bravest action that ever was dome in England
or anywhere else !’
In 1651 Sydney was elected a member of the Council of State, and continued
upon it till the dissolution of the Long Parliament by Cromwell, on the 20th
of April, 1653. On that day he sat next the Speaker, and refused to quit the
House till by Cromwell’s order Harrison and Worsley laid their hands upon
him, threatening him with force. He now retired to Penshurst, and is said
to have spent his leisure in composing, or at least in planning, his celebrated
Discourses on Government. In 1654 he visited the Hague, and there became
acquainted with the illustrious De Witt. At the reinstatement of the long
Barliament, after the abdication of Richard Cromwell, he returned to England,
and was employed by the Council of State, in June, 1659, to go with Bulstrode
Whitelocke on an embassy to Sweden, to mediate between that country and
Denmark. While there, the restoration was perpetrated by Monk; and Sydney,
refusing to come back to England, retired to Italy. When they pressed him
to take advantage of the Act of Indemnity, he replied in a noble letter, worth
lengthily quoting, as it is characteristic of his whole life.
‘I confess we are naturally inclined to delight in our own country, and I have a par-
ticular love to mine. I hope I have given some testimony of it. I think that being
exiled from it is a great evil, and would redeem myself from it with the loss of a great
deal of my blood. But when that country of mine, which used to be esteemed a para-
dise, is now like to be made a stage of injury; the liberty which we hoped to establish
oppressed ; luxury and lewdness set up in its height, instead of the piety, virtue, sobriety,
and modesty, which we hoped God, by our hands, would have introduced; the best of our
nation made a prey to the worst; the parliament, court, and army, corrupted; the people
50 - ALGERNON SYDNEY
enslaved; all things vendible; no man safe, but by such evil and infamous means as
flattery and bribery: what joy can I have in my own country in this condition? Is it a
pleasure to see that all I love in the world is sold and destroyed? Shall I renounce all
my old principles, learn the vile court-arts, and make my peace by bribing some of them?
Shall their corruption and vice be my safety? Ah no. Better is a life among strangers
than in my own country upon such conditions. While I live, I will endeavour to pre-
serve my liberty, or at least not consent to the destroying of it. I hope I shall die in
the same principles in which I have lived, and will live no longer than they can preserve
me. I have in my life been guilty of many follies, but, as I think, of no meanness. I
will not blot and defile that which is past by endeavouring to provide for the future. I
have ever had in my mind, that when God should cast me into such a condition, as that
I can not save my life but by doing an indecent thing, he shows me the time has come
wherein I should resign it : and, when I can not live in my own country but by such
means as are worse than dying in it, I think he shows me I ought to keep myself out of
it, Let them please themselves with making the king glorious, who think a whole people
may justly be sacrificed for the interest and pleasure of one man and a few of his fol-
lowers; let them rejoice in their subtilty, who, by betraying the former powers, have
gained the favour of this, not only preserved, but advanced themselves in these danger-
ous changes, Nevertheless, perhaps, they may find the king’s glory is their shame; his
plenty the people's misery; and that the gaining of an office, or a little money, is a poor
reward for destroying a nation, which, if it were preserved in liberty and virtue, would
truly be the most glorious in the world; and that others may find they have with much
pains purchased their own shame and misery—a dear price paid for that which is not wor".
keeping, nor the life that is accompanied with it. The honour of English Parliame
has ever been in making the nation glorious and happy, not in selling and destroy.
the interest of it, to satisfy the lusts of one man.
“When the innocence of my actions will not protect me, I will stay away till the storm
be over-passed. In short, where Vane, Lambert, Haselrig, can not live in safety, I can
not live at all. If I had been in England, I should have expected a lodging with them;
or, though they may be the first, as being more eminent than I, I must expect to follow
their example in suffering as I have been their companion in acting.
‘I have not learnt to make my own peace, by persecuting and betraying my brethren,
more innocent and worthy than myself, I must live by just means, and serve to just
ends, or not at all.’
In 1663 he left Italy, and traveled through Switzerland, where he spent some
weeks with his early friend Ludlow and his companions in exile. He them pro-
ceeded to Brussels, where he occupied himself for a time with a plan for
engaging in the service of Austria with a body of troops which he proposed to
raise from among his old republican companions at home. The scheme was
rejected by the English Cabinet, and Sydney next urged the French Govern-
ment to invade England, for the purpose of restoring the Commonwealth.
This project also came to nothing. But Sydney was allowed to live quietly
two years under the avowed protection of Louis XIV. An anecdote is related
of him strikingly characteristic of his haughty and stubborn independence.
The king of France, having taken a fancy to a fine English horse on which he
had seen Sydney mounted at a chase, requested that he would part with it at
his own price. On his declining the proposal, the king, determined to take no
ALGERNON SYDNEY 5]
denial, gave orders to tender him money or to seize the horse. Sydney, on
hearing this, instantly took a pistol and shot it, saying ‘that his horse was born
a free creature, had served a free man, and should not be mastered by a king
of slaves.” . . -
In 1677, by the interest of his father, he obtained permission to visit Eng-
land. His father died soon after his arrival, and a long and vexatious suit in
Chancery with his elder brother compelled him to convert what he had intended
as a temporary into a permanent residence in Tngland. Finding himself likely
to remain a citizen of England, he made several attempts to get into Parlia-
ment, in which he was strenuously supported by the celebrated Quaker, William
Penn; but court influence and intrigue prevailed against him. Sydney now
knew himself to be both feared and hated by the Government; he felt also its
snares to be around him, but he quailed not at the imminent peril of his situa-
tion. With the scaffold and the axe almost before him, he pursued his daunt-
less career as the public opponent of whatever measures appeared to him
pernicious to the national interests. When, in 1681, Charles dissolved the
Parliament at Oxford and put forth an appeal to the public in vindication of
his conduct, the opposition instantly met it with a counter-appeal, the rough
draught of which is said to have come from the pen of Sydney. He also made
himself conspicuous by his opposition to Sir William Temple's scheme of an
alliance between England, Holland, and Spain, against France. In the pro-
gress of this affair, he is accused of having accepted two sums of five hundred
guineas from Barillon, the French minister at the Court of London. The
charge seems to rest entirely on the very suspicious testimony of Barillon him-
self; and the circumstances by no means warrant the offensive remarks of Mr
Macaulay, who writes affecting a high moral tone of regret at the stain upon
the character of Sydney.
