The Battle of The Press Part 6

"There are about twenty _Republicans_ a week well read in this town now, which I consider a smart circulation for such a place. This is a great mortification to the enemy, but not a word of complaint is heard of it, though the turnkeys have to deliver several of them.... There is a great deal of difference between moral and physical courage; I consider myself a hero on the former ground, but never having been tried, I hardly know what I should be as one storming a breach, and yet sometimes I think in a good cause I could raise enthusiastic courage. I certainly never felt anything more than prudent fears or the fears of prudent caution; but circ.u.mstances often form courage as well as the other qualities of the man."

CHAPTER XI. FIRE AND INSANITY

Some time after Mrs. Carlile's release, while living at 84, Fleet Street, a fire broke out next door to them, and communicated to their shop and warehouse. Mrs. Carlile and children were taken out of the house from the second storey window, and escaped injury except the fright and nervous shock. The stock of books and pamphlets, though injured by water, were mostly saved and carried into St. Dunstan's Churchyard near by. The fire spread all around them, but their building was left standing, and after the excitement subsided, Mrs. Carlile moved back again. It was almost the only building left standing on the street.

As soon as the fire engine had left the scene a deliberate attempt was made to burn Carlile's house down; a fire was actually kindled on the floor of the warehouse, but was discovered in time to prevent further damage. His enemies seemed to be enraged that his house should escape when so many others were destroyed. This seemed to be one of those occasions when Divine Providence was on Carlile's side. However, they did finally succeed in getting him out of his quarters by getting the house condemned as unsafe, as, indeed, Carlile himself deemed it.

Standing alone that way, they were in great danger from some fanatical incendiary setting fire to it in the night. So that in the beginning of the year they leased new quarters.

The last effort that was made by Carlile's enemies to destroy his power was to send out a report of his having gone raving mad, and while this attempt was as futile as the rest, the report caused terrible anxiety on the part of his friends. Carlile had more than once warned the readers of the _Republican_, his family and his friends, that in case he were found dead in his room never to believe any report of suicide, for on no account would he take his own life. In this way he headed off any villainy of this kind that might be contemplated. This ruse of violent insanity was an after-thought on the part of the officials.

During the latter half of Carlile's term of imprisonment he received many private warnings of plots which were hatching to dispose of him quietly, and so relieve his enemies of his charge. The most notable one was that of Francis Place, who becoming aware that the subject of his removal by poison had been canva.s.sed, wrote to Dorchester Gaol and begged Carlile to eat nothing that was not prepared by himself or in his presence. Carlile rather scouted the warning at first, saying that the prison authorities would not dare to do such a thing, and deeming himself too strong a man with the public for his persecutors to defy them, and attempt his a.s.sa.s.sination. Francis Place in the next letter asked Carlile significantly if he thought himself a stronger man than Napoleon, or stronger in public favor than Queen Caroline, thereby intimating his opinion of the cause of the deaths of these two celebrated characters. Mr. Place begged him to procure a pint of antimonial wine, and to take a dessert spoonful on the least sign of anything in the way of distress or pain in the stomach. Carlile did this, and also prepared all his food with his own hands. The precautions made it difficult for such a measure to be carried out even if attempted. This, however, was not the only danger of the kind which Carlile had to incur. There was a conviction abroad that measures to finally dispose of him were canva.s.sed in the secret councils of the Government, and that a volunteer for this dastardly purpose was called for and found. The failure of the attempt was due solely to the coolness and calmness of the intended victim. Carlile had been always prepared for destruction in some way, and knew also that the importance to the authorities of his destruction was such that they could not fail to reflect upon it. A very slight pretext was found to be sufficient on which to make a very bold attack upon his life. It was carried out in the following manner. In the first place the reader must be informed that the rules of the prison were that every prisoner should have sufficient "air and exercise"; and again confinement to their own cells, with permission to walk in some courtyard singly, is the degree of solitary confinement the _most severe_ in the ordinary discipline of the prison. But Carlile's imprisonment was more severe than this most severe discipline through a period of four years. In making an effort to get these unlawful severities modified, Carlile, in a letter to Robert Peel (afterwards Sir Robert), made use of the following expression: "Unless my treatment is changed in this gaol, I must make war," which simply meant in his case that he would appeal to those higher in authority, or else to the people at large through the medium of the _Republican_, for it is not to be supposed that he was going to kill the turnkeys who waited upon him, with whom he was on the best of terms; and, too, the expression itself was a common one with him, "making war" meant with him attacking, exposing, and denouncing unjust men or measures publicly, by his pen only, and it was out of the question that it could mean anything else. The only thing beside this that he could do would have been to set fire to his own room, which would probably have only resulted in his own death; he would indeed have been insane to do this. However, his words were fastened upon to serve the purpose of his enemies. The next day word was sent up to London and the report was printed in all the morning papers that "Carlile had gone raving mad", and had to be put in irons for his own safety and that of others, thus preparing the minds of the people for any account of his death that might be likely to follow. It was a pretty scheme, and struck terror to the hearts of his family and friends, but the details show that he was more than a match for his persecutors and their wiles. On November 24th, 1823, Carlile was visited by the chaplain and a visiting magistrate, who told Carlile that the sole object of their visit was to get him to make some suggestions as to what he considered a proper place to be allowed to walk in in the daytime. Carlile told them he would be content with the smallest courtyard in the place. The chaplain commended the reasonableness of his expectation, and a.s.sured him that the sheriff was coming to satisfy it.

