




THE HISTORY OF THE LAST TRIAL BY JURY FOR ATHEISM IN ENGLAND:

A Fragment of Autobiography

Submitted For The Perusal Of Her Majesty's Attorney-General And The
British Clergy.

By George Jacob Holyoake

I was present in the court, to witness the trial of George Jacob
Holyoake. I heard Wooler and Hone defend themselves successfully in
1817; but I would prefer to be declared guilty with Holyoake to being
acquitted on the ground of Wooler and Hone.--Richard Carlile.

LONDON: JAMES WATSON, 3, QUEEN'S HEAD PASSAGE,

PATERNOSTER ROW. 1850.

TO

WILLIAM JOHN BIRCH, M.A.,

OF NEW INN HALL, OXON.

IN WHOM FREE DISCUSSION HAS FOUND

AN ACCOMPLISHED DEFENDER AND MUNIFICENT FRIEND;

WHO WAS FIRST TO HELP US

WHEN A FRIEND IS TWICE A FRIEND,

WHEN WE WERE UNKNOWN AND STRUGGLING;

THIS HISTORY OF SIX MONTHS IMPRISONMENT

PREFACE.

The events, more than half of which are newly narrated in this
'History,' are recited from recollection. It is not pretended that all
the conversations took place with the brevity with which they are
given here. In the lapse of eight years there is much which I must have
forgotten; but what I have told I distinctly remember, and the actors
living will not, I think, contradict it.

As, by a creditable improvement in English law, the recommencement
of prosecutions for (ir)religious opinion can originate with the
Attorney-General alone, I have ventured to hope that, if this narrative
should fall into the hands of that officer for the time being, it may
present some reasons to him why this 'Last Trial by Jury for Atheism'
should be the _last_.

There are some passages in these Fragments over which some will be sad
with me. Others will assume them to be written for effect; for such, let
me say, they were not written at all. These pages will leave me for the
press with much more pleasure if I can believe that no one will connect
them with me, but read them as a posthumous record of bygone events. At
times I thought I would omit all incidents of feeling; but I felt, that
if I did so the narrative would not represent the whole (personal) truth
of these proceedings--and, as they stand, they may serve to suggest to
some a doubt of the correctness of the oft-repeated dictum of the Rev.
Robert Hall, that 'Atheism is a bloody and a ferocious system,
which finds nothing above us to excite awe, nor around us to awaken
tenderness.'

Whether these are sufficient reasons for the purpose, I know not; but
this I know--they are the true ones. As I very much dislike being
an object of pity, those will much mistake me who suppose that this
narrative has been written to excite it. In my estimation, imprisonment
was a matter of conscience. I neither provoked prosecution nor shrank
from it; and I am now as far from desiring it as I trust I ever shall
be from fearing it. I do not pretend to despise public approval, but
I think it should be regarded as a contingent reward, not as the sole
motive of action; for he who only works while the public (always fickle
in memory) care to remember him, is animated by a very precarious
patriotism. As I have once, before said, it is an encouragement to
me that others may profit by any public principle I may assist in
maintaining: but my interest in it is personal also. Though no one
else desired freedom, it is enough for me that I desire it; and I would
maintain the conflict for it, as best I could, though no one else cared
about it; and, as I choose to make the purchase, I do not higgle
about the price. Tyranny has its soldiers, and why not Freedom? While
thousands daily perish at the shrine of passion, what is the pain of a
sacrifice now and then for public principle or personal freedom?

G. J. H.




THE HISTORY OF THE LAST TRIAL BY JURY FOR ATHEISM.



CHAPTER I.--BEFORE THE IMPRISONMENT.

That day is chilled in my memory when I first set out for Cheltenham.
It was in December 1840. The snow had been frozen on the ground a
fortnight. There were three of us, Mrs. Holyoake, Madeline (our first
child), and myself. I had been residing in Worcester, which was the
first station to which I had been appointed as a Social Missionary. My
salary (16s. per week) was barely sufficient to keep us alive in summer.
In winter it was inherent obstinacy alone which made us believe that we
existed. I feel now the fierce blast which came in at the train windows
from 'the fields of Tewkesbury,' on the day on which we travelled from
Worcester to Cheltenham. The intense cold wrapped us round like a cloak
of ice.

The shop lights threw their red glare over the snow-bedded ground as we
entered the town of Cheltenham, and nothing but the drift and ourselves
moved through the deserted streets. When at last we found a fire we had
to wait to thaw before we could begin to speak. When tea was over we
were-escorted to the house where we were to stay for the night. I was
told it was 'a friend's house.' Cheltenham is a fashionable town, a
watering, visiting place, where everything is genteel and thin. As the
parlours of some prudent house-wives are kept for show, and not to sit
in, so in Cheltenham numerous houses are kept 'to be let,' and not
to live in. The people who belong to the apartments are like the
supernumeraries on a stage, they are employed in walking over them.
Their clothes are decent--but they cannot properly be said to wear them:
they carry them about with them (on their backs of course, because that
mode is most convenient) but simply to show that they have such things.
In the same manner eating and drinking is partly pantomime, and not a
received reality. Such a house as I have suggested was the 'friend's
house' to which we were conducted till lodgings could be found. We were
asked to sit by the kitchen fire on 'the bench in the corner,' and there
we sat from eight till one o'clock, without being asked to take anything
to eat. Madeline, deprived of her usual rest, continued sucking at
the breast till her mother was literally too exhausted to speak.
A neighbouring festivity kept my 'friends' up that night till two
o'clock--up to which time we saw no prospect of bed or supper. As we
entered the house, Eleanor, with a woman's prescience, said 'George, you
had better go and buy some food.' 'Buy food,' I replied, in simplicity,
'the people at this fine house will be outraged to see me bring in
food.' Retribution was not far off. I repented me of my credulity that
night. When at last I clearly comprehended that we were to have nothing
to eat, I proceeded to take affairs into my own hands, and being too
well assured of the insensibility of my host, I did it in a way that I
conceived suited to his capacity, and began as follows:

'We have talked all night about social progress, and if you have
no objection we will make some. And if eating,' I added, 'be not an
irregular thing in your house, we will take some supper.'

'I am very sorry to say,' he answered, 'we have nothing to offer you.'

'Charge me bed and board while we are with you,' I rejoined, 'but let us
have _both_. You have bread, I suppose?'

'We have some rice bread.'

'Perhaps you will toast it.' 'Will you have it _toasted?_

'I will. Could you not make coffee?'

'We have no coffee.'

'Tea?'

'We have no tea.' 'Any water?'

'No _hot _water.'

'Any butter?'

'Yes, we have _salt_ butter.'

'Then put some on the bread,' I added, for he did not even propose to do
that. I had to dispute every inch of hospitality with him. My 'friend,'
Mr. V., was an instance of that misplacement of which Plato speaks
in his 'Republic' What a capital Conservative he would have made! No
innovation with him--not even into his own loaf! I was obliged to take
the initiative into the 'salt' butter.

After seeing the bread toasted, and buttering it myself, to make sure
that it was buttered, I put on my hat and went into the streets, in
search of material out of which to manufacture a cordial, for eight
hours had then elapsed since Eleanor had had any sustenance, and my
good host's choice reserve of cold water did not seem quite adequate to
revive her.

When I reached the dark streets, to which I was so absolute a stranger,
not knowing where I stood on the slippery ground, made so by frozen rain
on a bedding of snow, I had not gone (or rather _slipped_) far before I
was fairly lost. Like the sense in a Rousseauian love-letter, I neither
knew whence I came nor whither I was going, and when I succeeded in my
errand it was at the last place at which I should wish to be found.

During my absence that voluptuous caterer, 'mine host,' whom I had left
behind--whose counterpart Maginn must have had before him when he drew
the portrait of 'Quarantotti'--had proceeded so far as to boil some
water. The evening ended without inconsistency, and the bed corresponded
with the supper.

The next day I took lodgings, where, expecting nothing, I was no longer
disappointed. But on this occasion, profiting by the experience of
the preceding night, I went provided with a small stock of loaves and
chocolate. My stay in Cheltenham was more agreeable than was to be
expected after such an introduction; but I remember that I had to pay my
expenses back again, and though they only amounted to 12s., I felt the
want of them for a long time afterwards. Yet Cheltenham was not without
generous partizans, but, as is common in the incipiency of opinion, they
were at that time among that class who had fewest means. The experience
here recounted was a sample of that frequently recurring, but not
exactly of the kind on which vanity is nurtured, as the reader will
think as he reverts (from a speech to be recited) to these incidents. He
who reads thus far will acquit me of any premeditation of disturbing the
peace of the religious inhabitants of Cheltenham, for it is certainly
the last town I should have selected as the scene of such an occurrence
as the one which I have to narrate.

My next location was in a northern manufacturing town, where I was
treated like its iron-ware--case hardened. My salary there of 30s. per
week was a subject of frequent discussion by the members of the Branch.
For this sum I taught a Day School and lectured on Sunday. And as he
who lives the life of a child all the week (as he must do who teaches
children to any purpose) finds it hard to live that of a man on Sunday,
my duties were wearying and perplexing. Those who grudged my salary made
no sufficient allowance for that application necessary for the discharge
of my duties--an application which often commenced long before they were
up in the morning, and continued long after their mechanical employment
was over at night. Not comprehending myself, at that time, that they
who work for the improvement of others must not calculate on their
appreciation as an encouragement, but as a _result_, I was thrown into
that unpleasant state in which my pride incited me to stop and my duty
to go on. It was not till subsequent to my return from Glasgow, four
years afterwards, that I mastered the problem thus raised which so many
have been ruined in solving. Though an Anti-Priest, my treatment
was that of a priest. My congregation, as is the case with most
Freethinkers, objected to the pay of the priest, when the true quarrel
was with error, and not with payment: for if a man has the truth, it is
well that it should be his interest to hold it. But Dissent, objecting
to the pay of others, has been left without pay itself--hence its
apostles have been reduced to fight the lowest battles of animal wants,
when they should have been fighting for the truth. Dissent has too
often paid its advocates the bad compliment of supposing, that if placed
within reach of competence they would either fall into indolence or
hypocrisy. It has acted practically upon the hypothesis, that the only
possible way of ensuring their zeal and sincerity was to starve them--a
policy which leaves progress to the mercy of accident. For a long period
the operation of this policy chilled me. My initiation into affairs of
progress was in company with men who estimated, above all other virtues,
the virtue which worked for nothing. They would denounce the patriotism
of that man who accepted a shilling for making a speech, although it had
cost him more to compose it than those who heard it would probably give
to save their country. Nine tenths of the best public men and women I
have known, have turned back at this point. Not any new conviction--not
any bribe of the enemy, but the natural though unwise revolt against
being considered mendicants, has forced them back into supineness,
indifference, or even into the very ranks of oppression. True, I felt
that he who labours with his brains is worthy of his hire as well as
he who labours with his hands. As often as I read a book or heard a
lecture, which threw new light on the paths of life, I found that it not
only relieved me from the dominion of ignorance, but imparted to me the
strength of intelligence. I felt indebted to the author and speaker, for
I found that knowledge was not only _power_, but _property_. I knew all
this, but painful years passed over me before I acquired the courage
to offer what instruction I had to impart as an article of commercial
value. Those who have encountered this kind of experience know that the
feeling it engenders is one of indifference, and that an unusual
speech would arise in a cold sense of duty, and not in wantonness or
wickedness. Thus much will inform the reader of the circumstances under
which I spoke the alleged blasphemy in Cheltenham.

A fellow-missionary, Mr. Charles Southwell, had, in conjunction with
Mr. Chilton and Mr. Field, set up an Atheistical periodical in Bristol,
entitled the _Oracle of Reason_--which the authorities attempting
forcibly to put down, Mr. Southwell was sentenced to twelve months'
imprisonment in Bristol Gaol. On a visit to him I walked ninety miles
from Birmingham to Bristol, and as my way lay through Cheltenham, I
staid a night in that town to deliver a lecture on 'Home Colonisation as
a means of superseding Poor Laws and Emigration.' At the conclusion of
the lecture I instructed the chairman to make the announcement, which
I still make after my lectures, viz., that any of the audience may
put relevant questions or offer what objections they consider
useful--whereupon a person stood up of the name of Maitland, a
teetotaller, and sort of local preacher, and complained that 'though I
had told them their duty to man, I had not told them of their duty
to God,' and inquired 'whether we should have churches and chapels in
community?'

I answered thus: 'I do not desire to have religion mixed up with an
economical and secular subject, but as Mr. Maitland has introduced
questions in reference to religion I will answer him frankly. Our
national debt already hangs like a millstone round the poor man's neck,
and our national church and general religious institutions cost us, upon
accredited computation, about twenty millions annually. Worship being
thus expensive, I appeal to your heads and your pockets whether we are
not too poor to have a God? If poor men cost the state as much, they
would be put like officers upon half-pay, and while our distress lasts
I think it would be wise to do the same thing with deity. Thus far
I object, as a matter of political economy, to build chapels in
communities. If others want them they have themselves to please, but I,
not being religious, cannot propose them. Morality I regard, but I do
not believe there is such a thing as a God.* The pulpit says "Search the
Scriptures," and they who are thus trepanned get imprisoned in Bristol
jail, like my friend Mr. Southwell. For myself, I flee the Bible as a
viper, and revolt at the touch of a Christian.'

Perhaps this reply was indecorous, but it was nothing more, and as it
was delivered in a tone of conversational freedom, it produced only
quiet amusement on the meeting. The next day I continued my journey
to Bristol. A day or two after I received the _Cheltenham Chronicle_,
commonly called the Rev. Francis Close's paper, it being the organ of
his party, in which I read the following paragraph--written with that
exaggerated virulence which Archdeacon Hare has subsequently deprecated
as the bane of religious journalism, but which at that time was
considered as a holy ornament:--

     * I do not remember using this phrase, but as the witnesses
     reported it perhaps it was so; but I still incline to the
     opinion that it was an expression they fell upon in stating
     their impressions of the meeting to their employers, and all
     working in one office, they fell into one story, either
     through inadvertence or from precaution.

Atheism and Blasphemy.--On Tuesday evening last a person named Holyoake,
from Manchester, (?) delivered a lecture on Socialism (or, as it
has been more appropriately termed, devilism), at the Mechanics'
Institution. After attacking the Church of England and religion
generally for a considerable time, he said he was open to any question
that might be put to him. A teetotaller named Maitland then got up, and
said the lecturer had been talking a good deal about our duty to man,
but he omitted to mention our duty towards God, and he would be glad
to know if there were any chapels in the community? The Socialist then
replied that he professed no religion at all, and thought they were too
poor to have any. He did not believe there was such a being as a God,
and impiously remarked that _if there was_* he would have the deity
served the same as government treated the subalterns, by placing him
upon half-pay. With many similar blasphemous and awful remarks, which
we cannot sully our columns by repeating, the poor misguided wretch
continued to address the audience. To their lasting shame, be it spoke,
a considerable portion of the company applauded the miscreant during the
time he was giving utterance to these profane opinions.

We have three persons in our employ who are ready to verify on oath
the correctness of the above statements. We therefore hope those in
authority will not suffer the matter to rest here, but that some steps
will immediately he taken to prevent any further publicity to such
diabolical sentiments.--Ed. Cheltenham Chronicle.*

     * This is an interpolation.

Some have censured the openness of my answer to Mr. Maitland as being
inexpedient. It is not impossible to justify it on that ground, but I
have an aversion to do it. Expediency has nothing to do with what a man
shall say. Expediency may close the mouth, but it has no power over the
speech if the mouth once opens. A man may keep silence if he chooses,
but if he does speak he has no alternative but to speak that which is
frank and true. But at that time there were political reasons why
I should not evade the question put to me. The _Odd Fellow_ of Mr.
Hetherington (under the editorship of W. J. Linton) had shortly before
contained an able article beginning thus:--

The world need not be much frightened at the present race of Socialists.
However heinous their doctrines may be thought, there need be no fear,
they will not act in too close accordance with them. For ourselves,
having been among them at various times, we have never yet been able
to discover any certain marks, whether of manner, of opinion, or
of conduct, whereby to distinguish them from the mass of professing
Christians. However heterodox their innermost sentiments, they usually
maintain as decent an appearance of conformity with custom as the most
worldly and orthodox could desire.

This was a character which no progressive party could live with, and
as the hypocrisy here charged upon us was generally believed, and not
wholly without reason, it became necessary either to give up the party
or refute the accusation. The attack on Mr. Owen's friends, by the
Bishop of Exeter in the House of Lords, had been evaded, not met, and a
noble opportunity, such as bigotry seldom affords to a rising party,
had been suffered to pass away unused. The enemy triumphed. In this
very town of Cheltenham a young poet, named Sperry, who betrayed
freethink-ing tendencies, had been called upon to recant. He did so,
and then he was treated with contempt by those who intimidated him.
They first destroyed his moral influence, and then despised him. I had
therefore sufficient public reasons for not tempting a similar fate.
If I had refused to reply, it would have been said I held opinions too
horrible to avow. Had I evaded the answer I should have been considered
a time-server, and if I answered frankly there were the legal
consequences in prospect. I was not very much skilled in policy, but
I knew this much that when a man cannot take care of consequences, he
ought to take care of the credit of his cause. A little anticipating
this history I may say that the expediency of the course I took, if
the expediency must be defended, was shown in the altered tone of the
authorities, both in Cheltenham and Gloucester, after my trial. Instead
of that contempt with which persons holding Socialist opinions are
treated, there was a somewhat respectful recognition of them. However
crude might be considered my defence of my views, nothing escaped me
that could be distorted into a willingness to avoid any suffering at the
expense of my adherence to the principles I had adopted. Many persons
who would not have spoken to me before came and expressed regret at what
had happened, and I met with many instances of regard from persons who
had formerly despised those with whom I acted.

I was indebted to the _Odd-Fellow_ of July 23, then edited by Eben
Jones, author of 'Studies of Sensation and Event,' for the fairest
statement of my conduct and of the point in question, which the press
gave. It was thus expressed:--

We cannot refrain from saying, that under the peculiar circumstances,
Mr. Holyoake (presuming his disbelief in a God to be sincere) could not
have said other than he did say, and at the same time have continued
honest. It is true he was not asked, 'Do you believe in a God?' but a
question was put to him which assumed his belief in a God, and had he
not testified at once his disbelief, he would have sanctioned the false
assumption: and if not a liar, would have been at least the permitter of
a lie; between which is no distinction recognised by an honourable man.
In arguing thus we would not express any sympathy whatever with Mr.
Holyoake's atheism, we are merely concerned to show that it was not Mr.
Holyoake's right alone, but absolutely his duty, to say that 'he did
not believe in a God.' It was his duty, if it be the duty of man to be
honest; he could not have spoken otherwise, unless he had 'lied against
his heart,' and lied towards mankind.

The next number of the aforesaid _Cheltenham Chronicle_ brought me this
further notice:--

Holyoake the Blasphemous Socialist Lecturer.--In reference to a
paragraph which appeared in the last _Chronicle_ regarding this monster,
the magistrates read the article alluded to, and expressed their opinion
that it was a clear case of blasphemy. In order to check the further
progress of his pernicious doctrines, the superintendent of police was
ordered to use every exertion to bring him to justice.

On reading this paragraph I lost no time in setting out for Cheltenham,
to hold a public meeting and justify myself to the town. Foot-sore and
weary--for the journey was more than thirty miles, and the day very
hot--I reached Cheltenham on the 1st of June, and proceeded as privately
as a 'monster' could to my friends the Adamses. The next night I slid
like sleep into the meeting, lest the police should prevent me from
addressing it. Mr. Leech, a leading Chartist, presided, and the meeting
was addressed by Messrs. Parker, jun., Geo. Adams, W. Bilson, and J. B.
Lear. The Chartists of Cheltenham at that time held possession of the
Mechanics' Institution, and they were threatened with the loss of it,
if they let it to me to speak in any more. But as I required it in
self-defence they generously disregarded the menace, and permitted me
the use of it. My friends in the distant town of Newcastle-upon-Tyne
afterwards gracefully acknowledged this kindness by making a collection
for Mrs. Holberry, the wife of a Sheffield Chartist who had perished in
prison. Before I had been long in the meeting, Superintendent Russell
came in with about a dozen men, who were arranged on each side the door,
and their glazed hats formed a brilliant, but a dubious back-ground for
a meeting on Free-Discussion. I spoke an hour after they came in. So
rare an audience was not to be thrown away, and I thought we might
convert some of them. At the conclusion Superintendent Russell, who
had the politeness to wait till we had done, intimated that he had
instructions to apprehend me. I asked for his warrant. He said he had
none. It was in vain that I protested against the irregularity of
the proceeding. He replied that his instructions were imperative upon
him--and it was thereupon arranged that I should walk down to the
station with Mr. Hollis, a well-known gun maker of Cheltenham, and
there, the meeting following, we arrived in procession between eleven
and twelve o'clock.

To the truth, it is no great proof _a posteriori_ of a man's
extravagance, that he should be involved in legal proceedings in
Cheltenham on account of freedom of speech. Owing to priestly and
conventional influences, that town will furnish a jury who would,
under direction, bring in any man guilty of blasphemy who boiled his
tea-kettle on a Sunday. Not long before the time now spoken of, a Mormon
preacher, holding forth there, happened to say that the Elements of
Euclid were as true as the Bible: and for this he was indicted for
blasphemy, and was only saved from imprisonment by the grand jury (who
must have had infidel tendencies) throwing out the bill.

On the morning after my apprehension I was taken before the Rev. Dr.
Newell, R. Capper, and J. Overbury, Esquires, magistrates of Cheltenham.
The Rev. Dr. Newell ought to have had the pride, if not the decency, to
have kept away.

The _Cheltenham Chronicle_ reported that' George Jacob Holyoake, who was
described as a Socialist lecturer, and as the editor of the _Oracle
of Reason_, was charged with delivering atheistical and blasphemous
sentiments at the Mechanics' Institution, on the evening of the 24th
of May. The prisoner had been apprehended last night, after delivering
another lecture at the same place. The affair appeared to have caused
great sensation, and several persons attended at the office anxious
to hear the examination. Amongst the number were some individuals
who, without the blush of shame mantling their cheeks, acknowledged
themselves friends of the accused.'

Mr. Bubb, a local solicitor, a particularly gross and furious man, then
said--'I attend to prefer the charge of blasphemy, and I shall take my
stand on the common unwritten law of the land. There have been a variety
of statutes passed for punishing blasphemy, but these statutes in no way
interfere with the common unwritten law. (Mr. Capper nodded assent.)*
Any person who denies the existence or providence of God is guilty
of blasphemy, and the law has annexed to that offence imprisonment,
corporal punishment, and fine. I shall give evidence of the facts, and
I shall ask that he be committed for trial, or required to find bail for
his appearance. The offence is much aggravated by his having put forth
a placard, announcing a lecture on a subject completely innocent, and
having got together a number of persons, has given utterance to those
sentiments which are an insult to God and man.'

     * Mr. Bubb took his stand on the common law because his
     object was to make it a _sessions_ case, and to take it out
     of the statuary law, which (9 & 10 Will. 3, c. 32) would
     have required that information of the words spoken should be
     laid before a justice of the peace within four days from
     their utterance, and would likewise have implied a trial at
     the _assizes_.

The assertion that I had employed duplicity in choosing my subject was
quite gratuitous. Addressing the Bench, I asked whether it was legal in
these cases to apprehend persons without the authority of a warrant?

Mr. Capper replied, 'Any person in the meeting would be justified in
taking you up without the authority of a warrant,' which showed that
the Bench were better read in Bigotry than in Blackstone. I said it was
customary in other towns, where bigotry existed to a greater degree
even than it did there, for information to be laid and a regular notice
served.

Mr. Capper said, 'We refuse to hold an argument with a man professing
the abominable principle of denying the existence of a supreme Being,'
This was not a very legal way of getting rid of my objections, but it
answered in Cheltenham.

Two witnesses, James Bartram and William Henry Pearce, both of the
_Chronicle_ office, were adduced to report the words that formed the
ground of the indictment. Neither of them could recollect anything else
but the objectionable words reported in their own paper, and to these
they did not swear positively, but only to the 'best of their belief.'
Mr. Pearce was not produced at the trial at the Assizes, he having no
local reputation but that of a dog-fancier and fighter, which did not
render him a creditable authority on matters pertaining to religion.
Bartram's sister was a Socialist, and she came to me some years after,
in Manchester, to apologise for the disgrace brought upon her family by
the weakness or the ignorance of her brother.

Mr. Overbury said he considered the case satisfactorily proved, and
added, 'Whether you are of no religion _is of very little consequence to
us_, but your attempt to propagate the infamous sentiment that there is
no God, is calculated to produce disorder and confusion, and is a breach
of the peace.' This was the remark of an ill-informed politician rather
than of a Christian.

Being required to enter into my own recognizances of £100, and find
two sureties of £50 each, Mr. Partridge became one, and Mr. Henry Fry,
editor of the _Educational Circular_, offered himself as the other. But
the Rev. Dr. Newell objected to Mr. Fry's bail, on the ground that he
did not swear positively that he was worth £50 when all his debts
were paid. He swore only that 'to the best of his belief he was so. I
reminded the Bench that they had accepted the evidence of the witnesses
against me on the same ground, namely 'the best of their belief.'
Hereupon the Rev. Dr. Newell, with an air of outraged morality,
exclaimed 'Come, come! we'll have no quibbling.'

I answered that I did not propose to quibble, for if that had been to my
taste I might have avoided standing there at that moment. Mr. Bubb then
interjected that he should demand twenty-four hours' notice of bail.
Another gentleman then offered himself, whom I desired to sit down and
let the Bench take their own course. This indifference with regard to
the Bench incensed them very much.

Mr. Capper said, 'Even the heathens acknowledged the existence of a
Deity. If you entertain the same pernicious opinion on your death-bed
you will be a bold man indeed. But you are only actuated by a love of
notoriety.' I only answered, 'Why do you address me thus, since you will
not allow me to reply?' and I turned away repeating to myself the words
of Sir Thomas Browne--'There is a rabble amongst the gentry as well as
the commonalty; a sort of plebeian heads, whose fancy moves with the
same wheel as these: men in the same level with mechanics, though their
fortunes do somewhat gild their infirmities, and their purses compound,
for their follies.'

But I ought to say that during these proceedings the people in the
court, of juster feeling than the magistrates, frequently expressed
their disapprobation of the speeches made to me.

Mr. Capper's assertion that I was only actuated by a love of notoriety,
were just the words to do me injury. The respectable people near, and
the intelligent people at a distance, would believe the magistrate and
disbelieve the sceptic, who had no friends to rebut the imputation. The
vulgar bearing of this brutal old man lingered long in my memory as the
most distinct thing of these proceedings. I should have thought less
of it had it not come from an old man. The aged always inspire me with
reverence, in their kindly aspects. They are the links which nature
perpetuates between old time and our time--the human chroniclers of an
experience the young can never know. They have followed the hearse of
the old world, and are the legatees of Time, who has bequeathed to them
his secrets and his conquests, which they in their turn distribute to
us. When living at Islington, in 1848, I frequently passed, but not
without sadness, nor sometimes without tears, an old man who stood near
the Merlin's Cave to beg. He resembled one whom I cannot name. I could
see on his brow the fresh traces of a struggle still going on between
dignity and destitution. And I often gave him the price of the biscuit
intended for my dinner, in the secret hope we all have in a kind act
that some one else may repeat it to those we love; and I indulged the
hope that others might approach with the same respectful feelings him
to whom I have alluded, if ever, with untamed pride and broken heart,
he should stand in his grey hairs on the high way to beg--which I have
dreaded through so many years.

When taken back to the station-house, Captain Lefroy, who was at the
head of the police, introduced me to Mr. Pinching, surgeon of the same
corps. The captain, in a gentlemanly way, inquired if I would allow
Mr. Pinching to reason with me on my opinions? I said, 'Certainly.'
Mr. Pinching asked me the irrelevant question 'Did I believe in Jesus
Christ?' and began a dry, historical argument to prove that there was
the same evidence for the existence of Jesus Christ as for that of Henry
the Fourth. I said, 'The argument is unnecessary with me. I do not care
to argue whether he existed or not. My inquiry is not whether he lived,
but what he _said._' Mr. Pinching's next speech was delivered with an
air of sharp authority, and he began to address me rather rudely.

