Part 1 (1/2)
LIFE AND CHARACTER OF RICHARD CARLILE.
by George Jacob Holyoake.
PREFACE
When I first entered London, one Sat.u.r.day evening in 1842, I was not known personally to half a dozen persons in it. On reaching the office of the Oracle of Reason, I found an invitation (it was the first I received in the metropolis) from Richard Carlile to take tea with him on the next afternoon at the Hall of Science. There was no name known to me in London from whom an invitation could have come which I should have thought a greater honour. The conversation at table was directed to advising me as to my defence at my coming trial. He requested me to hear his evening lecture, which he devoted to the policy of sceptical defence which he thought most effectual. At the conclusion, he called upon me for my coincidence or dissent. I stated some objections which I entertained to his scientifico-religious views with diffidence but distinctness. The compliments which he paid me were the first words of praise which I remember to have trusted. Coming from a master in our Israel, they inspired me with a confidence new to me. I did not conceal my ambition to merit his approval. On my trial at Gloucester, he watched by my side fourteen hours, and handed me notes for my guidance. After my conviction, he brought me my first provisions with his own hand. He honoured me with a public letter during my imprisonment, and uttered generous words in my vindication, when those in whose ranks I had fought and fallen were silent. It was my destiny, on my liberation, to be able to pour my grat.i.tude only over his grave. In his Life and Character, here attempted, I am proud to confess that 1 have written with affection for his memory, but I have also, written with impartiality-for he who encouraged me to maintain the truth at my own expense, would be quite willing, if need be, that I maintain it at his.
G. J. H.
LIFE AND CHARACTER OF RICHARD CARLILE
CHAPTER I. HIS PARENTAGE, APPRENTICEs.h.i.+P, AND MARRIAGE
I have accomplished the liberty of the press in England, and oral discussion is now free. Nothing remains to be reformed but the ignorance and vices of the people, whose ignorance cannot be removed, while their bodies are starved and their church remains a theatre of idolatry and superst.i.tion.' These were the proud and wise words uttered in the last periodical edited by Richard Carlile. They are the history of his life-the eulogy of his career-and the witnesses or his political and religious penetration.
Of Carlile's family, I can gather little beyond this, that his father had some reputation as an arithmetician. He published a collection of arithmetical, mathematical, and algebraical questions. His talent was individual though mediocre. He put his questions into verse and intermixed them with paradox. His career was various and brief: first a shoemaker, he aspired to be and became an exciseman. Like Burns, his habits suffered by his profession, and he often fell into intoxication.
Of his own accord he retired from the Excise, became successively schoolmaster and soldier, and died at the age of 34, no person's enemy but his own.(1) Carlile's mother was now left a widow, with three infant children. For several years she was in a flouris.h.i.+ng business, but it began to decay with the pressure of the times, about 1800, and she was afflicted alternately with sickness and poverty. Thence to the time of her death, she was a.s.sisted by Carlile, who was her only son. As a woman she was virtuous, as a mother kind and indulgent. She died at the age of 60. It is an evidence of Carlile's honourable notions of duty, that out of thirty s.h.i.+llings per week, which he earned as a journeyman, he supported his wife and several children, and spared an offering for the support of his mother and sisters; and it deserves to be mentioned in his behalf, that the first dissatisfaction he experienced in married life arose from the opposition which he received in the discharge of these generous duties.
1. Carlile to Lord Brougham, Gauntlet, No. 8, p. 113. 1833.
Richard Carlile was born in Ashburton, Devons.h.i.+re, December 8, 1790. He was but four years of age at the death of his father. He early felt his father's ambition. Before he was twelve years of age, he determined to be something in the world, and afterwards his unexpressed ideas were ever at work and acc.u.mulating. His dreams by night, and his thoughts by day, all worked one way, and vaguely contemplated some sort of purification of the church.(1) But how far he was from understanding the part he was to play is clear from the circ.u.mstance, that on the 5th of November, he used to gather f.a.ggots to burn 'Old Tom Paine,' instead of Guy Fawkes; and it was not till 1810, when he was twenty years old, that he first saw in the hands of an old man in Exeter, a copy of the Rights of Man.(2)
Carlile received all the education that village free schools could afford. The educational routine where his own Gifford had before been a scholar, was confined to writing, arithmetic, and sufficient Latin to read a physician's prescription. His first place seems to have been with Mr. Lee, chemist and druggist, in Exeter, but, being set to do things which he deemed derogatory to one who was able to read a physician's prescription, he left the shop after four months' service. Being too much of a man to go to school again, he lived idly three months, amusing himself with colouring pictures to sell in his mother's shop. His mother's princ.i.p.al wholesale customers were the firm of Gifford and Co., which consisted of the brothers of that Attorney-General who had such extensive dealings with the son afterwards, in a different line. At the pressing wish of Carlile's mother, he was apprenticed to a business which he never liked, that of tinplate working, and, like Bunyan, he became a tinman. He served seven years and three months to a Mr.
c.u.mmings, whom he has described as a hard master, as one who considered five or six hours for sleep all the recreation necessary for his youths.