The next day the gaoler entered Mr. Carlile's room accompanied by the high sheriff, Henry Charles Sturt, in manners and appearance a mere boy--a "strutting puppy", an "ignorant aristocrat" as Carlile described him--who, after the customary "How d'ye do?" turned to Carlile and said, "You would have been liberated long ago, Carlile, if you had submitted".

"Submit to what?" asked Carlile. There was no reply, but the Sheriff showed signs of rising choler. He drew a chair and sat down; the gaoler sat himself down on the sofa-bed, while Carlile sat at the side of the table opposite to the Sheriff. The Sheriff began by remonstrating about what Carlile had been saying outside and inside of the gaol about his treatment. He grew warm as he proceeded, expressed offence at every observation made to him by Carlile, and soon made him aware that he had come on anything but an amicable errand. Carlile kept his temper and sat perfectly cool and collected, and calmly awaited the storm that was about to break. Sturt, after proceeding gradually to his object, drew a paper from his pocket in which was an extract of Carlile's from a letter written to one of the officials. He then asked Carlile if he considered his life in danger, and if he would act upon the threat there made of "making war as a consequence of that treatment ". Carlile replied, "Yes!" that was his resolution. Then he saw the arrangements which had been made. The Sheriff nodded to the gaoler, saying, "Call them in!" Two turnkeys entered. The Sheriff then ordered them to "secure Mr. Carlile, and put handcuffs upon him ". The turnkeys did this, Carlile offering no resistance, merely saying, "I see your object, so shall not resist; I know you cannot keep me long in irons". He knew that their object was to irritate and urge him on to some unguarded act of violence. Carlile never moved from his chair, but sat calmly eyeing them, and altogether unruffled. The order was given to search the prisoner and the room. The gaoler, Andrews, was now in his element, and everything was ransacked.

