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A DISCOVERY CONCERNING GHOSTS.
“Enter Ghost.”
Hamlet.—“ Thou com’st in such a questionable shape.”—
Shakesteabe.
Questionable !—ay; so very questionable, in my opinion, is the fact of their
coming at all, that I am now going to question whether they ever did, or
can come. This opinion I know is opposed to a very general, a long-esta
blished, and with some a deeply-rooted belief in supernatural appearances,
and is opposed to what may be almost considered as well-authenticated facts,
which neither the repeated exposure of very many “ ghost tricks,” and
clearly-proved imposture, nor sound philosophical arguments, have been able
to set aside altogether. Most persons, therefore, will no doubt consider that
the task of “laying” all the ghosts that have appeared, and putting U stop
to any others ever making an appearance, is a most difficult task. This is
granted; and although I do not believe, like Owen Griendower, that I can
“ call the spirits from the vasty deep,” but on the contrary agree in this
respect with Hotspur, if I did call that they would not come, I nevertheless,
B
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A DISCOVERY CONCERNING GHOSTS.
although no conjuror, do conjure up for the occasion hosts of ghosts which
I see I have to contend against. Yes, I do see before me, “ in my mind’s
eye
A. vast army, composed of ghost, goblin, and sprite !
With them .eyes full of fire, all gleaming with spite !
All lurking about in the “ dead of the night ”
With them faces so pale and their shrouds all so white I
Or hiding about in dark holes and corners,
To fright grown-up folk, or little “ Jack Horners.”
But though they all stand in this fierce grim array,
Armed with pen and with pencil, “ I’ll drive them away.”
It is not only, however, against these horrible and ghastly-looking cloud
of flimsy foes that one has to deal with in a question like this, but there are
numbers of respectable and respected authors, and highly respectable wit
nesses, on the side of the ghosts ; and it must be admitted that it is no easy
matter to .put aside the testimony of all these respectable persons. They
may have thought, and some may still think, that they have done, and are
doing, good, by supporting this belief; but I know on the contrary that they
have done, and are doing, great harm ; and I, therefore, stand forth in the ■
hope of “laying” all the ghosts, and settling this long-disputed question
for ever.
The belief in ghost, or apparition, is of course of very early date, originating
in what are called the “ dark ages,” and dark indeed those ages were ! as a
reference to the early history of the world will show ; and although we have
in these days a large diffusion of the blessed light of intelligence, nevertheless
there is still existing, even amongst civilized people, a fearful amount of
ignorance upon the subject of Ghosts, Witchcraft, Fortune-telling, and
“ Ruling the Stars,” besides a vast amount of this sort of imaginary and
mischievous nonsense. Now it will be as well here to inquire what good
has ever resulted from this belief in what is commonly understood to be a
ghost? None that I have ever heard of, and I have been familiar with all
the popular ghost stories from boyhood, and have of late waded through
almost all the works produced in support of this spiritual visiting theory,
but in no one instance have I discovered where any beneficial result has
followed from the supernatural or rather unnatural supposed appearances;
whereas, on the other hand, we do find unfortunately a large and serious
amount of suffering and injury arising from this belief in ghosts, and which
I shall have occasion to refer to further on; but I will now proceed to bring
forward some of the evidences which have been adduced from time to time,
all pretty much in the same style, in support of the probability and truth of
the appearance of ghosts—first, in fact, to call up the ghosts, in order that I
may put them down.
All the ghost story tellers, or writers upon this subject, seem to consider
that one most important point in the appearance of apparitions is, that the
ghost should be a most perfect and EXACT RESEMBLANCE, in every
respect, to the deceased person—the spirit of whom they are supposed to
be. Their faces appear the same, except in some cases where it is described
as being rather paler than when they were alive, and the general expression
�A DISCOVERY CONCERNING GHOSTS.
n
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is described as “more in sorrow than in anger,” but this varies in some
instances according to circumstances; but in all these appearances the coun
tenances are so precisely similar, so minutely so, that in one case mentioned
by Mrs. Crowe in her “ Kight-side of Nature,” the very “ pock-pits ” or
“pock-marks” on the face were
visible. The narrators also all
agree that the spirits appear in similar, or the same dresses which they
were accustomed to wear during their lifetime (please to observe that this
is very important), so exactly alike that the ghost-seer could not possibly
be mistaken as to the identity of the individual, in face, figure, manner, and
dress ; and on the same authority in some cases the same spirit has appeared
at the same moment to different persons in different places, although perhaps
15,000 miles apart, in precisely the same dress.
In referring to the play of “Hamlet,” it will be found that Shakespeare
has been most particular in describing the general appearance of the Ghost
of Hamlet’s father, who was
“Doomed for a certain time to walk by night.”
Dor instance, when Marcellus says to Horatio,
“ Is it not like the king ?”
Horatio replies—
“ As thou art to thyself:
Such was the very armour he had on,
When he the ambitious Norway combated;
So frown’d he once, when, in angry parle,
He smote the sledded Polack on the ice.”
Horatio also, in describing the Ghost to Hamlet, says—•
“ A figure like your father,
MmeiZ at all points, exactly, cap-d-pe.”
And, in further explanation, it,is stated that the Ghost was armed “from
top to toe,” “from head to foot,” that “he wore his beaver up,” with
“ a countenance more in sorrow than in anger,” and was “ very pale.” Then,
again, when Hamlet sees his father’s spirit, he exclaims—
“ What may this mean,
That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel,
Revisit’st thus the glimpses of the moon.”
So also in the play of “Macbeth,” when the Ghost of Banquo rises, and
takes a seat at the table, Macbeth says to the apparition—
“ Never shake
Thy gory locks at me.”
And further on he says—“ Thou hast no speculation in those eyes
Which thou dost glare with !”
Daniel de Foe also insists upon, and goes into the most minute details as to
the person and dress of a Ghost; and in a work which he published upon
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A DISCOVERY CONCERNING GHOSTS.
apparitions,* we may see how careful and circumstantial the author is in
his descriptions of apparitions, whose appearance he vouches for in his
peculiar narrative and matter-of-fact style. One of these ghost stories is
of some robbers who broke into a mansion in the country, and whilst ran
sacking one of the chambers, they saw, sitting in a chair, “ a grave, ancient
man, with a long full-bottomed wig and a rich brocaded gown,” etc. One
of the robbers threatened to tear off his “rich brocaded gown;” another
hit at him with a fuzee, and was instantly alarmed at finding it passed
through air; and then the old gentleman “ changed into the most horrible
monster that ever was seen, with eyes like two fiery daggers red hot.”
They then rushed into another room, and found the same “ grave, ancient
man” seated there,! and so also in another chamber; and he was seen by
different robbers in three different rooms nt the same moment ! Just at this
time the servants, who were at the top of the house, threw some “ hand
grenades” down the chimneys of these rooms. The result altogether was
that some of the thieves were badly wounded, the others driven away, and
the mansion saved from being plundered. What a capital thing it would be
surely, if the police could attach some of these spirits to their force !
Another case, a clergyman (the Rev. Dr. Scot) was seated in his library,
with the door closed, when he suddenly saw “ an ancient, grave gentleman, in
a black velvet gown”—very particular, you observe, as to the material—“ and
a long wig.” This ghost was an entire stranger to Dr. Scot, and came to
ask the doctor to do him a favour—asking a favour under such circum
stances of course amounts to a command—which was to go to another part
of the country, to a house where the ghost’s son resided, and point out to
the son the place where an important family document was deposited.
Dr. Scot complied with this request, and the family property was secured
to the son of the ghost in the “black velvet gown and the long wig.”
Now one naturally asks here, why did not this old ghost go and point
the place out to his son himself ? And so also with the well-authenticated,
story of the ghost of Sir George Villars, who wanted to give a warning to
his son, the Duke of Buckingham; which warning, if properly delivered
and properly acted upon, might have saved the duke’s life; but instead of
warning his son himself (take notice), he appeared to one of the duke s
domestics, 11 in the very clothes he used to wear,” and commissioned him to
deliver the message. After all, this warning was of no use, so this ghost
might have saved himself the trouble of coming; but spirits are indeed
strange things, and of course act in strange ways.
About the year 1700, a translation from a Drench book was brought out
in London, entitled “ Drelincourt on Death and after it had been published
for some time, Daniel Defoe, at the request of Mr. Midwinter, the publisher,
wrote a preface to the 'work, and therein introduced a short story about
the ghost of a lady appearing to her friend. It was headed thus : “ A true
Relation of the Apparition of Mrs. Veal, next day after her death, to one
* “ An Essay on the History and Reality of Apparitions; being an account of what they
are and what they are not, when they come and when they come not; as also how we may
distinguish between Apparitions of Good and Evil Spirits, and how we ought to behave to
them; with a variety of surprising and diverting examples never published before.
London, 1727.
�A DISCOVERY CONCERNING GHOSTS.
5
Mrs. Bargrave, at Canterbury, on the 8th of September, 1705 ; which
Apparition recommends the perusal of Drelincourt’s book of Consolation
against the Fears of Death. (Thirteenth edition.)”
Mrs. Veal and Mrs. Bargrave, it appears, were intimate friends. One day
at twelve o’clock at noon, when Mrs. B. was sitting alone, Mrs. Veal entered
the room, dressed in a “riding habit,” hat, etc., as if going a journey. Mrs.