He asked me was it not Robert Owen who made me an atheist? I replied,
Mr. Owen himself was not an atheist. For myself, I had not become
so till after the imprisonment of Mr. Southwell, which had led me to
inquire into the grounds of religious opinion more closely than I had
before done, and it had ended in my entire disbelief.

Mr. Pinching now became impatient and abusive, allowing me no
opportunity of replying, and I said 'Stop! stop! sir, you must not treat
me as a prisoner if you intend me to hear you. Unless you converse with
me upon equal terms I shall not answer you.' Lefroy laughed, and said,
'Come! come! Pinching, I think you are not quite fair. After this Mr.
Pinching became more abusive, and I turned away--when he ended the
conversation by saying, 'I am only sorry the day is gone by when we
could send you and Owen of Lanark to the stake instead of to Gloucester
gaol.'

Not allowed to wait twenty-four hours to see if I could obtain bail,
I was soon after sent off to Gloucester, nine miles away, the same
afternoon, where the difficulty of negotiating my release was so much
increased that it took me a fortnight to do it.

After my conversation with Mr. Pinching I was shut up in a very filthy
place with a lousy man. I was handcuffed with small old irons that
pinched my wrists, and I begged to have another pair of handcuffs put
on, which was done: then I was made to walk through Cheltenham town and
suburbs, and afterwards through Gloucester city, with the hand irons on.
As I had walked thirty miles to be apprehended, they had no reason
to suspect me of making my escape; nor was it customary to handcuff
prisoners conveyed to Gloucester on foot. In my case it was done to pain
and degrade me.

A memorial of a public meeting, sent from the town of Cheltenham to
the House of Commons, on this subject, stated 'That notwithstanding Mr.
Holyoake offered no resistance to any officer or procedure, and was at
the same time in very delicate health and much exhausted, yet it was
deemed necessary to lock both his hands in irons and make him walk to
Gloucester--a distance of near nine miles--on a most sultry day, but
on the way thither his friends interfered and obtained leave for him to
ride, on condition only that they should pay his expenses as well as the
expenses of two policemen to accompany him.' And it may be added that
though I sat an hour at the station, waiting for the train, my hands
were not unlocked.

The same memorial also alleged 'That the conduct of the magistrates
during the proceedings indicated a predisposition to punish Mr.
Holyoake, independently of any evidence which he might have offered in
defence of his own conduct.'

The Member for Bath, to whom this memorial was entrusted, paid to it the
most generous attention, and immediately returned the following reply:--

London, June 23rd, 1842.

Sir,--The petition you sent me is of a nature that demands serious
inquiry, and I thought I should best discharge my duty towards the
petitioners and Mr. Holyoake by at once addressing myself to Sir James
Graham. He has very promptly taken up the inquiry, and I have no doubt
but that substantial justice will be done. If, however, the petitioners
should hereafter deem that justice has not been done, I can present
their petition after the inquiry which has been undertaken by the Home
Secretary has been closed. I have taken this liberty with the petition
on my own responsibility, hoping that the petitioners will here trust
to my discretion, and they for the moment will put confidence in
my judgment. I will write you word so soon as I hear from the Home
Secretary, who has now the petition in his hands for the purpose of
immediately instituting a searching inquiry.

I am, sir, your obedient servant,

Mr. H. Fry. J. A. Roebuck.

The committal the police bore with them was to the following effect:--

[Gloucestershire to wit.]--To all and every of the constables and other
officers of the peace for the said county, and to the keeper of the gaol
at Gloucester in the said county--

Whereas George Jacob Holyoake is now brought before us, three of Her
Majesty's Justices of the Peace in and for the said county, and charged,
on the oaths of James Bertram and William Henry Pearce, with having, on
the twenty-forth day of May last, at the parish of Cheltenham in
the said county, wickedly and profanely uttered, made use of, and
proclaimed, in the presence of a public assembly of men, women, and
children, then and there assembled, certain impious and blasphemous
words against God, and of and concerning the Christian religion, to wit,
'That he was of no religion at all,' and 'that he did not believe there
was such a thing as a God,' and 'that if he could have his way he would
place the Deity on half-pay, as the government of this country did the
subaltern officers,' against the peace of our lady the Queen, her crown
and dignity. And whereas we, the said justices, have required the said
George Jacob Holyoake to become bound in the sum of one hundred pounds,
and to find two sufficient sureties in the sum of fifty pounds each,
conditioned for the appearance of the said George Jacob Holyoake at the
next Quarter Sessions of the peace, to be holden at Gloucester, in
and for the said county, and then and there to answer to any bill of
indictment that may be preferred against him for his said offence, which
he hath neglected to do.

These are therefore in Her Majesty's name to command you, and every of
you the said constables, forthwith safely to convey and deliver into the
custody of the keeper of the said gaol the body of the said George Jacob
Holyoake.

And you, the said keeper, are hereby required to receive the said George
Jacob Holyoake into your said custody, and him safely keep until
the said next general Quarter Sessions of the peace, to be holden at
Gloucester, in and for the said county, or until he become bound and
finds such sureties as aforesaid, or until he shall be thence delivered
by due course of law. And for your so doing this shall be to you and
every of you a sufficient warrant.

Given under our hands and seals the third day of June, in the year of
our Lord One Thousand Eight Hundred and Forty-two.

Robt. Capper, J. B. Newell, Joseph Overbury.

Twenty-four hours' notice of bail to be given.

I hereby certify that the above is a true 'copy' of a warrant, by virtue
of which the within named George Jacob Holyoake was brought into custody
the 3rd day of June, 1842. Witness my hand,

Thomas Moore, Clerk to the county gaol of Gloucester.


Some of the magistrates characterised the speech for which I was
committed as 'Felony,' 'a breach of the peace,' etc., and I was told
that my committal was made out for 'felony.' Serious comments were made
thereupon by the public. Able strictures on the subject were made by
'Philo Publicola,' in the _Weekly Dispatch_. But the magistrates grew
wiser as they grew cooler, and on the copy of the committal subsequently
furnished to me, the charge of felony did not appear.

A very curious circumstance deserves mentioning here. The magistrates
being censured in the House of Commons for their 'irregularities' in my
case (as will be explained in my defence further on) an attempt was
made to fix the blame on Mr. Russell, superintendent of the police.
This induced me to address the following letter to the editor of the
_Cheltenham Free Press_:--

Sir,--Observing an attempt has been made in Parliament by the Hon.
Craven Berkley to fix the blame of my 'harsh treatment' on the
constables of your town, and to implicate Superintendent Russell, I beg
to say that after my committal I never saw Mr. Russell, and never once
said, or suspected, that the harshness exercised towards me, while
ostensibly in his custody, originated with him. His courtesy to me on
the night of my apprehension, of which I retain a lively sense, forbids
such a conclusion.

I shall be glad if you will insert this in your next number. I can never
consent to purchase public sympathy by a silence which may unjustly
sacrifice any person's interest. I was justified in making the
complaints I have, but would rather they were for ever unredressed than
that an innocent man should suffer.

Birmingham, July 30, 1842. G. Jacob Holyoake.

Soon after Mr. Russell left the corps, and appears to have been offered
up by the magistrates as a sacrifice for the irregularities _they_ had
committed.

On my arrival my pockets were searched, and even my pocket-book and
letters taken from me. This I felt not only as an indignity, but also as
a breach of faith. Before leaving Cheltenham, and when in communication
with my friends, I inquired if my papers would be taken from me at
Gloucester, and the officers answered 'No,' (but they must have known
differently). Trusting their answer, however, I brought with me papers I
should not otherwise have brought. Perhaps I was fevered after my walk,
but the cell I was put into gave me a new sense. There had been times
when I had wished for a sixth sense, but this was not the sense I
coveted, for it was a sense of suffocation. The bed was so filthy that
I could not lie down, and sat on the side all night. When taken into the
general room next morning the prisoners surrounded me, exclaiming,' What
are ye come for?' As I made no reply, another observed, 'We always
tells one another,' 'Oh! blasphemy,' I replied. 'What's that,' said one.
'Aren't you 'ligious?' said another.

But as these rustics were happily unacquainted with doctrinal piety,
they said nothing rude; and seeing my loaf unbroken, and that I could
not eat, 'Here,' said four or five at once, 'will you have some of this
tea, zir?'--which was mint-tea, the reward of some extra work, and the
nicest thing they had to offer.

When the chaplain of the gaol, the Rev. Robert Cooper, came to see me,
I told him that before I took anything from him for my soul, I wanted
something from him for my defence; and I demanded my note book and
papers. Mr. Samuel Jones, a visiting magistrate, brought me a few pencil
notes which I had made during my examination in Cheltenham and some
private papers, but he withheld many others relating to matters of
opinion, saying that _he_ 'did not think them necessary to my defence.'
The clergyman has a veto on all books admitted, and of a list which
I gave him, which I wanted to read for my trial, he only allowed me
thirteen. He said the others 'were of an unchristian character,' and
he could not let me have them. 'I told him I was not going to make an
orthodox defence. He would not relax, so I would not have any spiritual
consolation, and we lived on very indifferent terms.

One day Mr. Bransby Cooper, and Mr. Samuel Jones (just mentioned), both
old magistrates, came to visit me. Mr. Jones, I was told, had at one
time been a preacher among the Methodists. He told me he would be kind
to me, but all his kindness was religious kindness--the worst kindness
I have ever experienced. I was then the sole occupant of the Queen's
evidence side of the prison, a place I had chosen as I preferred to be
alone. I had a large yard and all the cells to myself. In this solitary
place these magistrates visited me. After teazing me with Leslie for a
long time, Mr. Bransby Cooper concluded thus--'Now! Holyoake, you are
a Deist--are you not?' I shook my head. 'You cannot be an atheist,' he
continued, 'you don't look like one.' He said this, I suppose, seeing no
horns on my head, and no eyes on my elbows, as he expected. I answered
that I felt very unpleasantly how much I was in their power, and had
therefore some reason to desire to oblige them. Though sorry to say what
might outrage them or look like obstinacy, yet out of respect to my own
conscience I must say that I _was_ an atheist. Upon these they both flew
into indignant revulsions, and shouted 'a fool! a fool!' till the roof
rang. Capt. Mason (the governor), who accompanied them, turned away
a few paces, with the air of one not caring to be witness of so much
rudeness.

     * See Report of Gloucester Trinity Sessions in the county
     papers of that period.

Before leaving they said of course I should employ counsel to defend
me. I answered, 'No, I should defend myself as well as I was able.
Barristers were not good at stating a case of conscience.' They urged,
they even coaxed me to abandon the idea of defending myself; but finding
me not to be deterred, they threatened me that it would aggravate my
case--reminded me of Hone and others, and said that the judge would put
me down and not hear me. This menace, as will be seen hereafter, did me
great harm. They reported my determination at the Trinity Sessions as
though it was a matter desirable to be averted.

Mr. Bransby Cooper was a brother of Sir Astley Cooper. He was formerly
member for Gloucester, and when he suspected that I did not regard his
dignity sufficiently, he would slide in some remark about 'his
friend' Sir James Graham, who was then Secretary of State for the Home
Department. Bransby Cooper was the senior magistrate at this time--a man
of venerable and commanding aspect, generous to a fault in matters of
humanity, harsh to a fault in matters of religion. On his way through
the city, old women would way-lay him to beg. First raising his stick
against them--then threatening to commit them as vagrants--they fled
from him in mock terror, but knowing the generous feelings of the man
they returned again, and before he reached home he would empty his
pockets among them. One minute he would growl at me like an unchained
tiger--the next he would utter some word of real sympathy, such as came
from no one else, and at the end of my imprisonment I parted from him
with something of regret. He had the voice of Stentor, and though at
first his savage roar shook me, at last I acquired an artistic liking
for it, and his voice was so grand that I came to the conclusion that
he had a natural right to be a brute. The old man, after his fashion,
laboured very hard for my conversion. His son Robert was chaplain of the
gaol, and had I happily been brought over, the old man would have
given the credit to his boy. My conversion was thus a sort of family
speculation.

Those who sent me to prison in default of bail, took care to make
bail impossible to me by intimidating those who would have become my
sureties, and after two weeks' anxiety I was obliged to accept the
generous offer of two friends in Worcester--James Barnes and John Dymond
Stevenson--to come from that city and enter into recognizances for
me, and I was indebted to them for my liberation, after sixteen days'
imprisonment.

So near was my trial upon my release that I had to return to Gloucester
within a fortnight. A great desire of my youth had been to see London.
When I found myself suddenly shut up in gaol, in prospect of an
indefinite term of imprisonment, which in my then state of health might
prove fatal, my sole remorse was that I had never seen that city of
my dreams. Once again at liberty I made a short visit to my family in
Birmingham, and the next week found me in London.

Chafed and sad, with tremulous heart and irresolute step, it seems but
yesterday that I walked through Woburn Place into the city in which I
now write. Its streets, its pride, its magnificence enthralled me, and
its very poverty fascinated me because nearer to my destiny. Savage and
Johnson had walked those squares houseless, and why not I. Chatterton
had perished in a garret, and garrets had something sacred in them.
Solitary in that two million multitude, I was hardly known to any one
in it, yet when I remembered that I was in London I felt an enchanted
gladness, and in all vicissitudes of fortune and chequered struggles
with fate, I have walked its magical streets with undimmed joy, and it
is to me still a fairy land, whose atmosphere of enchantment feels as if
it would never leave me.

How sweetly, how gratefully to me (as words never read before) came the
notice the _Weekly Dispatch_ gave of my first lecture in London. All
the night before I had sat up with Ryall, answering correspondence and
concerting my defence. When I reached the Rotunda it was more fitting
that I should have found a bed there than a rostrum, for when I rose to
speak I was weak as well as timid. To succeed in any way in London was
more than I ventured to expect, and the nature of the report in the
_Weekly Dispatch_ inspired me with the hope of at least being tolerated.

I hastened back to Gloucester. Either a Secretary of State's order, or
a Bill had come into operation, I was never correctly informed which,
removing my trial from the Sessions to the Assizes, which gave me an
impartial Judge to determine my case. At a Sessions' trial the parties
who had caused my imprisonment, and the magistrates who had shown
themselves my personal opponents, would have sat on the Bench to try me.
Though unable to proceed with my trial after having committed me, they
put me to the expense of bringing my bail from Worcester, and charged me
£1 9s. for renewing my sureties.

My arrest caused a demand for atheistical publications in Cheltenham,
which Mr. George Adams, partly as a friend to the free publication of
opinion and partly from personal friendship to me, undertook to supply.
In this he was joined by his wife, Harriet Adams, a very interesting
and courageous woman. On Monday evening, June 13th, at a public meeting
called to consider the grounds of my own apprehension, Mr. George Adams
was arrested for selling No. 25 of the _Oracle_, and forthwith conveyed
to the station-house. As soon as a knowledge of the arrest came to the
ears of Mrs. Adams, she went to the station-house to see her husband,
when she, likewise, was served with a warrant for selling No. 4. Mrs.
Adams says, (the account cannot be better rendered than in her own
words) 'I went to see my husband at the station-house, when I was
detained; a policeman was sent home with me to fetch my infant, and
I had to leave four at home in bed. The man that went with me to the
station was a rude fellow; he was quite abusive to me, telling me I
should be locked up from my husband; saying, it was quite time such
things were put a stop to. When we arrived at the station-house he would
have locked me in a cell with drunken women, had I not sat down in the
yard and insisted on seeing the superintendent, who then allowed me to
sit up in a kitchen, where policemen were coming in and out all night.
My husband was much troubled on my account.' The four children were left
locked up in the house alone.

Mr. Bubb's speech, when Adams was brought up, is so curious a relic of
provincial barbarism that I preserve it, or those who are told of it in
time to come will regard the story as some malicious fiction. Mr. Bubb
opened the charge by justifying himself and clients--'It has been said
that we are prosecuting here for the entertaining of opinions merely.
That proposition I deny. The entertaining of opinions is not opposed to
law if people keep them to, themselves. If they step out of the way, and
seek to propagate them by undermining the institutions of the country,
by denying the existence of a God, by robbing others of "the hopes set
before them," without offering the flimsiest pretext, it is the duty of
all to prevent this. Such is the opinion of those gentlemen who set on
foot these proceedings, and no clamour of persecution will prevent them
from doing what they believe to be their duty. And if there are any here
present disposed to take up this unfortunate trade, I would assure them
that as long as the law punishes, and the magistrates uphold the law, so
long will they bring offenders to justice. So long as men say there
is no God, or that the religion of the state is a farce and a fallacy,
these gentlemen will not be deterred by any clamour.' If this threat
were carried out the magistrates on every Bench would have constant
employment--especially if they would undertake, as Mr. Bubb appeared to
promise, to ascertain whether or not we had the 'flimsiest pretext' to
offer in defence of the course we took.

Adams and his wife were committed to take their trials at the
Sessions--in the wife's case it was purely vexatious, as there was
no one bound over to prosecute her. Yet Adams, nearly blind from an
inflammation of the eyes, and his wife with her child in her arms, were
kept several days in attendance at Gloucester--though the same law which
prevented the court proceeding in my case, prevented the court from
trying the Adamses. In further aggravation of loss, £1 17s. 6d. were
demanded for discharge of bail and entering new sureties--nor was time
allowed to fetch the bail (after they were demanded) from Cheltenham,
the clerk announcing that they would be estreated at once. Upon this I
directed Mr. and Mrs. Adams to go into court and say they were prepared
to take their trial _then_, and there was no occasion to estreat the
property of their friends. Time was then allowed.

Mrs. Adams was never tried. Mr. Adams's trial took place at Gloucester
assizes, immediately before my own.

The passage from No. 25 of the _Oracle_, for which Adams was
indicted, was written by my friend Mr. Chilton, who was outraged at my
imprisonment, and ran as follows:--

What else could be expected of men who deify a real or imaginary
individual, a compound of ambition and folly, of mock humility and
rampant tyranny; who, though called the 'Prince of Peace,' declared he
came to bring a sword in the world? This hellish mission he performed to
perfection, for never since his time has blood and misery ceased to flow
from his dogmas and mysteries.

As I was very anxious to save Adams from consequences which he incurred
through friendship to me, I advised him to let Mr. Thompson defend him.
This gentleman began by sympathising with all the disgust invented
by the counsel who opened the prosecution, and he ended by expressing
Adams's sorrow and contrition for what he had done--a contrition which
he did not feel, and would rather have undergone much imprisonment than
have had it said that he did. During the whole of the trials arising out
of the _Oracle_, Mr. Ralph Thomas, barrister, was the only counsel
who defended us in court without sacrificing us. Taking warning by Mr.
Thompson's example, I made it a rule to advise all our friends to defend
themselves, and where unaccustomed to public speaking, to write a brief
defence in their own language, and after some legal friend had revised
it, to read it to the court. We do not want lawyers to defend our
opinions, those opinions not being their own, but we want them simply
to maintain our right to publish what are to us important convictions.
Instead of this they commonly agree with the crown that we are criminal
for having a conscience, and then, in our name, recant with 'contrition'
the opinions which we go into court to maintain.

Adams's sentence was delivered in the following words by Mr. Justice
Erskine:--'George Adams, you have been convicted of the offence of
publishing a blasphemous libel, and the libel which was proved to have
been published by you was one of a most horrid and shocking character.
Whatever a man's opinions may be, he can have no right to give vent to
them in that language. If there was evidence to prove that you were the
author, or that you were engaged as an active disseminator, I should
have thought it my duty to have inflicted on you a very serious
imprisonment. Although by the law of this country every man has a right
to express his sentiments in decent language, he has no business to make
use of such shocking language as this. But you have expressed, through
your counsel, contrition; and trusting that this is the general feeling
of your mind, I shall not think it necessary to pass on you a severe
sentence this time. But if you ever offend again, it will then be known
that you are determined to persevere, and it will be seen whether the
law is not strong enough to prevent it. The sentence of the court
is, that you be _imprisoned in the Common Gaol of this county for one
calendar month._

I was with Adams during the term of his imprisonment, and although his
losses and the privations of his family were great, he never uttered a
murmuring word. From first to last he behaved well, and Mrs. Adams, as
women usually do, behaved better.

It is worthy of remark that when a gentleman deposed that the character
of Mr. Adams 'was a pattern of morality,' Mr. Justice Erskine told the
jury that 'had Adams committed a robbery such a character might have
weight, but in extenuation of religious offence it was of no service.'



CHAPTER II. THE TRIAL

The Assizes opened on the 6th of August, 1842, but my case did not come
on till the 15th, Mr. Knight Hunt (the author of the 'Fourth Estate')
was the gentleman engaged to report my trial. As the judge was informed
that I intended to defend myself he resolved to take my case last. This
caused the assizes to extend into a second week. Saturday came before
the calendar was exhausted, and as there was no knowing whether my trial
could be gone through in a day, the fear of trespassing on Sunday led to
the court's being ordered to open on Monday, to the annoyance of javelin
men kept there unexpectedly, to jury men who had left tills, ploughs,
and orange baskets unprotected--and not least to my prosecutors, who saw
with some consternation some £200 added to the county expenses, for in
Cheltenham bigotry is greatly preferred when it is _cheap_.

If ignorance would look upon its own degradation, let it spend a few
hours in an assize court. One trial I witnessed was of two men for an
offence which indeed arose out of depravity, but the depravity arose out
of bad training and vicious circumstances. The oldest man, between forty
and fifty, was sentenced to transportation for life to Norfolk Island,
the most ferocious sentence an English judge can pronounce. When the man
heard it, he bowed in genuine and awkward humbleness, and said, as
he made a rustic bow to the bench, '_Thank'ee, my Lord!_' Such abject
humiliation of spirit I had never conceived before. Ignorance never
appeared to me so frightful, so slavish, so blind, as on this occasion.
Unable to distinguish a sentence passed upon him from a service done
him, he had been taught to bow to his pastors and masters, and he bowed
alike when cursed as when blessed. The measured contempt with which the
words were spoken by the judge which blasted the man's character for
ever--the scorn with which he was thrust out of the pale of society,
never again to know freedom or reputation, made no impression on his
dark and servile soul. That appalling weight of infamy falling on his
head and on the heads of his children--for which he might justly
have cursed society--only elicited from him a 'Thank'ee, my Lord!' If
ignorance would see its own degradation, would feel the incalculable
depth of its abjectness, let it sometimes sit for instruction in an
assize court.

The preliminary proceedings at the trial I shall render as Mr. Hunt gave
them, in the third person--adding what, from various causes, was omitted
at the time.

On the morning of the trial the Court-house at Gloucester was very
crowded. Many ladies were present from all parts of the county: the
wives of clergymen, and some of the nobility, were among them, attracted
by curiosity, and by the opportunity which might never occur to them
again of hearing, without loss of caste, a little heresy defended in
person. The audience continued undiminished till ten o'clock at night.

As the name of George Jacob Holyoake was called, he advanced and entered
the dock. Mr. Ogden, the turnkey in charge of prisoners, directed him
with the usual air of official impatience to take his place at the bar.

Mr. Holyoake. Do not be in a hurry. First hand me my books.

Mr. Ogden. (Looking indignantly at a large corded box lying outside the
dock.) You can't have that box here. You must go to the bar and plead.

Mr. Holyoake. Nonsense. Hand me the box.

It being reluctantly handed up, Mr. Holyoake applied to the judge, Mr.
Justice Erskine, for the use of a table.

Mr. Justice Erskine. There is one. (He referred to some boarding behind
the bar), and there Mr. Holyoake proceeded to arrange his books and
papers--although the situation was not advantageous, it being lower than
the bar where the prisoners usually stand. Mr. Holyoake employed twenty
minutes in this operation, and when he had done, the dock resembled,
a young bookseller's stall. Mr. Holyoake then advanced to the bar and
bowed to the court.

Mr. Justice Erskine (who had waited with great patience). Are you ready?

Mr. Holyoake replied affirmatively, and the clerk proceeded to read the
indictment as follows:--

[Gloucester to wit.]--The Jurors for our lady the Queen, upon their
oath, present that George Jacob Holyoake, late of the parish of
Cheltenham, in the county of Gloucester, labourer,* being a wicked,
malicious, and evil-disposed person, and disregarding the laws and
religion of the realm, and wickedly and profanely devising and intending
to bring Almighty God, the Holy Scriptures, and the Christian religion,
into disbelief and contempt among the people of this kingdom, on the
twenty-fourth day of May, in the fifth year of the reign of our lady
the Queen, with force and arms, at the parish aforesaid, in the county
aforesaid, in the presence and hearing of divers liege subjects of our
said lady the Queen, maliciously, unlawfully, and wickedly did
compose, speak, utter, pronounce, and publish with a loud voice, of
and concerning Almighty Gog, the Holy Scriptures, and the Christian
religion, these words following, that is to say, 'I (meaning the said
George Jacob Holyoake) do not believe there is such a thing as a God; I
(meaning the said George Jacob Holyoake) would have the Deity served as
they (meaning the government of this kingdom) serve the subaltern, place
him (meaning Almighty God) on half-pay'--to the high displeasure
of Almighty God, to the great scandal and reproach of the Christian
religion, in open violation of the laws of this kingdom, to the evil
example of all others in the like case offending, and against the peace
of our lady the Queen, her crown and dignity.

     * It was pure invention that described me as a' labourer.'
     It was a term of degradation in the county, and therefore
     employed--my profession was that of a Mathematical Teacher.

Mr. Holyoake pleaded _Not Guilty_, and applied to have the names of the
jury called over singly and distinctly.

Mr. Alexander, counsel for the prosecution, said the offence being only
a misdemeanour, the defendant had no right to challenge.

Mr. Justice Erskine. Of course not, unless reasons are given in each
case.

Clerk. The name of John Lovesey is first.

Mr. Holyoake. I object to Lovesey. He sat on the bench when I was before
the magistrates at Cheltenham, and approved the proceedings against me.
He is not disinterested in this matter.

Mr. Justice Erskine said that was not sufficient reason for challenging.

Loresey declared he 'shuddered at the crime of the prisoner,' and after
some further conversation, the judge having observed it was 'as well to
go,' Lovesey left the box.

Mr. Holyoake. In the case of Mr. Southwell he was allowed to challenge.

Mr. Justice Erskine. I am not bound by the Recorder of Bristol.

The names of the other jurors having been called over, Mr. Holyoake
objected to one on the ground of his being a farmer, and from his
profession not likely to be acquainted with the nature of the question
at issue.*

Mr. Justice Erskine said he could not sit there to listen to such
objections. Mr. Holyoake saying he had no objection to urge which his
lordship would allow, 'seven farmers, one grocer, one poulterer,
one miller, one nondescript shopkeeper, and one maltster, were then
impaneled to ascertain whether one George Jacob Holyoake had had a
fight with Omnipotence, whether he had done his utmost to bring the
Deity into contempt, whether he had fought Omnipotence with force of
arms, and had spoken against it or him with a loud voice.'**

     * A poulterer is called upon, under oath, to decide this
     great theological and philosophical question that has
     agitated the world for so many hundred centuries.......To
     make a poulterer a sovereign judge of theology is on a par
     with making the Archbishop of Canterbury a judge of
     poultry.--Weekly Dispatch, August 18. 1842. [It has been
     objected to this that very likely his Grace of Canterbury is
     a very good judge of poultry.]

     ** 'Publicola's' second letter to Judge Erskine.--Weekly
     Dispatch, Sep 18, 1842

The following is the list of the jury:--

Thomas Gardiner, grocer, Cheltenham, Foreman.

James Reeve, farmer, Chedworth.

William Ellis, farmer, Chedworth.

Avery Trotman, farmer, Chedworth.

William Mathews, poulterer, Cheltenham.'

Simon Vizard, shopkeeper, Oldland. Isaac Tombs, farmer, Whitcomb.
William Wilson, maltster, Brimpsfield. Edwin Brown, farmer, Withington.
Bevan Smith, farmer, Harescomb. William Smith, miller, Rarnwood. Joseph
Shipp, farmer, Yate.

Mr. Holyoake. Can I have a copy of the indictment?

Mr. Justice Erskine. I had one made for you in consequence of your
application to the court last week.

Mr. Holyoake. Yes, my lord, but after I had thanked you for your
courtesy in so doing, I was asked 8s. 6d. for it by (not being able to
call him by his name, Mr. Holyoake said) that sour looking gentleman
there, (pointing to the clerk of the court, an individual as dusty
and as forbidding as an old penal statute, and who always spoke to
Mr. Holyoake like one. The court laughed, the judge frowned, the clerk
looked indignant, but before censure could fall, Mr. Holyoake escaped
into the next sentence, adding), after the numerous exactions I
was subjected to at the sessions, after being brought here by the
magistrates and then not tried, I did not think myself justified in
paying any more, and the clerk refused it me.