In 1683 Sydney was arrested on the ground of being concerned in the Rye-
House Plot for the assassination of the king : an accusation as unlikely as that
of bribery, though there is little doubt that he had intended insurrection, as
what homest man indeed must not have desired it in Ingland’s so unhappy con-
dition? Before the infamous Chief Justice Jefferies he defended himself boldly,
but was of course found guilty : the main evidence of his treason (not of any
projected assassination) being his own unpublished writings purloined from his
private desk. * ,
On the 7th of December, they brought him to the scaffold on Tower Hill,
yet wet with the blood of Lord William Russell, that martyr to the sacred
right of insurrection," so innocently adored by modern Whigs (a Russell now-
* Russell might have obtained pardon could he have been induced to admit the doctrine
of passive obedience.—See Burnet’s Journal.
Lord William Russell was executed on the 21st of July, a martyr to the doctrine of .
the lawfulness of resistance (a ‘felon’—in the language of his descendant, Lord John of
our times); and on the same day the University of Oxford published its celebrated decree
in support of passive obedience. ‘To the honour of the Holy and Undivided Trinity, the
preservation of catholic truth in the church, and that the king's majesty might be secured
both from the attempts of open bloody enemies, and the machinations of treacherous
52 - ALGERNON SYDNEY
a-day finding even open speaking to be sedition). His death was as undaunted
as his life. “Never did man,’ says Lingard, ‘face the terrors of death with less
parade or greater indifference. He suffered no friend to accompany him; he
refused the aid of the ministers of religion; and when he was asked if he did
not intend to address the spectators, he replied that “he had made his peace
with God, and had nothing to say to man.” As he calmly laid his head upon
the block, the executioner inquired if he would rise again. “Not till the
general resurrection. Strike on tº was his firm reply. ‘To his last breath the
establishment of his beloved Commonwealth was the idol of his heart; and the
written speech, which he delivered to the sheriff on the scaffold, concluded with
a prayer of thanksgiving to God that he died for that GOOD OLD CAUSE in which
he had been engaged from his youth, and for which God had 30 offen and so won-
derfully declared himself.”
Bishop Burmet, who knew him personally, gives the following character of
him —‘He was a man of most extraordinary courage, a steady man, even to
obstimacy, sincere, but of a rough and boisterous temper that could not bear
contradiction. He seemed to be a Christian, but in a particular form of
his own; he thought it was to be like a divine philosophy in the mind:
but he was against all public worship and everything that looked like a church.
He was stiff to all republican principles, and such an enemy to everything that
looked like monarchy that he set himself in a high opposition against Cromwel?
when he was made Protector. He had studied the history of government in
all its branches, beyond any man I ever knew.” -
He left behind him his Discourses on Government, the first edition of which was
published in 1698, the second in 1704. To the second is added the paper he
delivered to the sheriff immediately before his death, with an alphabetical
table. “Some,’ says Chalmers in his Biographical Dieſſionary, “have esteemed
these discourses of Sydney upon government so much as to esteem them an
ample compensation for the loss of Cicero's six books De Republică. It is cer-
tain that they abound with strong sense and good learning, and shew their
author to have been very consummate in the science of human nature and civil
polity.” *
heretics and schismatics, that learned and orthodox body consigned to everlasting repro-
bation the following doctrines: that civil authority is originally derived from the people;
that there exists any compact, tacit or express, between the prince and his subjects, from
the obligation of which, if one party resile, the other is of course discharged; and that,
if the sovereign govern not, as by the law of God and man he is bound to govern, he for.
feits the right which he previously had to the government, In addition they enjoined
‘that all and singular the readers, tutors, and catechists should diligently instruct and
ground their scholars in that most necessary doctrine, which in a manner is the badge and
eharacter of the Church of England, of submitting to every ordinance of man for the
Lord’s sake, teaching that this submission and obedience is to be clear, absolute, and with-
out exception of any state or order of men.’
AN APOLOGY FOR CROMWELL.
(From the Times of January 4, 1855.)
[Saul among the Prophets! The Times among the admirers of Cromwell!! The Times
for once on the side of Truth !!! We will not alter or expunge a line, but gratefully
borrow the whole article. Only the italicizing, brackets, and notes are our own. E. E.R.]
CARLYLE's CROMWELL" AND GUIZOT’s ENGLISH REPUBLIC AND CROMWELL,"
FEW, even of Cromwell’s personal enemies, would have denied that he was the
frst of English soldiers and the first of English staffesmen. No one could doubt
that by his arms, his policy, and his arden; patriotism, England had been raised
to the summit of glory and greatness. Yet he was scarcely laid in his tomb when
his people suffered the dregs of humanity to profane his ashes; and for almost
two centuries it has suffered the dregs of literature to defile his name. By the
hearth and in the prison of the Puritan, reverence was still paid to his memory,
beneath the protection of whose mighty arm the poor and humble had wor-
shiped God in peace. Milton’s Sonnet still spoke in strange and scandalous
accents of
Our chief of men, who through a cloud
Not of war only, but detractions rude,
Guided by faith and matchless fortitude,
To peace and truth thy glorious way hast plough’d,
And on the neck of crowned fortune proud
Hast rear'd God’s trophies and his work pursued.