Bargrave advanced to welcome her friend, and was going to salute her, and
their lips almost touched, but Mrs. V. held back her head and passing her
hand before her face, said, “ I am not very well to-dayand avoided the
salute. In the course of a long talk which they had, Mrs. Veal strongly
recommends Drelincourt’s Book on Death to Mrs. Bargrave, and occasionally
“ claps her hand upon her knee, in great earnestness.” Mrs. Veal had been
subject to fits, and she asks if Mrs. Bargrave does not think she is “ mightily
impaired by her fits ?” Mrs. B.’s reply was, “ No! I think you look as well
as ever I knew you;” and during the conversation she took hold of Mrs. Veal’s
gown several times, and commended it. Mrs. V. told her it was a “ scoured
silk” and newly made up. Mrs. Veal at length took her departure, but
stood at the street door some short time, in the face of the beast market;
this was Saturday the market-day. She then went from Mrs. B., who saw
her walk in her view, till a turning interrupted the sight of her; this was
three quarters after one o’clock. Mrs. Veal had died that very day at noon ! ! !
at Dover, which is about twenty miles from Canterbury.
Some surprise was expressed to. Mrs. Bargrave, about the fact of her
feeling the gown, but she said she was quite sure that she felt the gown. It
was a striped silk, and Mrs. Veal had never been seen in such a dress; but
such a one was found in her wardrobe after her decease.
This story made a great sensation at the time it was published; and
“ Drelincourt on Death,” with the Preface and Defoe’s tale, became exceed
ingly popular.*
The absurdities and impossibilities of the foregoing narrative of this
apparition of Mrs. Veal need not be pointed out; but the story is introduced
here for two reasons; one of which will be explained further on, and the
* The introduction runs thus :—“This relation is a matter of fact, and attended with such
circumstances as may induce any reasonable man to believe it. It was sent by a gentleman,
a justice of peace, in Maidstone in Kent, and a very intelligent person, to his friend in
London, as it is here worded; which discourse is attested by a sober and understanding
gentlewoman, a kinswoman of the said gentleman’s, who fives at Canterbury within a few
doors of the house in which the within-named Mrs. Bargrave lives; who believes his kins
woman to be of so discerning a spirit as not to be put upon by fallacy, and who positively
assured him that the whole matter as related and laid down is really true; and what she
herself had in the same words (as near as may be) from Mrs. Bargrave’s own mouth ; who
she knows had no reason to invent and publish such a story; or design to forge and tell a lie,
being a woman of much honesty and virtue, and her whole life a course as it were of piety.
The use which we ought to make of it is, that there is a life to come after this, and a just
GOD, who will retribute to every one according to the deeds done in the body, and therefore
to reflect upon our past course of life we have lead in the world—that our time is short and
uncertain; if we would escape the punishment of the ungodly and receive the reward of
the righteous, which is the laying hold of eternal life, we ought for the time to come to
turn to GOD, by a speedy repentance, ceasing to do evil and learning to do well, to seek
after GOD early, if haply he may be found of us, and lead such lives for the future as may
be well pleasing in his sight.”
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A DISCOVERY CONCERNING GHOSTS,
other is to show how the public have been imposed upon with these short
stories.
It has all along been known to the literary world that this “ true
Relation” was a falsehood, and brought forward under the following cir
cumstances :—
Mr. Midwinter, who published the translation of “ Drelincourt on Death,”
finding that the work did not sell, complained of this to Defoe, and asked him
if he could not write some preface or introduction to the work for the purpose
of calling the attention of the public to this rather uninviting subject.
Defoe undertook to do so, and produced this story about the ghost of Mrs.
Veal. The gullibility of the public was much greater at that time than now,
and they would then swallow anything in the shape of a ghost; a great
sensation was created, and the publisher’s purpose was answered, as the
work had an extraordinary sale ; but one cannot help expressing a very
deep regret that the author of “ Robinson Crusoe” should have so degraded
his talent, by thus deliberately foisting upon the public a gross and mis
chievous falsehood as a veritable truth; and, worse than this, guilty of
bringing in the most sacred names upon one of the most solemn subjects
which the mind of man can contemplate, for the purpose of supporting and
propagating a falsehood for a mercenary purpose.
As the belief in ghosts has long been popular, and considered as an
established fact, it may be quite allowable for an author to introduce a ghost
into his romance; and it may be argued that authors have thus been enabled
“ to point a moral” as well as to “ adorn a tale,” by using this poetical license,
or spiritual medium ; but in these cases the tales or poems were given out to
the world as inventions of the author to amuse the public, or to convey a
moral lesson, and were accepted by the public as such.
We find in these foregoing examples that apparitions do appear sometimes
to strangers, and sometimes in the dresses in which they had not been seen
when alive; but these dresses have been afterwards discovered or accounted
for, and it has also been discovered who these strange spirits repre
sented. But it will be seen by the cases cited, and others which are to follow,
that this exact appearance, this Vraisemblance is essential, nay, Indispensable,
in order that there shall be “ no mistake for should mistakes be made, it
would, in some cases, be perhaps a very serious matter. I fully assent to all
this, and to show that I wish to do battle in all fairness, that it shall be a
“fair fight and no favour,” I am willing even to illustrate my opponents’
statements in these particulars, and to do this I here introduce don’t start,
reader ! not a ghost, but a figure of Napoleon the Birst, but without a head ;
not that I mean to imply thereby that this military hero had no head. No,
no ! quite the contrary, but I have omitted this head and the head of the
ghost of Hamlet’s father for an especial purpose, as will be explained further
on, when I shall have occasion to touch upon these heads again. But if this
cut is held at a distance, by any one at all familiar with the portraits or
statues of “ Napoleon le Grand” in this costume, they will at once recognize
who the figure is intended to represent.
Let us now turn to “ The Night-side of Nature,” and through the dismal
gloom which surrounds these apparitions, call up some more spirits, who,
according to Mrs. Crowe, and, indeed, on the authority of all other
�A DISCOVERY CONCERNING GHOSTS.
7
authors who support the ghost doctrine, 44 generally come in their habits as
they livedand it appears that there is no difference in this respect between
the beggar and the king, for they come
44 Some-in rags, and some in jags, and some in silken gowns.”
At page 289 of this exceedingly cleverly written but most ghastly
collection of ghost stories, it is related that the ghost of a beggar-man
appeared at the same time in two different apartments (all in his dirty
rags, of course), to a young man and a young woman who had allowed
this beggar to sleep in their master’s barn (unbeknown to their master),
where he died in the night, but could not rest after his death until some
money of his was found by these young people, who had both suffered
in their health in consequence of these visits of the beggar’s ghost. They
at length consulted and explained all this to a priest, who advised them
to distribute the money they had found under the straw (where the beggar
had slept and died) between three churches, which advice was accordingly
acted upon, and this settled the business, for the dirty ragged ghost never
troubled them again.
In contrast to this we have the story of the ghost of a lady of title, who
had been in her lifetime Princess Anna of Saxony. She came decked out
in 44 silks and satins,” gold lace, embroidery, and jewels, all so grand, and
appeared to one of the descendants of her family, Duke Christian of Saxe
Eisenburg, requesting him to be so kind as to try and 44 make it up ” be
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A DISCOVERY CONCERNING GHOSTS.
tween her and her ghost hnsband, who, it seems, was a bad-tempered man,
had quarrelled with her, and had died without being reconciled.
Duke Christian consented to do this. She had walked into the duke’s
presence, although all the doors were shut, and one day after their first
interview she brought her husband to their relative in the same uncere
monious manner. Her ghost husband, who had been the Duke Casimer,
appeared dressed in his royal robes. They each told their story (these, you
will observe were talking ghosts as well as stalking ghosts). Duke Christian
most gallantly decided in favour of the lady, and the ghost duke very
properly acquiesced in the justice of the decision. Duke Christian then
took the “icy cold hand ” of the ghost-duke and placed it in the hand of the
ghost-wife, whose hand felt of a “ natural heat.” It appears to be the opinion
of the advocates of apparitions that naughty ghosts have cold hands. In this
case the husband was the offending party, and was very naughty, and there
fore his hands were very cold. It seems strange that his hands should
have been cold, for, being naughty, one would suppose he would come from
the same place that Hamlet’s father did; and from what he said we should
conclude that there was a roaring fire there, where the duke might have
warmed his cold hands. It further appears that these parties all “ prayed and
sung together!” after which the now happy ghosts disappeared sans ceremonie, without troubling the servants to open the doors, or allowing Duke
Christian to “ show them out.” One remarkable fact in connection with
this story is, that, upon referring to the portraits of these ghosts which hung
in the castle, was, that they had appeared in exactly the same dresses which
they had on, when these portraits were painted—one hundred years before
this time.
Duke Christian died two years after the ghosts’ visits, and by his own
orders was buried in “ quicklime,” to prevent, it is supposed, his ghost from
walking the earth ! He must indeed have been a poor ignorant creature,
although a duke, to suppose that “ quicklime,” or “ slow lime,” or any other
kind of lime, or anything else that would destroy the body, could make any
difference with respect to the appearance of the spirit.
The next case, then, is of the ghost of a soldier’s wife, who appeared to a
“ Corporal Q----- ” who was lying ill in bed, and also to a comrade who was
an invalid lying in the next bed. This was in the night, but the cor
poral could see that she was dressed in a “ flannel gown, edged with a black
ribbon,” exactly like the grave-clothes which he had helped to put on her
twelve months before. It appears, however, that he could see through her,
'flannel gown and all. This female ghost came to the bed-side of the sick man
to ask him to write to her husband, who was in Ireland, to communicate
something to him which was to be kept a “profound secret.”
This is certainly a strange story, but is it not still more strange that this
ghost did not go to her husband and tell him the important secret herself,
instead of trusting a stranger to do so ? It will be observed that there are
different classes of ghosts, as there are of living people—the princely, the
aristocratic, the genteel, and the common. The vulgar classes delight to
haunt in graveyards, dreary lanes, ruins, and all sorts of dirty dark holes
and corners, and in cellars. Yes, dark cellars seem to be a favourite abode
of these common ghosts? This fact raises the question whether the lower
�A DISCOVERY CONCERNING GHOSTS.