Mr. Justice Erskine. I ordered a copy to be made for you, but did not
think it necessary that you should have it on any other than the usual
conditions.*

Mr. Holyoake. Can I be allowed to read the indictment against me?

Mr. Justice Erskine. Certainly.

The clerk then handed a copy to Mr. Holyoake, who on observing the
counsel for the prosecution rise, left the bar and placed himself where
he could face Mr. Alexander, with a view to take notes. The judge very
courteously asked if Mr. Holyoake desired note-paper and pens, which he
accepted, and:

Mr. Alexander said--Gentlemen of the jury: The defendant at the bar is
indicted, not for writing, but for speaking and uttering certain wicked
and blasphemous words. This person is not, as in the case previously
brought before your attention,** the _vendor_, but he is the _author_
of the blasphemy. From the coincidence of words, he is the editor-Mr.
Justice Erskine. You must not proceed in that way. You must not assume--

     * This copy of Indictment occupied not quite one sheet of
     paper, for which eight shillings and sixpence were asked!

     **That of George Adams.

Mr. Alexander. I am aware, my lord, that I may not assert the identity
of the defendant with the work alluded to--I was only going to draw the
attention of the gentlemen of the jury to the coincidence of the words.
But I will proceed with my case. The defendant, on the 24th of May last,
issued placards for a lecture to be delivered in Cheltenham. In these
placards he announced, not the diabolical, the dreadful topics which he
descanted upon, not anything which would lead the reader to imagine or
expect what really took place--but he gave out his subject as a lecture
upon Home Colonisation, Emigration, and the Poor Laws. Mark this,
gentlemen of the jury. Had he given in his announcements any hint
of what was to take place, his end might have been defeated, and no
audience attracted to listen to the blasphemous expressions you have
heard set out in the indictment. But he did obtain an audience, a
numerous audience, and then declared that the people were too poor
to have a religion--that he himself had no religion--that he did not
believe in such a thing as a God; and--though it pains me to repeat the
horrible blasphemy--that he would place the Deity upon half-pay. I shall
call witnesses to prove all this, and then it will be for you to say
if he is guilty. It may be urged to you that these things were said
in answer to a question, that the _inuendoes_ must be made out.
_Inuendoes!_ I should think it an insult to the understandings of
twelve jurymen--of twelve intelligent men--to call witnesses to prove
inuendoes: but I shall place the case before you, and leave it in
your hands. I am sure I need not speak, I need not dilate upon the
consequence of insulting that Deity we are as much bound, as inclined,
to reverence. He then called James Bartram--who said: I am a printer at
Cheltenham, employed upon the _Cheltenham Chronicle_; attended the
lecture of defendant, just after nine o'clock; there were about one
hundred persons present of both sexes; the placard announced 'Home
Colonisation, Emigration, Poor Laws Superseded;' heard a man put a
question to Mr. Holyoake; he said,' The lecturer has been speaking of
our duty to man, but he has said nothing as regards our duty towards
God.' Prisoner replied, 'I am of no religion at all--I do not believe in
such a thing as a God. The people of this country are too poor to have
any religion. I would serve the Deity as the government does the
subaltern--place him on half-pay.' He was the length of the room off;
I heard him distinctly; he spoke in a distinct voice.

Cross-examined by Mr. Holyoake. You say I said the people were too poor
to have any religion; will you state the reasons I gave? Witness. I can
give the substance, if not the words; 'you said, 'The great expense of
religion to the country.'

Mr. Holyoake. I will thank you to state the other reasons?

Witness. I don't recollect any other reason*

Mr. Holyoake. Now, you have sworn the words are blasphemous--

Mr. Justice Erskine. No, he has not.

Mr. Holyoake. Will you state if the words are blasphemous?

Mr. Justice Erskine said such a question could only be put through him.
He then put the question--do you consider the words blasphemous?

Witness. I do.

Mr. Holyoake. Why do you think them blasphemous?

Witness. Because they revile the majesty of heaven, and are calculated
to subvert peace, law, and order; and are punishable by human law,
because they attack human authority.

Mr. Holyoake. Who has instructed you to define blasphemy thus?

Witness. I have not been instructed, it is my own opinion.

Mr. Holyoake. At Cheltenham, during my examination before the
magistrates, you did not appear to have these notions. Will you swear
you have not concocted that answer for this occasion?

Witness. I did not expect such a question would be put; I did not expect
to be catechised.

Mr. Holyoake. Who advised you to attend as a witness? Witness. The
magistrates sent for me.

Mr. Holyoake. Did you not know before the day of my commitment something
of this matter?

Witness. There was some 'chaff' in the office about it; that's all I
heard of it; a policeman was sent from the magistrates for me to give
the names of witnesses who were to appear. Don't know why the policeman
came to me; don't know his name; no clergyman has spoken to me, that I
recollect, upon the subject of this prosecution; not sure of it; several
persons have spoken to me, cannot say they were clergymen; I do not know
the parties who got up the prosecution, or sent the policeman to me; the
report was furnished to the paper I work on by another person; I saw
the reporter's notes, but not the editor's observations till the galleys
were pulled. Mr. Justice Erskine. What do you mean by galleys pulled?
Witness. Brass slides, my lord.

Mr. Justice Erskine. You mean, I suppose, till all the types were up?

Witness. Yes, my lord.

Cross-examination resumed. Do not know of my own knowledge who made the
report; have been ten years in employment at _Chronicle_ office; know it
was said in that paper that three witnesses from that office could prove
what had occurred at the lecture; the name of reporter of our paper is
Edward Wills; I heard your lecture, you said nothing against morality.
Mr. Holyoake. Will you state your opinion of morality? Mr. Justice
Erskine. The question is irrelevant. Mr. Holyoake. Did you think I spoke
my honest convictions? Witness. I thought you spoke what you meant; you
spoke straightforwardly.

The judge here interposed, to stop Mr. Holyoake from asking as to
witness's opinions.

Cross-examination resumed--Witness. I should not have lost my situation
if I had not come forward in this case; in my opinion you spoke
wickedly, as stated in indictment; I did not notice that you spoke
contemptuously when using the word _thing_, but you used the word; there
were other words between those used in indictment; they did not, is
in that document, follow one another; I do not remember the words; you
spoke of the enormous sums of money spent upon religion, and the poverty
of the people, and afterwards, and in connection with that, said you
would place Deity as government did the subalterns--on half-pay; I have
been a preacher.

Re-examined by Mr. Alexander. I have been uninterruptedly ten years in
the same employment; do not give evidence from fear or reward; but from
a sense of duty.

Mr. Alexander. That is the case for the prosecution, my lord.

Mr. Justice Erskine. Now is the time for your defence.

Mr. Holyoake. I am not a little surprised to hear that the case for the
prosecution is closed. I have heard nothing, not one word, to prove the
charge in the indictment. There has been adduced no evidence to show
that I have uttered words _maliciously_ and _wickedly_ blasphemous. I
submit to your lordship that there is not sufficient evidence before the
Court.

Mr. Justice Erskine. That is for the jury to decide.

Mr. Holyoake. I thought, my lord, as the evidence is so manifestly
insufficient to prove _malice_, you would have felt bound to direct my
acquittal.

Mr. Justice Erskine. It is for the jury to say whether they are
satisfied.

Mr. Holyoake. Then, Gentlemen of the Jury, it now becomes my duty to
address you on the nature of the charge preferred against me, and of the
evidence by which it is attempted to be supported. When I stood in this
court a week ago, and saw the grand jury with Mr. Grantley Berkeley at
their head as foreman--when I heard his lordship, surrounded by learned
counsel, deliver his charge in the midst of persons distinguished for
learning, for eloquence, for experience, and for literary attainments--

I then thought, as I now do, that this court could find nobler means
than the employment of brute force to counteract anything I could
attempt--which I never have done--to bring the truly sacred into
contempt. I thought I never should be called upon to stand in this dock,
with all its polluting and disgusting associations, to answer for mere
matters of speculative opinion. I did think that such persons possessed
a sense of the powers of the human mind that would have prevented the
interposition of penal judges upon such subjects.

But to Mr. Grantley Berkeley, as foreman of the grand jury who found
a true bill against me, I beg to draw your attention. Mr. Grantley
Berkeley, as you are aware, is brother to the member, Mr. C. Berkeley,
who attempted to vindicate the conduct of the Cheltenham magistrates
from the allegations against them by Sir James Graham in the House of
Commons. In the recent case of Mr. Mason, who was taken from a meeting,
as I was at Cheltenham, by a policeman, illegally, without a warrant,
the doctrine was laid down by a cabinet minister, in the House of
Commons, that if the person so arrested was subsequently found guilty by
a jury, the illegal apprehension was justified. See how this applies
to my case. I was taken from a public meeting a week after the
objectionable words were spoken; was taken by a policeman at near
midnight; without a warrant. This was justly deemed illegal. I sat
in the gallery of the House of Commons when the Hon. Member for Bath
brought forward my case, and when Sir James Graham, in reference to
the correspondence which had taken place with the magistrates, had the
frankness to say, 'there had been serious irregularities and unnecessary
harshness used in the case of Holyoake.' In this country four thousand
applications are annually made to the Secretary of State for the Home
Department, and out of that four thousand my case is spoken of as one
in which serious irregularities had occurred, and unnecessary harshness
been employed. And that amid the numerous affairs of this great empire
it should have received this distinct notice is presumptive evidence
that it contained much that should be corrected. On Thursday, July
21, the Hon. Mr. C. Berkeley, addressing the Speaker of the House of
Commons, said, 'I wish to ask the Right Hon. Baronet the Secretary for
the Home Department a question, but in order to make it intelligible to
the House, it will be necessary for me to refer to what took place on
Tuesday last. It appears that upon that day the Hon. member for Bath
stated, "that as a person named Holyoake had been committed to prison,
at Cheltenham, in an improper manner, he wished to know whether the
Right Hon. the Secretary for the Home Department had any objection to
produce the correspondence which had taken place upon that subject"--to
which the Right Hon. Baronet replied that, "he felt called on in
the discharge of his duty to inquire into the circumstances of the
commitment in question--he found that serious irregularities had been
committed, and he expressed his opinion to that effect--but as legal
proceedings were likely to result out of what had occurred, he did not
think it would be judicious in the Hon. and learned Gentleman to press
for the production of the correspondence."...

...The Right Hon. Baronet knows, or at least ought to know, that no such
imputation could with propriety be cast upon the magistrates, for by the
3rd section of the 2nd and 3rd of Victoria, commonly called the County
Constabulary Act, no magistrate or magistrates, in petty sessions
assembled, can interfere with or control the chief constable, or any
sub-constable, in the discharge of their duties, as the rules and
regulations for these all emanate from the office of the Right Hon.
Baronet. It therefore was exceedingly unfair that these imputations
should go forth, and I have therefore now to ask, on behalf of
the magistrates, whether the Right Hon. Baronet objects to the
correspondence being printed and circulated with the votes of the house,
and in case he should object I shall offer it for the perusal of the
Hon. Member for Bath.' Sir James Graham, in reply, said, 'I had no
intention whatever to cast any imputation on the gentlemen, who that day
formed the Petty Sessions. My observation more properly applied to
the capture of Holyoake, and the unnecessary harshness used in his
conveyance from the magistrates' office. At the same time I shall object
to the printing of the correspondence with the votes, as no good result
would come from it. Of course the hon. member is at liberty to offer it
to the Hon. Member for Bath if he chooses--but I repeat, that as legal
proceedings were pending, I think such course not advisable.'

This is a most flagrant attempt at justification. The Act the hon.
member quoted related to Petty Session magistrates, before whom he knew
my case had never come, and of whom, therefore, no complaint could
have been made. But Mr. Berkeley had a friendly purpose to serve. The
magistrates and their friends have the strongest motives for finding
a true bill against me--and they have motives equally powerful for
desiring that your verdict should be 'guilty,' inasmuch as that
verdict will justify all these 'irregularities'--all the 'unnecessary
harshness'--will remove from their shoulders all the responsibility
which they incurred by the course they have pursued towards me. Bear in
mind, gentlemen of the jury, if the rights are to be enjoyed about which
we so much glorify ourselves, cases of this kind must not be allowed
to pass unnoticed. 'Serious irregularities' demand serious notice.
Arbitrary infraction of the liberty of the subject must not receive
the sanction of a jury. Recollect that the same course may be pursued
towards any one of you, and that if it receives your sanction it will be
made a precedent of law--and pernicious may be its influence.

But I would draw your attention to a printed report of remarks, made by
his lordship, in his charge to the grand jury upon my case, I do not for
a moment believe that his lordship had other than fair intentions, but,
unfortunately, his remarks will have a contrary effect on those who
have to judge my case. I have in my hand the _Cheltenham Chronicle_, of
Wednesday last, August 10th, from which I will read. 'These offences,'
he said, referring to the cases of blasphemy, 'lay at the root of all
the crime which prevailed, and a consideration of the causes out
of which they sprung pointed to the only efficient remedy for their
removal. In the case of Holyoake, his lordship observed that a work
called the _Oracle of Reason_ had been printed and circulated containing
language which he did not think it right to repeat; language in which
the writer traced all the evil which existed in the world, not to the
real cause--the evil passions of the human heart--but to the existence
of Christianity itself. This was followed by the most opprobrious
language'--

Mr. Justice Erskine (interrupting). I never said anything of that
kind--that printed report is entirely incorrect.

Mr. Holyoake. I will read some notes of your lordship's charge, taken
at the time of its delivery by a reporter. But whether the report in the
_Chronicle_ is correct or incorrect, it has had its influence in leading
the public, and probably this jury, to a prejudgment of my case.

'There are other charges which seem at once to lead the mind to the
consideration of the root of all the evil which forms the subject of our
present consideration. I allude to two charges of blasphemy. In one the
accused is said to have sold and published a paper called the _Oracle of
Reason_ containing language which I shall not think it right to read, in
which the writer traces the evils at present existing, not to the evil
passions of man, but to the existence of Christianity, and follows it
up with the most opprobrious language to the Saviour and his system,
charging him with being the occasion of all the crime and misery which
prevail. The second charge is against a man who gave a lecture, in the
course of which he discussed the proper way of teaching man his duty
to his neighbour. A person _suggested_ that he had said nothing about
teaching man his duty to his God. That led to a statement which shows
the folly of the person; and he followed it up by making use of such
language that, if you believe it was intended to have destroyed the
reverence for God, he has subjected himself to punishment. There is
another thing--he does not appear to have intended to discuss this; but
if you are convinced that, by what he has said, he intended to bring
religion into contempt, he is guilty of blasphemy. If such addresses had
been directed to the educated classes, it might have been thought they
would remedy themselves; but when they are delivered among persons
not educated, the greatest danger might be expected. It is not by the
punishment of those who attempt to mislead the ignorant that we can
hope to cure the evil. If we feel that it is from the ignorance of those
persons to whom the addresses are delivered that the danger is to be
apprehended, it becomes our imperative duty to teach those persons. Some
persons have said, "Instruct the poor in reading and writing, but leave
them to learn religion at home." But what would you say to a man who
would manure his land, and leave it to find seed for itself? It would
produce nothing but weeds. I know there is great difficulty in arranging
any national schools; but, as we are all individually sufferers, I hope
we shall join in extending a national religious education, so that all
may learn to do right, not from a fear of punishment, but from a far
nobler motive--the knowledge that offences against the laws are contrary
to the precepts of the word of God, and hostile to the best interests of
society.'

I fear his lordship may not give me credit for sincerity; but I
do assure you, gentlemen of the jury, no one heard _some_ of those
sentiments with more pleasure than I did. I did not expect so much
liberality. If such advice had been followed, I should not now be
standing here to defend points of a speculative nature. Such errors
should be corrected by argument, in the arena of public opinion. Where I
uttered these words, they should have been refuted. The witness against
me says he is a preacher; had he no word in answer? could he say no word
for his God? No; he, and those who employ and abet him, shrink from the
attempt, and seek to punish in this dock opinions they cannot refute. Is
this a course becoming those who say they have _truth_ on their side?

His lordship said 'emissaries are going about.' I am no emissary, and
the term as applied to me is unjust. I might, even by the admission of
Mr. Bubb, 'undermine' men's religion, go about secretly disseminating my
opinions, without danger of standing here. But I spoke openly; and you
who usually have to punish _dishonesty_, are now called upon to punish
its non-committal, for a little lying would have saved me from this
charge. I have infringed no law, injured no man's reputation, taken no
man's property, attacked no man's person, broken no promise, violated no
oath, encouraged no evil, taught no immorality--set only an example of
free speaking. I was asked a question, and answered it openly. I am
not even charged with declaring dogmatically, 'There is no God.' I only
expressed an opinion. I should hold myself degraded could I descend to
inquire, before uttering my convictions, if they met the approval of
every anonymous man in the audience. I never forget that other men's
opinions may be correct--that others may be right as well as myself, I
have put forth my own opinions openly, from a conviction of their truth;
and the sentiments I cannot defend I should scorn like my prosecutors to
invoke an attorney-general to protect. I seek a public place, where any
man may refute me if he can, and convict me as wilful or ignorant. I
should think myself degraded if I published secretly. What can we think
of the morality of a law which requires secret inquiry, which prohibits
the _free_ publication of opinion?

Mr. Justice Erskine. You must have heard me state the law, that if it be
done seriously and decently all men are at liberty to state opinions.

Mr. Holyoake. Whatever the law says, if an informer can carry the words
to persons interested in their suppression--if policemen can be sent
to apprehend, without warrants, the man who publicly expresses his
opinions--if he can be handcuffed like a felon, and thrust into a
gaol--if indictments can be brought against him, and he be put to
ruinous expenses and harassing anxieties, however honest the expression
of opinion may be--then, I say, this 'liberty-law' is a mockery. But by
the word 'decent' is meant 'what those in authority think proper.' There
should be no censorship of opinions; but I am told that because I spoke
to ignorant people, I am criminal. To educated persons, then, I might
have said what I did with impunity--

Mr. Justice Erskine. I only, after speaking of education, said that an
honest man, speaking his opinions decently, was entitled to do so.

Mr. Holyoake. There is no evidence to show that my audience were unable
to distinguish decency and propriety. But it must be already clear
enough to you, gentlemen of the jury, who have been employed during the
past week determining violations of the law, that I am placed here for
having been more honest than the law happens to allow. I am unaccustomed
to address a jury, and I hope to avoid the charge of presumption or
dogmatism. I have no wish to offend the prejudices of any man in this
court, and have no interest in so doing, when his lordship is armed with
the power of the law to punish it. But, while I profess respect for your
opinions, I must entertain some for my own. There are those here
who think religion proper, and that it alone can lead to general
happiness--I do not, and I have had the same means of judging. You say
your feelings are insulted--your opinions outraged; but what of mine?
Mine, however honest, are rendered liable to punishment. I ask not
equality of privileges in this respect; I seek not the power of
punishing those who differ from me--nay, I should disdain its use.
Christianity claims what she does not allow, although she says 'All men
are brothers.'

It is from no disrespect to the bar that I did not give my case into the
hands of counsel, but because they are unable to enter into my motives.
There is a magic circle out of which they will not step; they will argue
only what is orthodox; and you would have had no opportunity from them
of learning my true motives, or seeing the real bearings of this case.*

     * From what subsequently appeared in the _Cheltenham Free
     Press_, I learned that some of the bar took offence at these
     remarks; and one revenged himself by describing me, in the
     _Morning Chronicle_, as 'a wretched-looking creature,
     scarcely emerging from boyhood, whose wiry and dishevelled
     hair, "lip unconscious of the razor's edge," and dingy
     looks, gave him the appearance of

The author of the paragraph which led to this day's proceedings applied
to me the epithets of 'wretch,' 'miscreant,' 'monster'--represented me
as one who discoursed 'devilism.' The _Gloucester Chronicle_ laboured
to prove that I was a _malicious_ blasphemer, a low German student,
is evidently, from his pronunciation and language, a most ignorant and
illiterate character, and no doubt courted the present prosecution tor
the sake of notoriety.'

The Cheltenham Examiner--the editor of which, I understand, is Mr.
Jelinger Symons--draws a parallel between me and the reputed regicide,
who has recently shot at the Queen. These are the words:--'Akin to the
offence for which Holyoake has been committed is the crime for which
Francis, also a mere stripling, is likely to forfeit his personal
liberty, if not his life. The crimes of blasphemy and treason have many
points of great similarity, and frequently result from the same causes;
and it would not be an uninstructive task to trace out the progress of
those causes which lead the minds of the unguarded to the extreme points
when they become dangerous to society. Holyoake, the bold assertor
of the non-existence of a God, did not become an infidel at once; and
Francis, the would-be regicide, did not level his pistol at oar beloved
sovereign without his mind having been acted and prepared by previous
circumstances.... In both cases a morbid imagination, an affectation
of superiority, a contempt for and a dissatisfaction with existing
institutions, and a craving after notoriety, are the primary incentives
to action,' This ungenerous and offensive parallel was drawn out through
a long leading article. The effect, if not the object, of all this is to
prejudge my case, to awaken all the bitter prejudices which lurk around
religion, and to secure my condemnation before my trial.

Another paper,* in which justice was done me in some respects, called me
a 'bigot.' I am not a bigot. I do not assume that I alone am right; nor
did I speak of Deity, declaring dogmatically his non-existence. I spoke
only of my own disbelief in such an existence. Of all _isms_ I think
dogmatism the worst. I do not judge other men by the agreement of their
opinions with my own. I believe you consider Christianity a benefit.
I regret that I feel it is not so, and I claim the privilege of saving
what is true to me. I have ever been ready to acquire correct notions. I
have publicly called upon parties whose duty it was to teach me--and who
were well paid for teaching--to assist me in sifting out the truth. But
they have chosen the strong arm of the law rather than strong argument.
Jean Jacques Rousseau says in his 'Confessions,' 'Enthusiasm for sublime
virtue is of little use in society. In aiming too high we are subject to
fall; the continuity of little duties, well fulfilled, demands no less
strength than heroic actions, and we find our account in it much better,
both in respect to reputation and happiness. The constant esteem of
mankind is infinitely better than sometimes their admiration.' As the
world goes there is much good sense in this, and I have read it to show
how fully I accord with these sentiments. I am not aiming at sublime
virtue, but rather at the continuity of little duties well fulfilled. It
is enough for Me if I can be true and useful.

     * The National Association Gazette.

I was greatly surprised to find the learned gentleman engaged as
prosecuting counsel had so-little to say in reference to the case
entrusted to his charge, but I presume it must be attributed to the fact
that little could be said upon the subject. All his ingenuity, all his
legal skill could not discover an argument at all tenable against me.
I certainly expected to hear him attempt to prove to you that these
prosecutions were either useful or necessary, but he could only tell you
that my sentiments were very horrible, without adducing proof that his
assertions were true. He dealt liberally in inuendoes, particularly in
reference to the placards exhibited previous to the lecture, and the
motive for issuing them. But you have been able to glean from his own
witness the truth of the matter. I had completed my discourse, which
was of a secular character, and was preparing to return home, when one
Maitland questioned me on the subject of my opinions. I did not get up
a meeting under one pretence to use it for another. I employed no scheme
to allure an audience to listen to what I did not openly avow, although
it has been unfairly insinuated that I did so.

When I was first apprehended my papers were taken from me. They would
not even leave me the papers necessary for my defence, and I do not
know what use was made of them, or that this day the information thus
unfairly obtained may not be employed against me. I will read the
memorial on this subject, which I forwarded to the Secretary of State.

'_Memorial of the undersigned George Jacob Holyoake, prisoner in
Gloucester County Gaol, on the charge of Blasphemy, to Sir James Graham,
Her Majesty's Secretary of State,_

'Shewith,--That your memorialist was committed to this gaol from
Cheltenham, on the vague charge of blasphemy, on June 3rd.

'That in consequence of representations made to him by the police
authorities in Cheltenham, your memorialist brought with him to the gaol
some private papers, hastily selected, for his defence--and that, on
arriving here, the said papers were seized, and the visiting magistrate
refused to allow your memorialist the use of them, or to give them up to
his friends to be used for his advantage.

'That, as these papers were brought in confidence that your memorialist
would have been allowed to consult his own thoughts in his own
defence--and as they are no man's property but his own--and, also,
as without them your memorialist will not have a fair chance of
defence,--he trusts you will order them to be restored to him without
delay.

'The offence with which your memorialist stands charged occurred as he
was journeying homeward, in a town where he was a comparative stranger.
Consequently, and owing to great bigotry on religious subjects, your
memorialist has been unable to obtain bail, and has suffered fourteen
days' imprisonment, which time he has spent in fruitless applications to
the authorities here for proper books and papers to prepare his defence.
Out of a list of thirty-one books submitted for that purpose only
thirteen are allowed.

'That, as the trial of your memorialist is to take place at the next
sessions of this county, to be holden on the 28th inst., and he is
without the means of defence or hope of justice, and has a wife and two
children dependent on him for support, he is placed in circumstances of
peculiar anxiety.

'Hence your memorialist earnestly hopes that you will direct that his
papers, seized as before mentioned, be immediately restored to him, and
also that he be allowed free access to such works and papers as he may
deem necessary for his defence, and that without further delay.

'(signed) George Jacob Holyoake.

'County Gaol, Gloucester, June 14, 1842.'

The papers were _afterwards_ returned; but, had it not been for friends
in the House of Commons, and in various parts of the country, I should
have been deprived of the materials for my defence. Public opinion did
for me that which Christian charity refused.*

     *  At the Gloucester Trinity Sessions, Mr. R. B. Cooper
     stated, in contradiction of the prayer of this memorial,
     that 'as soon as I mentioned that my papers were necessary
     for my defence they were returned to me.' Mr. S. Jones said
     he 'took my papers home, and _every one_ I wanted for my
     trial on the morrow I had given to me.' Both these
     statements were untrue, and I stated so at the time in the
     _Cheltenham Free Press_, and my assertion was never
     impugned.

Strong prejudices exist against me as being a Socialist. Your local
newspapers have denounced me on this ground. To show that I deserve no
condemnation on this account I shall draw your attention to the nature
of Socialism. I have here a little book, stated to be published by the
'Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge.' If it had been stated to be
a 'society' for disseminating 'malicious knowledge' the title-page would
have been correct--for a more gross series of misrepresentations were
never strung together. If what it says of Socialism were true, then I
might be abused; but Socialism as I have learned or explained it, would
never lead to the injury of peace or the disturbance of public order.
The first paragraph of Godwin's 'Political Justice' is an epitome
of Socialism as developed in this country hitherto s it is 'an
investigation concerning that form of political society, that system
of intercourse and reciprocal action extending beyond the bounds of
a single family, which shall be found most conducive to the _general_
benefit--how may the peculiar and independent operation of each
individual in the social state most effectually be preserved--how
may the security each man ought to possess as to his life, and the
employments of his faculties according to the dictates of his own
understanding, be most certainly defended from invasion--how may
the individuals of the human species be made to contribute most
substantially to general improvement and happiness.' But I shall
not content myself with one authority; and to avoid the charge of
presumption, I have gathered much of my defence from other men's
writings, and shall make them speak for me.

Socialists have been declared to have dangerous metaphysical notions.
The whole question has been expressed by the poet-philosopher Goethe in
four lines, translated by Ebenezer Elliott, thus--

     How like a stithy is this land!
     And we lie on it, like good metal
     Long hammer'd by a senseless hand;
     But will such thumping make a kettle?

Meaning that senseless hammering and senseless legislation could
neither make the dull iron into a kettle, nor a vicious people into
an enlightened nation. Socialism says, all men have in them the true
metal--the elements of goodness, which all governments are responsible
for moulding. Socialism proposes to substitute other means than
punishments for the prevention of crime, and that you may not think
these chimeras of my own, I will read you the opinion of a Lord Cardinal
to a certain High Chancellor of England, Sir Thomas More, who, in his
'Utopia.' says, 'When I was in England, the king depended much on his
councils....