But, generally, hatred, slander, and ignorance, worked their will with Crom-
well’s fame. To the mass of his countrymen the worst act in his splendid life"
was his history, as the coarsest feature in his heroic countenance was his por-
trait. So far have abhorrence of famaticism, hatred of military sway, and the
emory of one dark deed, together with the merited abhorrence of Tory and
the cowardly philosophy of Whig writers, availed to make the English nation
unjust to the memory of its greatest man.
The fate of the Protector's reputation seemed sealed by the judgement of
Hume, and afterward of Mr Hallam. Hume was, ahove all things, a gentle-
man and an atheist; and Cromwell in his day was the enemy of both. As an
* Oliver Cromwell’s Letters and Speeches. By Thomas ( arlyle. Chapman and Hall.
" Histoire de la République d'Angleterre et de Cromwell. Par M. Guizot. Didier.
* We may forgive the Times for calling the judgement of Charles I the worst act in
Cromwell's life : everyone knowing that it was the act not of Cromwell, but of all the
best men of England. But it is worth noticing that at last even the Times can find no
heavier charge against Cromwell, while it characterizes the men of the Restoration as the
‘dregs of humanity.’
54 AN APOLOGY FOR CROMWELL
historian he was averse to the trouble of reference, and by no means averse to
telling falsehoods, provided they were fold in the grand style. It may be safely
said that of the first two pages of his chapter on Cromwell every sentence con-
tains an untruth. This he did with easy good-nature, reposing on his sofa, and
without the slightest shock to that moral philosophy which was an elegant
handmaid to the pleasures of a gentleman. Mr Hallam's censure is incom-
parably more grave. But Mr Hallam adores the letter of the Constitution, and
he has no sympathy for religious enthusiasm or irregular greatness. He hates
Luther as well as Cromwell. He is eved disposed to be comparatively kind to
Napoleon, because Napoleon was always talking of his star, while Cromwell
was always talking of his God.
Mr Carlyle first effectually stemmed the tide of monsense and injustice; and
JEngland owes him gratitude for doing so, though he has not failed to give us
Some splendid nonsense and some splendid injustice of his own. He writes
history, as everybody knows, on the theory that great men are divinities, and
that to worship them is the one hope of salvation for mankind. If a character
in history is very strong and very successful, he is perfect in wisdom and in
goodness; and whoever doubts either is to be bludgeoned with hard names.
The laws of morality were not made for heroes, nor the laws of candour and
justice for their biographers. This theory is simply false. Great men of all
kinds, from the author of Haffileſ to the victor of Tunbar, are, indeed, one of
the highest gifts of heaven; they ought to be judged by the spirit rather than
by the letter of the law, and to overprize them is a generous error. But they
are all of them palpably men—men often with only one gift, and always with
many weaknesses and limited vision. Mr Carlyle, who, as a hero-worshiper,
treats his heroes as incarnations of eternal truth, is obliged as a sceptic to treat
them all successively as the transient emanations of their time.
Cromwell’s worst acá was the evecuffion of Charles I. Charles’ death was no
doubt the ultimate consequence of the conspiracy info which he had entered with
Laud and Strafford against the civil and religious liberties of his people, and the
immediafe consequence of £hał profound perfidy which baffled all aftempás ał
accommodation, and which, when it was evereized in defence of his tyranny, was
a part of his religion. Wo friend of freedom could have pified Charles’ fall; but
all right-minded men, even the most ardent friends of freedom, are agreed in
thinking that his execution was a great crime" and a still greater error; and
from a biographer of Cromwell who does not wish to shock all right-minded
men the question demands at least the most serious and candid treatment. Mr
Carlyle treats it in a way which is equally irrational and unfeeling. ‘It was
the greatest blow ever given to flunkeyism—a blow of which flunkeyism has
gone about very sick ever since.’ It was no blow to flunkeyism at all, even at
that day. In England it turned a tyrant into a martyr. The kings of Europe
drew from it the triumphant moral, that tyranny call not stand without the aid
of superstition, and that if a monarch desires to found his throne securely in
* Just simply a Times lie. No friend of freedom ever thought it ‘a crime.’ Very few
friends of freedom have been foolish enough to think it ‘an error.’
AN APOLOGY FOR CROMWELT, - 55
injustice he must found it also in the Church of Rome. They drew this moral,
and they took the opportunity of buying at a cheap rate Charles’ valuable col-
lection of pictures and werfu. The Protestants and Republicans it was that
hung the head and wept. Two centuries after the event, flunkeyism, on Mr
Carlyle’s own showing, is so far from being very sick that it possesses the
earth; and England herself, instead of being cured of the love of kings, has
loaded herself with debt in struggling to restore the most abject of royal
families to a foreign throne. -
The extent of Cromwell’s guilt must depend on the extent to which selfish
motives may have mingled in his mind with a sense of State necessity and in-
dignation at Charles’ crimes; and this will never be known till Cromwell stands
at the judgement seat of God. His was not the mind to seek relief in com-
municating his misgivings or extenuating his deed. All we can say is that, so
far as we can see, no angry shade haunted a heart which, though it turned to
iron at the approach of danger, was at other times by no means hard. Few
Tory bishops at the present day would compare the execution of Charles I to
the Crucifixion; few sensible men would compare it to a dastardly assassima-
tion like the murder of the Duc d'Enghien. So good and pure a man as Hut-
chinson thought it his duty to God and to the people to take part in it, though
he disliked Cromwell and dreaded his rising power. That Cromwell’s motives
were entirely or even mainly selfish we can scarcely believe. To this extent
Mr Macaulay’s argument seems sound. The profoundest intellect of that day
can scarcely have been blind to the fact that Charles I never could, and that
his son might, reáscend the throne. -
After astrology and alchemy come seience. After the hero-worship of
Mr Carlyle comes the history of M. Guizot, who reaps the fruits of Mr Car-
lyle’s noble labour, and enjoys the light of his genius without his special hal-
lucinations. M. Guizot has given us an admirable narrative, far more candid
than any from an English pen. His moral judgement is rather Machiavellian.