Nothing was found but what every prisoner of state might be supposed to have about him. The Sheriff and gaoler were evidently disappointed, even to confusion. Carlile sat calmly looking on; he expressed his satisfaction at what they were doing, saying that it was the villain alone who trembled to have his designs investigated. Saucepans, coffee-boiler, frying-pan, snuffers, hearth-brush, tin oven, pie-irons, penknives, tableknives and forks, dumbbells, razors, nearly everything--even to the veriest trifle--was taken away. Carlile pointed out to them, as a proof of their purposes, that the iron fender and fire-irons were left, which were the only really offensive weapons in the room. This occupied three hours, and after all was done the handcuffs were removed. During these three hours the gaoler spent the first and third hour in the room; the second hour was devoted to the burial of his mother, who was lying dead at the time. This shows the character of the man quite sufficiently, and lends a ludicrous appearance to a very solemn matter. The rest was simply fun for Carlile, and served to lighten the monotony of prison life. He declared the excitement did him good. Determined, as he said, to make the fellows look the greatest fools possible, the next morning he set to work and got a bill of fare for the turnkey: beefsteaks, onions, pepper, mustard, potatoes, raisins, flour, suet, and eggs-He ordered them to bring him those things, and bring them uncooked; he had been living on bread and water as an experiment after his sister had left him, but he wanted to try if the gaoler would refuse him the means of cooking. The turnkey brought the things with his letters and newspapers as usual. The chaplain came up to pump him a bit as to what he was going to do, and recommended "a light wire broiler to dress his steak". "No!" said Carlile, "the gaoler shall send me the cooking utensils again ", and he did one by one, the turnkeys bringing them and standing guard while he used them. He told them he must have all the saucepans, for hereafter he was going to live like a gentleman and have half-a-dozen meals a day, at least as long as this game lasted. Nothing was said about a knife and fork. The saucepan from lying unused had grown rusty, so one of his guards was dispatched to get it mended, while the other watched the frying-pan. He set about making a plum-pudding, chopping the suet with an ivory paper-cutter and mixing the ingredients on a plate; but he had no pudding-cloth, and had to choose between a night-cap and a s.h.i.+rt.

The night-cap was preferred, and he claimed that no one could object to eating a piece of that plum-pudding. The process of cooking occupied three hours, during which time he had two guards in attendance. Had he not been afraid himself of over-eating, he said he would have kept them twenty-four hours. He kept up this amus.e.m.e.nt for a week or so; it was fun for him and aggravation to the gaoler and Sheriff, and yet strictly within the rules of the prison.

The report sent to London gave out that Carlile had gone raving mad, and that the Sheriff, Magistrates, gaoler, and turnkey were gone to his room with ropes to tie him down; even stating afterwards the particulars of how the ropes were placed in the tying down process. Carlile antic.i.p.ated this rumor of insanity, by a sort of instinct, and walked out early next morning through the gaol yards, and showed himself to the other prisoners, so that they could testify to the falseness of the report.

It so happened that the smuggler who carried the report to London was housed at the Newgate prison, where the shopmen of Carlile were serving their various terms. They were almost panic-stricken at first at the terrible fate of their chief. But a characteristic letter from himself to his wife was speedily forwarded to London, and allayed their fears.

After a day or so, not receiving his cooking utensils back, he addressed a burlesque pet.i.tion in behalf of the various articles seized, and addressed it to Henry Charles Sturt.

This pet.i.tion was written in order to make the authorities look foolish, as they no doubt felt after the fiasco just enacted.

CHAPTER XII. FREE DISCUSSION.

Simple as is the sound of the words "Free Discussion", there is not in our language, or in any other language, an expression that has so many important relations. It embraces everything that comes under the denomination of reform, and indicates everything in the way of improvement, or desire to improve the condition of mankind. If there be any talisman applicable to the question of reform it must consist in the words "Free Discussion". It is of necessity the initiative principle of all genuine reforms, and the neglect to obtain that right first has been the main cause of non-success in all the reforms. .h.i.therto attempted. It must be the focus of all genuine morality, as well as all the advantages which man possesses over other animals; for human speech is nothing but human discussion, and free discussion is nothing more than complete liberty of speech. Upon what fair and honest principle can one man, or set of men, claim the right to restrain and suppress the power of speech in another, or even the power of speaking upon paper, whatever that other may think right? If such a practice there be, it is the practice of tyranny; yet very few people seem to have any idea of the importance of free discussion. Few speak of it, and many do not think of it all, yet it is a simple point which every one should understand, if he have any idea at all of the utility of speech. Every man ought to openly and boldly advocate it, and there is scarcely a possibility that any one would so far expose himself to public shame and ridicule as to rise in a public a.s.sembly and deprecate the claim in plain words. Yet it was often urged on Carlile himself by the clergy and others that he could think what he liked on the subjects of government, or religion especially; but he had no right to make his thoughts public either by speech or pen. To the fact that he did so was due the whole of his various imprisonments.