One day when I was dining with him there happened to be at table one of
the English lawyers, who took occasion to run out in high commendation
of the severe execution of justice upon thieves, "who," as he said,
"were then hanged so fast that there were sometimes twenty on one
gibbet!" and upon that he said, "he could not wonder enough how it came
to pass, that since so few escaped there were so many thieves left, who
were still robbing in all places." Upon this, I (who took the boldness
to speak freely before the cardinal) said, "there was no reason to
wonder at the matter, since this way of punishing thieves was _neither
just in itself nor good for the public_; for as the severity was too
great, so the remedy was not effectual; simple theft not being so great
a crime, that it ought to cost a man his life: no punishment, how severe
soever, being able to restrain those from robbing who can find no other
way of livelihood. In this (said I) not only you in England but a
great part of the world, imitate some ill masters, that are readier to
chastise their scholars than teach them. There are dreadful punishments
enacted against thieves, _but it were much better to make such good
provisions by which every man might be put in a method how to live and
so be preserved from the fatal necessity of stealing, and of dying for
it._"' Socialism would try to obtain a remedy for the evils which judges
go round year by year lamenting; Socialism would suggest a means of
affording employment, and thus mitigate the crime which judges and
juries are called to punish.

Such objects may be declared chimerical, but surely it is not criminal
to hope that they can be carried out, and to feel that they ought.
I could read many other passages to show that under no circumstance
Socialism merits that character which has been ascribed to it But I do
not deem it necessary, as I think I have said enough to prove that. Nor
do I want to instil my sentiments, but merely to disabuse your minds of
a prejudice which has been disseminated to my disadvantage.

My assuming the right of free expression inculcated by Mr. Owen, and
when asked a question, refusing to equivocate, are opposed, it would
appear, to the laws of this country. But this I have learned from
Socialism, that there can be no public or private virtue, unless
the foundation of action is the practice of truth. Passing through
Cheltenham to pay a visit to a friend, I delivered a lecture. After
which the words were uttered which are here indicted. When I had read
the _Cheltenham Chronicle_, in the city of Bristol, I returned to
Cheltenham. If I had been conscious of guilt, should I have returned?
On the night of my apprehension marks of kindness were shown me by the
people. If I had acted disgracefully, would the people of Cheltenham
have met a stranger and showed him marks of esteem and friendship?
I went to the station-house and remained there all night. When taken
before the magistrates, Mr. Capper told me I was not fit to be reasoned
with, because I did not believe in a God, and that it was from a love of
notoriety that I acted: but from the love of mere notoriety I have never
uttered any sentiments, for I hold such conduct in contempt. After I was
taken from the magistrates' office, I was treated with contumely at the
police-station. Surgeon Pinching, finding me completely in his power,
said he was sorry the days were gone by when I could hold up my head,
and wished the inquisition could be put in force against such persons
as myself. I was thrust into a filthy cell, and my hands were bolted
together and the skin pinched off. I was brought to Gloucester on a
sultry day, and should have been made to walk had not some friends
interfered and obtained permission for me to ride, on paying my own fare
and that of two policemen. There was no indication from my manner that
I wished to make my escape, and the company of two policemen was
sufficient to prevent it. It was thought if I was chained like a felon
and dragged through two towns, it would wound my feelings. If these are
the ways in which the truths of Christianity are to be taught, I leave
you to judge of them. Two of your magistrates conversed with me, and
shouted with much rudeness that I was a fool for holding my opinions. I
never could have said this to any man, and yet such treatment I received
from magistrates old enough to be my grandfathers.

Here Mr. Bransby Cooper, who sat upon the left of the Judge, was so
moved by this remark, that he rose and ejaculated something in Court;
but the Judge peremptorily commanded him to sit down.

Mr. Holyoake then read the memorial of the public meeting of the
inhabitants of Cheltenham, before quoted, referring to the conduct, at
the examination, of Joseph Overbury, Robert Capper, and the Rev. T. B.
Newell, D.D., magistrates.

Mr. Justice Erskine. You ought not to read any statement not
authenticated by evidence, which reflects on any person.

Defendant. This is a petition of a public meeting.

Mr. Justice Erskine. It is not evidence.

Defendant continued. I have never been anxious under any circumstances
to obtrude my opinions on the public. I confined myself strictly to
the subject on which I lectured, and should not have introduced my
sentiments on religion, should not have spoken another word after my
lecture, if I had not been publicly questioned. I have held various
situations, and in all secular ones I have strictly kept religious
opinions out of view. It is known that I have taught that and that
only which I have been employed to teach. In proof of this I may cite
testimonials given me upon the occasion of my applying for the
situation of collector at the Birmingham Botanic Gardens. They are from
magistrates and gentlemen of Birmingham, and the post was one requiring
a person of trust, as considerable funds would have to pass through his
hands in a year.

Mr. Holyoake here quoted from numerous testimonials. One of them, from a
magistrate, F. Lloyd, Esq., stated that Mr. Holyoake obtained the first
prize at the Mechanics' Institute, some years ago, for proficiency
in mathematics, a proficiency attained, too, under most discouraging
circumstances.' Another of the testimonials was from the Rev. S. Bache,
one of the ministers of the New Meeting House congregation. Having read
these documents, Mr. Holyoake resumed.

During one of those commercial panics, which a few years ago passed over
this country like a pestilence, my parents were suddenly reduced from
a state of comparative affluence to one of privation. At one of these
seasons my little sister became ill. While she was so the Rev. Mr.
Moseley, M.A., Rector of St, Martin's, Birmingham, sent an order to us
for his Easter due of fourpence. On previous occasions this demand had
been cheerfully and promptly paid; but now, small as the sum was, it was
sufficient materially to diminish the few comforts our house of illness
unfortunately afforded; and it was therefore discussed whether the
demand of the clergyman should be paid, or whether it should be expended
in the purchase of some little comforts for my sick sister. Humanity
decided; and we all agreed that it should be devoted to this latter
purpose. It was; but, I think, the very next week, a summons came for
the Easter due, and two shillings and sixpence were added, because of
the non-payment of "the _fourpence_". The payment of this could now no
longer be evaded, for in a few days a warrant of _distraint_ would have
rudely torn the bed from under her, as had been the case with a near
neighbour. Dreading this, and trembling at the apprehension, we gathered
together all the money we had, and which was being saved to purchase a
little wine to moisten the parched lips of my dying sister, for at this
time her end seemed approaching. My mother, with a heavy heart,
left home to go to the Public Office. The aisles there were cold and
cheerless like the outside this court, and there, all broken in health
and spirits, worn out with watching, and distracted by that anxiety for
her child a parent, under such circumstances, only could feel, she
was kept from five to six hours waiting to pay the two shillings
and ten-pence. When she returned all was over--my sister was dead.
Gentlemen, will you wonder if, after this, I doubted a little the
utility of church establishments?* and if, after the circumstances
I have related, I did not think so highly of church 'as by law
established' as before, can you be surprised? Can you punish me for it?
[At this point many ladies wept, and the Court manifested considerable
attention.]

     * I have since learned that Mr. W. J. Fox read this passage
     in a Sunday morning lecture on the events of the month,
     delivered at South-place in the September following my
     trial; and I take this opportunity of acknowledging that Mr.
     Fox was the only occupant of a pulpit from whom I received a
     friendly line during my entire imprisonment.

I have been told to look around the world for evidences of the truth
of the Christian religion; to look upon the world and draw different
conclusions. It is well for those who enjoy the smiles of fortune to say
so. For them all shines brightly--for them all is fair. But I can see
cause of complaint, and I am not alone in the feeling. Mr. Capel Lofft
had said, 'the sours of life less offend my taste than its sweets
delight it.' On this Kirke White wrote:--

     Go to the raging sea, and say
     'Be still!' Bid the wild lawless winds obey thy will;
     Preach to the storm, and reason with despair--
     But tell not misery's son _that life is fair_.

Thou, who in plenty's lavish lap hast roll'd, And every year with new
delight hast told--Thou, who, recumbent on the lacquer'd barge, Hast
dropt down joy's gay stream of pleasant marge, Thou may'st extol life's
calm, untroubled sea--The storms of misery ne'er burst on thee. Go to
the mat where squalid want reclines; Go to the shade obscure where merit
pines; Abide with him whom Penury's charms control, And bind the rising
yearnings of his soul--Survey his sleepless couch, and, standing there,
Tell the poor pallid wretch _that life is fair_!

Lo! o'er his manly form, decay'd and wan, The shades of death with
gradual steps steal on; And the pale mother, pining to decay, Weeps, for
her boy, her wretched life away.

Go, child of fortune! to his early grave, Where o'er his head obscure
the rank weeda wave; Behold the heart-wrung parent lay her head On the
cold turf, and ask to share his bed. Go, child of fortune, take thy
lesson there, And tell us then that life is _wondrous fair_.

As I grew up I attended missionary meetings, and my few pence were given
to that cause. When told of heathen kings who knew not God, and caged
their miserable victims, I shuddered at their barbarity and prayed for
their conversion. O waste of money and prayers that should have been
employed on Christian men. O infantile fatuity! Do I not reap the
whirlwind for my pains? I learned the accents of piety from my mother's
lips. She was and still is a religious woman. Whatever may be the
dissent I entertain, I have never spoken of her opinions in the language
of contempt. I have always left her (as she to her honour has left me),
to enjoy her own opinions. In early youth I was religious. I question
whether there is any here who have spent more time than I did as
a Sunday school teacher. I have given hours, which I ought to have
employed in improving myself, in improving others. It is not without
giving to Christianity time and attention--without knowing what it
was--that I have given it up. Some lines I contributed to a religious
publication at that time, will show the tone of thought which inquiry
has subsequently changed:--

     THE REIGN OF TIME.

     The proudest earthly buildings show,
     Time can all things devour;
     E'en youth and beauty's ardent glow,
     And manhood's intellectual brow,
     Betray the spoiler's power:
     How soon we sink beneath his sway--
     He glances, and our heads turn gray.
     Though, over all this earthly ball,
     Time's standard is unfurled,
     And ruins loud to ruins call
     Throughout this time-worn world--
     Yet from this wreck of earthly things,
     See how the soul exulting springs.
     And after the archangel's wand
     Has wav'd o'er earth and sea,
     And Time has stopped at his command,
     The soul will nourish and expand
     Through all eternity.
     Religion--lovely, fair, and free--
     Holds forth this immortality.
     By all the glories of the sky,
     To mortals yet unknown--
     And by the worm that ne'er shall die,
     The fires that always burn--
     By all that's awful or sublime,
     Ye sons of men improve your time.*

          * 'Baptist Tract Magazine.' Vol. ii., p. 341.


It was stated by one of the magistrates that my being of no religion was
no crime. I may conclude from what I heard this morning that I am not to
be punished for not being religious. It was argued in, the _Cheltenham
Chronicle_ that my expressing my opinions was no crime, and I was at
some loss to know what my crime was. The charge stated I was guilty of
_blasphemy_. In the depositions made against me, it is stated that I
was brought before the Cheltenham magistrates on a charge of felony. I
believe now what I have to answer is the accusation of uttering certain
words offensive to the _Cheltenham Chronicle_.

This paper stated that 'three persons were ready to give evidence on
the matter.' And yet the witness says he knew nothing of it till the
policeman came for him. He says they were 'chaffing' about my remarks
in the office--that is, joking upon them. It does not say much for his
seriousness--reporting these 'horrid sentiments' at night, and the next
morning '_chaffing_' about them. If it was an aggravation of my crime
to have chosen an innocent subject, what would the learned counsel have
said if I had chosen a guilty one? It has been sworn by the witnesses
that I said I did not believe there was such a _thing_ as a God, and an
attempt has been made to make you believe that I used the term 'thing'
contemptuously, but the witness admits that I did not use it in a
contemptuous sense. The same word occurs in some lines by Thomas
Moore:--

     Man, in the sunshine of the world's new spring,
     Shall walk transparent like some holy thing.

I must have used the word 'thing' in some such sense as it is used in
these lines.

It is laid down by the Common Law, that a person denying the existence
of a God is a blasphemer. It has not been shown that I did this. I
merely stated my disbelief--and disbelief is not included by the law.
There is a great difference between denial and disbelief. If I had said
distinctly 'there is no God,' it would have been stating that I was
quite sure of it. I could not have said that, because I am not sure of
it. I saw reasons for disbelief, but did not assert denial. Disbelief is
all I profess. Those dogmatise who affirm, rather than those who deny a
proposition. Mr. Southwell put this point in its proper light:--

'If God had never been affirmed, he could not have been denied. It is a
rule of logic, and a very sensible rule, that the _onus probandi,_
that is the burthen or weight of proving, rests on those who affirm a
proposition. Priests have affirmed the existence of a God, but who will
maintain that they have complied with the rule of logic?'*

We can only, I think, arrive at a conviction of the existence of a God
by the following modes:--

1. By the medium of _innate ideas_, which we are said by some divines to
possess, and which intuitively lead us to entertain the idea of a God.

2. By the _senses_, the sole media by which all _knowledge_ is acquired.

3. By _conjecture_.--This is employed by those who suppose there must be
a God from their inability otherwise to account for the existence of the
universe, and are not willing to allow it to be inexplicable.

4. By _analogy_.--Comparison is the basis of this argument. Analogy is
the foundation of natural theology.

5. By _revelation_.--In this country the Bible is said to contain the
revelation of a God.

Of these it may be remarked:--

1. _Innate ideas_.--With regard to these, very conclusive reasons have
been advanced by eminent philosophers for disbelieving that we have
any. And human experience confirms this conclusion. Some nations, as
the people of the Arru Islands, have no idea of a God. So this source of
knowledge concerning one is, to say the least, dubious.

2. _Senses_.--'No man hath seen God at any time,' is a sufficient reply
to this--for the same may be affirmed of every other sense, which is
here affirmed of sight.

3. _Conjecture_.--This defies us. We only prove our own inability and
multiply difficulties. For when we suppose a God, we cannot suppose how
he came, nor how he created something out of nothing, which is held by
the learned to be plainly _impossible_.**

     * Oracle of Reason, No. 31, p. 251.

     ** Since this time Mr. Francis William Newman has put this
     argument unanswerably in these words; 'A God uncaused and
     existing from eternity, is to the full as incomprehensible
     as a world uncaused and existing from eternity'--'The Soul,'
     p. 36.   Second edition.

4. _Analogy_ will not inform us. A small pivot or wheel cannot
_infallibly_ indicate to us the mechanism to which it belongs, nor
anything conclusive as to whether the whole had only one or more makers.
So of the universe, no part can shadow forth the whole of that, nor
inform us conclusively whether it had a creator or creators. And here
it is to be observed the difficulty is greater than with machines--for
a pivot or wheel is a finite part of a finite whole, and _both
comprehensible_; but with the universe, all we can take cognisance of is
but a very finite part of an _infinite_ whole, and that whole to all
men acknowledged _incomprehensible_. Moreover, _creation_ can have no
analogy--no one ever saw or can conceive of anything being created. So
that this mode of learning the existence of a God fails. The Rev. Hugh
M'Neile, M.A., minister of St. Jade's Church, Liverpool, in a lecture
delivered to above four hundred of the Irish clergy, at the Rotunda in
Dublin, said in reference to this part of the question, 'I am convinced,
I say, that, from external creation, no right conclusion can be drawn
concerning the _moral_ character of God. Creation is too deeply and
disastrously blotted in consequence of man's sin, to admit of any
satisfactory result from an _adequate_ contemplation of nature.
The authors of a multitude of books on this subject, have given an
inadequate and partial induction of particulars. Already aware (though
perhaps scarcely recognising how or whence) that "God is love," they
have looked on nature for proofs of this conclusion, and taken what
suited their purpose. But they have not taken nature _as a whole_, and
collected a conclusion fairly from impartial premises. They expatiate on
the blessings and enjoyments of life, in the countless tribes of earth,
air, and sea. But if life be a blessing, death is a curse. Nature
presents the universal triumph of death. Is this the doing of a God of
love? or are there two Gods--a kind one, giving life; and an unkind one
taking it away; and the wicked one invariably the victor? In external
creation, exclusively and adequately contemplated, there is no escape
from Manichæism. It is vain to say that the death of the inferior
creatures is a blessing to man; for why, in the creation of a God of
love, should any such necessity exist? And how would this account for
the death of man himself?' So far the argument of analogy.

5. _Revelation_.--We have _none_. If others ever had, we can only
determine it by human reason, and for this purpose Leslie has furnished
his well-known rules. Therefore, as revelation means something
superadded to reason, we cannot be said to possess it, for reason has to
determine what is, and what is not revelation, and therefore is superior
to it. Also, it is contended by divines that, but for the Bible we
should know nothing of a God, which shows the unsatisfactory nature of
the four methods of learning his existence we have gone through. And
Lord Brougham contends that but for natural theology, or the analogy
argument, which has been shown to be no argument at all, the Bible would
have no other basis than mere tradition.

So you see, gentlemen, the philosophical difficulties besetting the path
of a young inquirer into sacred things. These difficulties are to me
insuperable, and hence I find myself incapable of employing language you
are more fortunate in being able to adapt to your conscience.*

     * The object of this passage was to show the jury the
     intellectual difficulties belonging to this subject, and the
     passage formed but an episode among the moral issues I
     raised. A friend of mine asking an eminent divine at one of
     Dr. Elliotson's seances, and who afterwards entered
     parliament, what he thought of my defence. 'Oh it turned
     upon that eternal conundrum the existence of God,' was the
     answer. But I hope the reader will see something more in my
     defence than the frivolity that employs itself on riddles.

But it has been stated I said I would put the Deity on half-pay. After
first stating that I did not believe there was a Deity, is it likely
I should say I would put him on half-pay? Would you put a servant on
half-pay whom you never hired or had? All my expressions went to prove
that I referred to the expenses of religion. I could not suppose that
there is a being capable of governing the world, and consider him good
and kind, and yet have any intention of bringing him into contempt. I
had no personal reference to the Deity. I made use of that figure of
speech because I thought they would understand it better, and they
did understand it. I was saying we had many heavy burdens to pay to
capitalists and others, and that I thought it hung like a millstone
round us. Sir R. Peel said, when he introduced the income-tax, that
the poor man could bear no more. I said there were twenty-four millions
taken from us for the support of religion, and that they would do well
to reduce that one-half. Suppose, gentlemen, that I did refer to the
Deity, was my notion a dishonourable one? What man of you who had enough
and to spare, and seeing the people around him in poverty, would not
willingly relinquish part of his income to give them a bare subsistence?
Who will deny that in England there are honest, industrious,
hard-working men, honourable women, and beautiful children, who have not
the means of obtaining food? Did I do him a disgrace if I thought he,
who is called our Father, the Most High, would have dispensed with
one-half of the lip-service he receives in order to give his creatures
necessaries!

[It being nearly four o'clock the Jury asked leave to retire, to which
Mr. Holyoake consenting, they left the Court for a short time. Some
ladies who represented themselves as wives of clergymen, came round the
dock offering Mr. Holyoake confections and refreshment, and expressing
their regret at the treatment he had received, and the position in which
he was placed.]

Mr. Holyoake, on resuming, said--According to a calculation that has
never been disputed, the

'Pay to their Clergy.

    Catholics, numbering...         124,672,000...      £6,106,000
    Protestants          ...        54,046,000...      11,906,000
    Greek Church         ...        41,000,000...         760,000

    Total of Christians             219,718,000        £18,762,000

'Of which England, for twenty-one millions of people, pays more than
one-half.'* Thus the English pay five times more according to their
numbers--I proposed a reduction of only one-half.

     * 'Cheap Salvation.'   By Henry Hetheringten.

Mr. W. J. Fox has told us--'If the government of the country disposed of
the mismanaged funds of the clergy, they would have sufficient for their
annual needful expenditure.'

Mr. Justice Erskine. If you can convince the jury that you only meaning
was that the incomes of the clergy ought to be reduced, and that you
did not intend to insult God, I should tell the jury you ought not to be
convicted. You need not go into a laboured defence of that.

Mr. Holyoake. It was stated by one of the witnesses at Cheltenham that I
said Christians are worshippers of Mammon. I thought it necessary for me
to refer to it.

Mr. Justice Erskine. There is no evidence of that.

Mr. Holyoake. Then turn to the question _What is blasphemy?_ In the case
of Mr. Southwell, one of the witnesses for the prosecution stated his
opinion that the crime was '_bringing a scandal on the religion of the
magistrates_.' Perhaps this is as correct a definition as can be given.
It has been said to be 'an injury to God,' Men who could not string
six sentences together grammatically, have told me they would defend
God--men whom I should be ashamed to have defending me. But blasphemy is
impossible in the sense of annoyance to God. Jonathan Edwards says--'The
following things may be laid down as maxims of plain truth and
indisputable evidence:--

'1. That God is a perfectly happy being, in the most absolute and highest
sense possible.

'2. It will follow from hence, that God is free from everything that is
_contrary to happiness_: and so that in strict propriety of speech there
is no such thing as any pain, grief or trouble in God.

'3. Where any intelligent being is really crossed and disappointed, and
things are contrary to what he truly desires, he is less pleased, or
has the less pleasure, his pleasure and happiness are diminished, and he
suffers what is disagreeable to him, or is the subject of something that
is of a nature contrary to joy and happiness, even pain and grief.

'From this last maxim it follows, that if no distinction is to be
admitted between God's hatred of sin, and his will with respect to the
event and existence of sin, as the all-wise determiner of all events,
under the view of all consequences through the whole com pass and series
of things; I say, then, it certainly follows, that the coming to pass of
every individual act of sin is truly, all things considered, contrary
to his will, and that his will is really crossed in it, and that in
proportion as he hates it. And as God's hatred of sin is infinite, by
reason of the infinite contrariety of his holy nature to sin; so his
will is infinitely crossed in every act of sin that happens. Which is
as much as to say:--he endures that which is infinitely disagreeable to
him, by means of every act of sin he sees committed--and so he must be
infinitely crossed and suffer infinite pain every day, in millions of
millions of instances, which would be to make him infinitely the most
miserable of all beings.'*

But _blasphemy_ is an antiquated accusation. In a work** by Col.
Feyronnet Thompson, it is remarked--'what a turmoil, what a splutter,
was in this land, when men first announced that they would not eat fish,
they would not bow down, they would not confess but when they liked, and
this because the secret had got wind that these things were either
not in the priests' own rule, or were against it! What threats of hell
flames, what splashing about of fire and brimstone, what registration
of judgments on men choked with a beef-steak on Friday! Look at one
of those simple men in the present day, who shock themselves with the
barouches, the cigars, the newspapers, and the elephants of a London
Sunday, and occasionally digress to Paris, for the keener excitation of
seeing Punch upon the Boulevards, and wondering where heaven reserves
its thunder. And put the parallel case; that a good Austrian or
Navarrese Catholic came here, and grieved his heart with our weekly
doings on a Friday, to say nothing of our more wholesale offences for
forty days together in Lent. "Such frying; such barbecuing; in no place
did I see anybody having the smallest notion of a red herring! All are
involved in one flood of sin and gravy! How fathomless the patience of
heaven, that such an island is not swallowed up of the deep!" We have
looked into the rule he professes to go by; and we declare it is not
there, but the contrary. We know we must appear in the next world with
all our mutton on our heads. But we have done our best to look at the
rule with the light that God has given us; and in spite of Austria
or Navarre, we will take the risk of His not being angry with us, for
seeing no prohibition of mutton there.' Thus we see that _mutton-eating_
was at one period blasphemous.

     * Quoted from 'A Commentary on the Public Discussion on the
     subjects of Necessity and Responsibility,' &c By Jonathan
     Jonathan, late of the United States.

     **  'The Question of Sabbath Observance, tried by the
     Church's own rule,' &c. By Col. Peyronnet Thompson, F.R.S,
     of Queen's College, Cambridge.

Mr. Sergeant Talfourd told the jury, in the case of Hetherington
v. Moxon, that if the government were consistent in carrying out
prosecutions for blasphemy--Shakspere, Milton, Byron, Shelley,
Southey--might be prohibited. This perhaps would be an agreeable result
to a reverend gentleman well known in this court and county, who says
all science should be destroyed; but I trust you entertain no such
feelings, and that if I can show that my sentiments cannot be productive
of harm, you will feel called upon to acquit me. I claim no inherent
right of expressing my opinions, I only contend for liberty of
expression because required for the public good. A doctrine was laid
down by Lord John Russell upon the occasion of the presentation of the
National Petition, which I will quote as a view of the subject of human
rights well expressed.

'I am aware,' he said, 'that it is a doctrine frequently urged, and I
perceive dwelt upon in this petition, that every male of a certain age
has a right, absolute and inalienable, to elect a representative to take
his place among the members in the Commons' House of Parliament. Now,
sir, I never could understand that indefeasible right. It appears to
me that that question, like every other in the practical application
of politics, is to be settled by the institutions and the laws of the
country of which the person is a native. I see no more right that a
person twenty-one years of age has to elect a member of parliament than
he has to be a juryman. I conceive that you may just as well say that
every adult male has a right to sit upon a jury to decide the most
complicated and difficult questions of property, or that every man has
a right to exercise the judicial functions, as the people did in some of
the republics of antiquity. These things, as it appears to me, are not
matters of right; but if it be for the good of the people at large, if
it be conducive to the right government of the state, if it tend to the
maintenance of the freedom and welfare of the people, that a certain
number, defined and limited by a reference to a fixed standard of
property, should have the right of electing members of parliament, and
if it be disadvantageous to the community at large that the right of
suffrage should be universal, then I say that on such a subject the
consideration of the public good should prevail, that legislation must
act upon it as on every other, and that no inalienable right can be
quoted against that which the good of the whole demands.'

If Lord Russell did not, I do see a difference between the claim of an
elector and the right of a juryman. The elector is chiefly concerned
with his own interests, the juryman with other people's--one is simple,
the other complex. But with the measure of right laid down by his
lordship in the sentiments I have quoted, I perfectly accord, and if it
could be shown that freedom of expression produced public harm, then
I would give it up. But I believe such a right would produce good, and
therefore I claim it at your hands upon the ground of public good.

In what I urge, it is not faith but reason, as far as I understand it,
that I take for my guide--a rule of argument I trust you will accept.
'Reason contents me,' was inscribed as the motto on the seal of
the letter from Sir James Graham, acknowledging the receipt of the
Cheltenham memorial. If reason 'contents' the Secretary of State, and
'fountain of justice,' surely it ought to 'content' the channels through
which such justice is diffused over society. Reason would always be
preferred by us were we not differently instructed. 'Bewildered,' says
Diderot, 'in an immense forest during the night, and having only one
small torch for my guide, a stranger approaches and thus addresses me:
"_Friend, blow out thy light if thou wouldst make sure of the right
path_" The "forest" was the world--the "light" was my reason---the
"stranger" was a priest.'

After several quotations showing the dubious and often pernicious
influence of sacred authority, Mr. Holyoake observed---Religious
sanctions are regarded only by the ignorant, whom they confirm in folly.
The good find their sanction in the satisfaction ef a virtuous act
performed. In an address of the Rev. F. Close, delivered a short time
since at the Church of England Tradesmen and Working Men's Association
of Cheltenham, he said, 'that the more a man is advanced in human
knowledge, the more is he opposed to religion, and the more deadly
enemy he is to the truth of God.' If this Christian minister is to
be believed, then may you burn your books--forsake all mental
refinement--and be equal in piety and ignorance. If Christianity is
opposed to human improvement, then should all systems of ignorance be
patronised by Christians. Sentiments like these would lead us to give up
Boyle, Locke, and Newton, and regard them, with the Rev. Mr. Close, with
detestation.

Mr. Justice Erskine. Let me see the discourse of Mr. Close from which
you are quoting.

The book was handed to his lordship.

Mr. Holyoake. If the correctness of that report be doubted, I may state
that the sentiments of Mr. Close were replied to by Mr. G. Berkeley.

Permit me now to draw your attention strongly to what has been said by
men in authority of the impolicy of these prosecutions--that even if you
were justified in inflicting punishment on me, it would not be wise to
do so, Lord Brougham, three or four years ago, said, 'I may underrate
the power of truth opposed to error, and I may overrate the good
sense of my fellow country men in rejecting it, but one thing I do not
overrate--the power of persecution to spread that which persecution only
can spread.' When I walk through any of those ancient places, as I did
yesterday through your beautiful cathedral, I feel the majesty they ever
present, and think of the manner in which our Catholic ancestors acted
on the minds of men. There were sublimity and pageantry and pomp to
create awe. We have none now of that beauty of architecture in our
meagre churches and more meagre chapels. They had a service more
imposing than we ever had. Recollecting all these things, I have
wondered how anything could be found sufficiently powerful to shake them
off. I have wondered how Luther, with his rude vulgarity, could have
effected so much. I can only account for it in this way--that when
the Catholics dragged his followers to gaol, it was found that human
feelings were stronger than human creeds.