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class of spirits are obliged to keep to the Zower parts of the house—to the
u low® regions ’’—and are not allowed to go into the parlours or the drawing
rooms, and not allowed to mix with the higher order of ghosts! Can this
be a law or regulation amongst the ghosts ? If so, is it not most extraordi
nary that these spirits should not be allowed to choose their own place of
residence, and take to the most comfortable apartments, instead of grovelling
amongst the rats and mice, the slugs, the crickets, and the blackbeetles ?
’Tis strange, ’tis passing strange ; but so it appears to be. By the by, some few
of these poor spirits of the humble class of ghosts do sometimes, it appears,
mount np to the bed-rooms, in the hope, I suppose, of getting occasionally
now and then a “ comfortable lodging ” and a ££ good night s rest.
At page 810 of this same work we have an account of a haunted cellar in a
gentleman’s house, out of town, in which were heard “ loud knockings,” il a
voice crying,” “ heavy feet walking,” etc. The old butler, with his “ acolytes,”
descended to the cellar (wine cellar) armed with sword, blunderbuss, and
Other offensive weapons, but the ghosts put them all to flight, and they
“ turned tail ” in a fright. Yes, they all ran up-stairs again, followed by the
a Hound of feet ” and ££ a visible shadow !” This, of course, is a fact; and it so
happens that I know another fact about a haunted wine-cellar, which, how
ever, had quite a different result to the foregoing.
In a wine-cellar of a gentleman’s house, somewhere near Blackheath, it
was found that strange noises were sometimes heard in the evenings and in
the night time, in this “ wine vault,” similar to those described above, such
as 'knocking, groaning, footsteps, etc., so that the servants were afraid to go into
the Cellar, particularly at a late hour. The master at length determined to
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“lay” this ghost, if possible, and one evening when these noises had been
heard, arming himself with a sword, and the servants with a fowling-piece
and a poker, they cantionsly descended into the cellar (with lighted candles,
of course). Nothing was to be seen there, and all was quiet except a strange,
smothered kind of sound, like the hard breathing of an animal, something
like snoring, that seemed to proceed out of the earth in one of the dark
corners of the vault, when,, lo and behold! in turning their lights in the
direction from which the sounds came, and advancing carefully, they dis
covered—what do you think ? Don’t be alarmed. Why, the ghost lying on
the ground, dead—drunk ! Yes, the ghost had laid himself, not with “ Bell,
Book, and Candle,” but by swallowing the spirit of alcohol, the spirit of
wine, beer, and brandy. Most disgraceful; in fact, this ghost had taken a
“ drop too much.”
Upon looking a little closer, they found that this ghost was one Tom
Brown, an under-gardener; and it was discovered that he had tunnelled a
hole from tjie “ tool-house” through the wall into the cellar. This spirit was
so over-charged with spirit, that he was unable to walk, so was doomed to be
carried in a cart to the “ cage ” and all the people living round about came
next morning to look at the ghost that had been haunting the squire’s wine
cellar. Oh! what a fortune it would be to any one who copld catch a ghost
—a real, right down, “ ’arnest” ghost, and put him in a cage tg show him
round the country ! I wish I had ope.* If yppuld cost little pr nothing to
keep such a thing ; only the lodging, as he <puld pequjrp neither food, pre,
clothing, nor washing!
At page 118, we find an account of an apparition, appearing to a gentleman,
who was staying at a friend’s house at Sarratt, jn Hertfordshire^ and was
awoke in the middle of the night by a pressure qn his feet, and, lopkigg PP,
saw, by the light thpt was burning in the fire-place, a “ well-dressed gentle
man,” in a “
coaf an^ bright gilt buttons,” leaning 011 fhe foot of tho hed,
witfyut a head1 It appears that this was reported tp he tpp ghost of a poor
geutleqian pf that neighbourhood who had been murdered, ppd whose head
had peen opt off! and could therefore only bp ppppgni^gd liy his “ blue coat
and bright gilt buttons.”
Under any real circumstance this would indeed be too horrible and too
serious a subject to turn into ridicule • but in this case, such an evident false
hood, it is surely allowable to “ lay” such a ghost as this, such a senseless ghost,
in any possible way ; in fact, to laugh such a ghost out of countenance—
I, therefore, with my rod of double H. blacklead,
Hold up to scorn this well-dressed ghost without a head.
Any one looking at this figure will clearly see that he does not belong to
this world, and has therefore no business here; for, although there may be
some persons in this world who, perhaps, go about with a very small allowance
of brain, yet every body here must have some sort of a head upon his shoulders,
* Some few years back, a ghost was said to have been seen frequently in the neighbour
hood of some Roman Catholic institution near Leicester, and upon one occasion had nearly
frightened a young woman to death. I was staying with a friend at Leicester at the time,
and offered £100 reward to any one who would show me the ghost, as I wanted very much
to make a sketch of it, but I could not get a sight of it for love nor money.
�A DISCOVERY CONCERNING GHOSTS.
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no matter how handsome, or queer-looking it may be. Now I am sorry to
be rude to any “ well-dressed gentleman,” or, indeed, to any body or soul ; but
as it appears (from the story) that this ghost had really no real business upon
earth, what “on earth” does he come here for? Why, for no other object,
it appears, but to “ show himself offso, in my opinion, the sooner he “ walks
off” the better. By the by, perhaps we ought not to be too severe upon the
poor fellow, for, upon consideration, he is placed in rather an awkward
position, as his head may be on the look out for the body, and know where it
is, but having no legs it cannot get to the body. On the other hand, although
the body has legs and could walk to the head, yet, having no eyes, cannot see
where the head is; so some excuse may be made upon this head, particularly
if he is not a talking ghost.
There is a story, somewhere in the Roman Catholic chronicles, of a
martyr, who, after being beheaded, picked up his head, and walked away
with it under his arm; but our ghost here, in the “ blue coat and bright gilt
buttons,” is not allowed to do this sort of thing, and the question naturally
arises, what has become of, or where is the spirit of this unfortunate
gentleman’s head ? Can the believers in ghosts tell us that ? and surely we
shall all feel obliged if they can inform us whether the apparitions of all
decapitated persons appear without their heads ; and, if not, what becomes of
their heads ? and, further, whether the mutilation of the body can in any way
affect the spirit—the soul 7
I shall not in this case “ pause for a reply,” because I know I shall have
a very long time to wait for an answer; but in proceeding to bring to the light
of day some more facts about ghosts from the dark side of nature, I feel as if
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A DISCOVERY CONCERNING GHOSTS.
some inquisitive spirit was irresistibly compelling me to put questions as I
go on writing; and therefore, under these circumstances, present my com
pliments to those persons who know about ghosts, and the various authors
who support this belief, and I shall feel greatly obliged if they will answer
my queries at their earliest convenience.—N.B. Shall be glad to hear the
replies from the ghosts themselves, provided they pay the postage.
In the first place, then, from the authority quoted above, it appears that a
widow lady had, strange to say, married a second time! and that the ghost
of her first husband paid her “constant visits.” Query, What did the ghost
come for, and was the second husband at all jealous of his coming? With
respect to a celebrated actor, who had married a second wife, we find that the
apparition of his first wife appeared to him, and which appearance unfortunately
threw him into a fit, and at the same moment this ghost appeared to the
second wife, although they were several hundred miles apart at the time. I
can understand why the ghost of his first wife came to visit him who once
was hers, that is, because he was such a great actor, and such a good fellow ;
but why did it appear to the second wife ? and how is it that the same spirit
can appear in several places at the same instant ? I should like to know that.
At page 274 we find a DOG frightened at the ghost of a soldier ! But this is not
the only “unlucky dog” that has been terrified by apparitions; several
instances are given in different works. Query, How do the “poor dogs”
know a ghost is a ghost when they see one, particularly as they appear in the
same dresses which they had on when “in the flesh;” and even, suppose they
know that they are in the presence of a ghost, what makes them “ turn tail ?”
Yes, why should a tZoy, especially if he is a spirited dog, do so ? for almost in
the same page we are told of a horse who recognized his old master, who
appeared in the same dress he wore when alive, a “ sky-blue coat.” This
horse did not “turn tail.” No! but followed the phantom of his dear old
master, who was walking about the farm, and no doubt wanted to give him
a ride. Query, If a horse is not frightened at a ghost, why should dogs be
frightened at the sight of them ? And also, if a goose would be frightened if
it saw a ghost ? Asses, we know, are sometimes frightened at nothing, and
as a ghost is “next to nothing,” they must of course be frightened at ghosts.
At page 459 we are told of the ghost of a “ horse and cart,” and also of the
“ ghosts of sheep.” If this be so, doubtless there must likewise be the
ghosts of dogs (what “ droll dogs ” they must be), also of puppies, and asses.
What an interesting subject of inquiry is this for the zoologist!
We find, as we dive into the dark mysteries of apparitions, that there
are ghosts of all sorts and sizes, and that there are even lame ghosts, as is
proved by the following true tale of the apparition of an officer in India,
as related by several of his brother officers, whose words dare not be
doubted:—One Major R----- , who was presumed to be of about fifty or
sixty years of age, was with some young officers, proceeding up a river
in a barge ; and as they came to a considerable bend in the river, the
major and the other officers went ashore, in order to cross the neck of
land, taking their fowling-pieces and powder and shot with them, in the
hopes of meeting some game ; and they also took something to refresh
themselves on the road. At one part of their journey they took their
“ tiffing,” and after this they had to jump across a ditch, which the young
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13
officers cleared, but the major “ jumped short.” He told his companions to
march on, and he would follow after he had dried and put himself a little
in marching order. They saw him lay down his fowling-piece and his hat,
and they moved on. After marching some time, they came in sight of the
barge, and were wondering why the major did not follow, when, on a sudden,
they were surprised to see him (the major) at some distance from them
making towards the barge, “ without his hat or gun,” limping hastily along
in his top boots, and he did not appear to observe them. When they arrived
at the barge, he was not there. They returned to the spot where they had
left him, and found his hat and his fowling-piece, and with the assistance of
Some natives they discovered the body of the major in a pit dug for trapping
wild animals!