He talks of the designs of Providence as though he was as intimate with its
counsels as with those of Louis Philippe; but he sometimes talks of human
motives as though he had never known an honest man. He sees cajolery where
a common mind sees nothing but kindness, and cunning where a common mind
sees nothing but good sense. Cromwell desires that the effigy of his army may
be put on the Dumbar medal instead of his own : * whereupon we are told that
* Facsimile of the medal for the Battle of Dunbar.

56 AN APOE,06Y FOR CROMWELL
‘no great man cwer carried so far the hypocrisy of modesty, or so easily Sacri-
ficed his vanity to his ambition.” That Cromwell had any vanity to sacrifice—
that he was not actuated by real magnanimity and a real desire to do justice to
his soldiers, M. Guizot does not attempt to show. Does the French statesman
think a bit of tinsel so great an object that nothing but the hope of a larger
bit can induce a great man to forego it? How many effigies of himself did
Cromwell cause to be made when he was Protector and might safely have had
as much tinsel as he pleased ?
The man who can read Cromwell’s personal history and private leffers, who
ean mark his conduct in the day of peril and in the hour of death, and still believe
him to have been nothing buff an ambitious hypocrife, must have lost all faith in
human nature. Cromwell left a happy home at the age of forty-three, uncon-
scious of any powers in himself but those of a good farmer, to fight for liberty
and Gospel faith—he and his boy Oliver, whose loss went to his heart like a
dagger,’ and whose memory fired his charge and saddened his victory at Mar-
stom-Moor. His life was earposed not only in every baffle, but in every skirmish,
for what he believed to be the cause of God; and his religion was £he great source
of his adamanſińe courage and his unwavering decision. The hope which it
kindled shone in him “like a pillar of fire’ when hope was extinct in all other
men. It raised his heroism sometimes to Hebrew grandeur. What is the Sun
of Austerlitz to the morning of Dunbar P
How could a hypocrite have formed the Ironsides & It was said of those men,
that they feared God, and that they feared nothing beside ; and the first part of the
saying was as true as the last. They were not mere ranters and psalm-singers.
They showed their practical religion by religiously abstaining from all military
license, even in conquered cities. When they were disbanded, from the best of
soldiers they became again #e best of citizens, and peacefully did their duty to
God and their Safe, while Jesuits and strumpefs and inſidel persecutors frampled
on #he Proſec/or’s ashes &md dishozozºred £he Prożec{or’s £hronze.
Cromwell began life as a famatical Puritan. Mr Carlyle’s inspired prophet
sat at the feet of Hugh Peters; and Puritanism, though it was as much nobler
than Jesuitism as Milton is nobler than Bellarmine, was not the pure religion
of mercy, charity, and justice. Its votaries, and Cromwell among them, dan-
gerously and immorally mixed up their religion and their politics, and took to
themselves what was intended only for the Jews—extravagances for which not
the Bible, but the long denial of the Bible to Christians, is to blame. They
also talked and wrote, both in public and in private, with a coarse and metho-
distical unction which would be a sure sign of hypocrisy now, but which was
by no means a sure sign of hypocrisy then ; and which ought not to be too
severely censured by the parāy which produced ſhe Services for the Restoration
and #he Martyrdom of Charles. No man can be a fanatic with impunity, any
more than a drunkard or a profligate; and Cromwell's actions and character as
well as his speeches were the worse for his famaticism throughout his life. But
* “Dangerously,” certainly, because unwisely, and to such extent as all mistakes are
immoral, ‘immorally.” - - -
AN APOLOGY FOR CROMWELL 57
he grew less fºnatie as he went on. He was, we believe, the first sovereign who
distinctly asserted and practically upheld the principle of religious liberty. He
secured the freedom of conscience for all, freedom of public worship for all buff
Prelatists and Papists ; more, in the age of Laud and Tilly, it was physically in-
possible to do. -
Cromwell became less fanatic as his mind opened and his vision enlarged;
but he did not betray his cause. The sectaries were wayward and insolent
toward him while he lived, but when he came to die they sought his life with
passionate prayers—prayers which were prescient of the evil to come to them-
selves and to their faith. The Independents, when they madly leagued with
the Cavaliers against him, experienced the tenderest lenity at his hands. Their
most famatical leaders had always free access to him, even when his life was in
constant danger from assassins. For the general cause of Protestantism he did
more than any other man except Luther—[not by publishing propagandist
manifestoes or threatening to subvert foreign Governments, or holding out
promises of universal brotherhood to be followed by universal perfidy and pil-
lage, but] by a course of policy at once energetic and discreet, which made all
the world feel that the protection of Protestantism was the first object of the
greatest of nations. Had he succeeded in founding a dynasty to carry out his
traditions, the Edict of Nantes never could have been revoked, the hopes of
freedom in Italy never could have been stiled, and Europe might have been
Protestant at this hour. What has damned Cromwell’s memory is, not that he
befrayed his cause, buff that he served his cause too well. Perhaps, if he had
crushed the liberty for which his soldiers died, had married a Spanish princess,
and restored the Anglican hierarchy as a tool of his political domination,
Churchmen and Tories would not be found censorious or unkind.s
Cromwell bore with the Long Parliament, fought for it at home, and did his
best to get it recognized abroad, till it brought the cause to the brink of ruin
and became intolerable to the nation. Its heroism, like that of other revolu-
tionary assemblies, ended with the struggle. After its crowning victory at
Worcester, it became arrogant, factious, corrupt, tyrannical, chimerical, utterly
incompetent to govern. It perverted justice, it disordered the finances, it
showed a strong tendency to persecute; it wanted to annex the Dutch Republic,
and, being thwarted in that preposterous scheme, it plunged the two nations
into an unnatural and ruinous war. Its grandeur was past; Cromwell cut
short its infamy, not an hour too Soon, at the moment when it was about to
vote itself perpetual. There was no other way to preserve the fruits of the
revolution, and to save the nation from relapsing into tyranny on the one hand
or anarchy on the other. Cromwell might as well have fled in battle as have
refused that frust." The blood of £hoºlsands of brave Englishmen who had died in
21–
* ‘Perhaps’ Crouwell was no such idiot as to build the world’s future on a politic
‘perhaps.’ He has left us a great example.