These prosecutions are entirely in opposition to the sentiments
promulgated by yourselves, as appears from a book given me in gaol
called the 'Manual of Devotion.' I amused myself by contracting the
profession contained in it with the practice of my opponents. It is
published by the 'Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge.' In
the 'Discourse concerning Prayer,' it is laid down that the 'second
qualification for prayer is charity or love. There is nothing so
contrary to the nature of God, nothing so wide of the true spirit of a
Christian, as bitterness and wrath, malice and envy; and therefore it
is vain to think that even our prayers can be acceptable to God, till we
have put on, as the elect of God, bowels of mercy, kindness, humbleness
of mind, meekness, long-suffering, forbearing one another, and
forgiving one another, as St. Paul commands.' Gentlemen, where are these
sentiments evinced in this prosecution?

The 'third qualification--Is faith. If any of you lack wisdom, says St.
James, let him ask of God, but let him ask in faith.' My prosecutors
have asked Mr. Bubb, have had faith in policemen, and confidence only in
the 'common law.'

The 'fourth qualification is--That in all things of a temporal concern,
we must exercise an entire submission to the will of God. A good
Christian will be sure to leave the issue in God's hands.' In my case
not the will of God, but the will of bigots was done, and the 'issue'
left in the turnkey's hands.

The 'fifth qualification--Is that the person praying hath a good
intention; that he asks for a good end. We must not pray as the
revengeful man when he prays for authority, that he may have the more
power to effect his evil designs.' What can be more wholly condemnatory
of these proceedings than these instructions of the 'Manual of
Devotion?'

When the 'Life of Christ,' by Dr. Strauss, appeared in Berlin, contrary
to usages in such matters, the Prussian government consulted the clergy
to ascertain from them whether it would not be prudent to prohibit this
extraordinary production. The celebrated Bishop Neander was commissioned
by the ecclesiastical body of Berlin, to peruse the book and to
return an answer. Neander did so, and declared in reply, that the work
submitted to his examination threatened, it was true, the demolition of
all creeds; nevertheless, he requested that full liberty should not be
denied to his adversary, in order that full and free discussion might
be the only judges between truth and error. And when asked whether it
should be prosecuted, said, 'No, I will answer it.'

Mr. Justice Erskine. That work was temperately written.

Mr. Holyoake. Neander did reply to it, and Strauss had the manliness to
acknowledge that it had corrected many of his errors. Would that have
been done had he been prosecuted? Dr. Strauss's work on the scriptures
got him a professor's chair in Germany. In this country it would have
made him amenable to the common law, and to one, two, or three years'
imprisonment.

Gentlemen, in the pertinacity of my open reply to Maitland, you may find
something objectionable, but I happen to be an admirer of that sentiment
expressed by the honest 'Vicar of Wakefield'--'In all human institutions
a smaller evil is allowed to procure a greater good; as in politics, a
province may be given away, to secure a kingdom; in medicine, a limb may
be lopt off, to preserve the body. But in religion, the law is written
and inflexible, _never_ to do evil.' Then, gentlemen, I ought to be
tolerated in the truthfulness of my answer. Milton, in his Prose Works,*
in reference to an incident in his travels, says:--

     * Milton's Prose Works, pp. 933-4, 8vo edit.   Edited by
     Fletcher.

'While I was on my way back to Rome, some merchants informed me that
the English Jesuits had formed a plot against me, if I returned to Rome,
because I had spoken too freely of religion; for it was a rule which I
laid down to myself in those places, never to be the first to begin
any conversation on religion--but, if any questions were put to me
concerning my faith, to declare it without any reserve or fear.'

This is the rule which I myself have followed in this case.

Since his lordship--with more liberality than is customary, and with
more philosophy than I expected on matters of religion (on which I hear
his lordship thinks very devoutly)--has said, that any religion may be
discussed in temperate language, it is not necessary for me to prove, as
I should have done, that it would be useless liberty for me to entertain
opinions without permission to publish them. The only question is
whether, in the expression of these opinions, I used a proper kind of
language. I think I have proved that I was far from having any of those
'malicious' feelings the indictment presupposes. Many figures of speech
have been used in this court from which my feelings revolted as much
as those of any person could from what I said. No allowance is made
for this, and too much importance is attached to what is assumed to be
ridicule. A short time ago it was argued, that if the political squibs
which are seen in shop windows were permitted to be published, they
would bring government into contempt, and you would soon have no
government. Their publication has been permitted. Have we no government
now? I feel the utility of a government, and no force of ridicule could
shake my belief in the importance of good government. So it is with
religion. Nothing that is uttered, however contemptuous, can bring it
into contempt, if it really is useful and beneficial. We might defy all
the wits and caricaturists in the world to bring the problems of Euclid
into contempt. No man can bring into contempt that which is essential
and true.

The counsel who opened the case did not state whether the indictment was
at statute or common law.

Mr. Justice Erskine. Common law.

Mr. Holyoake. Then, gentleman of the jury, I shall draw your attention
to that, and I hope I shall be able to explain the law bearing on my
case.

Mr. Justice Erskine. The jury must take the law from me. I am
responsible for that.

Mr. Holyoake. I know, my lord; but still I may refer to it. A friend of
mine consulted the works bearing upon the law of this case.* I have here
the results of his labours, and, if I am wrong, your lordship will, in
summing up, correct me.

     * I was indebted to Mr. J. Homffrey Parry, barrister, for
     the revision of the argument I employed.

Gentleman of the jury, the common law is a judge-made law. A judge
laid down, some years ago, that to say anything against the Christian
religion was an indictable offence. Another judge followed him and said
the same; and at last it came not to be doubted. If I show there is no
law properly made in parliament assembled, you ought to acquit me.

The offence with which I am charged is an offence at common law. There
is no statute which punishes a man simply for denying the existence
of God. There is a statute (9 and 10 Wm. III., c. 32) directed against
those who denied the Trinity and who renounced Christianity. But the
former part has been repealed in favour of Unitarians, by the 53rd Geo.
III., e. 160; and the words I am charged with having spoken cannot be
brought within the latter. There is a statute against profane cursing
and swearing (19 Geo. II., c. 21), but it takes no cognisance of this
offence. Human beings have also been put to death for witchcraft (33
Hen. VIII., c. 8; and 1 James I., c. 12), under the merciless statutes
which were enacted in times of the grossest ignorance and superstition;
but those statutes have been repealed (9 Geo. II., c. 5). This offence,
therefore, is an offence against the common law, if it is an offence at
all. It is to be found in the recorded decisions of the judges, if it is
to be found anywhere; and the punishment for it is in their discretion.
Had it been an offence under a statute, it would have been impossible
for me to have denied the authority of the statute; but, as it is an
offence at common law, it is quite competent for me to show that the
authorities which have been supposed to constitute the offence do not
warrant such a construction. Should your lordship even declare that you
had no doubt upon the subject, it would still be competent for me to
bring before you the decisions of former judges, to argue upon those
decisions, and to show, if I could, that there was some mistake or error
running throughout the whole of them. Your lordship, I am sure, will
admit that judges are fallible, and that a blind, unreasoning submission
to them no man should give. As some excuse for presuming to doubt the
decision of some of your lordship's predecessors, I shall quote
the following passage from the preface to Mr. Watkin's treatise on
Conveyancing, allowed to be a master-piece of legal sagacity and method.
'I believe,' writes that gentleman, 'it will be found, on examination,
that an implicit submission to the assertions of our predecessors,
whatever station those predecessors may have held, has been one of the
most certain sources of error, Perhaps there is nothing which has so
much shackled the human intellect, nothing which has so greatly promoted
whatever is tyrannic, preposterous, and absurd, nothing perhaps which
has so much degraded the species in the scale of being as the implicit
submission to individual dicta.' And he then goes on in vigorous terms
to reprobate the practice of allowing 'authority to shoulder out common
sense, or adhering to precedent in defiance of principle.' Upon the
principle contained in this passage I shall act, in claiming the
attention of your lordship, and you, gentlemen of the jury, whilst I
examine the authorities for the doctrine which brings the offence with
which I am charged within the jurisdiction of the temporal courts. Your
lordship will, perhaps, refer to these books.

Mr. Justice Erskine, No need of that. If it is not an offence at common
law, this indictment is worth nothing. You can take it before the
fifteen judges on a writ of error. I sit here, not to correct the law,
but merely to administer it.*

     * I have been told by a legal friend of great experience,
     that at this point I might have taken the judge at his word,
     and have carried the case before the judges for decision;
     but I was unacquainted with the forms of law in such cases,
     and I moreover distrusted the judge.

Mr. Holyoake resumed. In the fourth volume of 'Blackstone's
Commentaries,' p. 59, in speaking of offences against God and religion,
that writer says, 'The fourth species of offences, therefore, more
immediately against God and religion, is that of blasphemy against
the Almighty, by denying his being or providence, or by contumelious
reproaches of our saviour, Christ. Whither also may be referred all
profane scoffing at the holy scripture, or exposing it to contempt
and ridicule. These are offences punishable at common law by fine and
imprisonment, or other infamous corporal punishment; _for Christianity
is part of the laws of England_.' Blackstone quotes, in support of the
first species, a volume of 'Ventris' Reports,' p. 298; and the second
from the second volume of 'Strange's Reports,' p. 834. Mr. Christian,
the commentator upon Blackstone, adds, in a note, a passage from the
'Year Book' (34 Henry VI.), folio 43.

The earliest case is that from the year book, in the 34th year of Henry
VI. (1458). Mr. Christian quotes from it this passage--'Scripture
est common ley, sur quel toutes manieres de leis sont fondes' (i.e.,
Scripture is common law, upon which all descriptions of laws are
founded). Were this quotation correct, and did the word scripture here
mean 'holy scripture,' or what is generally understood by the Bible,
then I admit this passage would be a good foundation to build up Mr.
Judge Blackstone's law. But it is no such thing. The case in the year
book is a case of _quare impedit_, and, in the course of the argument
the question arose whether, in a matter of induction to a benefice by
the ordinary (i.e., the bishop) the common law would take notice of,
or be bound by, the law or practices of the church. Where-. upon, Chief
Justice Prisot says--'To such laws, which they of the holy church have
in "ancient writing," it becomes us to give credence, for such is common
law, upon which all descriptions of laws are founded. And therefore,
sir, we are obliged to recognise their law of the holy church--likewise
they are obliged to recognise our law. And, sir, if it appears to us now
that the bishop has done as an ordinary should do in such a case, then
we ought to judge it good--if otherwise, bad.'

In this passage, then, there is not one word about scripture in the
sense of 'holy scripture.' Judge Prisot says, 'To such laws as the
church has in ancien scripture (t. e.9 ancient writing) we ought to
give credence.' And what does he mean by 'laws which the church has in
ancient writing?' not any laws that are to be found in the Bible, but
the canon or ecclesiastical laws by which the temporal concerns of the
church are guided. And the reason he uses the phrase 'ancien scripture,'
or ancient writing, is that the laws were not then printed; the only
record of them was in writing. Printing had not been introduced into
England, and was only just discovered on the continent, the laws
therefore of the spiritual and temporal courts were only to be seen in
writing. And as though there should be no doubt as to his meaning, he
goes on to say, 'And as we are obliged to recognise their laws (that is
the ecclesiastical laws, or laws of the spiritual courts), so they
are obliged to recognise our laws (that is, the laws of the temporal
courts).' It must therefore be evident that this quotation of Mr.
Christian is a perversion or mistake, a judicial forgery or a judicial
blunder, and in either case its authority is of no value. It must be
dismissed altogether from our minds in considering what the law is upon
this point--that is, whether Christianity is or is not a part and parcel
of the law of England. Unfortunately, however, we shall find that this
case is actually made the substratum of the law. In proving, therefore,
that it cannot warrant such a law, surely I prove that at common law, at
least to speak against Christianity, is not an offence.

The next case is that in Ventris' Report, vol. 1, p. 293. It is called
Taylor's case, and Chief Justice Hale certainly declares explicitly in
this case, 'that Christianity is parcel of the laws of England.' But he
cites no authority whatever.

In the case analysed from the year book, it is expressly said, that the
common law is to be found in 'ancient writings,' and the unsupported
dictum of a judge in the middle of the seventeenth century cannot be
construed as a part of the ancient writings of the common law. Either
the law already existed or it did not. If it did, the question is--where
is it? If it did not, Chief Justice Hale could not then make it for the
first time; and this case in Ventris' cannot be said to lay down the
law. The case in the second volume of Strange is the King v. Woolston.
The defendant had been convicted of writing four blasphemous discourses
against the divinity and character of Christ; and upon attempting to
move in arrest of judgment, the court declared they would not suffer it
to be debated whether to write against Christianity in general was an
offence punishable in the temporal courts of common law. And they cited
Taylor's case, which has been shown to be an insufficient authority, or
rather no authority at all, and the King v. Hale, in the same volume of
Strange, p. 416, but which was an indictment under the statute (9 & 10
Wm. HI.) for speaking against the Trinity, and therefore cannot in any
way support the common law doctrine.

The first person who called attention to the utter want of authority in
the common law for the dictum 'that Christianity was part of the common
law,' was Jefferson, the second president of America--himself a
profound lawyer, and to his references I am indebted for the foregoing
authorities, which, however, have been carefully verified. Mr.
Jefferson, in a letter to Major Cart-wright, to be found in vol. ii., p.
272, of his 'Memoirs,' exposes the mode in which this law was created.
Alluding to the case of Prisot, he says, 'Finch in his first book, c. 3,
is the first who afterwards quotes this case. He misstates it thus:
"To such laws of the church as have warrant in holy scripture, our law
giveth credence," and cites Prisot, mistranslating "ancien scripture"
into holy scripture. This was in 1613, a century and a half after the
dictum of Prisot. Wingate, in 1658, erects this false translation into a
maxim of the common law, copying the words of Finch, but citing Prisot.
Shephard, title "Religion," in 1675, copies the same mistranslation,
quoting the year book, finch, and Wingate. Hale expresses it in these
words, "Christianity is parcel of the laws of England," but quotes no
authority. Wood, 409, ventures still to vary the phrase, and says, "that
all blasphemy and prophaneness are offences by the common law," and
Blackstone repeats the words of Hale.' In the case of the the King v.
Carlile, decided since Mr. Jefferson wrote this letter, there was
no argument as to the common law. The question was as to whether the
statute (9 & 10 Wm. III.) had superseded the common law. But the common
law itself was not called in question, which I submit it should be, and
by a wise example superseded.

But let us see what Christianity is according to common law? We may
remark--

1. Its inconsistency.--It calls blasphemy the greatest crime man
can commit. Yet in the case of Hetherington v. Moxon, it permits the
_respectable_ blasphemer to go free. Blasphemy in guinea volumes it
allows, but exhibits the holiest horror at it when in penny pamphlets.

2. Its barbarity, as in Peter Annet's case.--In Michaelmas term, M. 3.
G. 3. Peter Annet was convicted on an information for writing 'a most
blasphemous libel,' in weekly papers called the _Free Inquirer_, to
which he pleaded guilty; in consideration of which, and of his poverty,
of his having confessed his errors in an affidavit, and of his being 74
years old, and some symptoms of wildness that appeared on his inspection
in court, the court declared they had mitigated his punishment to the
following: To be imprisoned in Newgate for one month; to stand twice
in the pillory with a paper on his forehead, inscribed Blasphemy; to be
sent to the House of Correction to hard labour for a year; to pay a fine
of 6s. 8d., and to find security himself in £100, and two sureties in
£50 each for his good behaviour during life.*

3. Its capriciousness.--The common law before the time of Henry VIII.
was one thing, but afterwards it was another. The language which
was blasphemy at the first period, was not so in the other. Those
expressions which insulted God before Henry the Eighth was born, did not
insult him afterwards. Henry the Eighth's opinion made the difference.
Lord Commissioner White-locke (5 Howell's State Trials, p. 826), in
Debate whether James Nayler the quaker should suffer death, remarked,
'I remember a case in our book H. 7, where the bishop committed one to
prison for a heretic, and the heresy was denying that tythes were due to
the parson. This at that time was a very great heresy.'

4. Its disregard of equal justice.--A British subject would be punished
for firing into a Turkish vessel; but he is not punishable for attacking
the captain and sailors with Bibles and tracts, which, if they read
and believe, will make them apostates from the faith of Mahomet, and
blasphemers of the Koran. While on terms of amity with the Sublime
Porte, the laws of England restrain us from despoiling them of their
property, but not from despoiling them of their religion.**

     * Blackstone's Reports, p. 305.

     ** Vide Freethinker's Information for the People.

5. It debases religion as best set forth.--'Religion (says Miss
Martineau) is, in its widest sense, "the tendency of human nature to the
infinite;" and its principle is manifested in the pursuit of perfection
in any direction whatever. It is in this widest sense that some
speculative atheists have been religious men; religious in their efforts
after self-perfection; though unable to personify their conception of
the infinite. In a somewhat narrower sense, religion is the relation
which the highest human sentiments bear towards an infinitely perfect
being. There can be no further narrowing than this. Any account of
religion which restricts it within the boundaries of any system, which
connects it with any mode of belief, which implicates it with hope
of reward, or fear of punishment, is low and injurious, and debases
religion into superstition.' How much more is religion degraded that is
made the subject of reward and punishment here?

Thus speaks the common law upon these points, and thus, as part of the
common law, speaks Christianity. Will you, by a verdict of guilty this
day, send forth to the world this card of credentials of the religion of
Jesus?

The intention of a libel constitutes its criminality. It is for you,
gentlemen, to say whether I knowingly, wickedly, and maliciously
offended the law? Malice is necessary to a libel--conscientious words
are allowable, 'Contumely and contempt are what no establishment can
tolerate: but on the other hand it would not be proper to lay any
restraint upon rational and dispassionate discussions of the rectitude
and propriety of the established mode of worship.' 4 Bla. Com. 51; 1
Pmp. 219. And Mr. Starkie, on the subject, says 'that it may not be
going too far from the principles and decisions, that no author or
preacher who fairly and conscientiously promulgates the opinions with
whose truth he is impressed for the benefit of others, is for so doing
amenable as a criminal, that a malicious and mischievous intention is in
such case the broad boundary between right and wrong; and that if it can
be collected from the offensive levity with which so serious a subject
is treated, or from other circumstances, that the act of the party was
malicious, then, since the law has no means of distinguishing between
different degrees of evil tendency, if the matter published contain any
such tendency, the publisher becomes amenable to justice.'*

     * Starkie on Libel, pp. 496-7.

As to the duty of the jury, I have Lord Chief Justice Abbott's opinion,
in his charge to the jury in summing up the evidence against Mr. Joseph
Russell at the Warwick Summer Assizes, on Friday, August 13, 1819, for
a political libel, being Mr. Hone's 'Parody on the litany.' Mr. Russell
argued that as Hone had been acquitted for publishing it, he also ought
to be. 'No one,' says his lordship, 'is more inclined than myself to
speak reverently of the decision of juries. But, gentlemen, you cannot,
under the sanction of an oath, take the verdict of those juries either
directly or indirectly as your guide in the verdict you are called upon
to give in this case. Those juries, no doubt, returned their verdicts
honestly and conscientiously according to the evidence that was layed
before them. What that evidence was you can know nothing of. You are to
try the question by your own consciences and by your own reason. They
might have been right in their decision, and you should be careful that
you are right in yours.'

After this, you will see it is clear that though a jury had before
found a person guilty of the offence I am charged with, it will be no
justification of your doing so too. Here Mr. Holyoake, perceiving that
he would be heard fairly, and that no attempts to put him down were
practised, laid aside a handful of notes, and said:--

I have to thank your lordship, and you, gentlemen of the jury, for the
courtesy and attention with which I have been heard. Gentlemen, if I
have occupied you long you will find my apology in the circumstance that
your verdict against me will occupy me longer. I could wish that justice
to me and your convenience had permitted brevity. The length of my
defence has originated with the charge against me, and not with myself.

It is said, that when Southey was asked if he were not ashamed of having
written _Wat Tyler_, he answered, no more ashamed than I am of having
been young. Meaning, any man may err in youth. So I erred in being
religious in my early days. If I am not religious now, deem me not
criminal. Religion never did me a service, how then should I love it?
But it assailed my youth with gloomy dogmas, now it assails my liberty.

Gentlemen, if during my address to you I have offended by the frankness
of my avowals, it has not proceeded from a disregard of your feelings,
but from the belief that, as men, you would prefer independence to
servility of speech.

Of the nature of the charge against me I add no further word. My
only crime has been the discharge of what I considered a duty. For my
difference in opinion with you upon the question of Deity, I offer no
apology. I have made no contract to think as you do, and I owe you no
obligation to do it. If I commanded you to abjure your belief, you would
disregard it as impertinence, and if you punish me for not adjuring
mine, how will you reconcile it with 'doing as you would wish to be done
unto?'

Had I said, that there is no God, still I should not deserve the
penalties of the law. If I point to the wrong I see in this Christian
country, and ask, is this Christianity? you would reply, 'No; what you
refer to results from men who live without God in the world.' Then,
gentlemen, would you punish me for simply saying that which other men,
unpunished, are every day doing?

If I have said that religious revenues should be reduced one half,
I spoke only the dictates of humanity at this season of national
suffering. Surely it is not blasphemous to argue that human misery
should be alleviated at the expense of spiritual pride.

I ask not equal rights with yourselves. You, as Christians, can imprison
those who differ from you. I do not offend your pride by asking to be
admitted your equals here. I desire not such privileges. I claim merely
the right to speak my convictions; to show a man the right path when I
think he takes the wrong one.

It is a melancholy maxim in these courts of law, that the greater the
truth the greater the libel; and so it would be with me this day could
I demonstrate to you that there is no Deity. The more correct I am the
severer would be my punishment, because the law regards the belief in
a God to be the foundation of obedience among men. But I trust I have
convinced you that my views of this question are compatible with the
practice of all our duties to our fellow-men, borne out by eminent
authority and long experience.

Setting aside the reprobation of persecution by Middleton, by Clarke, by
Latimer, and other divines I have quoted; Leslie, Reid, and Bulwer
have contended that the objections of the sceptic merely strengthen
the fabric of piety they pretend to assail. Gentlemen, which is to be
believed, divines and philosophers, or the common law? These persons
speak as though they believed Christianity to be true; the common law
punishes as though it knew it to be false.

If the state religion be true, my opinion can never overcome it; and by
convicting me you publish your consciousness of error in the cause you
are placed there to defend as truth. If God be truth you libel him and
his power, and publish the omnipotence of error.

When in gaol, I one day opened the rules drawn up by the judges. The
167th opens thus: 'No prisoner shall lie.' Now, gentlemen, how is a man
to act under these circumstances in which I am placed? If you find me
guilty upon the indictment before you, my case stands in this manner--if
I do not lie you imprison me, and if I do you punish me. Turning back to
the morality of ancient days, and meditating with delight on their noble
sincerity and love of truth, am I to count it a misfortune to live in
modern times and among a Christian people?

In your churches, as I have read to you, you implore that truth and
justice may descend among men, and: the supplication is a noble one.
Gentlemen, will you pray for truth in your churches and brand it in your
courts?

The atmosphere of your gaols as little assimilates with my taste as
their punishments will accord with my constitution, I seek not these
things, I assure you, but when they lie in the path of duty I trust I
shall ever prefer them to a dereliction from it.

But, gentlemen, supposing that they are my sentiments that you are
requested to punish; you should first do yourselves the justice to
reflect what has been said about them and insinuated in this court.
Learned divines, and sage writers on atheism, agree that it is too
absurd to need refutation--too barren to satisfy, too monstrous to
attract, too fearful to allure, too dumb to speak, and too deathly not
to appal its own votaries. It is styled too grave to entertain youth,
and too devoid of consolation for the trembling wants of age--too
abstract for the comprehension of the ignorant, and too unreasonable
to gain the admiration of the intelligent. That it is alarming to the
timid, and disquieting to the brave-that it negatives everything, and
sets up nothing, and is so purely speculative that it can never have a
practical bearing on the business of life. Gentlemen, will you disturb
the harmony of these conclusions by a verdict against me, and attack
that which never existed, and place upon the grave records of this court
a slaying of the self-slain? Will you thus draw attention to a subject
you perhaps think had better be forgotten, and create a conviction
that it must be a greatly important one, since you erect it into public
notice by directing the thunders of the law at young and comparatively
inexperienced believer in its principle?

Would you test my opinions by my emotions on the bed of death? Let me
assure you, that if men can expect to die in peace who can send their
fellow men to a gaol because of honest difference of opinion, I have
nothing to fear.

I am told I may hold opinions, but must keep them to myself--which
means, I may know and feel what is right, but must never do it. I must
see my fellow-men in error, but never put them right. Must live every
day below the standard of right my sense of duty and conscience sets
up, and all my life long 'prove all things' and never 'hold fast to the
good.'

The indictment charges me with having 'wickedly, maliciously, and with
evil design,' against the peace of the Queen, uttered certain
words. What shadow of evidence has been adduced to substantiate this
extravagant charge?

Will you suffer this court to proclaim the sacred nature of an oath, and
openly violate it in the same hour and under the same roof? I might ask
in the spirit of that Christianity you sit there to administer, how do
you propose to answer to your God in that day when the secrets of all
hearts are to be opened, when all dissembling is to be exposed, and all
perjury punished; how do you pro-pose to answer for having invoked the
name of God in this assembly only to disregard it, on the poor plea of
precedent--that others have done so before? For, gentlemen, there is
nothing else that even the subtlest sophistry can conjure up to justify
you. But I best prefer appealing to you as honest men, in the spirit of
my own reasoning, and thinking; as men with an eye to the improvement of
mankind, who would break the unjust shackles that bind them, who would
discard prejudice in order to be just, who will not condemn me because I
am not rich, and who will listen to humanity rather than to bigotry, and
respect truthfulness wherever you may find it. I believe that in every
honest heart there is a sense of rectitude that rises superior to
creeds, that respects all virtue and protects all truth, that asks for
no names and seeks no precedents before resolving to do rightly, that
fears no man's frowns, and dares to be just without custom's permit.
To this feeling, gentlemen, only do I appeal, and by its verdict I am
willing to abide.

Mr. Justice Erskine: Gentlemen of the jury, although the lengthened
address of the defendant has demanded from you so long endurance, in
this vitiated atmosphere, I still trust we shall have enough of power
left to direct our minds to the parts of this case which are important.
The greater part of the time has been wasted on subjects with which you
have nothing to do. We are not sitting here as a deliberative assembly
to consider whether in respect of such cases as this it is politic or
wise to imprison for opinions--whether men ought to be punished for
uttering such sentiments--and I shall have nothing to say to you on
that point. We have to decide on the law as we find it. I shall make no
law--the judges made no law, but have handed it down from the earliest
ages. I should have no more power to alter this than to say the eldest
son is not the heir of his father. Allusion has been made to some
expressions of mine, when in the course of my duty I directed the
attention of the grand jury to these cases. Certainly the printed report
was highly incorrect. I said nothing to prejudice them. Inasmuch as
this offence directly tended to take away that foundation on which
real morality can alone be safely based, I told them what I feel,
that without religion there is no morality. I recommended that that
foundation may be made by early education and habits of thought, but
in so doing I did not mean to prejudge, nor do I seem to have been
considered as doing so, I am not going to lay down as law that no man
has a right to entertain opinions opposed to the religion of the state,
nor to express them. Man is only responsible for his opinions to God,
because God only can judge of his motives, and we arrogate his duties if
we judge of men's sentiments. If men will entertain sentiments opposed
to the religion of the state we require that they shall express them
reverently, and philosophers who have discussed this subject all agree
that this is right Mr. Archdeacon Paley has stated this in language
so plain, far better than any words I could supply myself. 'Serious
arguments are fair on all sides. Christianity is but ill-defended by
refusing audience or toleration to the objections of unbelievers. But
whilst we would have freedom of inquiry restrained by no laws but those
of decency, we are entitled to demand, on behalf of a religion which
holds forth to mankind assurances of immortality, that its credit
be assailed by no other weapons than those of sober discussion and
legitimate reasoning.' Our law has adopted that as its rule, and men are
not permitted to make use of indecent language in reference to God
and the Christian religion, without rendering themselves liable to
punishment. You have had a great number of books read to you, arguing
whether it was politic to prosecute in such cases. One of the sentiments
was a dignitary's reply, 'I will answer it.' That points out the
difference in these cases.