I defer asking any questions upon the foregoing for the present, for a
reason, but as the next case related is that of the ghost of a young man who
had been drowned, and the poor old mother saw her son “ dripping with
water,” we may surely inquire here if there is or can be such a wonderful
sight as an apparition of “dripping water!” or ghosts of tears! for we
find at page 387 an account of a weeping ghost, who let his tears fall on the
face of a female, who “ often felt the tears on her cheek, icy cold, but burn
afterwards, and leave a blue mark !” And on the same authority we find that
there is the ghost of dirt, for the ghost of the old beggar-man was “ dirty.”
And then if the ghost of a chimney-sweep were to
appear—and why not the spirit of a sweep as well as
anybody else ? But if he came, he must also appear
“ in his habits as he lived.” In that case there must
be the ghost of soot! Thus there are not only the
apparitions cfifluids, and dust and dirt, but also of hard
substances, as in the case of a ghost who was seen in a
garden with the ghost of a “ spade in his hand!”
And not only have we, then, ghosts of all these
matters, but also a ghost of the “ rustling of silk,”
“ creaking of shoes,” and “ sounds of footsteps,” many
instances of which will be found in “Footfalls on
the Boundary of another World,” by Robert Dale
Owen, a work most elaborately compiled, and sin
cerely do I wish that such talent and such research
had been engaged and directed to illustrate and assist
with light, instead of darkness, the present progressive
state of society, instead of striving and endeavouring,
as .it does, to drive us back into the “ outer darkness”
of the ignorance of the “ dark ages,” to endeavour to support and to bring
back the mind of man to a belief in the visits of ghosts, of necromancy,
bewitching, and all the “ black arts ” all of which it was hoped, in the
progress of time, would ultimately be swept away from the face of the earth,
by pure and sound Christian religion, education and science, all of which go
clearly to prove that “ black arts” are matters contrary to the natural laws
of the creation and the laws of God.
In one of the tales brought forward by this author is an account of the
haunting of an old manor-house near Leigh, in Kent, called Ramhurst, where
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A DISCOVERY CONCERNING GHOSTS.
there was heard “knockings and sounds of footsteps,” more especially voices
which could not be accounted for, usually in an unoccupied room; “ some
times as if talking in a loud tone, sometimes as if reading aloud, occasionally
screaming.” The servants never saw anything, but the cook told her
mistress that on one occasion, in broad daylight, hearing the rustling of a
silk dress behind her, and which seemed to touch her, she turned suddenly
round, supposing it to be her mistress, but to her great surprise and terror
could not see anybody.
Mr. Owen is so thoroughly master of this spirit subject that he must be
able to tell us all about this “ rustling” of the “silk dresses” of ghosts, and
surely every one will be curious to learn the secret of such a curious fact.
The lady of the house, a Mrs. R----- , drove over one day to the railway
station at Tunbridge to fetch a young lady friend who was coming to stay
with her for some weeks. This was a Miss S----- , who “had been in the
habit of seeing apparitions from early childhood,” and when, upon their
return, they drove up to the entrance of the manor-house, Miss S----perceived on the threshold the appearance of two figures, apparently an
elderly couple, habited to the costume of the time of Queen Anne. They appeared
as if standing on the ground. Miss S----- saw the same apparition several
times after this, and held conversations with them, and they told her that
they were husband and wife, and that them name was “ Children
and she
informed the lady of the house, Mrs. R----- , of what she had seen and heard;
and as Mbs. R----- was dressing hurriedly one day for dinner, “ and not dream
ing of anything spiritual, as she hastily turned to leave her bed-chamber, there,
in the doorway, stood the same female figure Miss S----- had described!
identiöal in appearance and costume—even to the old ‘ point-lace ’ on her
1 brocaded silk dress ’—while beside her, on the left, but less distinctly
visible, Was the figure of the old squire, her husband; they uttered no sound,
but above the figure of the lady, as if written in phosphoric light in the
dusk atmosphere that surrounded her, were the words, ‘ Dame Children,’
together with some other words intimating that having never aspired beyond
the joys aild sorrows of this world, she had remained ‘ earth bound.’’ These
last, however, Mrs. R----- scarcely paused to decipher, as her brother (who
was vöry hungry) called out to know if they were ‘going to have any
dinner fnht day F ’ ” There was no time for hesitation; “ she closed her eyes,
rushed through the apparition and into the dining-room, throwing up her
hands, fifid öxclaiming to Miss S----- , ‘ Oh, my dear, I’ve walked through
Mrs. Children!’” Only think of that, “gentle reader!” Only think of
Mrs. R----- walking right through 11 Dame Children ”—“ old point-lace,
brocaded silk dress,” and all—and as old “Squire Children” was standing
by the side of his “ dame,” Mrs. R----- must either have upset the old
ghost or have walked through him also.
Although this story looks very much like as if it were intended as an
additional chapter to “ Joe Miller’s Jest-book,” the reader will please to
observe that Mr. Owen does not relate this as a joke, but, on the contrary,
expects that it will be received as a solemn serious fact; there was a cause for
the haunting of this old manor-house, with the talking, screaming, and rustling
of silk, and the appearance of the old-fashioned ghosts; there was a secret
which these ghosts wished to impart to the persons in the house at that
�A DISCOVERY CONCERNING GHOSTS.
15
time, and if the gentleman reader will brace up his nerves, and the lady
reader will get her “ smelling-bottle ” ready, I’ll let them into the secret.
Now, pray, dear madam, don’t be terrified! Squire Children had formerly
been proprietor of the mansion, and he and his “ dame ” had taken great
delight and interest in the house—when alive—and they were very sorry to
find that the property had gone out of the family, and he and his dame had
come on purpose to let Mrs. R----- and her friend know all this ! There
now, there’s a secret for you—what do you think of that ?
In the year 1854, a baron (of the rather funny name of Mdenstubbe)
was residing alone in apartments in the Rue St. Lazare, Paris, and one night
there appeared to him in his bed-room the ghost of a stout old gentleman.
It seems that he saw a column of “light grayish vapour,” or sort of “bluish
light,” out of which there gradually grew into sight, within it, the figure of
a “tall, portly old man, with a fresh colour, blue eyes,* snow white hair,
thin white whiskers, but without beard or moustache, and dressed with care.
He seemed to wear a white cravat and long white waistcoat, high stiff shirt
collar, and long black frock coat thrown back from his chest as is wont of
corpulent people like him in hot weather. He appeared to lean on a heavy
white 'cane.” After the baron had seen this portly ghost, he went to bed
and to sleep, and in a dream the same figure appeared to him again, and he
thought he heard it say, “ Hitherto you have not believed in the reality of
apparitions, considering them only as the recallings of memory ; now, since
you have seen a stranger, you cannot consider it the reproduction of former
ideas.”
Every one will acknowledge that this was exceedingly kind on the part
of the ghost, as he had no doubt to come a long way for the express purpose
of setting the baron’s mind right upon this point; and had also come from
a very warm place, as his frock coat “ was thrown from his chest, as is wont
with corpulent people in hot weather.”
This polite, good-natured, “blue’’-eyed apparition, who was “dressed
with care,” had been the proprietor of the maison—a Monsieur Caron—
who had dropped down in an apoplectic fit; and, oh, horror of horrors, had
actually “ died in the very bed now occupied by the baron !’.....
When the daughter heard of the ghost of her papa, appearing thus upon
one or two occasions, “ she caused masses to be said for the soul of her father,
and it is “ alleged that the apparition has not been seen in any of the apart
ments since or, to use a vulgarism, we might say here, that this ghost had
“ cut his stick.”
Mr. Robert Dale Owen had this narrative from the baron himself in.
Paris, on the 11th of May, 1859, and he is of opinion that this ‘ story
derives much of its value from the calm and dispassionate manner in which
the witness appears to have observed the succession of phenomena, and the
exact details which, in consequence, he has been enabled to furnish. It is
remarkable also, as well for the electrical influences which preceded the
appearance, as on account of the correspondence between the apparition to
the baron in his waking state, and that subsequently seen in his dream ; the
first cognizable by one sense only—that of sight—the second appealing
* The baron must have had good eyes to have seen the precise colour’ of the ghost’s eyes
under such circumstances.
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A DISCOVERY CONCERNING GHOSTS.
(though in vision of the sight only) to the hearing also. The coincidences
as to personal peculiarities and details of dress are too numerous and minutely
exact to be fortuitous, let us adopt what theory we may.”