"Very true there was was no other course for him. The Long Parliament was no
longer able to govern. We may agree to the Times' judgement as regards that, omitting
only such unjust words as ‘infamy’ and ‘corrupt, which can not apply to Vane and his
noble comrades.
58 AN APOLOGY FOR CROMWELL
Jighling under him, and of thousands who had died in fighting against him, would
#&ve been 0# his head if he had allowed if to be shed in vain. The situaſion in
which he was placed needed no intrigues to produce it; it resulted from the in-
evitable course of human nature. Every revolution in its last stage requires a
dictator, 0% tokose wisdom and honesty its ultimate success depends ; and, had
Cromwell been in the place of Lafayette, there would have been no Reign of
Terror, and France would have been free. The conduct of Washington has
been contrasted with that of Cromwell: but the so-called American Revolution
was no revolution at all; it was merely an emancipation from an external yoke,
and left American society united and in no need of a dictator. Society, in
Cromwell’s case, did urgently need a dictator, and the most constitutional of
&uman &eings has not yet &ftempted to show what else could have been done.
Whitelocke indeed advised Cromwell to throw the cause overboard, and make
terms for himself with Charles II, and Whitelocke is one of the great witnesses
against the character of Cromwell. The choice lay between a perfidious Restora-
tion, the Fifth Monarchy, and Sir Henry Vane.
A dictatorship bows the head of a people for an hour ; a despotism bows its
heart for ever. Cromwell was compelled to be a dictator, but he abhorred the
thought of being & despoff. He was no sooner in power than he called the Little
Parliament—quite as much a Parliament as his Government at that juncture
could endure, and an incomparably more respectable, enlightened, and public-
spirited assembly #&n prejudice and nicknames have allowed us to believe.
Directly his administrative genius had restored order in public affairs at home
and abroad, he called a free Parliament, elected on the most enlightened prin-
ciples of parliamentary reform, and, as Hume himself admits, forming a per-
fectly fair representation of the people, with the inevitable exception of the
Cavaliers. This Parliament he earnestly besought to establish Protestant
liberty, under what all now see to have been the only possible constitution,
and to enter with him on a great career of ecclesiastical, legal, and political
reform, which would have secured to them and their children for ever the best
objects for which they had fought. In that unpremeditated and incoherent
phrase which has been strangely taken as a proof of mental duplicity, but with
perfect sense and justice, he urged to them that God by His hand had saved
them all, and that by virtue of His writ they were there. They refused to
acknowledge him. They were honourable and patriotic men ; and the letter of
consistency was on their side and against Cromwell, though he had always fought
more for religious liberty than for a Republic. Their error, the most disastrous
error that it was ever in the power of an English Parliament to commit, was
afoned for, by some of them with their blood, by all with the ruin of their cause.
The last appeal of a great man is to die. The republicans would not honour
the living Cromwell, but they reserved a dreadful honour for his tomb.
He was driven to govern by the sword; but it was not the degrading sword of
mercenary praetorians, but the sword of citizen soldiers—more citizens indeed
than soldiers, who were punished with the utmost severity for the slightest
wrong or insult to the people. Justice was admirably administered between
onan and man, though, of course, the Proſec/or could not allow Lilburn and Corry
AN APOLOGY TOR CROMWELL - 59
to stop his supplies, or question the legality of his government. Unevampled
prosperity reigned in the three kingdoms on the morrow of a bloody civil war.
To the Cavaliers alone the Government was oppressive. Their lands were not
confiscated, as they certainly would have been by an unscrupulous usurper
aiming at the foundation of a military despotism; but they were compelled to
pay a property-tax of 10 per-cent. They had refused to accept their defeat,
they had broken their amnesty by insurrections, they incessantly threatened
the existence of the Government, and M. Guizot allows that the impost was
not unjust. All this time Cromwell never [gave up the hope of restoring con-
stitutional government;" he never] named a successor to his dictatorship, and
he never ceased to witness to the principle of liberty, and to profess himself
the holder of a limited and delegated, not of an absolute or independent, power.
Touching the press, his exceptional precautions were not more severe than
the permanent regulations of the French empire. To men of letters of all
parties he extended a fearless and generous protection, without affecting to
share their tastes. Hudibras was written in the house of one of his officers. The
nanuscript of the Oceana ſell into his hands, and was returned by him to Har-
rington with a profesſation that he loved despotism as little as the author. He
protected the Universities when the cowards and bigots of his party would have
destroyed #ent and he was the first and last of English rulers who fried to make
their seminaries directly useful in supplying promising youths for the service of
the Słaże. And yet Cromwell is said, by great literary men, to have ‘drunk
only the lees of a besotted fanaticism,’ while the petty persecutor of Madame
de Stael and the deliberate oppressor of French intellect is called a child of
‘reason and philosophy.” Reason and philosophy were not so plentiful in
Cromwell’s day; and, if they are plentiful now, it is partly through Cromwell’s
valour in the cause of freedom. We must not enjoy the heritage of a hero and
fling his memory philosophically on a dung-hill. If Cromwell had not braved
death for Mr Hallam and all the rest of us, Mr Hallam's reason and philosophy
might be skulking under a cassock or flaming in an auto da ſé.