Sober argument you may answer, but indecent reviling you cannot, and
therefore the law steps in and punishes it. You have been told you have
to consider what is blasphemy. He asked the witness what he considered
blasphemy, and he gave him a very sensible answer. What you have to try
is, whether the defendant wickedly and devisedly did intend to bring the
Christian religion into contempt among the people, by uttering words
of and concerning Almighty God, the holy Scriptures, and the Christian
religion. The charge is, that he uttered these words with the intention
of bringing Almighty God, the Christian religion, and the holy
Scriptures, into contempt. You are not called upon to say whether in
your judgment the opinions of the defendant are right or wrong--whether
it is right or wrong that words like these should be punished,
but whether he uttered these words with the intent charged in the
indictment. These words were proved by a witness who admits that others
were used, that they did not follow consecutively, and that other words
were interspersed. It is right that you should have the whole set before
you, for a man is not to be judged for what is partly set before you,
and therefore it was necessary you should have the whole of what was
said. The way in which the witness related the statements made by
defendant was this: He said he had been lecturing on 'Home Colonisation,
Emigration, and Poor-Laws superseded.' After the lecture had been
closed, some man whose name he did not then know, said the lecturer had
been speaking of our duty to our fellow-men, but he had not spoken of
our duty to our God, and it is important that you should notice that the
words were not the subject of the lecture, but uttered in answer to a
question put to him. There is no evidence that he intended to have said
anything--there is no evidence that this person is a friend of the other
person, or that this question was asked so as to give him an opportunity
of uttering these sentiments,* If that had been the case it would have
made it worse than if he had introduced it. This challenge having been
made by this person, whoever it was, the defendant said--'I am of no
religion at all; I do not believe in such a thing as a God.' There is
nothing in the introduction of the word 'thing' to show that he intended
to-treat the subject with levity and contempt. You might take it that he
said he did not believe there is such a being as a God.

     * The artifice which Mr. Justice Erskine here suggested to
     the jury never entered into my imagination. The evidence
     could not have given the jury any such idea, and I was
     pained and astonished to hear the judge employ it.

The witness went on: 'He said the people of this country are too poor
to have any religion, he would serve the Deity as the government did the
subaltern officers--place him on half-pay; I was near the door; you said
the reason was the expense of religion. And then he was asked as to his
opinion of blasphemy. He is then cross-examined as to his knowledge of
some report made by another person. You did not lay any emphasis on the
word thing; you said the word in the ordinary tone of voice.' There
is something which defendant has alleged himself to have stated* which
gives a stronger sting than that which was given by the witness--'I flee
the Bible as a viper.' The question is whether these words were uttered
with the intention of bringing God and the Christian religion into
contempt. Then the charge is made out, for I tell you that it is an
offence at common law. If it is not an offence, the indictment is not
worth the parchment it is written upon--if there is no such authority
as that which I have laid down. Any man who treats with contempt the
Christian religion, is guilty of an indictable misdemeanour. You have
to consider the language and a passage read to you from a charge of a
learned judge. 'It may not be going too far to state, that no author or
preacher is forbidden stating his opinions sincerely. By maliciously is
not meant malice against any particular individual, but a mischievous
intent. This is the criterion, and it is a fair criterion, if it can be
collected from the offensive levity in which the subject is treated, if
the matter placed in the indictment contains any such tendency.' If
the words had appeared in the course of a written paper you would have
entertained no doubt that the person who had uttered these words had
uttered them with levity. The only thing in his favour is, that it
was not a written answer. The solution given by the defendant is, that
although his opinions are unhappily such that he has no belief in a God,
he had no intention of bringing religion into contempt. He went on
to state that he considered it the duty of the clergymen of the
establishment to have reduced their incomes one-half. If he had meant
this, he ought to have made use of other language. You will dismiss from
your minds all statements in newspapers, or other statements made out
of court, and consider it in reference to the evidence. If you are
convinced that he uttered it with levity, for the purpose of treating
with contempt the majesty of Almighty God he is guilty of the offence.
If you think he made use of these words in the heat of argument without
any such intent, you will give him the benefit of the doubt. If you
are convinced that he did it with that object you must find him guilty,
despite of all that has been addressed to you. If you entertain a
reasonable doubt of his intention, you will give him the benefit of it.

     * In the report of my original speech to Maitland, which I
     read to the court from the Oracle.

The jury, after a very brief deliberation, returned a verdict of
_Guilty_.

[One of the jury was a Deist, a professed friend of free speech, and who
had said that he never could convict me, but he wanted courage when the
hour of the verdict came, and gave in against me. For myself, I never
for a moment expected an acquittal. During the few moments of the jury's
consultation, I took my watch from my neck and gave it, with my keys, to
my friend, Mr. Knight Hunt. My papers I consigned to my friend Mr. W. B.
Smith, as for all I knew they might the next moment become the property
of the court by virtue of the sentence.]

Mr. Justice Erskine. George Jacob Holyoake, if you had been convicted as
the author of that paper which Adams has been convicted of publishing,
my sentence must have been very severe. But, although the name is the
same, there is no evidence of it.* You have been convicted of uttering
language, and although yom have been adducing long arguments to show
the impolicy of these prosecutions, you are convicted of having uttered
these words with improper levity. The arm of the law is not stretched
out to protect the character of the Almighty; we do not assume to be
the protectors of our God, but to protect the people from such
indecent language. And if these words had been written for deliberate
circulation, I should have passed on you a severer sentence. You uttered
them in consequence of a question--I have no evidence that this question
was put to draw out these words. Proceeding on the evidence that has
been given, trusting that these words have been uttered in the heat
of the moment, I shall think it sufficient to sentence you to be
_imprisoned in the Common Gaol for Six calendar months_.

     * This is another of those unwarranted suppositions in which
     the judge ought not to have indulged. 'That paper' was
     written by my friend Mr. Chilton, Editor of the Oracle in my
     absence, and signed with his initials. The judge might have
     known that I was in Gloucester Gaol when it was written and
     published. I should have stopped the judge and corrected
     him, but I feared by seeming to separate myself from Adams,
     to be thought capable of saving myself at his expense, or
     exposing him to new rigour.

Mr. Holyoake. My lord, am I to be classed with thieves and felons?

Mr. Justice Erskine. No; thieves and felons are sentenced to the
Penitentiary, you to the Common Gaol.

The court adjourned at ten o'clock.


What was advanced by the counsel and the judge has been rendered in full
in the foregoing report, but I have contented myself with an abstract
of what I urged myself. The _Times_ said I quoted from more than thirty
authors, which is very likely; but it was not because I was not sensible
of the good taste of brevity that I occupied the bench so long. I was
standing that day in court fourteen hours, and, including the cross
examinations, I was speaking more than eleven hours. I prepared notes
to last me two days; and after the first six hours, my voice, usually
shrill and weak, became full and somewhat sonorous. I could have spoken
all night, and I should have done it had the judge attempted to put me
down. But I willingly acknowledge that, on the whole, the conduct of
the judge was fair to me, and patient to a degree that inspired me with
great respect for the dignity of the bench, and I dedicated my 'Short
and Easy Method with the Saints' to Mr. Justice Erskine, as an actual
expression of my respect. The governor of the gaol one day said to me,
that I ought not to regret six months' imprisonment after occupying
the court and public so many hours. I did not regret it. Indeed, I more
deserved the sentence for the length of my defence than for the words
for which I was indicted. But it was the menace of the magistrates
(before recounted) that I should not be heard, that did me the harm,
and exposed me to the imputation of wanting good sense, which is a worse
imputation than that of wanting orthodoxy. This came of inexperience in
imprisonment. The menaces of magistrates will not so mislead me another
time.

When I now read the notices of these proceedings which I furnished to
the _Oracle_ at the time, I smile at the juvenility of comment in which
I indulged. When similarly-worded reports reach me for the _Reasoner_,
my practice is to extract the simple facts--and, of course, the writers
remonstrate with me; but how grateful should I be now if some one had
done the same by me then. The principle on which we proceeded with our
_Oracle_ was that every man should express himself in his own words and
in his own way, and we thought it a crime against freedom to distinguish
between weak comment and the report of essential facts, or the
expression of vital principle. The report of the proceedings rendered
in these pages is given in some measure upon the rule of discrimination
which I have described. But, in this, I have been impartial to others,
and have omitted many things on the part of my opponents which I
believe they would not repeat, and which I, therefore, have no wish to
perpetuate. The remaining variations between this report and that which
formerly appeared will be found to be partly on the side of greater
accuracy in some respects, and more fulness in others. The original
report presented most of the quotations, calling them a string of
pearls, but left in a very unravelled state the string which tied
them--and hence they read like abrupt interpolations. I have now given
the connecting observations, the spirit of the extracts, and, in cases
where the extracts have not since that time grown familiar to the public
ear, I have given them also.

The influence of my defence upon the public at Gloucester and
Cheltenham, notwithstanding the difficulties under which I laboured, was
in my favour beyond my expectation. The newspapers stated that the court
and jury were attentive throughout, and the numbers who thronged the
court behaved in the most decorous manner, testifying their interest in
the proceedings by a uniform silence, manifesting neither approbation
nor disapprobation.' Several newspapers gave nine or ten columns of
the proceedings, which was valuable propagandism. And it is due to the
_Cheltenham Examiner_ (whose parallel between me and Francis the reader
will not have forgotten), to state that it gave an effective rendering
of my defence, and added these compensatory words to its report:--'The
defendant spoke throughout in a temperate manner, and his defence
appeared to tell in his favour, so far as regarded the honesty of his
motives.'

Let me say here that my grateful acknowledgments are due to the editor
of the _Cheltenham Free Press_. That paper reported whatever concerned
my liberty, my conscience, or my character. It risked much in defending,
alone among its local contemporaries, the freedom of speech violated in
my person. It opened its columns to Goodwyn Barmby's proclamations, to
Catherine Barmby's letters, to Richard Carlile's defences, and to the
numerous communications of my friends on my behalf.

My acknowledgments are also due to the _Weekly Dispatch_. On my visiting
London 'Publicola,' then Captain Williams, invited me to call upon him,
and inform him of my position with respect to the pending trial; and his
able Letters to Justice Erg-kine, after my conviction, produced great
uneasiness at the gaol, and each number of the _Dispatch_ was awaited
for some weeks by the authorities around me, as I learned from the
gaolers, with anxiety.

My defence, considered as a defence of the wide and momentous question
of atheism, was crude enough. No one can be more sensible of that than I
am. On the moral aspects of atheism and its relation to public polity
I feared to enter, lest in my own newness to the study of so large
a subject I should compromise it by unskilfulness of statement;
I therefore confined myself to pleading that the right of public
expression was the sequence of the right of private judgment--that
the right of expression was consonant to the common law as well as to
reason, and that the right of expression being necessary to private
morality, it could not be incompatible with the public peace.



CHAPTER III. AFTER THE SENTENCE

As soon as the sentence was pronounced, I was taken to the ceils under
the court. Captain Mason, the governor, said there was another prisoner
to go down besides me and Adams. It was a case of felony. He said 'Would
I go with him?' i replied 'I would not.' He then asked if I 'objected to
go with Adams.' That I cheerfully agreed to, and, handcuffed with Adams,
I walked down to the gaol. Having taken nothing since morning but a
little raspberry vinegar, with which Mr. Carlile supplied me, I began
to feel weak, but nothing was offered me except a little warm water, for
which I asked, and this, with a very hard and bitter apple, constituted
my supper. The transition from the excitement of the court to the
darkness and coolness of the night-cell, made me feel as if going into a
well, and my supper not serving to compose me, I continued restless till
the morning.

Next day I felt so weak that I could scarcely stand upright. About
twelve o'clock Mr. Bransby Cooper and the Rev. Samuel Jones came round.
When Mr. Cooper saw me, he said, 'Why, Holyoake, I did not know you
yesterday.'

'Why, sir?'

'You did not seem to be the same person you were before.'

'In what respect was I different?'

'Before you were so gentle and submissive, but yesterday there was so
much _hauteur_ about you.'

I answered, 'Here I had to endure your authority; in court I had to
defend my character and liberty. It was my turn yesterday, it is yours
again to-day.'

About the middle of the first day's imprisonment I was startled by the
sonorous voice of the street cryer, passing near the walls of the gaol,
crying with a loud voice--'Howitt's correct list of all the cast, quit,
and condemned;' and specifying, with marked emphasis, far above that
bestowed on two cases of _wilful murder_, the case of George Jacob
Holyoake, for uttering certain Blasphemous words against God, and of and
concerning the Christian Religion.' The above words and specification
are to be found in the said 'Correct List,' which a turnkey bought for
me at my request, and which I still have. On the second morning after
my sentence, I was sitting by the (very little) fire in the common room,
contemplating, with very critical air, a can of somewhat indifferent
gruel, which I had not the slightest disposition to eat, when the prayer
bell rung, which did not at all improve my temper. Where the gaol was
situated, I enjoyed such a propinquity to dock bells, basin bells,
cathedral bells, and gaol bells, that had I been inclined to _rebel_,
it would have chimed in with the others. Upon the aforesaid prayer bell
ringing, all my fellow-prisoners made a rapid escape. I could not tell
what had become of them. Over my head was a large grating, for the
convenience of gaolers overlooking the room. Down this grating there
came a tremendous voice, shouting 'Holyoake! Holyoake! Holyoake!' The
voice belonged to Ogden, a man whom Carlyle would have delighted to
honour. Nature made him for a gaoler. Looking up, I said 'What do you
want?'

'Did you not hear that bell?'

'Yes,' I said; 'what of that?'

'All the other prisoners are gone to prayers.'

'Well, let the poor devils go, if they like it.'

'I can't be talked to in this way,' he roared out, in his surliest
tones; 'you must go.'

'I am afraid that is a mistake of yours.'

'Don't you know where you are?'

'Yes; I'm in Gloucester Gaol, sitting over a can of very bad gruel.'

'Don't you know you are a prisoner?' 'Oh! yes; I am quite sensible of
it.'

'Well, you must do as the others do, and you must go to prayers.'

'Then you must carry me.'

'I'll report you to the clergyman.'

'Give the clergyman my compliments, and say I'm not coming to prayers.'

He stalked away with the air of one whose dignity was greatly outraged.
During the time of this colloquy prayers were suspended, and the
clergyman was waiting my arrival in order to begin. As soon as prayers
were well over, an order came for me--'The clergyman wanted me.'

'Well, Mr. Holyoake,' he said, when I met him, 'how is it you did not
come to prayers?'

I answered, 'You cannot expect me to come to prayers; you imprison me
here on the ground that I do not believe in a God, and then you would
take me to chapel to pray to one. I cannot prevent your imprisoning me,
but I can prevent your making me a hypocrite, and must.'

'But if you attended the ordinances of grace, it might lead you to
believe in the Christian religion.'

'I should be very sorry for that.'

'Really me--how can you say so, sir?'

'Because I should be very sorry to treat those who differ from me as you
treat me.'

'You do not understand us. It is not you we persecute--it is your
opinions.'

'Then I wish you would imprison my opinions, and not me.' Here he
turned to refresh himself by looking at the rules for the regulation
of prisoners in Gloucester gaol. He resumed--'But you must attend
prayers--it's the rule of the gaol.' 'I must do what I must do, I know;
but, if I do that, I must be carried into chapel every morning, and that
will not edify the remainder of your congregation. What can I do if
I go? I could not say, "O Lord, I have erred and strayed like a lost
sheep." You see yonder gratings? I'm not likely to err and stray, for
the next six months, beyond those bars.' 'Ah! that is not what we mean.'

'Then what do you mean? Can I join with those men in saying, "O Lord,
who hath given us grace with one accord to make our common supplications
unto thee," when I shall make no supplications, unless I am forced to
it? You know the prisoners only go because the turnkey is behind them?'
Then I showed him the passage, 'We have done those things which we ought
not to have done,' &c, and asked him what I had done, or had the chance
of doing, wrong, since I came there? At this he was puzzled a little,
and he at last answered--

'Ah! but we think there is a divine influence in prayer, which might
operate upon you.'

'Not in this place,' I answered, 'where it is so much contradicted by
your practice. I will agree to this, that when on Sundays you preach,
and I may hear something new, I will come.'

He ended the colloquy after a very Christian manner, by saying, 'Well,
if you don't come to prayers, you shall be locked up.'

I answered, 'Well, sir, give your orders.' I need scarcely say this was
done, in one form or other, to the end of my imprisonment. Sometimes
I was locked in my sleeping cell, but generally in the day room; but
I found it more agreeable than the litany, and I never asked for any
alteration. I went to chapel only on Sunday (the preaching day), but
never to the week-day prayers.

Offensive regulations were often sought to be applied to me. One was
an attempt to make me wear the prison dress. I said I preferred my
own clothes. The answer was, the rules were imperative, and they must
enforce them. I inquired whether they had any spare time on their hands,
for it would be necessary to dress me every morning. My answer was
reported to the magistrates, and I heard no more of the project.

Out of doors much is said against passive resistance, but in prison it
is the only resistance possible, and is often very effective, If you
speak or act, you are at the mercy of those in whose power you are. Take
any aggressive step and your gaoler knocks you down, or locks you up in
a moment. But if you simply will not do a thing, if without bluster or
bravado you leave it to them to make you do it, or to do it themselves,
they often find it of rather awkward accomplishment. To carry me
to prayers or to dress me every morning was far more offensive and
troublesome to them than breaking my head, so they left me alone.

Old Mr. Jones, the magistrate, paid me frequent visits. One day he took
me to the door, and pointing upwards, asked, 'did I not see there
proofs sufficient of the existence of a God?' I answered, that 'when the
boundless expanse of the skies had been before me I had been unable to
think so, and now the few square feet, which the high walls of the gaol
permitted me to see, were still less likely to inspire me with that
conviction.'

A little reflection ought to have shown these gentlemen, who made these
appeals to me, that the time and place were both inauspicious in which
to address to me such interrogatories. Indeed it was offensive, and on
more than one occasion I told them, that having undertaken to compel my
acquiescence with them by imprisonment, I could never divest myself of
the conviction that it was superfluous to pretend to win me by argument.

The last visit Mr. Jones paid was to read me a psalm. As on my trial I
had complained of the discourtesy of their calling me a fool, the old
man was particularly anxious to justify himself. He found what seemed to
him a favourable opportunity in the circumstance that a German scholar
had at this time published a new translation of the Psalms of David. As
I had spoken favourably of German theologians, he concluded that this
one would have weight with me. He brought down the book, summoned the
whole class of prisoners, and we stood twelve or eighteen in a row.
Proclaiming attention, he said he wished to read to us, and particularly
to me, the 14th Psalm. Reading aloud the first verse where David
observes 'the fool hath said in his heart there is no God,' Mr. Jones
said, 'Now, Holyoake, you complained that we called you a fool--you
see David says you are a fool.' The old man looked round with an air of
triumph, which was considerably moderated when I gently but distinctly
observed that 'I no more liked rudeness in the mouth of David than
in the mouth of a magistrate.' My fellow-prisoners glanced around in
consternation at my audacity, and expected to hear me ordered into the
dark cell, but old Mr. Jones turned round, shut up his book, and walked
away without saying a word, and I never saw him afterwards.

The next day I wrote to the Board of Magistrates to say that 'if
visiting magistrates continued to question me before other prisoners,
where the discipline of the gaol forbade adequate reply, I should refuse
to answer.' In future I was always called out by myself and spoken with
alone.

Before my trial the same Mr. Jones told me that my friend, Mr. Richard
Carlile, had died in London a very horrible death, recanting all his
principles before he expired, and urged me to take warning by his
example and do the same. Shortly after Mr. Jones was surprised to meet
Mr. Carlile in the corridor of the gaol bringing me refreshments, which
his experience assured him I needed. And it was not the least part of
my pride on the day of my trial that he sat near me from morning till
night, encouraging me by his presence, and assisting me by his wisdom.
After my conviction he vindicated me assiduously through the press,
addressed to me public letters, and wrote to Justice Erskine and Sir
Robert Peel, threatening to renew his former war against the Church if
my situation was not ameliorated--a very curious species of recantation
it must be confessed, but a fair sample of the usual death-bed 'scenes'
which the pulpits relate.

My company as a prisoner was not of a very agreeable kind, I had to
listen to recitals of depravity such as I never heard before, and do
not wish to hear again. But this was not all. Sometimes a companion was
filthy as well as wicked. One man sent in among us had the itch, and
before I found it out he had held me by the wrists in some accidental
wrestle--which misfortune might have subjected me to a taste of prison
discipline which few will be able to imagine.

When the surgeon finds that a prisoner has this disease he makes no
remark, but shortly after, the man is called out by the turnkey, whom
he has to follow through various corridors to remote cells at the top
of the gaol, near the gallows. Upon entering one, he is told to take
off his clothes. As soon as he is in a state of nudity, his clothes
are taken away, and locked up. He is then shown a cask filled with
brimstone, grease, and other mixture, of the consistence of pitch,
and quite as offensive to the sight. With this he is made to smear
his entire person over; when this is done, he is left locked up in the
place. All he finds about him is a bed on which are two blankets, in
which hundreds, smeared as he is, have lain before. When no longer able
to endure the cold, he may lie in this place. Thick and chilly, these
disgusting coverings adjust themselves to the body when softened by the
warmth, where, without caution, the liquid will run into the eyes and
the mouth. Here he remains some days and eats the uncut food which is
brought to him as well as he can with his filthy fingers.

Such is the description of a process of cure (as I gathered from
several whose experience I heard narrated), to which I might have been
subjected, if, when I discovered pustules on my wrists similar to those
on the infected man, I had not kept from the observation of the surgeon
while they remained. My habit of daily ablution, and some medicine I
procured, saved me from more than temporary discomfort. I need scarcely
add, that had such a cure been attempted on me, I should have had to
be carried to the place, and the application must have been effected by
force.

After some weeks' imprisonment, and when I had had sufficient
opportunity of noticing the disposition of the authorities, and
estimating the treatment to which I was to be subjected, I addressed the
following, slightly abridged--

Memorial of George Jacob Holyoake, prisoner for Blasphemy* In Gloucester

County Gaol, to Sir James Graham, her Majesty's Secretary of State.

Sir,--At the recent Gloucester Assizes your memorialist was sentenced by
Mr. Justice Erskine to six months' imprisonment for the alleged offence
of blasphemy.

Since that period he has been confined in the common gaol and fed on
convict gruel, bread, rice, and potatoes. It is true your memorialist
is allowed the privilege of purchasing, to some extent, better food,
but his imprisonment renders this privilege valueless, without the
assistance of friends, upon whom are the claims of his family left
dependent by his incarceration.

Under these circumstances your memorialist applied to the surgeon of the
gaol for other diet; by the surgeon he was referred to the governor;
by the governor to the visiting magistrates, and by the visiting
magistrates back to e surgeon, who subsequently has _recommended_,
though not prescribed, better diet: but from the recommendation of
it, your memorialist concludes that in that gentleman's opinion it
is necessary. Two other surgeons whom your memorialist consulted on
entering his prison warned him that a generous diet was absolutely
requisite, and the decay of your memorialist's health is a testimony of
its truth.

He prays for other regulations than those under which he sees visitors.
They have always to stand, sometimes to talk through the bars of a gate,
and are permitted to stay but a few minutes. As your memorialist is far
from his friends, these rules continually prevent him seeing them, and
receiving those attentions to his wants he otherwise would.

He wishes permission to remain up in an evening until the hour of the
debtors' retiring (9 o'clock), or at least to be allowed the use of
a light in his cell, in which he is confined from twelve to fourteen
hours, and during the winter he will be so shut up sixteen hours and a
half. Thus much time will be lost your memorialist could employ upon
a little mathematical speculation.** which would afford him the
gratification of contributing himself to the support of his family.

     * I always said 'Prisoner for Blasphemy' in all my
     communications, and directed my friends so to address me, to
     which the magistrates objected. But if I was to be written
     to at a gaol, I preferred to be known as a prisoner for
     opinion rather than as a prisoner for crime.

     ** Mentioned to prevent the supposition on the part of Sir
     James that the time would be employed in writing blasphemy,
     which would be fatal to the application.

As every newspaper sent your memorialist is retained by the governor,
your memorialist prays the liberty of reading them.

The visiting magistrates have said they should have no objection to
grant what your memorialist asks, had they the power; and hence he prays
the exercise of your authority on his behalf.

As custom attaches little weight to the opinion of a prisoner, it
becomes not your memorialist to speak of his own case, but trusts he
may with propriety refer to it as one in which he believes will be found
little that is aggravated. Seduced in the warmth of debate to express
his honest opinion on a religious question, young and inexperienced, he
took not the hypocrite's crooned path, nor the dissembler's hidden way,
but unwarily uttered language disingenuousness would have concealed
or art have polished, and became in consequence the ready victim of
Christianity. Criminal without intention, punishment brings with it
no consciousness or guilt, and hence that which in other circumstances
would be light, is, in his, a bitter infliction.

George Jacob Holyoake.


Sir James gave me permission to remain up till 9 o'clock after I had
been three months in prison. But for the concession it required an
effort to be grateful, for it was a permission to remain up without fire
and without light. For unless I could pay for fire and light, I had to
go without. Whether Sir James Graham intended this, I have no means of
knowing; he probably expected that the magistrates would not interpret
his order as a privilege to sit up in the cold and in the dark, which
would be a greater punishment than going to bed. But they did put this
construction upon it. As Sir James did not mention fire and light, they
refused to supply them.

Mathematical studies were impossible, for the authorities also refused
to allow me my instruments, lest I should commit suicide with them; but
I had provided for that, as every man should who goes to gaol. There was
just width enough in my cell to admit of the heavy iron bed-frame being
raised on one end. By marking a circle round one of the legs, which I
did with a fragment of stone, I determined the place on which the leg
would fall when the frame was pulled down. My head once placed on that
spot, the great weight of the frame would have sent the narrow leg
through the brain, and death must have been instantaneous. I am no
friend of suicide, and had a thousand reasons for living; but I had
not been long in gaol before I saw many things to which none but the
degraded or the weak would submit--and lest they should come to my turn,
I provided against them.

About this time an event occurred in my family which converted my
imprisonment into an unexpected bitterness. Against that 'love abroad
which means spite (or indifference) at home,' I early set my face.
Between me and Eleanor, my wife, there always existed an understanding
as to the risks I ran in my free speaking. Whatever consequences fell
upon my own head alone, I had myself only to please in incurring: but
those which affected others, I had no right to invoke, without their
consent--and this consent I always sought from my wife, in any special
case which arose. At our marriage, Eleanor very well understood that
my life somewhat resembled a soldier's, and that it would often include
duties and dangers not compatible with perennial fireside comfort Nor
did she object to this, and I have had the sweet fortune always to be
left to do whatever I should have done, had I been single and childless.
On my saying, on the imprisonment of Mr. Southwell, first editor of the
_Oracle_, that it was my duty to take his place, Eleanor replied--'Do
what it seems your duty to do, and I and the children will take care
of ourselves as well as we can. When they grow up, I trust they will
contemplate with little satisfaction any advantage they might have
enjoyed at the expense of their father's duty. We can leave them no
riches, but we may at least leave them a good example, and an unsoiled
name.'

It was therefore that when I came to leave home, to go to my trial, all
was calm and cheerful as usual, though there was much around to suggest
uneven thoughts. On that day no one came to accompany me or to spend an
hour of solace with those from whom I parted. Had there been a single
friend present to have made up the appearance of society after I was
gone, the loneliness would have been less bitter. As I left the house I
heard that cry break forth which had been suppressed that it might
not sadden my departure. Before I had proceeded far up Windsor Street,
Ashted, I was arrested by Madeline's silvery voice calling 'good bye,
dada,' and turning round I saw her large bright, black eyes (which every
body praised) peering like two stars round the lintel of the door. I am
glad I did not then know that I should never hear that voice again, nor
see those bright eyes any more. To turn the attention of mankind in an
atheistical direction may do harm to some. The propagation of all
new views does harm, more or less. As in commercial speculations much
capital is sunk before any returns come in, so in the improvement of
the people, you sacrifice some old feeling which is good, before the
new opinion, which is better, can be created. But all the new opinions
I have at any time imbibed have never produced so much harm in me as
the prudential doctrines of Political Economy. The doctrine that it is
disreputable in the poor to have children, is salutary, no doubt--but
it requires to be enforced under limitation. To regard the existence
of your little ones as an expense, and the gentle love of children as
a luxury in which you cannot indulge without reproach, is to sour life,
dry up affection, and blight those whose tender years should be passed
in a perpetual smile of joy. To look into the face of your child and
feel that the hand of death, which shall hush that gentle voice, pale
those rosy cheeks, and quench those animated eyes--is a political
blessing, is horrible. I look back with mute terror on the day when I
was under the influence of those feelings. I cannot dwell upon it. I
would burn all the books of Political Economy I ever read (and I think
it the science of many blessings) if I could feel once more on my knee
the gentle hand of my child from whom I parted that day, too stoical to
shed a tear.