As this baron is no doubt a most respectable and well-conducted gentle
man, in every respect, I will not say—
That Monsieur the Baron de Guldenstubbc
Had taken too much out of a bottle or tub,
but this I will say, that his account seems to be nothing more or less than a
very exact description of some “ dissolving view ” trick played off upon the
baron and others by some clever French neighbour; and as to his dream, it
is surely hardly worth while to notice such nonsense, as dreams are now well
understood to be only the imperfect operations of the organs of thought, in a
semi-dormant state, “half asleep and half awake,” and are the effect some
times of agreeable sensations or painful emotions, during the waking hours,
and may be produced to any disagreeable amount by eating a very hearty
supper of underdone “ pork pies,” and going to sleep on the back instead of
reclining on the side. We cannot dream of anything of which we have not
seen or had something of a similar kind before, nor can we form either
awake or in a dream any form whatever—animate or inanimate, which does
not partake or form some part of nature’s general objects; and in fact we
cannot invent an animal form without combining the parts of existing animals
either of man or beast. I trust that this fact will be a sufficient answer
for Monsieur Caron. And then, as to the “laying” of this ghost, it does
seem to me to be extraordinary, that any person possessed of common under
standing in these days, let their religion be what it may, should believe that
the Almighty GtOd would not let a departed spirit rest, until “ masses” had
been said for the soul of such person ; until some money had been paid to a
priest to mumble over a few set forms of prayer. Paid for prayers—prayers
at a certain market price! Then, as to the “white cravat,” “white
waistcoat,” “high stiff shirt collar,” and “ black frock coat,” and more par
ticularly the “heavy white cane,” is it to be understood that these said
“masses ” put all these materials to rest, as well as the soul or spirit of the
body ? If not, where did they go to ? Had they to return to purgatory by
themselves—had the heavy white walking-stick to walk off without its
owner ?
In the frame of mind in which this story is written, it is not at all sur
prising that the author should have taken so much trouble to put these facts
together, and that he should evidently be altogether so satisfied with the
couclusion which he arrives at. But ghost stories, like many other matters, •
where a foundation is once laid and established in falsehood or nonsense,
such builders may go on, adding any amount of the same materials, upon this
false basis. They may go on, working in the dark—piling up one story upon
another, until the structure assumes the appearance in the dusk of a wellestablished and substantial edifice, and looking as if it would stand firm for
ever ; but undermine this apparently stronghold, with that which is always
considered as a great bore, when used in working under the foundations of
long-established error or prejudice, namely, Truth, guided by true Religion,
and when thus armed and prepared, “ spring the mine ” with a good “ blow
�A DISCOVERY CONCERNING GHOSTS.
17
up ” of common sense, to lei in the light of Heaven and Christian civilized
intelligence, and the whole mass of ignorance and superstition is blown and
scattered to the winds, “like the baseless fabric of a vision.”
It may be said that the truth of this ghost story rests mainly on a stick—
leans upon a “ heavy white cane.” Take away the cane and down comes
the ghost! “white waistcoat,” “ high stiff shirt collar,” “ black coat,” “ blue
eyes,” and all!
The author of “ Footfalls on the Boundary of another World ” is evidently
a religious man, and had he but thought as deeply upon these matters as I
have done, I am sure he would never have been guilty of the impiety of
bringing forward such questions as to the spirituality of walking-sticks.
But I am well pleased that this “ heavy white cane ” has been introduced
here, because it affords me a handle to cane or to knock down and drive
away entirely these hideous and unnatural myths; and also because it enables
me to stick to the text, and to introduce here to the public an old friend, as
another illustration bearing upon the stick question. This is the apparition
of one Tom Straitshank, drawn, as you will see, by your humble servant.
This was a jolly bold daring spirit, and was seen when on board the
Victory at the battle of Trafalgar to emerge, like Monsieur Caron, out of some
light bluish vapour, very much like the smoke of gunpowder; and in that
battle it appears, like one of the heroes in “ Chevy Chase,” his “ legs were
smitten off!” but, unlike that warrior, he found that Tie could not fight
“upon his stumps,” so he had a pair of wooden legs made, and having
bought two stout walking-sticks, was thus enabled to hobble about on his
“timber toes.” He almost always appeared in various different parts of
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A DISCOVERY CONCERNING GHOSTS.
“ Greenwich. Hospital,” and very often surrounded by, and sometimes
emerging from, a vapour very like the smoke of tobacco. I feel here that I
ought to have given Tom his pipe, but the drawing of this tar was done
many years since, and until I read Mrs. Crowe’s book lately, I was not
aware that ghosts smoked their pipes, but it actually appears that they do
smoke, for at page 210 of “ The Hight-side of Mature,” a ghost is introduced
with a “short pipe,” and it was found out that the reason of his “walking
by night ” was, that he owed “ a small debt for tobacco !”
And when this little bacca-bill was paid,
This ghost, with his little bacca-pipe, was “laid;”
and we may suppose the spirit laid down his pipe. This ghost of a tobaccopipe raises the question of what these spiritual pipes are made—of what clay,
or if the Meer Schum are only mere shams; what sort of tobacco-leaves
their cigars are made of, and if there are any spiritual “cabbage-leaves”
mixed up with them.
Yes, we’d just like to know, what weed ’tis they burns,
Whether “ Shortcut,” “ Shag,” “Bird’s eye,” or “Returns.”
As the gents here, light their pipes &nd cigars with a kind of Lucifer
match, we may be pretty sure that they will continue to do so elsewhere;
but one would like to know also if ghosts chaw tobacco, if they take a quid
of “pig-tail,” and if the smokers ilSe spittoons—faugh !—and further, as
ghosts do smoke, if they take a pikch bf snuff, if there is such a thing as
spiritual snuff, if there be such things OS th© spirit of “Irish blaguard ”
and “ Scotch rappee ?”
Some of these “ sensationb wlodrama'S, or rather farces, might vie in
the number of nights in which tile performances took place, with some of
the “ sensation ” or popular thbUtrical piece© Of the present day. Here is
one entitled, “ The Drummed bf Te ¿Worth” (What a capital heading for a
“ play bill!”), in which the ghb&t or evil spirit of a drummer, or the ghost
of a drum (for it does not appear clearly which of the two it was), performed
the principal part in thi§ drama, with slight intervals, for “ two entire
years.”
Oh I this drutiimer, oh! this drummer,
I’ll tbll you what he used to do,
He used to heat upon his drum,
The “ Old Gentleman’s tattoo.”
The “ plot ” runs thus:—In March, 1661, Mr. Mompesson, a magistrate,
caused a vagrant drummer to be arrested, who had been annoying the
country by noisy demands for charity, and had ordered his drum, “ oh that
drum!” to be taken from him, and left in the bailiff’s hands. About the
middle of April following (that is in 1661), when Mr. Mompesson was pre
paring for a journey to London, the bailiff sent the drum to his house.
Upon his return home he was informed that noises had been heard, and then
he heard the noises himself, which were a “ thumping and drumming,” accom
panied by “ a strange noise and hollow sound.” The sign of it when it
came, was like a hurling in the air, over the house, and at its going off, the
beating of a drum, like that at the “ breaking up of a guard.”
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19
“ After a month’s disturbance outside the house (‘ which was most of it
of board’) it came into the room where the drum lay.” “ For an hour together
it would beat ‘Roundheads and cockolds,’ the ‘tattoo,’ and several other
points of war, as well as any drummer.” Upon one occasion, “ when many
were present, a gentleman said, ‘ Satan, if the drummer set thee to work, give
three knocks, ’ which it did very distinctly and no more. ” And for further trial,
he bid it for confirmation, if it were the drummer, to give five knocks and no
more that night, which it did, and left the house quiet all the night after.”
All this seems very strange, about this drummer and his drum,
But for myself, I really think this drumming ghost was “ all a hum.”
But strange as it certainly was, is it not still more strange, that educated
gentlemen, and even clergymen, as in this case also, should believe that the
Almighty would suffer an evil spirit to disturb and affright a whole innocent
family, because the head of that family had, in his capacity as magistrate,
thought it his duty to take away a drum, from no doubt a drunken drummer,
who by his noisy conduct had become a nuisance and an annoyance to the
neighbourhood ?
The next case of supposed spiritual antics was not the drumming of a
drum, but a tune upon a warming-pan, the “ clatter ” of “ a warming-pan,”
and a vast variety of other earthly sounds, which it was proved to have been
heard at the Rev. Samuel Wesley’s, who was the father of the celebrated
John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, at a place called Epworth, in
Lincolnshire. These sounds consisted of “ knockings,” and “ groanings,” of
“footsteps,” and “rustling of silk trailing along” (the “rustling of silk”
seems to be a favourite air with the ghosts), “ clattering ” of the “ iron case
ment,” and “clattering” of the “warming-pan,” and then as if a “vessel full
of silver was poured upon Mrs. Wesley’s breast and ran jingling down to
her feetand all sorts of frightful noises, not only enough to “ frighten
anybody,” but which frightened even a big dog !—a large mastiff, who used
at first, when he heard the noises, “ to bark and leap and snap on one side
and the other, and that frequently before any person in the room heard the
noises at all; but after two or three days, he used to tremble and creep
away before the noise began. And by this, the family knew it was at hand ■
nor did the observation ever fail.” Poor bow woo ! what cruel ghosts to be
sure, to go and frighten a poor dog in this way.
Mrs. Wesley at one time thought it was “rats, and sent for a horn to
blow them away;” but blowing the horn did not blow the ghosts away.
No ; for at first it only came at night, but after the horn was blown it came
in the daytime as well.
There were many opinions offered as to the cause of these disturbances,
by different persons at different times. Dr. Coleridge “ considered it to be a
contagious nervous disease, the acme or intensest form of which is cata
lepsy.” Mr. Owen here asks if the mastiff was cataleptic also ? It is rather
curious that a cat is mentioned in this narrative. Now supposing the dog
could not have been cataleptic, the cat might perhaps have been so.
Some of the Wesley family believed it to be supernatural hauntings, and
give the following reason for it:—It appears that at morning and evening
family prayers, “ when the Rev. Samuel "Wesley, the father, commenced the
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A DISCOVERY CONCERNING GHOSTS.
prayer for the king, a knocking began all round the room, and a thundering
knock attended the Amen.” Mr. Wesley observed that his wife did not say
amen to the prayer for the king. She said she could not, for she did not
believe that the Prince of Orange was king. Mr. Wesley vowed he could
not live with her until she did. He took his horse and rode away, and she
heard nothing of him for a twelvemonth. He then came back and lived
with her, as before, and although he did so, they add, that they fear this
vow was not forgotten before God.