Where there is no law there can be no transgression, and there was no law to cover his case. He simply set the pace of liberty of speech, both oral and written, for others to follow, and to use the words of a prominent gentleman of Chicago in a recent letter, "Richard Carlile established the Freedom of the Press and the Liberty of Speech for more countries than one ".

He said of himself in this relation:

"In maintaining the war of discussion to accomplish its freedom, I confess that I have often had to resort to personalities. My case was peculiar, and I cannot see that I was wrong in so doing. I was personally a.s.saulted with all the venom that religious fury could apply.

The Society for the Promotion of Christian (!) Knowledge has frequently designated me as a wretch! Almost every Christian has paid me the same compliment. Instead of calling me a wretch, the Christian should acknowledge that I am a bold, fair, open, and generous enemy, ready to converse in the most polite manner with any of them, utterly incapable of being the first to give a personal affront in conversation; always desiring to be instructed or to instruct, and ready to conciliate wherever it can he honorably done. Christians! I am not a wretch."

Never in the history of the world was there an imprisonment so fruitful, so productive of knowledge of almost every kind. The opportunity never before offered of a thorough and free discussion of every subject calculated to educate and instruct mankind. It gave an impetus to desire on the part of the learned to teach, and great inducement and encouragement on the part of the people to learn. The extent and breadth of the character of the studies entered upon were surprising, and the eagerness with which they were seized upon no less so. It showed that there was a great amount of intelligence lying dormant in the populace, which only needed the coming of the awakener to be aroused to permanent activity. To this day, and even to America, can be traced small settlements and many individual followers of Carlile, who hold to his teachings and honor his memory with a constancy and tenacity which is immovable. It is a matter of gratification to be able to say that these are all intelligent, highly moral, strictly temperate, and in every way model American citizens.

CHAPTER XIII. LIBERATION AND AFTER

At the end of the sixth year of his imprisonment Carlile was most unexpectedly set at liberty, and the following humorous account of the circ.u.mstance, as given in the columns of the _Republican_, is in his characteristic vein:--

"November 25th, 1825.

"To the Republicans of the Island of Albion.

"Citizens,--The sixth anniversary of my entrance to Dorchester Gaol, the 18th, has brought me outside its walls. The King in council on the 12th was advised to remit so much of my fines as were unpaid, and on the 16th he was further advised (_mirabile dictu_) from some favorable circ.u.mstances reported of me to him (G.o.d knows from whom, for I do not) to remit that part of my sentence which required me to find recognizances during my natural life, of one thousand pounds ($5,000) and of two hundred pounds on that of other persons. On the 18th inst.

I first heard of my good fortune in the sight of a King (?) and in case any of my friends suspect that something unknown to them might have pa.s.sed between me and the King or his advisers, I pledge my word, never wilfully mispledged, that nothing has pa.s.sed on my part but that which has appeared in the _Republican_, and the favorable report, if anything more than official verbiage, has astounded me! To be sure I did tell his Majesty lately that he was my only idol, but that to him I would not pray nor offer flattery. This remission of that part of my sentence which required me to find recognizances during life must mean one of two things: either that on my part free discussion is fully established, or that on the part of the King's Government it means to renew prosecutions and to pursue me to expatriation. I am, of course, ignorant of State secrets, but my own course is determined. Onward! My future behavior will be precisely what the past has been with this one exception, that if prosecutions cease, I shall war with systems and not with persons. I shall conduct all discussions in future with a mild firmness and with an absence of all personal offence where none is given, still resolved to pursue redress for the past. When I heard that my recognizances had been abrogated, I acknowledge that I felt and p.r.o.nounced it a finish to my triumph, but in every other respect my quitting the gaol was to me mentally but as a change of lodging. Yet I am fully alive to what I have done and what I intend to do. If free speech be accomplished in this country it will be a point gained toward human improvement, of which the history of man in no country maketh mention-.

"In some countries all public discussion is suppressed; in this country [England] the maxim has been for two centuries to punish the foremost.

I saw this eight years ago, and resolved to make war with it. I also saw that by my going to extremes with discussion and speech, I should remove all fears as I removed all danger of prosecution from those who had been foremost, or who might be disposed to follow me at a safe distance. On this ground every free-minded literary man ought to have given me his support, for my long imprisonment was in fact a sort of penal representation for the whole.