After a few weeks of my imprisonment had passed away, hint--words came
of Madeline's failing health. Out of some money sent by my private
friends, John Fowler and Paul Rodgers, of Shefield, to buy better food
than the gaol afforded, I saved a guinea and sent it to Birmingham to
purchase Madeline a winter cloak--it was spent in buying her a coffin.
Though of perfect health and agility, she was one of those children
who require entire preservation from exposure, want, or fatigue. On ten
shillings per week, which was all that the Anti-Persecution Union could
provide, this could not be done, as Eveline, then in arms, left her
mother no opportunity of increasing that small income. Cold succeeded
cold, when want of more means caused them all to go to live in a house
ill ventilated, and where several were ill of fever, which soon attacked
Madeline.

Mr. Chilton sent me several intimations to prepare for the worst, should
it happen. But I could not believe in the worst happening, and indeed
I had yet to realise what the worst implied. At length one morning
the heavy corridor door grated on its harsh hinges, and the morose
turnkey--fit messenger of misery--put a letter into my hand. As it had
been, as usual, broken open--for there is no feeling, not even that of
affection and death, respected in a gaol--Ogden knew its contents,
and in justice to him I must say he endeavoured, as well as one whose
ability lay in his moroseness could, to speak a word of apology and
sympathy. The strangeness and awkwardness of the attempt drew my
attention to the fatal black border, which gave me sensations such as I
never received before and never shall again, for the first death of one
dear to you, like that of the first love, brings with it a feeling which
is never repeated. I remember that some prisoner came and covered me
with a coat, for I had walked into the yard without one. Captain Mason
and two friends came round, but I could not speak to them. He addressed
a few words to me, but I turned away.

Then Madeline had died the death of the poor; she had perished among the
people who know neither hope nor comfort, a pledge that I shall never
forsake those with whose sad destiny one so dear to me is linked. Though
in the death of poverty there is nothing remarkable, though hundreds
of children are daily killed off in the same way, yet parents unused to
this form of calamity find in it, the first time, a bitterness which can
never be told. The ten shillings per week income of the family was made
up by small subscriptions by some who knew me, and by a few outside
who happened to think useful the course I had taken. One or two friends
whose professions had beforetime been profuse, Eleanor met. They were
cold, or to her they seemed so. She thought they feared a continued
acquaintance might lay them under some tax to contribute to her support.
This she could never bear. Offering her hand to one who did not take
it, she went home, and nothing induced her to subject herself to such
suspicion any more. A quick and enduring sense of independence, which no
privation could disturb, was an attribute in her character I had always
admired, and this dreadful form of its operation I have never been able
to censure. The Roman mother put on the armour of her son as he went
out, and saw him brought home dead from the fight without weakness: but
in that case, the strife of arms, the glory of victory, the sublimity
of duty, and the applause of the senate, were so many supports to the
mother's heroism; but harder far is it for a mother to bend over her
child day by day and night after night, and see relentless death eat
like a canker into the bud of the damask cheek of beauty, and be too
poor to snatch it from the tomb--and this with no trumpet note, no clang
of arms to drown the dying scream, no incense of glory to raise
the sinking heart, no applause of a generous people to reward the
sacrifice--without one soul near who could penetrate to the depth of
that desolation, and utter those words of sympathy which is all which
humanity can do to soothe in the face of death. There were indeed those
near who might have done so, but some could not comprehend this grief,
and others, for reasons of Political Economy, 'did not see the good of
regret' at a child dying, and they will learn from these pages for the
first time that these wounds existed which, after eight years, are still
fresh.

There are homesteads that have witnessed deeds That battle fields, with
all their bannered pomp, Have little to compare with. Life's great play
May, so it have an actor great enough, Be well performed upon a humble
stage.

'My dada's coming to see me,' Madeline exclaimed on the night of her
death, with that full, pure, and thrilling tone which marked her when
in health. 'I am sure he is coming to night, mama,' and then remembering
that that could not be, she said 'write to him, mama, he will come to
see me;' and these were the last words she uttered--and all that remains
now is the memory of that cheerless, tireless room, and the midnight
reverberation of that voice which I would give a new world to hear
again.

For her father, he was debating in incoherence the vain proposition as
to whether he could prevail on the Governor to let him go home for
one night to smooth and watch over that dying pillow, and he would
cheerfully and gratefully have expiated the privilege by six or twelve
months' additional imprisonment.

O liberty! whom the nations welcome with triumphant shouts, Whom all to
whom the world owes its progress have worshipped--over how many graves
hast thou walked! Rising with the morning's dawn, making all people
radiant with thy presence, the poet thrills as thy chariot is borne on
the tarn's golden beams, and he hails thee as a goddess, and blesses
thee as a bride, and sings of thy triumphs and benefactions! But those
who serve thee--who make their lives a sad and desert waste that thy
pathway through the world may be unobstructed--who kneel to thee in
their dungeon-churches and pour out the incense of life's young warm
blood at gibbet-altars: they know thee by thy gory garments dripping
with the blood of the father and the tear of the orphan, and the
desolation which precedes thy progress. The anthems of thy march are
hollow voices from Siberia's mines, and Vinceanes' cells--the wail of
women under the Russian knout, the groans of Konarski and the whistle
of bullets which slay the Bandiera and Blum--thy trophies are the fresh
graves of Hungary and Rome, thy throne is on a hecatomb of earth's
noblest and bravest sons. Yet art thou still sacred in the eyes of man.
Queen of Genius and Progress! emblem of that suffering through which
Humanity is purified and developed! Thou hast trodden on the grave of
my child, and I worship then still, although thou mayst yet tread on my
own.

Yes, though I neither hope--for that would be presumptuous--nor expect
it, seeing no foundation, I shall be pleased to find a life after this.
Not a life where those are punished who were unable to believe without
evidence, and unwilling to act in spite of reason--for the prospect of
annihilation is pleasanter and more profitable to contemplate: not a
life where an easy faith is regarded as 'easy virtue' is regarded
among some men--but a life where those we have loved and lost here are
restored to us again--for there, in that Hall where those may meet who
have been sacrificed in the cause of duty--where no gross, or blind, or
selfish, or cruel nature mingles, where none sit but those whom human
service and endurance have purified and entitled to that high company,
Madeline will be a Hebe. Yes, a future life, bringing with it the
admission to such companionship, would be a noble joy to contemplate.
But Christianity has no such dream as this.

On making arrangements for the burial, at the Birmingham Cemetery,
the clerk asked whether they should provide a Minister, or whether the
friends of the deceased would do so? The answer was--'A minister was not
desired. 'Then I presume,' the clerk observed, 'you mean that you will
provide one yourselves?' The answer again was, 'we do not require one at
all. Please send the beadle merely.'

On the day of the interment the beadle attended as requested. He was
instructed to conduct the burial party direct to the grave; and not into
the chapel, which he did without remark: and when the coffin, plain but
pretty, without tinsel or angels, was lowered, each threw a bouquet
of flowers in, and when the grave was made up they returned home. Thus
Madeline was buried, as became her innocence and her fate, without
parade, without priest, or priestly ceremony. Had hesitation been
displayed, or previous inquiries been made as to whether what was done
could have been permitted, no question but that a priest would have
been inflicted, as at the grave of Carlile and others--for Christianity,
always officious and rude to the dissentient, is never more so than
when opposition is paralysed by agony on the bed of death, or hushed in
speechless sadness by the side of the grave.

As it would only be painful to Mrs. Holyoake, I never wished her to
visit me; but after the death of Madeline she desired it, and she
brought little 'Eveline' (a name given to her in lieu of her own because
of its similarity to Madeline.) On this occasion Mr. Bransby Cooper sent
to say that the magistrates' Committee-room, an elegant and cheerful
apartment, should be at my service, at Mrs. Holyoake's visit. Mr. Cooper
was the first of the magistrates to send a message of condolence on the
death of Madeline, and in this instance his kindness was delicate and
generous. As on the day Mrs. Holyoake came the magistrates happened to
hold a meeting in it, an apology was sent me, and the Lodge placed at my
service. No turnkey was sent in, and I was permitted to see my friends
with an air of perfect freedom. My sister Caroline, who was one of the
party, brought me a present of wine and cigars. As both were forbidden
by the rules of the gaol, I declined to touch them. As I was trusted
without restraint, I was doubly anxious to respect a liberty so
generously conceded. Had they set a watch over me, I should have had
less scruple, and perhaps have thought it a merit to defeat their
suspicions.

Captain Mason, the governor, was a study--a type of the gentleman,
official, and conventional, whose qualities were instructive. Bland,
imperturbable, civil, and firm, he was never weak and never rude.
Among the uneducated, all decisive action is announced in commotion or
bluster. The gentleman is never in a hurry, never in a contention. If
you annoy him, are rude to him, impose upon him, or menace him, perhaps
he quietly indicates his opinion of the impropriety, perhaps his
resolution is taken without. He avoids you. His defence is prevention.
Renewal of offence, renewal of intercourse, chance of altercation or
repetition, is simply impossible. Such was Captain Mason. I watched
his manners with pleasure--he governed the gaol like a drawing room,
excepting that the _desserts_ were not quite the same. I saw rude
men baffled, they could not make out how. Possibly he had nerves and
sensibility, but these articles were not in common use. They were kept
under lock and key, and never brought out in the routine of official
duties. As blandly and courteously as he wished me good morning, he
would have conducted me to the gallows, had instruction to that effect
reached him. He would have apologised for the inconvenience, but he
would have hung me while I was saying 'pray don't mention it.'

Excepting in one transaction our intercourse was unruffled. When I
had left the gaol, a prisoner (the Master of a Post Office) the
only gentleman on my side of the prison, addressed to me a letter of
accusation against the governor--an act which made me a participator
in his sentiments. As it passed through the governor's hands, he wrote
under the name the crime and sentence of the writer--a brief and bitter
retort. I reenclosed the letter to the writer with a note to Captain
Mason, observing that on leaving the gaol I had expressed to him the
only opinion I entertained of him, and I should regard it as unmanly to
be a party to reproaches which I did not see reason to address to him in
person. He wrote me back, with a soldier's honourable frankness, that 'I
had always behaved honourably in my intercourse with him, and he did not
believe I would do an unmanly thing.'

The exceptional transaction with the Captain referred to was this.
One of my fellow-prisoners was an epileptic man, whose ignorance and
irritability, more than any crime, had led to his imprisonment. As I
kept a sort of school in our common room, and taught a few things to
those about me who were disposed to learn, I had become interested in
Upton, a humble and unhappy man, who learned at grammar anxiously. Some
nights he would fall out of bed in an epileptic fit, and lie groaning
on the stone floor for an hour or more together. It was in vain that
we shouted to the turnkeys. They who can hear a man think of escaping,
cannot hear when he breaks his neck. Upton representing that a little
tobacco, to which he had been accustomed, would save him from the
frequency of these fits, I procured him some. Smoking it one day in a
corner, in a paper pipe made for the purpose out of one of my letters,
the governor came upon him through a side door. Upon being asked how
he procured it, he answered, 'From a man who had just come in from the
Sessions.' This the governor did not believe. At night Ogden made
an immense speech at me, in which that luminous functionary inserted
several elephantine hints, to the effect that he knew the source whence
the aforesaid tobacco came. It was a treat to hear Ogden hint; it was
like a hippopotamus putting his paw out, or kicking a man down stairs.
As soon as I could get to speak to Upton, I prevailed upon him to allow
me to write to the governor, tell him the truth, and take the blame upon
myself, reminding Upton that a good man might be surprised into a lie,
but only a bad man would persist in one. The retaliation of the governor
was refined and vindictive. Instead of ordering me into a dark cell
on bread and water for two or three days, which was the authorised
punishment, he ordered two gates to be locked between me and my
visitors, so that those who spoke were obliged to shout to me. This he
continued, with slight variation, to the end of my imprisonment. This
deprived me of the pleasure of seeing ladies who called, as I would
never consent to see them under circumstances of so much humiliation.

Captain Mason had had previous proof that my professions might be
trusted. When first imprisoned, the reader perhaps remembers I was
kept (though on my way home after a journey) a fortnight while the
magistrates played at bail. When at length they signified their
intention of accepting it, Captain Mason took me, through the city, to
Bransby Cooper's house, where the bail-deed was to be completed. On our
way I asked him if it would be necessary for me to take an oath, before
my own bond could be accepted, as I should object to take an oath? He
turned round and replied--'Why, Holyoake, as you don't believe in any of
the Gods, you could have no objection to swear by them all.' I explained
to him that if the Magistrate would regard my oath as a mere ceremony,
by which I rendered myself liable to penalties in case of violated truth
or failure in my bond, I would take the oath readily, if all the Gods of
the Pantheon were in it: but if it were regarded as a profession of my
religious faith, I would not take it. It was better that I should go
back to gaol, than to make a profession of belief which would mislead
others. I told Mr. Cooper the same when we reached his house. He,
however, said my signature would do.

One day I concluded a dialogue with my chaplain upon the principle
of reciprocation, i. e. of retorting his language upon himself, and,
I think, not without utility, for he never afterwards fell into that
insensible arrogance of speech so common among pastors. On the occasion
referred to, he began--'Are you really an atheist, Mr. Holyoake?'
'Really I am.'

'You deny that there is a God?'

'No; I deny that there is sufficient reason to believe that there is
one.'

'I am very glad to find that you have not the temerity to say that there
is no God.'

'And I am very sorry to find that you have the temerity to say there is
one. If it be absurd in me to deny what I cannot demonstrate, is it not
improper for you to avert so dogmatically what you cannot prove?'

'Then where would you leave the question of atheism?'

'Just where it leaves us both. 'It is a question of probability.' 'Ah!
the probabilities in favour of atheism are very few.'

'How know you that? Did you ever examine the question without prejudice,
or read that written in its favour without fear? Those who dare not look
at all never see far.'

'But if the atheist has so much on his side, why does he not make it
known? We do not keep back our evidences.'

'Has the atheist an equal opportunity with you? Is it generous in you
to taunt him with lack of evidence, when you are prepared to punish its
production?'

'The reason is that your principles are so horrible; as Robert Hall has
said, 'Atheism is a bloody and ferocious system.'

'Permit me, sir, to return that gentle speech--to tell you that your
principles are horrible, and that Christianity is a bloody and ferocious
system.'

'Really I am shocked to hear you speak so dreadfully of Christianity.'

'Why should you be shocked to hear what you are not shocked to say?'

'But atheism is so revolting.' 'But Christianity is so revolting.'

'How dangerous is it for atheism to corrupt the minds of children.'
'How pernicious is it for Christian doctrines to corrupt the thoughts of
infancy.'

'But you are only asserting.'

'Are you doing otherwise? I sometimes think that Christians would be
more respectful in their speech if the same language could be applied to
them with impunity which they apply to others.'

'But, my dear sir, the language of the atheist is so shocking to
Christian feeling.'

'And, my dear sir, has it never occurred to you that the language of the
Christian is shocking to atheistical feeling?'

'Atheists have a right to their opinions, I allow, but not to publish
them.'

'I shall think you speak reasonably when you permit the same rule to be
applied to the Christian.'

'But you really cannot be an atheist?'

'And you say this who have been a party to imprisoning me here for being
one! If you believe yourself, go and demand my liberation.'

'Ah! when you come to die you will wish that you were a Christian.'

'Can it be that I shall wish to hold a creed that I distrust--one
that leads me to deny another the liberty I claim for myself? If to be
capable of looking back with satisfaction on conduct like this is to be
a Christian, may I never die the death of the righteous, and may my last
end never be like his.'

As the general treatment pursued towards me did not work an satisfactory
conversion, some attempts were made by gentler means. Taken one day
into a sleeping cell for privacy, one who had the power to fulfil his
promises passed in review the casualties of a life like mine, and asked
whether I had not better change it. Thinking I was seduced by some
attraction which belonged to my position, he suggested how fickle a
thing was popularity, and how soon the applause of friends might die
away, or change with the growth or refinement of my conviction, into
suspicion or even hate. Had I not better accept the editorship of a
paper, where I should not be required to contradict, but merely to avoid
advocating my views? Had I not better accept a school in a retired part
of the country---a girls' school also might be given to Mrs. Holyoake,
and our joint incomes would ensure competence, respectability, and
usefulness? I answered, 'I think you have mistaken me. The opinions I
defended are also my convictions; and thinking them useful, it seems my
duty to propagate them, and the discharge of this duty is more serious
in my eyes than you suppose; nor do the inducements you picture exist.
Do you not see that I am nearly friendless? I am without even the
attentions of those from whom I have some right to expect it. Except
Mr. Farn, Mr. Watts, and Mr. Campbell, none of my colleagues among the
Social Missionaries have written me a friendly word. The editor of the
_New Moral World_, upon whose protection I have some claim, has written
no word in my favour. The only public defence for which I am indebted
has come from strange papers, and unknown men. Even Mr. Owen, the
advocacy of whose opinions involved me in this prosecution, he who
occupied the largest share of my veneration, has not even recognised my
existence by a single line. This affair may have made some noise, but
I am not so young as to mistake noise for popularity, nor so weak as
to think popularity the one thing needful. Popularity, is to be won by
those who can flatter the public, but that estimation which is alone
worth having is only to be won by the service of the people, and that is
not the work of youth but of life. That which you call my cause is yet
in an infantine state. It has no attractions but the rude ones of daring
and truth. It requires to be divested of antagonism, and developed in
its relations to political and social interests and personal character.
This must be the work of time, and judging from the present, it will
be a work of difficult and precarious effort. At present we number no
public friends of wealth or influence. We have every thing to gain--yet
the comparative affluence you offer would be a canker to my peace, while
it was the price of duty evaded. My self-chosen faith, presumptuous
and thorny, will be sweeter to walk. It is enough that you see I am not
misled by its attractions. Now I tread these floors with a proud step,
and meet your eye with unblenched brow, because it is necessary to show
you that in defence of my opinions I feel neither fear nor guilt--but
when I walk from this place into the wilderness of the world, my steps
will falter and my face will pale, because my path will lie over the
grave of my child.'

All I remember farther is that my tempter made a few not unfeeling
remarks, and led me back in silence to my usual cell.

The final efforts for my conversion were on this wise. The Rev. Mr.
Cooper sent for me, a few days before my liberation, and asked me
to follow him to the chapel. Arrived there, he ascended the pulpit,
motioning me to a prisoner's pew without even asking me to be seated. My
neck was stiff with a severe cold, and I was as ill able as ill disposed
to be catechised. I stood leaning on the spikes--not inapt emblems of
such Christian love as I had there been made acquainted with. The good
Chaplain prayed--I did not move. He looked at me to catch my eye--I kept
mine fixed on the spikes. He addressed me--I made no sign. He spoke some
minutes--still I remained motionless. He paused and asked what I thought
of his representations--I answered no word. He seemed to think he
was making a favourable impression. He resumed, and came to another
peroration, and again besought me to answer--still no motion, no word
from me. He began a third time, and touched all serious topics which he
could command, and came again to an elaborate peroration on deathbeds;
and as I remained still silent and immovable, he said, somewhat
perplexed this time, 'Holyoake, won't you speak?' I then answered 'Not
while we occupy these places. Do you not preach to me and place me
here where prisoners stand? I take this to be a ceremony, and not a
conversation.' He walked down from his pulpit and asked me to accompany
him, when he took me into several cells till he found one warmed with
hot air, and asked would I speak with him there on friendly terms? I
answered, 'with pleasure;' and there we conversed for the last time. I
troubled him to repeat his arguments, as I would not admit that I had
attended to a word. When he had done, I briefly assured him that my
experience there had not created in me any desire to be a Christian:
he had brought before me no new evidences, and as it had been found
necessary to enforce those I knew before by penal reasons, the operation
had rather diminished their weight in my estimation.

He professed himself anxious to 'present me with a Bible'--a fact which
I knew was destined to make a figure in the next Gaol Report to the
County Magistrates; I therefore resolved to have one worth acceptance,
or not one at all. When he brought to me the usual prison copy, I
respectfully declined it, I said, a thin copy bound in calf, in pearl
type, with marginal references, would be interesting to me, but the
dumpling-shaped book he offered, I could never endure in my library.
He deliberated--the trade price of the Bible he offered me was
about tenpence, that I desiderated would cost him half a guinea. The
reflection was fatal. The Bible never came, and the evangelical fact
that 'The prisoner George Jacob Holyoake was presented with a copy of
the Holy Scriptures before leaving the gaol, which it is hoped, under
the Divine blessing, will be the means of bringing him to the knowledge
of the truth'--was never recorded.

About this period I saw the magistrates for the last time. There seemed
to be a full Board of them, and Mr. Bransby Cooper was in the chair.
Before withdrawing I addressed Mr. Cooper, and said--'As in a short time
I shall leave this place, I wish, before doing so, to express to you
my sense of the kindness and consideration shown me by you when Mrs.
Holyoake visited me here. It is one of the few things I shall remember
with pleasure when again at liberty. You will not, I fear, believe in
the possibility of one of my opinions feeling gratitude, but I will at
least assure you of it.' The answer he made was a compensation for much
that I had experienced. In that loud voice in which he usually spoke, he
exclaimed--'Yes, I will say this, that I believe you, Holyoake. I don't
believe that you could be a hypocrite.'

One day a magistrate, described to me as the Hon. and Rev, Andrew Sayer,
sent me a copy of Paley's works, requesting my particular attention to
his Natural Theology. 'Did I put into your hands,' I said, addressing
that gentleman, 'an atheistic work, you would tell me of the
contamination you dread; and may I not plead the same risk in perusing
your theistical book? But, as all in the search after truth must venture
through phases of error, I shall not hesitate to comply with your
request; and that you may be certain that I do so, you may, when I have
ended, put to me any question upon the contents you please.' It happened
that my examination resulted in my writing 'Paley Refuted in his Own
Words.' When Mr. Sayer came to ask me what conclusions I had come to
on the books he had lent me, I made this answer to him--* Sir, I
am surprised at your asking me this question. Does it become you, a
clergyman and a magistrate, to ask me to commit crime?'

'What do you mean?' he inquired.

'I mean this,' I replied, 'that in having punished my last expression of
opinion as a crime, by bringing me here, it does not become you to put
religious inquiries to me again.' He seemed confounded; and on this
occasion I showed him, that while Christianity punished as crime the
expression of dissentient opinions, Christians were disqualified from
seeking the state of any man's thoughts with respect to religion. Unless
one volunteers explanations, Christians have plainly no right to demand
them. They put themselves out of the pale of ordinary privilege.

Writing 'Paley Refuted' and the 'Short and Easy Method with the
Saints'--a title suggested by 'Leslie's Short and Easy Method with the
Deist,' another book put into my hands by the authorities--occupied me
till the end of my imprisonment. On the 15th of February, 1843, I was
liberated; and three days after (having paid visits of acknowledgment to
my friends in Gloucester, Cheltenham, and Worcester) I rejoined (what I
might then term the remains of) my family in Birmingham.



CHAPTER IV. AFTER THE LIBERATION

On rejoining my colleagues of the _Oracle of Reason_, I proceeded to
issue an address to our readers. The substance of it, which was as
follows, comprises some additional facts of my prison experience:--

'My Friends,--It is now six months since cut and hacked, "I fell," not
merely in the language of the parable but literally, "among thieves." Of
those who caused that contact, I am afraid I must say, as William Hutton
said of an untoward sweetheart--"There was little love between us
at first, and heaven has been pleased to decrease it on a further
acquaintance." Christians profess to draw men to Jesus with "cords of
love," but were it not for their judicious foresight in telling us that
they axe "cords of love," few would find it out.

'To friends in Gloucester,* Cheltenham, Birmingham, London,** and other
places, I owe many thanks for what has been contributed for my support,
and for that of my family, during my imprisonment.

     * To Gloucester two special acknowledgments are due. First
     to a young lady, the niece of the Innkeeper, in whose house
     I resided, when awaiting Trial, both at the sessions and
     assises. With no other knowledge of me than these occasions
     afforded, and with no prepossession in favour of my
     opinions, but simply from that generous sympathy women often
     display, she frequently brought me refreshments to the gaol,
     and was a medium of communication with my friends, and often
     answered inquiries of my family which the restrictions of
     the gaol sometimes rendered it impossible for me even to
     know. In the romance of incident, she afterwards became the
     wife of my friend Mr. Chilton. The other instance was that
     of Mrs. Price, a woman in humble circumstances, who, during
     the latter part of my imprisonment, brought me dinner every
     Sunday.  Both Mrs. Price and her husband were utterly
     unknown to me.

     ** At the time of the death of Madeline, Mrs. Ralph Thomas,
     of London, sent to Mrs. Holyoake £3, subscribed by herself
     and personal friends.

For their attentions I believe no thanks were asked and none are wished.
Yet I am concerned to make acknowledgments, because a man always values
highly the kindness he does not expect. When the words were spoken which
led to my prosecution, I expected that the cautious would think that
I had gone "too far"--that the prudent would think that I had been too
rash--that my friends would be afraid for me, and that the timid would
be afraid for themselves. But I held with Polydamus, that

     To speak his thoughts is every freeman's right--
     In peace and war, in council and in fight.

'And, what I regarded as greater than my right, I felt it to be my
duty. Besides, my honour was concerned. I could not descend to that
disingenuousness I had often counselled others to scorn. Hence, in the
course I took, I did not think it necessary to calculate consequences;
a man's true concern is with his principles, and not with his fate. I
pretended to no public virtue, and I laid claim to no praise--I did
no more than every man ought to do. That doing so little has been so
rewarded by the exertions of many friends for my protection, I must be
pleased--but had nothing been done, I trust I should have found pride
in penury and satisfaction under neglect, in the reflection that I had
discharged my duty and preserved consistency.

'When my memorial to Sir James Graham was returned to the magistrates
for their opinion, they came to me, and Mr. Bransby Cooper stormed out
with great violence--"You were sent here, sir, for punishment, and you
have nothing else to expect. I consider you worse than the greatest
felon in the gaol; you have been guilty of the most atrocious crime a
man can possibly commit. I have told Sir James Graham what you deserve."
I knew that these magistrates were Christians. I was told they were
gentlemen, but I thought them furies.*

     * Yet such is the inconsistency of the Christian character
     when allied to a generous nature, that Mr. Bransby Cooper
     who, as a Christian, behaved with so much rudeness, had just
     before given instruction to the turnkeys to treat me with
     respect, with a view to save me from less harshness from
     other officials than that which, in other moods, he so
     plentifully inflicted on me himself.

'The prison diet was bread, gruel, and potatoes. On two days in each
week boiled rice was substituted for potatoes; and after I had been in
prison nine weeks I was, by the rules, allowed a small portion of salt
beef on Thursdays and Sundays. As this fare is deemed in Gloucestershire
a famous specific for the cure of atheism, it may not be out of place
to explain its virtues. The gruel was little remarkable for its delicate
flavour and little celebrated for its nutritious qualities, and known by
the luxurious cognomen of "skilly." The rice had a blue cast, a saline
taste, and a slimy look. The beef I could not often taste, seldom chew,
and never digest--I should say it was rather _leather_ mode than _a
la mode_. The whole of the food could only be taken by a ploughman's
appetite, and only be digested by a navigator's stomach.

'The indirect occasion of my prosecution was the editorship of the
_Oracle_. When Mr. Southwell was apprehended no Social Missionary
came forward to continue his paper, although many of them were better
qualified to do so than myself. Socialism had always attached great
importance to freedom of expression, and Socialism's advocates had been
styled "apostles of freethought." Knowing this, I felt that it would be
a dishonourable reflection should any one refuse personally to support
what he was known publicly to approve. Had Mr. Fleming been placed in
Mr. Southwell's situation, and had he been of opinion that I could have
defended his violated liberty by taking his place, I should have edited
the _New Moral World_ as cheerfully as I did the _Oracle of Reason_.
When I speak of "freedom of speech" and "liberty for all," I know of no
distinction between myself and those who differ from me--I see with an
equal eye the Atheist and the Christian, the violent and the gentle, the
dogmatic and the modest.