There is one very strong proof that Cromwell did n, the overthrow of the
Republic, which, so far as we know, has not yet bee, ovºved. After the battle
of Preston and the execution of Charles I, and his own appointment to the
command of the army of Ireland, when, if ever, guilty ambition must have pos-
sessed his mind, he married Richard, the heir of all these supposed schemes, to
the daughter of a private gentleman of moderate fortune but approved piety,
and bargained closely—his enemies would insinuate illiberally—about the terms
of the marriage settlement. He must have been an arch dissembler indeed if
he had then made up his mind to be king. - -
. The ‘self-denying ordinance' has a canting name; but it was the only safe
way of getting rid of the aristocratic generals, of whom it was absolutely necessary
to get rid, not only because they were incapable of obtaining a decisive victory,
but because they did not desire it. Cromwell recommended to the command
* Constitutional’ quothal Marry, but it is a droll word to couple with Cromwell,
God’s law was his endeavour, not constitutionalism.
60 AN APOLOGY FOR CROMWELL
Fairfax, an excellent soldier and a most popular man, and therefore, if Crom-
well had thought about rivals, a most formidable rival. The Ironsides mutinied
at the prospect of losing their commander. Cromwell put down the mutiny,
and then hastened to Fairfax to resign his commission. Fairfax desired him
to execute a particular movement. Cromwell did so, and returned victorious,
as usual; and the Parliament then had the sense to insist on his retaining his
commission. Such is the whole account of the matter in M. Guizot's impartial
pages. The resignation of Fairfax again, and the appointment of Cromwell to
the army of Scotland in his place, is set down, on the authority of Whitelocke,
as another master-stroke of Cromwell’s diabolical art. You turn to Mrs. Hut-
chinson, and there you find :—
“To speak the truth of Cromwell, whereas many said he undermined Fairfax, it was
false : for in Colonel Hutchinson's presence (a sufficiently adverse witness) he most
effectually importuned him to keep his commission, “lest it should discourage the army
and the people in that juncture of time,” but could by no means prevail, although he
laboured at it all the night with most earnest endeavours.”
So that Cromwell used the one valid argument against Fairfax's resignation to
the person most interested in admitting it with such earnestness that his enemy,
who was present, firmly believed him to be sincere. Whitelocke overshoots
himself. He attributes not only Fairfax's resignation but Cromwell’s appoint-
ment to contrivance. Why had Cromwell been summoned from his career of
victory in Ireland P Whom else could the Parliament have appointed P
Cromwell’s dealing toith the captive king is another alleged instance of his
hypocritical ambition. But he acted in the interest of the Independents, who
were threatened with persecution by the dominant Presbyterians; and there is
not the smallest reason to doubt that he sincerely intended to save Charles,
and, if he could have found faith in him, would have saved him. The discovery
of the king's duplicity and the Scotch invasion brought on by his intrigues
materially changed the scene. - -
Trace him where you will, you find that Cromwell does what is best for his
cause ; and that he should rise with the cause is alike inevitable and just. That
great men should in a certain sense love power is the only security that States
and parties have for not being governed by fools. Power, of course, is not to be
sought by foul means; but we do not find that in any specific instance the use of
foul means has been distinctly fived on Cromwell either by M. Guizot or any other
of the writers who speak of him in terms of general condemnation. Nor can we
admić that his general bearing and habits were those of a knave. He was gay,
jovial, social, easy of access, ready to converse. According to his enemies, he
could not always abstain even from a dangerous jest. Of course, in those
tremendous times, he felt his way before he acted, and sounded men before he
committed himself to them. He had to undertake measures which, if unsuccess-
ful, might ruin all; he had to make overtures to men who might acquiesce, and
might stab him on the spot. The common evidence of his craft and dissimula-
tion amounts to this, that he always wore a mask to friends and wise men, but
often took it off to enemies and fools. We must remember that the Repub-
licans and Millennarians of that day could not conceive why the Republic and
AN APOLOGY FOR CROMWELL 61
the Millennium had failed, unless it was through the intrigues of Cromwell, and
that they painted him accordingly. But we see clearly £hał £he Republic and
the Millennium not only might fºil, but must have failed, from causes wholly
independent of Cromwell’s ambition, and we must take this knowledge with us
when we judge the case. . -
In war Cromwell was #he most merciful of soldiers : for in his campaigns he
always sought decisive baffles, and his battles were always soon ended by a,
decisive charge. When he commanded, the carnage was small, the results im-
mense, and few brave men died by misery, pestilence, or famine. His five
greal and decisive victories of Marston, Naseby, Preston, Dunbar, and Wor-
cester, did not together cost near so many lives as the hideous and fruitless
butchery of Borodino. He treaſed war, not as a science in which he was to
show his skill, but as an appeal flo human forfitude, which, for the sake of
humanity, was to be fried without delay, War, under him, was far less Savage
than under other commanders of that time. His men always spared the country,
and almost always gave quarter even to those who gave no quarter to them. The
storming of Tredagh was the single noted exception to his and their humanity.
That “bitterness’ he justified on the ground that it had saved, as undoubtedly
it did save, much effusion of blood in what otherwise would have been a long
and desolating war. We must remember, too, that frightful atrocities had
recently been committed by Roman Catholics on Protestants both in Ireland
and elsewhere. The blood of Tredagh was a drop in the ocean of O’Neile’s
massacre or the sack of Magdeburg. Thał any of the peaceful inhabitants of
Drogheda were put to the sword is a conſuffed calumny, which M. Guizot ought
not to have repeated.