Carlile had no knowledge then of the 'Rights of Man,' but he betrayed some knowledge of the rights of apprentices,(3) and his impatience under injustice was then manifested, as his term of service was one series of conspiracies, rebellions, and battles. On being relieved from this worse than seven years' imprisonment, he resolved to follow that business no longer than he should be compelled. His ambition then was to get his living by his pen.
1. Gauntlet, No. 8, p. 113.
2. Repub. vol. 5, p. 134.
3. Republican, vol. ii. pp. 226-7.
The office of an exciseman, which was offered him, he refused, remembering the fate of his father, and continued to follow his business, as journeyman tinman, in various parts of the country, and in London, where he first arrived in February, 1811. He returned to Exeter the same year. In 1813, we find him in London again, working at Benham and Sons, Blackfriars Road. A short sojourn in Gosport, in the previous year 1812, led to his acquaintance with the person who became, after two months' courts.h.i.+p, Mrs. Carlile. He was at that time twenty-three, and she thirty years of age. Mrs. Carlile was not without accomplishments as to personal appearance; and temper excepted, was not without most of the qualifications necessary to a good tradesman's wife.(1)
Mrs. Carlile had talents for business, which were of the greatest value to her husband in the course of his career. He, bent on propagandism, never paid that attention to the details of trade which was necessary to keep a business together. But their difference in education, in age, in intellectual aspiration and their opponency in disposition, early converted their union into an intimacy tolerated rather than prized, and entire separation ensued twenty years after. Peculiar conduct on the part of relatives was alleged as promotive of these results, but this conduct I do not particularise as the explanation of the parties concerned is not before me, and cannot now be obtained. Of personal causes, temper seems to have been a chief one. Writing to Mr. Hunt, in 1822, Carlile said, 'Knowing Mrs. C. to possess a _warm_ temper, as I do, I wonder,' etc.(2) In 1819, the separation of Mr. and Mrs. Carlile was arranged to take place, so soon as he had the means of making a sufficient settlement for her comfort: it was not, however, till 1832, when the annuity of 50, bequeathed him by Mr. Morrison, of Chelsea, cleared itself of legacy duty, that he was able to provide for her. Then it was that they parted, she taking all the household furniture and 100 worth of books.
1. A Scourge, p. 18. 1834.
2. Rep. vol. vi. p. 15.
His elder sister remained a violent Methodist, and was never reconciled to his anti-religious labours. Mrs. Carlile, as well as his younger sister, who both incurred imprisonment on his account, did it rather from natural resentment at the injustice practised for his destruction, than from any sympathy with his opinions. But, in this respect, they behaved with a bravery worthy of their name; they resolutely refused to compromise-the sister the brother, or the wife the husband, at all risks to themselves. None of his family, save a first cousin, countenanced his proceeding; he stood alone on his own hearth, as he stood often alone in the world.
CHAPTER II. THE PUBLISHER AND THE PRISONER
It was in 1816, while employed as a tinplate worker, by the firm of Matthews and Masterman, of Union Court, Holbom Hill, that he first essayed public life. He was then twenty-six years of age. Before this time he had read no work of Paine's; but the distress of that year excited him to inquiry. Knowledge speedily prompted nim to action. He wrote sc.r.a.ps for the newspapers, (princ.i.p.ally the _Independent Whig_ and the _Newt_) which sc.r.a.ps were all condemned: 'A half-employed Mechanic is too violent;' this was the notice in answer to correspondents. He annoyed Mr. Cobbett by a foolish acrostic, on the name of Hunt. He wrote to Hunt himself, and paraded one night, two hours in front of his hotel, in Covent Garden, before he could muster courage sufficient to ask the waiter to take his effusion up. At this time he burned to see himself in print; although, as he afterwards confessed, he was not able to write a single sentence fit to meet the public eye.(2)