If any religious persons were asked whether they thought that any law,
natural or divine, could be suspended or set aside without the permission or
sanction of the Creator, their answer would be, nay, must be, certainly not.
Yes, this would be their answer. Then is it not extraordinary that the
members of this pious clergyman’s family, and from whence sprang the
founder of such a large and respectable religious sect, should have such a
mean idea of the Supreme Being, as to suppose that He would allow the
regular laws of the universe to be suspended or set aside, and whole families
(including unoffending innocent children) to be disturbed, terrified, and some
times seriously injured, for such contemptible, ridiculous, and senseless reasons,
or purposes, such as those assigned in the various cases already alluded to.
It is indeed to me surprising that any one possessing an atom of sound Chris
tian religion, can suppose and maintain for one moment that these silly, sup
posed supernatural sounds and appearances can be, as they say, “ of God.”
We may defy the supporters of this apparition doctrine to bring forward
one circumstance in connection with these ghosts, which corresponds in any
way with the real character of the Creator, where any real benefit has been
known to result from such sounds and such appearances—none, none, none;
whereas we know that there has been a large amount of human suffering,
illness, folly, and mischief, and in former times, we know, to a large and
serious extent, but even now, in this “ age of intellect,” when we come
to investigate the causes of some of the most painful diseases amongst
children and young persons, particularly young females, we find, on the
authority of the first medical men, that they are occasioned by being
frightened by mischievous, thoughtless, or cruel persons, mainly in conse
quence of being taught in their childhood to loelieve in ghosts. I know a young
lady who, when a child, was placed in a dark closet by her nurse, and so
terrified in this way that the poor little girl lost her speech, and has been
dumb ever since. Dr. Elliotson, in one of his reports of the Mesmeric
Hospital, cites several most distressing and painful cases of “ chorea,” or
St. Vitus’s dance, and dreadful fits, brought on through fright; and
Dr. Wood, physician to St. Luke’s Hospital (for lunatics), assures me that
many cases of insanity are produced by terror from these causes ; but even
supposing that there are not very many cases of positive insanity brought
on in this way, still the unnatural excitement thus acting on the brain, or
the mind dwelling upon such matters, must have an unhealthy tendency.
If all rational and religious persons will give this subject the attention
which it demands, they will, I feel confident, see, that this belief in ghosts
should not only be discountenanced, but put an end to altogether, if
possible, as such notions not only have an injurious effect upon the health
and comfort of many persons, particularly those of tender age, but it
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21
also debases the proper ideas which man ought to have of the Creator ;
and not only so, but it also interferes with and trenches upon that mys
terious and sacred question, the immortality of the soul; that it disturbs
that belief wliich, with a firm trust and reliance upon the goodness and
mercy of God, is the only consolation the afflicted mind can have, when
mourning for the loss of those they have loved dearer than themselves.
These hauntings of drumming and knocking, and thumping and bumping,
with thundering noises, almost shaking the houses down, accompanied
by the delicate rustlings of silk and trailing of gowns, etc., were at the time
suspected of being tricks; and by the perusal of the following cases the
reader will see that such tricks can and have been played, and such im
posture carried on so successfully as to deceive clergymen and others; and
but for the severe natural tests brought to bear upon the supposed super
natural actors, would no doubt have been quoted by Mr. Owen and others
as well-attested, well-established, veritable spiritual performances.
At the corner of a street which runs from Snow Hill into Smithfield,
stands whatZ consider a public nuisance, commonly called a “ public-house,”
the sign of “ The Cock,” and that which is now a street was formerly a
rustic lane, and took its name from the sign of that house, and therefore
called to this day “ Cock Lane,” which locality, in about the years 1754 to
1756, became one of the most celebrated places in London, in consequence,
as it was believed, of one of the houses therein being taken possession of by
a female ghost, who was designated “the Cock Lane ghost.”
A man of the name of Parsons kept the house, and in which lodged a
gentleman and his wife of the name of Kempe. This lady died at this
house, and after her death it was given out by Parsons that his daughter,
then eleven years of age (who used to sleep with Mrs. Kempe when her
husband was out of town), was “ possessed” with the spirit of the deceased
lady, and that the spirit had informed the little girl that she had been
murdered by her husband—that she had been “poisoned !” A vast number
of respectable ladies and gentlemen, including clergymen, were “ taken in”—•
but happily for themselves not “ done for”—by this ghost; audit is said that
even the celebrated Dr. Samuel Johnson was cowmced of the spirituality of
the “ knocks” which the ghost gave in answer to questions, for it kept up
conversations in precisely the same manner—that is, by “ knocks” or “ raps”
—as the “ spirit-rappers” do at the present day. The “ scratchings” and
“knocks” were only heard when Parson’s little daughter was in bed.
After this sort of thing had gone on for a considerable time, and a post
mortem examination of the body of the supposed murdered lady, which had
been deposited in the vaults of St. John’s, Clerkenwell Close, Mr. Kempe
found it necessary to take steps to defend his character. The child was
removed to the house of a highly-respectable lady, where “ not a sound was
heard,” no “scratchings” or “knocks,” for several nights; but the girl
Parsons, who was now a year or two older, upon going to bed one night
informed the watchers that the ghost would pay a visit the following
morning; but the servants of the house informed the watchers that the
young lady had taken a bit of wood, six inches long by four inches broad,
into bed with her, which she had concealed in her stays. This bit of
wood was used to “ stand the kettle on.” The imposture was discovered,
�22
A DISCOVERY CONCERNING GHOSTS.
and the poor girl confessed to the wicked trickery which her parents had
tanght her to practise !
Mr. Kempe indicted Parsons and others for conspiracy against his life
and character, the case was tried before Lord Mansfield at Guildhall, July
10th, 1756, and all the parties convicted. The Rev. Mr. More and a printer,
with others, were heavily fined. Parsons was set in the pillory three times
in one month and imprisoned for two years, his wife for one year, and Mary
Eraser, the “Medium,” for six months in Bridewell, and kept to hard
labour. It came out in the course of investigation that Master Parsons had
borrowed some money of Mr. Kempe, and it was rather suspected that he
did not want to pay it back again.
Another celebrated spiritual farce was enacted in 1810, entitled “ The Sampford Ghost.” This is a village near Tiverton, in Devonshire, and the following
striking performances were “ attested by affidavit of the Rev. C. Cotton,” who,
by the by, was of opinion that “ a belief in ghosts is favourable to virtue.”
Imprimis, “ stamping on the boards answered by similar sounds under
neath the flooring, and these sounds followed the persons through the upper
apartments and answered the stamping of the feet. The servant women
were beaten in bed ‘ with a fist,’ a candlestick thrown at the master’s head but
did not hit him, heard footsteps, no one could be seen walking round, candles
were alight but could see no one, but steps were heard ‘ like a man’s foot in
a slipper,’ with rapping at the doors, etc. etc. After this the servants were
slapped, pushed, and buffeted. The bed was more than once stuck full of pins,
loud repeated knockings were heard in all the upper rooms, the house shook,
the windows rattled in their casements, and all the horrors of the most horrible
of romances were accumulated in this devoted habitation.” Amongst other
things it was declared by a man, of the rather suspicious name of “ Dodge,”
that the prentice boy had seen “ an old woman descend through the coiling.”
The house was tenanted by a man of the name of Chave, a huckster.
The landlord was a Mr. Tully, who determined to investigate this matter
himself, and went to sleep, or rather to pass the night, at the house for this
purpose. The account says that “ he took with him a reasonable degree
of scepticism, a considerable share of common senseand I believe a
good thick stick, which is, in my opinion, a much more powerful instru
ment in laying these kinds of ghosts than the old-fashioned remedy of
“ bell, book, and candle.”
When Mr. Tully went to the house he saw “ Dodge” speaking to Mrs,
Chave in the shop, and also saw him leave the house; but when he went up
stairs by himself who should he see but this same “ Dodge,” who had got up
stairs by a private entrance, but who could not dodge out of Mr. Tully’s
way. So Mr. Tully pounced upon him and locked him in the room, where
he also found a mopstick “ battered at the end into splinters and covered
with whitewash,” and this was the ghost that answered the stamping on the
floors. Mr. Tully went to bed, and as no ghosts thumped he went to sleep
and had a good night’s rest; and upon examining the house the next day,
found the ceilings below in “ a state of mutilation,” from the ghostly thumps
it had received.
The cause of the house being haunted was a conspiracy on the part of
Chave and his friends to get the house at a very low rent, as he would
�A DISCOVERY CONCERNING GHOSTS.
23
not mind living on the premises, but other persons would not, of course, be
likely to take a “ haunted house.”
A drunken mob one day met and assaulted Chave after this trick was
exposed, and he took refuge in his “ haunted house,” from whence he fired a
pistol and shot one man dead. Another man was also killed at the same
time, thus two lives were sacrificed to this “ Sampford ghost.
The Rev.
C. Cotton died shortly after this ghost was discovered to be a flam, or sham
ghost; it was supposed of chagrin and vexation at being made a butt of by
the vulgar for his simplicity and credulity.
Another sensation farce was “ The Stockwell Grhost, which performed
its tricks very cleverly and successfully at a farm-house in that place in the
year 1772. It broke nearly every bit of glass, china, and crockery in the
house, and no discovery was made at the time of the how, the why, or the
wherefore. But in “ The Every Day Book,” edited and published by W.
Hone, the whole matter is explained in the confession of a woman who lived
at the house as servant girl at the time, and who played the part of the ghost
so well, that she escaped detection, and came off, only suspected by a few.
The inutility of attempting to do away entirely with this popular belief
in ghosts by arguments, however well founded on reason and science, has
already been hinted at; but it will be only fair that scn&fioo should just put a
word in, as it can do no harm and may do good.