"I confess that I have touched extremes which many thought imprudent, but which I saw to be useful with the view of habiting the Government and the people themselves to all extremes of discussion, so as to remove all idea of impropriety from the media which were most useful. If I find I have done this I shall be a most happy man. If not I shall have the same disposition, unimpaired, with which I began my present career, a disposition to suffer fines, imprisonment, or banishment rather than that any man shall hold the power and have the audacity to say and to act upon it, that any kind of discussion is improper and publicly injurious.

"I was in a manner swept out of the gaol bag and baggage. The gaoler being in London sent word that I was to be got out with all speed, which would have been done had I not in a measure been built up in my room so as to leave no pa.s.sage-way for my sofa-bed without taking it to pieces.

This and this alone gave me time to send a notice to London on the day of my discharge. An hour or so after the chaplain had brought me the news, and the clerk had shown me the warrant for my release, the gaoler returned after having driven from Salisbury to Dorchester in a gig to get back in time. The gaoler entered my room with all his servants (as he called them) and said, 'Now I have your discharge, and the sooner you go the better'. He then bid the men clear the room, and he scarcely lost sight of me till I was outside the gaol in a shower of rain. I did not give him any opportunity to witness any kind of emotion on my part at the sudden liberation from a six years' imprisonment under as detestable a gaoler as ever filled that office in England. In Dorchester my reception was decidedly good, and many persons expressed their good wishes who had been systematic in their abuse of me while I was in the gaol. Up to this moment I have not received the slightest insult, and I flatter myself that there is a growing spirit for what is called religious toleration in this country superior to that which is to be found in any country at this time."

On his journey to London he met with the following amusing incident:--

"The weather being fine, I preferred the outside to the inside of the coach; but was sent inside by a shower of rain before we reached Bridgeport. Here I found two ladies, both travellers, and both intelligent; the one young, the other old. It appeared that they had not heard my name at the stopping-place of the coach; and the old lady, though she subsequently protested that she was not a politician, and that as to Republicanism she had not an idea of it, made a fair trial upon my seditious qualities by endeavoring to call them forth in reprobating the conduct of the King and Ministers in not giving the uncultivated land to those who left the country to seek such land elsewhere. I a.s.sured the lady that the King was better than his Ministers, and that the Church more than he kept the land uncultivated and expatriated its children to seek a cheaper land free from t.i.thes and other enormous taxes. This was a.s.sented to, but the old lady, determined that I should not defend the character of the King, brought up the case of the late Queen (Caroline), and made me so seditious as to confess that it was bad. I had a friend with me at this my first motion on top of the earth after my new birth, my new regeneration, my salvation, my being born again with fire and water and inspired with the spirit of the Logos--as we first-cla.s.s Christians can say, as well as those of the inferior cla.s.ses--and I informed him that I had met with a lady more Republican than myself, to whom I intended to make myself known.

On re-entering the coach, the most Liberal and most agreeable political conversation took place. I was all perfection in my views, and by the apparent excitement and attention of both ladies I supposed myself a most charming companion to both. But lo! the fatal moment came, my ambition induced me to announce my name, really thinking that I had found friends and supporters; but alas! I found my mistake--one face went up at one window of the coach, the other to the other, and it appeared to be a question of propriety with them as to their going further with me. All that I could do in the way of compliment for their correct political views availed me nothing. The old lady protested that she was not a politician, thought it very wrong for ladies to meddle with politics, and as to attacks on Religion, she abhorred them.

"A long silence followed, though I endeavored to look most humble and explanatory. At length the elder lady began a sort of indirect lecture on the impropriety of shocking religious impressions. I appealed to her impressions of me before I announced my name, and it required all the art I was master of to redeem an atom of good grace before we arrived at Exeter. Every attempt to defend or explain what I had done sent the old lady's face up to the window; but by the next morning, on her leaving the inn, she sent her compliments to me by my friend.