'That is true of Christianity which has been said of Catholicism,
"Humane individuals may express their abhorrence of the sentiments of
persecution--bodies of men, sections of the church itself, nay many of
the dignitaries may abjure them, and protest that they have never acted
upon them, nor ever will enforce them--yet all this will not avail
to give a discerning man the smallest security for his liberty, his
property, or his life; for as long as those intolerant decrees remain
upon the statute book, they can at any time be revived." It therefore
behoves everyone to set a guard over that liberty, for the loss of which
no religion will ever compensate. The conviction should be permanent
that Christianity is a fearful thing. But bad men may laud it--mistaken
men may contend that there is some good in it--unthinking men may give
currency to its terms--and weak men may connive at its delusions, but we
ought to regard with different sentiments a system which tramples upon
the feelings of humanity and the principles of liberty. Let us then
secure the antidote--free expression of opposite opinion. Shall it be
said that we are content to wear mental fetters? When Protestants, who
dare never think without the Bible and Prayer Book, have shaken off the
iron despotism of Catholicism--when Methodists and even Ranters have
refused to submit their thoughts to be cut down to the Procrustean
bed of conventional opinion--let not Christians mock at Freethinking
pusillanimity and deride us as holders of craven principles. Not only
for ourselves but for others are our exertions demanded. What patrimony
has the poor man but his free thoughts? Industry will not save him from
chill penury's grip, nor virtue from the poor-house grave--let us
then preserve and perfect the humble inheritance of those who have no
other.'*

In prison it is not _safe_ to make complaints. You are too much in the
power of those around you to escape reprisals of a serious kind, but
this did not deter me from what I conceived to be a duty, and which
might make the future easier for others who might follow me in the same
way. Besides the endeavours I had made within the prison, with a view to
tolerable treatment, I addressed, on my release, the following letter to
the editor of the _Cheltenham Free Press_--

'Mr. Editor,--As prisons and prison discipline have lately occupied much
public attention, I am induced to offer to your notice a little recent
experience in such matters. What I have written, I intended to have
stated to a public meeting, but suffering from debility, which makes me
glad to avoid excitement, I seek the calmer medium of your paper.

'I speak of Gloucester County Gaol. I believe the prison inspector is
of opinion that the rules of that place are "_harsh and cruel_." Now,
should a prisoner seek a partial exemption from their operation, the
process he goes through is very curious. He applies to a turnkey--the
turnkey answers, "my duty is determinate and my province clear; I cannot
do it." Probably, he refers the prisoner to the surgeon. The surgeon
is seen--he refers him to the governor, the governor refers him to
the visiting magistrates--they reply, "we have no power to grant
the request, Sir James Graham only can do that." Sir James Graham is
memorialised, who, as is usual, answers, "The visiting magistrates best
know what is proper--I only grant what they recommend." Any further
application to them would be construed into a wilful annoyance, and the
prisoner is fortunate who can sit down like Sterne's happy man--pleased
he knows not why, and contented he knows not wherefore. Of course I
blame no one, for there is no one to blame, and this constitutes the
beauty of the system.**

     * Revised and abridged from the _Oracle_.

     ** It seemed to me useful to make applications for what I
     wanted in writing. It prevented mistakes, and afterwards
     admitted of proof. The governor used to come to me and say,
     'Now, Holyoake, it is of no use sending this memorial.

It is sure not to be attended to, and he would so obligingly bestow upon
me the treasures of his experience on the futility of the course I was
pursuing, that at times it really did seem not only useless--but uncivil
to persist. But I used to say, 'Captain Mason, I suppose you are right
as to the result. That makes no difference, however, as to my duty; you
may put my memorials in the fire, if you like, as soon as I have written
them; still I will make the proper application to every officer and
every authority, and deliver them to your care, as in duty bound.' I
knew the Captain would not burn them--I knew more, I knew he dare not
burn them. I knew, also, that each would be duly delivered to the proper
party. Further I knew this, that if his dissuasions had deterred me from
sending in my complaints, that when I left the prison the authorities
would destroy every representation I might make, by saying 'If there had
been anything wrong Holyoake would have complained, but as he has not
done so, the aggravation he points out could not have existed, or could
not have been grievous.' Foreseeing this I provided against it, and
disregarding the refusal of my applications, I addressed them all round
with scrupulous formality. The result was, that on my liberation I found
myself in a position to defy contradiction in any allegations I had to
advance; and though I published this letter immediately under the eyes
of the magistrates, it was never contradicted.

Should I individualise, it would only be to say, that the governor is a
gentleman of some excellent qualities, and some unintelligible conduct;
that the surgeon possesses the _suaviter in modo_ without the _fortiter
in re_; and that the magistrates are little gods, who, like Jupiter,
thunder oftener than they smile.

'What of health I have, I owe to my friends, who supplied me with such
food as my constitution required, for had I been compelled to subsist on
the diet of the prison, my health, by this time, would have been quite
broken. With the direction of my own medical adviser, I made this
representation to the proper authorities at the gaol; I made them to
the commissioners who were lately there, and I made them to Sir James
Graham;* I therefore conceive that I am justified in repeating them
here. The surgeon admitted the necessity of better diet, but referred
me to the governor, and he sent me the fruitless round I have described.
Now the province of the governor was the care of my person, and the
province of the surgeon the care of my health. The governor ought not to
have permitted the reference to him, and the surgeon ought not to have
made it. Either the surgeon should have refused my application with
decision, or have allowed it with independence. Upon this subject, the
commissioners reminded me, "that if the surgeon did not order what was
necessary for my health, he was responsible for it." I replied "that
I knew this, and that they also knew, that a prisoner, like Beale
of Northleach, must die before he could avail himself of such
responsibility, and that this was but grave consolation." But of the
surgeon I wish to speak impartially, and I gladly admit, that his manner
was always very kind, but I complain that his answers were always very
indecisive. What he recommended he seldom prescribed, and professed that
he must consult the governor when he should have consulted only himself.
This fault may seem little, but its effects are great. In a gaol, the
surgeon is the only person who stands between a prisoner and the
grave, and it is indispensable that to the quality of humanity those of
independence and decision should be joined. The kind of answers to which
I have alluded were given to me more than once, and given to others as
well as to me. And I again repeat, that had I been without friends, I
should have left my prison without health.

     * In consequence of these representations some medical
     gentlemen of the city were brought in to examine me, who
     pronounced my life to be in no danger, and therefore (so it
     seemed) my health was not regarded as worth improving by
     better food. Provided I did not make a case fer the House of
     Commons, that was enough. They appeared to consider
     themselves as bound to keep me alive and no more.

'Akin to the want of better food, was the want of exercise, and no want
of damp. The yard in which I walked was so small, that I always became
giddy, through the frequent turnings, before I became refreshed. The
governor sometimes permitted the "Fines-Class" in which I was, to walk
in his garden; but the occasions came seldom and lasted not long--and
I was previously so enervated by confinement, that the unusual exercise
thus taken, threw me into a slight fever. Generally speaking, the
place in which I was confined was miserably humid, and, although I took
perpetual care, I had almost a perpetual cold.

'An application for a trivial favour often brought down upon me ruthless
treatment. The visiting magistrates would come, and before the other
prisoners denounce me as the "worst felon in the gaol, and the most
atrocious of criminals." I was directed to ascribe this to the petulance
of age and the rancour of orthodoxy; but I thought it proceeded from bad
taste and worse feeling.

'From first to last, every newspaper sent me was detained; every letter
from me was perused, and every one to me was broken open and read--and
the very seals, if they happened to be heterodox, were interdicted. Thus
the privacy of affection and friendship were violated, and mind as well
as body laid under one restraint.

'When I saw friends it was but for a few minutes, and then through the
bars of a gate; to shake hands was a privilege, and to converse unheard,
impossible. To me it was a momentary satisfaction made an enduring
mortification. To the public it may seem a light matter that nothing can
be spoken to a visitor unheard by officers, but it is no light matter to
a prisoner. The commissioners inquired--"Can you make no communication
to your friends without its passing under the eyes of the governor, or
through the ears of the turnkey?" I answered--"None; and that it was not
prudent for a prisoner to mention openly what affected persons in whose
power he was put--that no prisoner must calculate on gaolers being
generous, for they owned few virtues not written in their rules." I
spoke from experience, and gave them cases in point.*

'During the latter portion of my time all my friends were denied access
to me, which, though it interfered with the supply of my wants, I did
not, for the reasons stated, much regret. But this I did regret--all
my letters were detained, and I was refused the privilege of writing a
single letter to my family. The reason assigned by the governor for this
was the enforcement of new rules, but I know that they were enforced
without proper authority, and I believe applied only to me.***

'Those are happy who are for ever preserved from the reception cells of
Gloucester Gaol. Of the one in which I was put, the floor was filthy,
the bed was filthier, and the window was filthier still, for in
the window was--what I sicken at while I write--a rag full of human
excrement. And of the bed, a prisoner assured me that when he lay in
it the lice crept up his throat off the corners of the blanket
which covered him. This statement, on my direction, he made to the
commissioners.

     * One case I allude to was this. Mr. Bransby Cooper and Mr.
     Jones had called me out to state that an application I had
     made for better dietary would not be acceded to. Mr. Cooper
     said the surgeon did not prescribe any other diet. I said,
     'It appears to me, sir, that the surgeon dare not prescribe
     any other diet, unless he was first assured you would
     approve of it.' The answer of Mr. Cooper was loud, harsh,
     brief, and decisive. 'Of course, sir, he dare not.' Thus the
     fierce candour of this man broke through the web-work of
     cautiousness which surrounded prisoners there, and spoke the
     truth for once.

     ** I have since been told that Mr. Alcott, of America, was
     among the number, who, being a visitor in England, had but
     one opportunity of calling upon me.

     ***On one occasion Richard Carlile brought me a present of a
     handsome pair of large razors, which were sent back lest I
     should cut my throat with them. The rules of the gaol forbid
     the entrance of such articles, but this reason for their
     rejection was not in the rules, but added as suitable to my
     case.

'The gaol chapel is a cold place. Often, on entering it, I have
exclaimed, with Jugurtha, on entering his Roman dungeon--"Heavens! how
cold is this bath of yours!" Yet in this place, during this inclement
season, the prisoners are assembled every morning to hear prayers, on
empty stomachs, after sixteen hours' confinement in their night
cells. On the "long prayer" mornings, they are detained in chapel
three-quarters of an hour, and the penitentiary men, on their return
to their cells, find their gruel on the stone floor, gone cold in their
absence. I mention this matter with reluctance, as some may suppose that
I notice it only from want of religion; but perhaps a little reflection
will convince them that believers, as well as unbelievers, can
appreciate a warm breakfast on a cold morning!--and that an asthmatical
man, however sound his faith, will have his affection painfully
increased by enervation, inanition, and sudden cold. This practice I do
not say is contrary to the rules, for it would be difficult to say what
is, or what is not, contrary to them--and I never met with any one at
the gaol who could tell. But the practice is contrary to the act of the
4th of Geo. IV., chap. 64, see. 30, which is professed to regulate it.

'A circumstance' of a different nature from any of the foregoing I
think it my duty to notice. After a considerable portion of my term of
imprisonment had elapsed, and after I had memorialised Sir James Graham,
I was permitted to remain up in an evening with my books. To this I owe
what of pleasure I can be said to have experienced in gaol, and with
pleasure I acknowledge it.*

     * Before this privilege was conceded I whiled away the long
     nights by writing on the cover of a book, on which I had
     adjusted threads at equal intervals; under these threads I
     slipped paper, and thus wrote on the lines made by the
     threads, which kept in the dark the words from running into
     each other. When a boy I learned to write with my eyes shut,
     and my playful acquirement now became of service to me. In
     this way I wrote some letters for the _Oracle,_ and much of
     my correspondence. Scattered by force, our little party at
     that time, and for some years after, had to be kept together
     oy letters, and, incredible as it will sound, I wrote during
     my imprisonment from first to last nearly 2000 letters. The
     governor did not see them all, but he saw so many, that one
     day he said I sent out more letters than usually went
     through a local post office.

'I prefer leaving these statements without comment, and content myself
with saying, that I can abundantly substantiate every one of them. On
Saturday last they were partly examined at the gaol by the magistrates,
but I heard nothing that impugned their correctness or affected the
propriety of their appearing before the public. If I have made any
misrepresentations, I shall be sorry; and what is proved to be wrong I
will cheerfully retract. I have written from no malevolence, for I feel
none, and, as what I have related affects me no longer, my only motive
is the hope of benefiting the unfortunate beings whom I have left behind
me. My object is not, as some may suspect, to excite commiseration on
my own part; to do this I have no wish, and no expectation, for in
Cheltenham it seems to be a received maxim, that they who have little
faith have no feelings--certainly, none are respected.

'How my imprisonment is supposed to affect me toward religion, I cannot
tell; I only know that I have no change of sentiment to own. During six
months I have been "shut out from the common light and common air"--from
those whom the bonds of friendship connected, and the ties of affection
endeared; and some of these ties are broken for ever. After this, I can
only say, that I have greater difficulty than ever in believing
that humanity is the associate of piety; and if Christianity has no
expounders more attractive than those I have fallen in with, the day of
my conversion is still distant.

'It was taught to me that the religion of Jesus cherished kindness, that
it promoted our best affections, and reclaimed the erring in love. But
how is this accomplished in gaol? The man who goes there must leave his
affections, his feelings, and his sensibilities behind him--for in gaol
all are blighted, deadened, and destroyed. There no appeals are made but
to coward fears, and no antidote applied to error but misery. Indeed,
I cannot dwell upon Christianity's treatment of what she considers my
errors, without wishing, with Themistocles, that I could learn the art
of forgetting. With regard to the cause of my prosecution, I admit that
I might be wrong in the sentiments which I held, but I could not be
wrong in frankly avowing them. And I may answer to Christians, as did
Aristides to the tyrant Dionysius--"I am sorry for what you have
done, but I am not sorry for what I have said." Despite all that has
succeeded, I still prefer integrity to liberty. My resolution has long
been taken, to speak nothing or to speak what I think--for

     Who dares think one thing and another tell,
     My heart detests him as the gates of hell.

'Christians speak what they think useful, and the same privilege
ought to be conceded to me. A difference in faith ought not to make a
difference in right. But while it does so, those who cannot pronounce
the required Shibboleth must arm themselves to bear. Those are poor
principles for which a man is unwilling to suffer when they are in
danger. It is an encouraging reflection, that though a man's fate may be
at others' disposal, his character is ever at his own--and that no enemy
can dishonour him who will not dishonour himself.

'Yours respectfully,

'Gloucester, Feb. 7, 1843.

'G. J. Holyoake.'


The Commissioners referred to in this letter asked me, when I was first
taken before them, whether I had any complaint to make?

I said I had.

Did I wish to give it as evidence?

I said I did.

In the evening of the next day, between 9 and 10 o'clock, I was called
up and taken into their presence again. The governor of the gaol,
Captain Mason, and the surgeon, Mr. Hicks, were present.

'Take a seat, Mr. Holyoake,' said the speaker of the Board--Dr. Blissett
Hawkins, I believe. I did so.

'Now, Mr. Holyoake, what have you to complain of?' said the speaking
Commissioner.

'Nothing, sir.'

'Nothing! Why what do you mean?'

'What I say, sir.'

'But did you not say that you had evidence that you wished to give?'

'I did.'

'Has it not been at your request that you have been brought before us
for that purpose?'

'It has?'

'Then what are we to understand by your present statement?'

'Why, sir, what you hardly need me to explain. I cannot give evidence
before these gentlemen,' looking towards the governor and the surgeon.

'True,' said the questioner. 'Captain Mason, Mr. Hicks, you will please
to withdraw.'

When they were gone, 'Now, Mr. Holyoake, you can speak freely,' said the
chairman.

'But first I must have your guarantee that I shall suffer no
inconvenience in consequence.'

'Why what danger do you run?' was asked me.

'This. Am I not in the power of governor and surgeon? Can they not
retaliate in your absence? No prisoner is safe in any gaol, as you ought
to know, if the authorities come to regard him as reporting them. If you
decline to give me this guarantee I shall not make any communication
to you, and when I am at liberty again, I shall have a right to publish
that your commission did not learn the whole truth at this gaol--that it
did not even put itself in a condition to learn it.'

'Well,' the chairman said, 'We guarantee that you shall suffer no
inconvenience in consequence of any evidence you may give to us.'

Then, and not till then, did I proceed to explain what in the last
letter and notes is recounted. The commissioners kept their word. The
severity of the discipline, instituted by the governor when a visitor
came, was somewhat relaxed; and once or twice, when I was suffering from
cold (before unnoticed), a can of mutton broth was ordered me by the
surgeon, in which I found a very sensible looking piece of mutton.

Nothing more of importance remains to be narrated. Concluding, let me
solicit consideration to the moral aspects of Christianity, as set forth
in this narrative, and to what I consider the political moral of these
pages. Many persons whose candour and general intelligence I do not
distrust, tell me that the persecution here recounted, is not to be
ascribed to Christianity. To this I make the answer made on this subject
(the imprisonment of myself, Adams, and others) by my late friend,
Maltus Questell Ryall. 'Christians set a watch upon them--Christians
informed against them--Christians prejudiced the public against them.
By Christian pay were hireling lawyers retained--by Christian witnesses
confronted--by the Christian Press misrepresented--by Christian juries
found guilty, by Christian judges condemned.' It is necessary to put the
argument in this cumulative form to satisfy some understandings; but a
well-informed and candid Christian can hardly be supposed to need formal
proof on this head. A careful study of the Evangelists some time after
this imprisonment, satisfied me that the religion of Jesus involves
persecution. A man who believes that men need saving, that there is only
one way whereby they can be saved, that _his_ way is that way, and that
it is better for a man to lose the whole world than to lose his own soul
by missing that way, such a believer will inevitably coerce all he can
into it. If he is not a persecutor he ought, in moral consistency, to
be one. Having the fear of the philanthropists and of the humanitarians
before his eyes, he may modify his practice, but it will be at
the expense of his penetration or of his religious duty. I have no
difficulty whatever in understanding that the conscientious among the
old inquisitors might be men of benevolence--spiritual physicians, who
amputated existence with a view to save the eternal life of the patient.
It is now many years since I wrote or spoke against them on religious
grounds, and for a long period I have ceased to speak of persecution as
being either unscriptural or unchristian.

It will not do to say that what we have seen of persecution has been
but the abuse of Christianity. It is in itself a condemnation of
Christianity to be obliged to repudiate the conduct of all Christian
churches. It will not do to say that Christians have not been wise
enough to see, nor good enough to image, the divine gentleness of
Christ. The Christian churches have been presided over by pastors who
have possessed both penetration and purity in the highest degree--who
were able to see what there was to be seen, and devout enough to render
it in their lives. Try the question even in our day. If Christ be the
symbol of love and gentleness to all who believe in his name, how is it
that in every part of the world the Freethinker should fear to fall into
the hands of the Christian? How is it that he must set a watch upon his
words in every town and hamlet in our own land, lest the free expression
of his deepest convictions should cost him his position, his employment,
and his character? Branded, outcast, and friendless, the Christian's
door is the last at which he would knock--the Christian's fireside is
the last at which he would find a welcome--and the Christian pastor, who
in knowledge, duty, and example, most nearly resembles the Christ whom
he preaches, is the last man whose path the Freethinker would wish
to cross, or into whose ear he would venture to pour the tale of his
expatriations.

In one passage in my defence I represent persecution, as Lord Brougham
and others have done, as a power which spreads opinion. I believed so
then, but believe it no longer. I have lived to watch the effects of
persecution, and have seen it put down the truth so often, as no longer
to doubt its bad efficacy. The ignorant, the timid, the opulent, and the
conventional (and these make up the mass of mankind), are all deterred
by danger or opprobrium, The resolute and the reckless, the only parties
who persist, labour under accumulated disadvantages. Condemned to spend
then time in self-defence, development of doctrine--the legitimate and
only source of permanent influence--is nearly impossible to them: and it
is well for them if they escape acquiring an antagonistic spirit, which
disfigures their advocacy and misrepresents their character. Their only
proselytes are those who come to them out of spite or out of sympathy,
and who of course miss the intellectual ground of conviction, and can be
of little real service until they have been re-educated.

If, as I admit, persecution will put down opinion, what objection's
there to its employment when it puts down error? I answer, 'Beware of
its use, because it may put down the truth also.' Persecution is not an
ordeal. Free discussion is the only test capable of distinguishing and
establishing the truth. The proper condemnation of persecution is, that
it is an illegitimate opposition which is sure to be discountenanced as
men become manly and refined. The armies of a civilised people observe,
even in the deadly strife of battle, some rules of honourable warfare,
and do not descend to the arts of treachery or tactics of savages.
We may surely hope that in the battle for religious truth, a sense of
honour will prevent the dominant party from taking against its opponents
the undue advantage of persecution. Montaigne relates that when
Polyperchon advised Alexander to take advantage of the night for
attacking Darius, 'By no means,' answered the noble general; 'It is not
for such a man as I am to steal such an advantage; _I had rather repent
me of my fortune than be ashamed of my victory_,' It is not too much to
expect that Christianity will always be less refined than War.

Persecution, always a disaster, was not however with us a defeat. We
were not put down by persecution; we continued the _Oracle_ a hundred
and four weeks, then the Movement, sixty-eight weeks, and the _Reasoner_
will soon have completed ten volumes. Besides having written in our
publications, we have, in almost all the principal cities and towns
in the kingdom, spoken, since the trial at Gloucester, with the utmost
explicitness. The imprisonment has at least been of this service--and
this is all--it has enabled me to speak accredited by the sincerity
which otherwise could not have been so satisfactorily manifest to the
multitude. To have spent, without shrinking, some portion of life in
prison in defence of public liberty, gives the same authority among the
people as having graduated at a university does among scholars.* The
fact is a sad illustration of the brutal manner in which the people
are condemned to win the enlargement of their liberties. In cases where
clergymen have menaced me with renewed imprisonment, I have always
answered--'I consider myself as having taken out a license to speak
freely. The government made a charge to me of six months' imprisonment
for that privilege, and I paid the price. If you have renewed demands
upon me, let me know them, and I will endeavour to meet them; but do not
interrupt me.'

     * When the Prizes were awarded me for writing the Literary
     Lectures of the Manchester Unity, an attempt was made to
     cancel the award on the ground of my having been imprisoned,
     but it was immediately quashed. When the legislation of the
     Order was before the House of Lords, the Bishop of Oxford
     (in Committee) made an objection to the Lectures on account
     of the Authorship, but the Unity refused to withdraw them,
     and they are in use to this day. The objections of this
     nature made in some instances by the Press have been
     inoperative where the people have been concerned.

In the present structure of English political society, to preserve
the ability to be imprisoned is necessary to usefulness. When the
associations of home have twined themselves around the feelings--after
long industry and patient frugality have surrounded a man with some
comforts unknown to his youth--few have the temper which will part from
them and walk into a gaol at the call of duty. I should think this state
the death of progress. When, some time ago, insuring my life in the
Equity Law Insurance Office, I asked, before I took out my policy,
whether it would be forfeited if my death was occasioned by imprisonment
or transportation. The Directors naturally asked whether I was liable
to those casualties. I said, not particularly liable I hoped; but to
be able to be imprisoned, if it seemed a duty, I valued as a great
privilege, and I would not barter my right to be imprisoned. I am afraid
they smiled at my eccentricity, but they assured me that that accident
would not involve the forfeiture of my policy--which I then took out.

No one who reads thus far will, I hope, consider me as a candidate for
either imprisonment or transportation. I have too keen an insight into
their misery for that. But he who pretends to take the side of the
people ought to see his way all through, and not incur a danger he has
not weighed, and not suffer any to ascribe to him a virtue he does not
mean to maintain.

If any, from what I have just expressed, or from the transactions of
this narrative, shall conclude that I am disposed to regard law-breaking
lightly, they will mistake me. Respect for the law is an intelligent
virtue--a sign of fitness for freedom so important that none but an
enemy would obscure the duty or weaken the sentiment. If accused, in the
matter which led to my Trial, of breaking the law, I might plead that
there was no law to break, and therefore I could not break one. What
is called the common law relating to blasphemy is a mere caprice, an
opinion interpreted by ignorance or sectarian prejudice, and enforced at
the call of bigotry--malevolent to the humble while neutral towards the
rich. Against this tyranny one is obliged to rebel. It is disastrous
that we should have to set up the standard of resistance even in a
case of this kind, and the chief justification is that a democratic
government is denied us. Had the people a voice in making the laws,
the breaking of any law would require grave justification. Men have two
lives--a private and a public one. Conscience is the guide of all that
relates to private duty, but law is the conscience of society, and it
is best when private conscience can be subordinate to the public
conscience. Private conscience may be the child of selfishness,
fanaticism, or vanity, as well as of the greatest purity and
intelligence. A man, therefore, should be careful how he places so
uncertain a thing above the law. If private conscience be more just and
intelligent than the public conscience, a democratic form of government
affords peaceful facilities whereby it can come into the ascendant.
But where these modes are denied, no alternative remains but that of
rebellion or unconditional and indefinite submission. Resistance to the
law, however, or to what is tacitly accepted by the majority as law, is,
under any form of government, so pernicious an example, is so liable
to be abused, so liable to unfit the people who learn the lesson,
for submission to legitimate authority, that these cases demand the
strictest surveillance before they receive the sanction of a friend
of the people. In all instances in which conscience is the ground of
resistance, the wrong done to conscience ought to be clear, deep,
and momentous, and the necessity which obliges the claims of private
conscience to be put above the laws ought to be made so evident that
the sentiment of freedom shall not deteriorate that of legitimate and
honourable allegiance. If the political moral of this narrative be
therefore drawn with discrimination, we may do little harm even if
mistaken in the belief that the prevalence of our views of life may be
a public good; and if this belief prove to be right in the main, we do
what reformers are said often to forget--we make a past to which the
future may refer for authority and instruction.

     Then not 'in vain!' Even obscurest weeds
     Nourish the roots of fruitfulest fair trees
     So from our Fortune  loathed Hope proceeds
     The experience that may base high victories.*

          * W. J. Union.

What 'our views' are this is not the place to state; as to some it would
seem that under the pretext of a plea for Free Utterance, sentiments
were obtruded upon the reader he was not forewarned to expect. I
therefore limit myself to saying (and that only for the sake of others
who will decline to concede free utterance until they know what has to
be uttered) that whoever sees in Atheism simply the development of
a negation, sees but half the truth. Even in this respect (supposing
existing theological systems to be erroneous) Atheism has the merit of
clearing the way for Pure Moralism--which is the other half, or positive
ground of Atheism. The latest writers on the Philosophy of Religion
resolve religion into _Dependance_; by which its modern theory at length
coincides with its ancient practice. We venture to think that this is
not salutary teaching. Life should be self-reliant. It seems to us that
the light of Nature and the experience of man are anterior to the dogmas
of Priests, and are the sources whence guidance and duty independently
spring. The Priest breaks in upon the integrity of life, and diverts its
course. He says he makes an addition to our knowledge--we do not find it
so. He professes to show us the hidden mysteries of the future--we fail
to see them. He simply encumbers us, and we pray him to stand aside. The
responsibility of our course is our own and not his, and we have a right
to be left free. Rejecting his advices, he proclaims that we reject
truth, honour, justice, love. This is his error or the retaliation of
his disappointment. We appeal to the candid and the impartial to judge
between us. We respect Theology as the science of man's destiny, and
regret that it bears no fruits for us: but this is not our fault; and
we therefore attempt to solve the problem of life for ourselves. Our
progress already counts some distinct steps. We have recast the practice
of controversy: we forbid to ourselves to suspect evil motives, or to
impute insincerity to others; the doubtful act we propose to judge by
evidence alone, and to put the best construction on the dubious word.
Thus we annihilate Antagonism, the eldest foe of Progress, by imposing
laws on impulse. Our search in every system is directed after _moral
truth_; and, less exacting than the Christian, we accept it, whether
given by Inspiration, confirmed by Miracle, attested by Prophecy, or
not. Probity of word and act may be securely based on the intelligence
and refinement of mankind--and this we labour to enforce. To restrict
human expectation to that which is ascertainable by reason, must have
the effect of concentrating attention on humanity, and intensifying
interest in human exertions. In Solidarity we find the encouragement
to public endeavour, and we sum up private duty in Honour, which is
respecting the Truth; in Morality, which is acting the Truth; and in
Love, which is serving the Truth.

THE END.

     Holyoake Brothers, Printers,
     3. Queen's Head-passage,
     Paternoster-row.