Tn “ Sketches of the Philosophy of Apparition, or an Attempt to Trace
such Illusions to their Physical Causes, by Samuel Hibbert, M.D., E.R.S.E.,”
the author states his opinion to be that “ Apparitions are nothing more than
ideas or recollected images of the mind, which have been rendered more vivid
than actual impressions,” perhaps by morbid affections. It is also pointed out
that “ in ghost stories of a supposed supernatural character which by disease
are rendered so unduly intense as to induce spectral illusions, may be traced
to such fantastical objects of prior belief as are incorporated in the various
systems of superstition which for ages have possessed the minds of the vulgar. ’
“ Spectral illusions arise from a highly excited state of the nervous irrita
bility acting generally upon the system, or from inflammation of the brain.
“ The effect induced on the brain by intoxication from ardent spirits,
which have a strong tendency to inflame this organ, is attended with very
remarkable effects. These have lately been described as symptoms of
1 delirium tremens.’ Many cases are recorded which show the liability of the
patient to long-continued spectral impressions.”
Sir David Brewster represents these phenomena as images projected on
the retina—from the brain, and seen with the eyes open or shut.
Of the many causes assigned for spectral illusions the following may be
enumerated:—Holy ecstasies, various diseases of the brain, diseases of the
eye, extreme sensibility or nervous excitement from fright, various degrees
of fever, effects of opium, delirium tremens, ignorance and superstition, cata
lepsy, and confused, indistinct, or uncomprehended natural causes. Row all
persons who suppose they see ghosts are at liberty to select any of the fore
going causes for their being so deluded, for delusion it is, as I hope presently
to prove; but they may rest assured that these supposed spectres are always
produced either by disease or by over-excited imagination, which in some
cases it may be said amounts to disease.
�24
A DISCOVERY CONCERNING GHOSTS.
However, to return to the ghosts. A vei’y common, or rather the common,
idea of a ghost is generally a very thin and scraggy figure; but if there are
such things there must be fat ghosts as well as thin ghosts; fat or thin
people are equally eligible “ to put in an appearance ” of this sort if they.
can; and to carry out this idea and make it quite clear, I here introduce an
old acquaintance of the public, Mr. Daniel ^Lambert, as he appeared to my
WTO-excited imagination whilst engaged on this work. How if Daniel came
as an apparition, he must, according to the authorities in these matters, not
only “ come in his habits as he lived,” that is, in the clothes he wore, but
must also come in his/«^ or he would not be recognized as the fattest man
“ and the heaviest man that ever lived,” and although he weighed “ 52 stone
11 pounds” (141b. to the stone) in the flesh, in the spirit, he would, of
course, be “ as light as a feather,” or rather an “ air bubbleand as he
could not dance and jump about when alive, I thought if I brought him in as
a ghost, I’d give him a bit of a treat, and let him dance upon the “ tight rope.”
�A DISCOVERY CONCERNING GHOSTS.
25
Most persons will remember a story tolcl by “Pliny the younger ” of the
apparition of “ an old ” man appearing to Athenadorous, a Greek scholar.
This ghost was “lean, haggard, and dirty,” with “dishevelled hair and a
long beard.” He had “ chains on,” and came “shaking his'chains” at the
Greek scholar, who heeded him not, bnt went on with his studies. The old
o-host. however, “ came close to him and shook his chains over his head as
O''
he sat at the table,” whereupon Athenadorous arose and followed the dirty
old man in his chains, who went into the courtyard and “ stamped his foot
upon a stone about the centre of it, and—disappeared.” The Greek scholar
marked the spot, and next day had the place dug up, when, lo and behold,
they found there the skeleton of a human being.”
Going back to the days of “ Pliny the younger” is going back far enough
into early history for my purpose, which is to show that the notions about
apparitions which prevailed at that period are the same as those of the
present day, that is, of their appearing in the dresses they icore in their life
time, in every mi/nute particular, as to form, colour, and condition, new or old,
as the case might be ; but to prevent any mistake upon this head, I will just
add some few words from that reliable authority, Defoe, who, you will have
already remarked, is exceedingly particular as to the exactness of every article
of dress ; but in what follows he goes far beyond any other writer on this sub
ject, for instance he says, “We see them dressed in the very clothes which
we have cut to pieces, and given away, some to one body, some to another,
or applied to this or that use, so that we can give an account of every rag of them.
We can hear them speaking with the same voice and sound, though the organ
which formed their former speech we are sure is perished and gone.”
From the various instances of the appearance of apparitions which have
been brought before the reader, it will, I presume, be admitted that abundant
and sufficient proof has been given that the writers about ghosts, and all
those who have professed to have seen ghosts, declare that they appear in the
dresses ivhich they wore in their lifetime ; but from all I have been able to
learn, it does not appear that from the days'of Pliny the younger down to the
days of Shakespeare, and from thence down to the present time, THAT ANY
ONE HAS EVER THOUGHT OF THE GROSS ABSURDITY, AND
IMPOSSIBILITY, OF THERE BEING SUCH THINGS AS GHOSTS
OP WEARING APPAREL, IRON ARMOUR, WALKING STICKS, AND
SHOVELS! NO, NOT ONE, except myself, and this I claim as my
DISCOVERY CONCERNING GHOSTS, and that therefore it follows, as a
matter of course, that as ghosts cannot, must not, dare not, for decency’s sake,
appear WITHOUT CLOTHES; and as there can be no such things AS
GHOSTS OR SPIRITS OF CLOTHES, why, then, it appears that GHOSTS
NEVER DID APPEAR, AND NEVER CAN APPEAR, at any rate not in
the way in which they have been hitherto supposed to appear.
And now let us glance at the material question, or question of materialism.
In the year 1828, a work was published, entitled “ Past Feelings Reno
vated ; or, Ideas occasioned by the perusal of Dr. Hibbert’s Philosophy of
Apparitions,” which the author says were “ written with the view of coun
teracting any sentiments approaching materialism, which that work, however
unintentional on the part of the author, may have a tendency to produce.”
The author of “ Past Feelings Renovated ” is a firm believer in apparitions,
who generally “ come in their habits as they lived; ” and in his preface he says,
�26
A DISCOVERY CONCERNING GHOSTS.
“The general tendency of Dr. Hibbert’s work, and evident fallacy of many of the
arguments in support of opinions too nearly approaching4materialism,’ induced
me togive the subject that serious consideration which it imperatively demands.”
This author, it will be perceived, is very much opposed to anything like
materialism in relation to this question, and is strongly in favour of
spiritualism,” but will he be so good as to tell us what “ a pair of Buckskins”
are made of? and what A pair of Top-boots are made of? and whether these
materials are spmfiiafecZ by any process, or whether THE CLOTHES WE
WEAR OX OUR BODIES BECOME A PART AND PARCEL
OF OUR SOULS ? And as it is clearly impossible for spirits to wear
dresses made of the materials of the earth, we should like to know if
there are spiritual-outfitting shops for the clothing of ghosts who pay
visits on earth, and if empty, haunted houses are used for this purpose,
in the same way as the establishments, and after the manner of 44 Moses
and Son,” or 44 Hyam Brothers,” or such like houses of business, or if so,
then there must be also the spirit of woollen cloth, the spirit of leather, the
spirit of a coat, the spirit of boots and shoes. There must also be the spirit
of trousers, spirits of gaiters, waistcoats, neckties, spirits of buckles, for
shoes and knees; spirit of buttons, 44 bright gilt buttonsspirits of hats,
caps, bonnets, gowns, and petticoats; spirits of hoops and crinoline, and
ghost’s stockings. Yes ; only think of the ghosts of stockings, but if the
ghost of a lady had to make her appearance here, she could not present her
self before company without her shoes and stockings, so there must be
GHOSTS OF STOCKINGS.
in
�A DISCOVERY CONCERNING GHOSTS.
27
Most persons will surely feel some hesitation in accepting the assertions
made by Defoe, that ghosts appear in clothes that have been cut up, or
distributed in different places, or destroyed, or that they come in the same
garments that are being worn at the same moment by living persons, or
which are at the time of appearing, in wardrobes or old clothes shops ; or,
perhaps, thousands of miles away from the spot where the ghost pays his
unwelcome visit, or worn or torn into rags, and stuck upon a broomstick
“to frighten away the crows.” No, no, I think we may rest assured that
ghosts could not appear in these dresses, or shreds and patches; in fact,
that they could not show themselves in any dress made of the materials of
the earth as already suggested; and, therefore, if they did wear any dresses
they must have been composed of a spiritual material, if it be possible to
unite, in any way, two such opposites. Then comes the question, from
whence is this spiritual material obtained, and also if there are spirit manu
factories, spirit weavers and spinners, and spirit tanners and “tan pits ?”
If this be so, then there must, of course, be ghost tailors, working with
ghosts of needles (how sharp they must be !), and ghosts of threads (and how
fine they must be !), and the ghost of a “ sleeve board,” and the ghost of the
iron, which the tailors use to flatten the seams, called a “ goose ” (only think
of the ghost of a tailor’s “goose!”) Then there must be the ghost of a
“bootmaker,” with the ghost of a “lapstone,” and a “last,” and the spirit
of “ cobbler’s wax!” Ghost of “ button makers,” “ wig makers,” and
“hatters;” and, indeed, of every trade necessary to fit out a ghost, either
lady or gentleman, in order to make it appear that they really did appear
“ in their habits as they lived.”
There are, I know, many respectable worthy persons even at the present
day who believe they sometimes see apparitions, and I would here take the
liberty to advise such persons to ponder a little upon the above remarks
relative to the clothing of spirits, and, when again they think they see a
GHOST, recollect that with the exception of the face and a little bit of the
neck perhaps, and also the hands, if without gloves, that all the other parts are
CLOTHES. And I would also take the liberty to suggest that he should ask
the ghost these questions:—“ Who’s your tailor ?” and “ Who’s your hatter ?”