"I was much surprised at my reception at Exeter. I had not intended to stop there but a day, just to show myself to some of my old acquaintances, that they might see that I had not been metamorphosed into the old dragon about which they had heard so much. I find it impossible to get away as soon as I expected. This town is rapidly improving in knowledge, yet I mark with sorrowful emotion the hideous, unsocial, uncheerful and unhappy faces which religion generates, and I see anew the importance of what I have done, and what I intend to do for the improvement of the female mind. It is knowledge alone that can give real beauty to the face, as merely fair outline without knowledge to give it expression is but a cold and lifeless statue, and can charm none but weak minds; nor can dress make up for the deficiency which an ignorant face exhibits. It heightens them and forms a double deception.

It deceives the wearer and he who is attracted by it, and decoys both into a snare that inevitably generates an unhappy life for which no external appearance can atone."

This sudden and unexpected liberation gave rise to some erroneous ideas.

Some of Carlile's weaker-kneed friends did not hesitate to accuse him of some unworthy truckling to those in power in order to gain his liberty.

This was his reply to these accusations:

"I gather from the correspondence of friends in various parts of the country that some wild notions are current as to the cause of my liberation. I answer all queries on the subject by referring friends to my past conduct, to that which has been visible, and by desiring them to listen to no tales about changes in my conduct. My path has been long marked out and straightly walked in; I shall neither go back nor turn aside after so complete a success as that which I have brought about."

At this time it became quite the fas.h.i.+on to impute to Carlile the blame of everything, almost, that happened in the way of misfortune of whatever character. For example, when shortly after his liberation there was a collapse in certain stocks, and consequently a panic in the money market, there were many who openly imputed the cause to "Carlile's liberation"! Another example was that of a man condemned to be hung for forgery, and some one or two others who had committed some brutal crimes. The judge, in p.r.o.nouncing sentence, said "they had no doubt been reading some of Carlile's pamphlets "!

During the last half of the year 1826, Carlile had been contemplating and arranging for a new weekly publication, with Richard Ha.s.sell as editorial a.s.sistant and manager. He had also arranged for an extended tour throughout the country, lecturing and speaking to the people everywhere, but unfortunately he was taken ill in November, and was prostrated for an entire year with rheumatism and asthma. Every one who saw him predicted his early demise. This was the after effect of his six years' close confinement. His system made sensitive and unused to the changes of temperature, gave way to the damps and fogs of the English November, and made the year 1827 the only unprofitable one of his life.

It would seem as though the effects of these severe confinements were not always felt at once, but slowly and insidiously undermined the const.i.tution, rendering it unfit to cope with changes of temperature unnoticed by those accustomed to out of door life. There was probably never a man who bore imprisonment so well as Carlile on the whole, still it killed even him at last. It killed Richard Ha.s.sell and Thomas Davison, both much younger men than Carlile, and it most certainly affected the mind of Robert Taylor during those horrible months in the Horsemonger Lane Gaol, for on a close reading of this grand orator's masterly efforts, a disparity is surely noticed between those which followed his second imprisonment and those which preceded it. An over-straining of his fine mentality, as it were, leading to much that was erratic and unlike his former self. Carlile, though able to return to the encounter again and again, became so used to the prison life as to be obliged to imprison himself afterwards in his bedroom most of the winter, and, while mentally unaffected, suffered severely from the contact of cold air upon his lungs. This year's illness was a great drawback to Carlile's prosperity, for immediately upon quitting Dorchester Gaol he had taken premises at 62 Fleet Street, and fitted it up as a "Temple of Reason" which should be worthy the name. This new shop was also to be the headquarters of the Joint Stock Book Company, formed to further the object of printing and publis.h.i.+ng Liberal works, under Carlile's supervision. In this enterprise he was ably a.s.sisted by his friends, amongst whom Julian Hibbert was the foremost. A great deal of money was expended in fitting up this place, some of which had to be borrowed, and which, with the added interest, impoverished Carlile to repay. To add to his troubles, his wife also was seriously ill during this year, and so they were both incapacitated from attending to the business. However, this state of things cleared up at the end of the year, and Carlile recommenced active life in good earnest. It was in 1827, on the 10th of February, that Carlile received notice that he had been bequeathed an annuity of fifty pounds a year by a Mr. Morrison, a surgeon of Chelsea, who had just died; a man whom Carlile had never seen but once, when he called on him quite suddenly, and in a very few words and with great difficulty--for he seemed in very bad health--said, "I have come to tell you, Mr. Carlile, that I have been very attentive to your conduct since the time of your trial; that I am very much pleased with it, and that in consideration of what you have gone through, I have made a provision for your family in my will". Carlile having thanked him, he added, "I shall not now give you my name and address; but I have some ma.n.u.scripts which I wish you to see and to publish, and I will see you again". He never came again, as he was too ill to leave the house, but he had done as he had said, and in due time Carlile benefited by the bequest, which he appropriated to the purpose spoken of in a previous chapter. The executors were Henry (afterwards Lord) Brougham* and James Evans. The will was very curiously constructed, the bequest to Carlile being put in the following words:--