Cromwell’s political genius is a hackneyed theme of literary praise, to which
M. Guizot adds the attestation of a statesman. His reign is indeed £he marveſ,
of history. In every department, from our navy and our commerce down fo ozºr
postal communications we still feel his beneficent energy and pay homage ſo his
glorious shade. It was not his fault that much was left to be done by Éhe parlia-
Whentary reformers and law reformers of the present day. He established our
diplomacy on the soundest basis ; and his own bearing to foreign nations has been
aped, but scarcely equalled. He dealt with the most different characters, from
Mazarim to the Anabaptists, with equal and almost invariable success. And
We may say, in spite of prejudice, that his administra/ion was as upright as if
was able. He steadily promoted merit in the public service without regard fo per-
sonal interests. He fixed a high property qualification for the suffrage, though
his own popularity was chiefly among the lower orders. He put down the
Ilevellers—most mercifully indeed, but firmly, and without a moment’s hesita-
tion, though at great risk to his own person and influence,—and thereby, per-
haps, saved English society from a reign of terror. Considering the periis and
anxieties with which he was beset, his powers of concentration and self-com-
mand must have been such as have seldom been given to man. We must add
to this that his public life began at an age when nothing but genius is young,
and that he reigned for five years over a mutinous army and a rebellious people
—with assassins constantly seeking his life—with his mother wailing for terror
62 AN APOLOGY FOR CROMWELL
in his house—with enemies at the head of his armaments and enemies at his
council-board. Such well might be the greatest man that the English race
could produce in its most heroic [though its saddest] hour. -
Cromwell’s grandest visions, says M. Guizot, were bounded by his practical
good sense. Wo higher praise can be given to a statesman. But his visions were
limited also by his patriotism. He was not the man to undertake chimerical
Schemes of aggrandizement, and to squander oceans of blood and treasure to
gratify his own selfish and miserable pride. Through his ambition no English
citizen put on mourning. After Worcester he was expected to put himself at
the head of Some great military enterprize by a nation which expected Arma-
geddon and had not forgotten Cressy. But after Worcester he sheaffed his
sword for ever; he sought the empire of England on the sea, and gave the command
and the glory info offer, and those unfriendly, hands. First since the great
Edward he saw that our strength must rest, not on conquest abroad, but on
the consolidation and union of the three kingdoms. We have ratified his West
Indian expedition by retaining what he acquired, and even the foot on the con-
tinent which he had sought at Dunkirk we may be almost said to have kept at
Gibraltar. His quiet domestic Court and his solemn but modest State were
the true image of that policy of good sense, superior to vanity, which has been
the mark of all our great statesmen, and most of all of him.
And therefore he died triumphant. His people were subdued under him.
His design [for restoring the constitutional monarchy] was still advancing
against obstacles which he never underrated and before which he never suc-
cumbed. Europe was at his feet. The tidings of Cadiz and Teneriffe were in
his ears, and the laurels of Worcester were untarnished on his brow. He went
down, as Mr Carlyle says, like a summer Sun—as gloriously and as calmly.
The One cloud that hung over his setting was that of bereavement, not of
failure, or of fear. It is true that he so guarded his life from royalist and pre-
latist assassins that no assassin ever approached his person; it is not true that
the fear of assassination entered into his soul. But another “dagger’ found its
way. In the stormiest and most perilous moments of his life he had watched
over the welfare and the religious progress of his children with anxious and
unceasing care. He declared that nothing but the comfort which he found in
the Bible had saved his life when he lost his eldest son. And his end was the
crown and, in some sort, the reward of his affection : after so many terrible
fields and amid so many perils, he died of grief at Lady Claypole's death and
of illness brought on by watching at her side.
When the Protector was dying, he asked whether, having once been in a
state of grace, it was possible to fall from it; and, being told that it was not,
he rested in hope and peace. The Calvinistic phrase has for many of us become
obsolete, yet we hope that a man whose heart has once been full of the love of
God and a good cause will not be easily allowed to become utterly the prey of
selfish desires and low ambition. Those who think that Charles and Laud and
Strafford were the representatives of truth and righteousness in their day must
condemn Cromwell as one who, having truth and righteousness before his eyes,
not only rejected them, but trampled them into the dust; and they know how
T} is TORY OF THE MONTH 63
to explain and even to improve the presence of great human virtues in a mis-
believer’s heart. But those to whom the success of Charles and Laud would
have been political and spiritual death, those who exult in the greatness of free
Ingland and the hope of freedom which she bears for all the nations of the
world—though they may thank God that Cromwell’s religion is not ours and
that we live under a better government than even Cromwell’s arbitrary sway,
though they may find much in the half-educated Puritan which it would be
very difficult to love, though they may condemn the part which he took in the
death of a criminal but pious and misguided] king—must yet pray that the
life which was so often and freely flung upon the Sword for God’s cause may
not have been spared only that Cromwell might become an enemy of God.
REMAINS OF CROMWELL’s FARM AT ST IVES,
HISTORY OF THE MONTH,
(From Dec. 25%, ’ā4, 30 Jan. 23d, 55.)
OUR first article this month has these words (at page 34)—‘For what are we
fighting * To make a pretence of opposition to Russia, in order #0 cover pre-
semåly a new Treaty ºf Wießnit.” And the article is yet unpublished when we
are told that the Tzar accepts the four points as the basis of negociations, and
that about the beginning of February a Congress is to meet at Vienna to estab-
lish the conditions of peace. May God confound the plotters
Twenty thousand of our bravest have been foully murdered; thirteen thou-
sand more are in the hospitals; twenty thousand yet remain to perish outside
the walls of Sebastopol; in order that Englishmen, disgusted with the disas-
trous beginning of war, may be content to suffer any shameful peace that may
suit the purposes of brigand-emperors and unprincipled diplomatists.