* Lord Brougham declined to serve, and the will was administered by the widow.

"Bequest 7th: I give and bequeath to Richard Carlile, of Fleet Street, London, bookseller, his wife and present family or the survivor of them, the annual sum of fifty pounds, by quarterly payments, for the term of their natural lives, as an approving testimony to the character of correct morals, given of the said Carlile on his late trial, holding as I sincerely do that such a character is of infinitely more utility to man, and consequently more creditable, than the profession of any creed whatsoever, since all religions have hitherto rather tended to debase than to improve good morals; and also in testimony of my abhorrence of persecution for opinion, so contrary to the tolerant spirit of a free const.i.tution."

At the 10th clause the testator says:--

"And finally I give and bequeath to the Church, Pagan, Jewish, Christian, and Mahommedan, my anathema for the horrible murders, cruelties and crimes committed thereby in all ages, under the color of religion. And if this anathema against the abuses of religion should raise the spleen of a selfish hierarchy and impel them to refuse my mouldering carca.s.s a cemetery in the usual way, I will that my executors buy the fee simple of a rod of earth (no matter where), therein to deposit the same, and there may the standard of Infidelity, as it is contemptuously called, that is, the standard of Truth, Benevolence, Virtue, and Philosophy, be raised to the final extirpation of bigotry and superst.i.tion."

At the close of the year 1826 the __Republican was stopped, Carlile thinking it had accomplished the purpose for which it was commenced.

This was, as the dedication shows, solely to maintain a periodical devoted to establis.h.i.+ng a Free Press in England despite the opposition of its enemies, and the desperate efforts made by them for its extinguishment. It was kept up till there was no further effort made against it. This was the principle on which Carlile acted throughout his whole career, and that was never to suspend a publication of any kind while a threat was heard against it, at any cost. It was not till the beginning of 1828 that Carlile commenced his weekly periodical, which he named the _Lion_, and which proved a worthy successor to the _Republican_. This was not allowed to go on unmolested however, for before the first volume was completed a notice was served on Carlile to appear by counsel in his Majesty's Court of Exchequer and defend himself against some trifling charges under the penalty of a fine of 100 ($500). Says Carlile:--

"I should have danced with joy--the server of the process would have thought me mad--had Mr. Attorney-General sent me a notice that he had filed an information against me for blasphemy in the Court of King's Bench, but an information in the Court of Exchequer! (The words devil, h.e.l.l, are very commonly and very properly a.s.sociated to convey some ideas.) What is to be done now? _Nil desperandum!_ The cause of free discussion cannot fail; Babylon must fall before it! So I wrapped myself in my much worn philosophical temperament, and walked to Somerset House to see my new friend, G.o.dfrey Sykes, for though he had honored me with several letters, he never gave me an invitation to call on him before, and even now he forgot to ask me to dine, though he made himself very pleasant. I cannot conceive of a more comfortable state of mind than that of a man who is about to pick your pocket according to law, without any fear of gallows, transportation, imprisonment, or whipping. And I presume that if his Majesty and his Parliament would extend the same sort of protection to the pickpockets in the street that is extended to the royal public officers, the former as well as the latter would do their business in the most polite and most civil manner; there would be no acts of violence committed on the person, nor an unpleasant word offered beyond 'Stand or take this!' meaning the contents of a pistol, which is also the royal mode of doing the business."