64 HISTORY OF THE MONTH
Three hundred deaths a week in the camp, through neglect; 300 deaths a
week in the hospitals; “1,200 sick brought down to the hospitals in one day’;
‘ 3,000 left under the hospital marquees in the camp.” Our ‘horses are starved
to death, though abundance of food is within a few miles of them.” Our men
are ‘clothed in tatters’; they ‘strip the bodies of the dead Russians for pieces
of cloth to bind round their legs.’ They “have no change of clothing when
they return from ten hours’ work in the trenches.’ They are reduced to half
and even to quarter rations.” They eat their pork raw, for lack of fuel. The
noble Crimean army ‘is literally starving for want of the common necessaries
of life.’ And half an ounce of opium is served out for seven hundred men suffer-
ing from diarrhoea. And the wounded are left forty-eight hours untended on
the battle-field, are crowded into such hulks of transports that they are three
weeks on their voyage to the hospital at Scutari, and when the crippled sur-
vivors return to England, instead of being welcomed home with honour, and
muct by pity and attention, they may die on the quay at Portsmouth while the
excisemen are ransacking their luggage. - -
Ay, there is reason for Englishmen being disgusted at a war whose object is
a foul trick, whose only reality is this ruffianly sacrifice of heroic lives. And
the Ministers are glad to see, and the ministerial press is ready to foment, the
disgust which makes even starving labourers shrink from the prospect of a sol-
dier's glory and thirteen-pence a-day (wives and children left to charity), which
gives a colour for bringing a foreign garrison into England if through any acci-
dent the war go on, and which so fills the public mind that men say only—
Relieve us from this horror, and do what you will.
Whether they make ‘peace’ or not, there are worse horrors to be gone
through if England will not rise against the Traitors in the Cabinet and the
Traitors’ humble servants in that hole of driveling imbecility miscalled the
House of Commons.
But the Queen has written a most affectionate letter—“a charming restora-
tion of the best reward of chivalry in its palmiest days’ (They read it to the
soldiers at Portsmouth to warm them while their luggage was being searched);
and the Prince of Wales has sent a plum-pudding to one Sergeant Davis (which
is also a ‘charming restoration”). And Lord Aberdeen is to be a Knight of
the Most Noble Order of the Garter. So the suffering or the destruction of thirty,
forty, or fifty thousand gallant soldiers (our brothers) is of little consequence.
Let Russia keep Sebastopol. Disappoint the hopes of Italy, Poland, and
Hungary. Let the despots make peace in Europe after their own fashion.
England knows the present price, and will find out the after-charges. But the
Queen’s thanks and the Prince's pudding will satisfy the loyal.
Is not this enough of history for a month P Knaves or fools—said Disraeli
—are our Ministers. And our people are fools or cowards. Let us have a
Whig peace, good God! with the curses of all honest men in Europe written
on our olive leaves.
Time enough next month to speak of our new Republican Brotherhood at
Newcastle-on-Tyme, and to notice other matters,
By an ENGLISH REPUBLIC we mean an ENGLISH NATION: a free people, ruling its own
life, making its own laws, not deputing that most sacred right to representatives. We
mean a Nation whose sons and daughters shall be educated by the Nation ; and by edu-
cation we intend fitting them for freedom, their unstinted endowment with all that may
enable each and every of them to develop all the matural faculties, the utmost emergies
and powers of growth; we mean a Nation which shall not suffer a fraction to monopolize
either land or credit, but which shall keep the land (by whomsoever he/d) as the Nation’s
rent-roll, a patrimony entailed only upon the whole Nation, and which shall furnish the
means of toil (capital without usury) to whomsoever may be in need thereof, that mo
energy may idly waste; we mean a Nation which, understanding the true right and
sacredness of property, will care that not even the meanest or poorest shall be deprived
of what he has, or debarred from what his unrestricted homest industry can win—a Nation
which is educator, and banker, and assurer from accident or outrage, of every one of its
subjects; we mean a Nation in whose life shall be harmony, the harmony of rights equally
respected and dutics everywhere fulfilled, the harmony of according interests and con-
sentaneous hopes; we mean a Nation in which the freedom of the individual and the
unity and organization of the State shall be alike maintained, in which equality shall
insure liberty, in which association as well as enterprize shall be encouraged,—in which
the Family, the Municipality or Parish, and the Country, shall be understood as circles
of common action,-in which, both in the home life and in the commerce with the world,
the one policy shall be Right, and the highest hope to be worthy of the ages’ honour.
Our work is educational. We are neither conspirators, nor rebels. May we never
need to be either | Our aim is by the dissemination of principles (whose fruition we dare
trust to God) to fit the people for Superseding the present hinderance of Monarchy, for
preventing the domination of class, of any class whatever. We would prepare for the
organization of the Republic by the organization of Republicans: first bringing them to-
gether as associates in one work, as apostles and sworn brethren—whose faith shall hold
them, even as the first Christians were held, in one bond, for mutual aid, to render their
propagandism, by word and by example of honest life, a rapidly progressing power; and
them forming of the brotherhood an active political party to command the future. This
is given to those who dare to will, Whatsoever party, moved by a strong purpose, with
a clear aim, and able to trust its members, shall lift its head above the present dead level
of imbeciles and purposeless or faithless fools, that party will rule the life of England.
There is our task. Let us be true to it. We can not fail.
Let it be understood that we want not merely readers, but believers ; not merely
assentors to our creed, but assertors of it; not only men subscribing to our principles, but
men and women active in endeavour to put them in practice.
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{XONTAINS ARTICLES IBY
Milton, Carlyle, Savage Landor, Joseph Mazzini, Victor Hugo, Louis Kossuth,
Alexander Herzen, Charles Ribeyrolles, Charles Stolzman,
Theodore Parker, and Wendell Phillips.
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An excellent exposition of the present condition of the working classes.
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