Whatever the belief of the “Bard of Avon” might have been with
respect to ghosts, it is quite clear that [in these cases he was merely exer
cising his great poetical talent to work out the several points of popular belief
in apparitions, for the purpose of producing a striking “ stage effectbut
all that he brings forward, goes to prove the long-established faith in these
aerial beings, and the general and almost universal requisites of character
and costume. But it probably never entered the great mind of this great
poet that there could be no such thing as a ghost of iron, for if it had, he
would, no doubt, have dressed up the ghost of Hamlet’s father in some sort
of suit rather more aerial than a suit of steel armour. There may be
“ more things ’twixt heaven and earth” than were dreamt of in Horatio’s
philosophy; but the ghost of Iron armour could not be one of these
things, be included in the list, and on reverting to this ghost, the reader
will observe that I have given no figure in that suit of armour, and no head
to the figure of Napoleon the Eirst, and for this reason, the art of drawing,
you will please to observe, is a severe critical test in matters of this sort.
For suppose an artist is employed to make a drawing of this ghost of
�28
A DISCOVERY CONCERNING GHOSTS.
Hamlet’s father, he will begin, or ought to begin, first to sketch out, very
lightly, the size and attitude of the figure required; then suppose he makes
out the face, and then begins to work on the helmet, but here he stops—■
why ? because if he has any thought, he will say this is not spirit, this is
manufactured iron ! And so with the other parts of the figure, all except
the face is material; and then to my old enemy in one sense, and friend in
another—Napoleon, for I volunteered, and armed myself to assist to keep him
from coming over here before I was twenty years of age; and as a carica
turist, what by turning him, sometimes into ridicule, and sometimes, in fact
very often I may say, killing him with my sharp etching needle, “little
Boney ” used very frequently to give me a good solid bit of meat, and make
my “pot boil.” But with respect to this headless figure, if the artist is
requested to make a drawing of the spirit of this great general, he would,
after making out the face, begin with the collar of the coat, and then stop—
and why ? Because the coat is no part of a spirit, and if the whole of the
figure were finished with the face in, what would that be but the spirit of the
face of Napoleon ; all the rest would consist of a cocked-hat, with tricolored
cockade; a military coat, with buttons; a waistcoat, a sword and sash,
leather gloves, and leather pantaloons, jack-boots, and spurs! Are, or can
these things be spiritual ? If the end of the finger is placed over the space
which is left for the face of Napoleon, the figure will be recognized as his
without the head; and so with Hamlet’s father, place the end of the finger
in front of the helmet, and the armour will pass for the ghost; and do the like
with the figure of Daniel Lambert, put the head out of sight, all the rest is
neck-handkerchief, a bit of shirt, a coat, a waistcoast, a pair of gloves, small
clothes (not very small by the by), an immense pair of stockings, and the points
of a pair of shoes; and as to the headless ghost of the gentleman in the blue
coat and gilt buttons, that is also NOTHING BUT A SUIT OF CLOTHES.
The reader will recollect that Daniel Defoe, Mrs. Crowe, and Mr. Owen,
and other authors have all introduced GHOSTS OF WIGS amongst their
facts, in support of spiritual apparitions, so if there are ghosts of “ wigs,”
there must also be GHOSTS OF “ PIGTAILS,” because they were some
times a part of a wig; and in taking leave of the reader, I take the liberty
of introducing a ghost of a wig and pigtail, who will make a polite bow
for the humble author and artist of this “DISCOVERY CONCERNING
�ADDENDA.
Just as I depicted the ghost of the wig and pigtail to bow out all the oldfashioned ghosts, methought I heard a voice say, “Well, sir, suppose it
granted that you have shown the utter impossibility of there being such
things as GHOSTS of hats, coats, sticks, and umbrellas ; admitting that yon
really have “laid” all these ghosts of the old style, what say you to the
“ spirit manifestations” of the present day ?
Well, this does certainly seem to be putting rather a “ Home question
a “ Home thrust,” if you please ; but sharp as the question may be, and
difficult as it may seem to answer, I am not going to shirk the question.
In the first place, this inquiring spirit must please to recollect that these
“spirit-rappers” of the present day are almost an entirely new-fashioned
spirit, a different sort of ghost altogether, or ghosts in “piecemeal;” only
bits of spirits, who never come of their own accord, and have to be squeezed
out of a table bit by bit, when they do hold up a hand, or tap or touch
people’s legs under the table with their hand, or a bit of one. But never
having attended a “séance,” I cannot give the
spirit any information
about these spirits from my own personal knowledge. If the inquirer wishes
to know “ all about” these spirits, he had better apply to Mr. D. D. Home,
who is quite “ at home” with these spirits, upon the most “ familiar” terms !
in fact, “hand and glove” with them ; and they feel so much at home with
Mr. Home, that they are constantly putting their hands and arms, if not
their legs, “ under his mahogany.” I therefore take the liberty of referring
“ Inquirer” to this Home medium, or any other medium, Home or foreign,
for a “full, true, and particular account” of the character and conduct of
these new-fashioned, New-found-ZancZ ghosts or spiritual gentlefolk, for it does
not appear that there are any of the “ working-class” amongst them.
It has been asserted by Mr. Home, that he has seen “ full length”
ghosts. These I shall put to the test a little further on.
As I intend putting a few gwsi/ows myself to these “ mediums,” or
through this medium, to the spirits, I have to hope that these questions of
mine will be taken by the inquiring spirits who question me as an answer to
their question upon what may be at present considered upon the whole as
almost, if not entirely, wzunsweraSZe, at least with the ordinary natural
organs of thought and judgment, and therefore it must be left to these
tabular spirits or their mediums to explain (that is, if they can) that which,
to the “ outsiders,” as the affair stands at this moment, is an inexplicable
puzzle.
In bringing forward my questions, I will take the liberty of making an
extract from the “ Times,” of the 9th of April last, where Mr. D. D. Home’s
book of “ Incidents in my Life,” is reviewed with considerable acumen and
�30
ADDENDA.
ability; and wherein the writer states that a Dr. Wilkinson was desirous of
obtaining some information and explanations respecting the “ways and
means” of these spirits. The Doctor asked Mr. Home why the effects
(that is, the manifestations) “ took place under the table and not upon it.”
Mr. Home said, that “ in habituated circles the results were easily obtained
above board, visibly to all, but that at the first sitting it was not so ; that
scepticism was almost universal in men’s intellects, and marred the forces
at work ; that the spirits accomplish what they do through our life sphere,
or atmosphere, which was permeated at our wills, and if the will was contrary,
the sphere was unfit for being operated upon.” Moreover, allowance must
be made for a certain indisposition on the part of the spirits (as we infer a
sort of spiritual bashfulness), “which deters them from exhibiting their
members m a state of imperfect formation.” When some had merely a single
finger put upon their knees, “ Mr. Home said that the presenting spirits
could often make one finger where they could not make two, and two where
they could not form an entire hand, just as they could form a hand where
they could not realize a whole human figure” (for there seems never to
have been life sphere at a séance adequate to the exhibition of an entire
figure, though Mr. Home has frequently seen spirits in their full
PROPORTIONS WHEN ALONE5’).
And now for one of my questions, which question is not only my question
but a public question, and one which Mr. Home is bound to answer, if he
can. I therefore publicly call upon that gentleman to inform the public if
these spirits, which he saw in their “ full proportions,” were in a state of
nudity, or if they had clothes on ? and if clothed, of what those clothes
were made ? If he does not know these particulars of his own knowledge,
as he has the ear of these spirits, their entire confidence, and as they have
his ear, let him call upon them to let him into the secret of the manufacture
of their garments, or how the spirits procure them ; and until Mr. Home
explains this satisfactorily to the public, we have a right to suspect that
either he has been himself deceived, or that he----- Perhaps I 'had better
not finish the sentence.
The “ inquiring spirit” will see that the clothes are the test, and this test
stands good here, as well as with the old fashioned ghosts, and this, I
presume, will be allowed as rather a “ Home question ” to Mr. Home ; a
Home thrust which he can only parry by giving the information asked ;
which, if he does not, I will not say “ Britons, strike Home,” but unless he
or the spirits “ rap” out a satisfactory answer, he may rely upon it that
he will feel the weight of public opinion, which will weigh rather heavily
upon him. But I give him a first-rate chance of becoming exceedingly
popular, for the mass, the millions, are ready to believe anything in the
shape of a fact, and I am confident that the whole world would be delighted
to get hold of such a secret as this. It would be, perhaps, extreme cruelty
to put this gentleman quite “ out of spirits but unless he tells us what
the clothes of spirits are made of, I should say that he will stand in rather
an awkward position before the bar of public opinion.
Another question here I’ll put, about this spirit “ D D outfit,”
Which I fear that the spirits won’t answer, just as yet—
�ADDENDA.
31
It is a question, I grant, that looks rather queer,
Which is—are their 11 togs ” made out of our atmosphere ?”
If the cloth is made out of stuff “permeated by our wills”—
And further, if these ghosts are honest, and pay their tailors’ bills ?
And then, as to the handy craft and crafty hands—
Oh tell us if warm hands, and cold—
So cold ! so cold ! oh dear !-—
Are made in any kind of mould,
Or how they trick ’em out of our “ life sphere ?”
Now supposing, nay even admitting, that the hands of spirits are exhi
bited at these séances, does it not really seem to be impossible to believe
that they are made out of the air that surrounds the persons who surround
the table ! ! !
Making fingers and hands out of our “ life-sphere ” or “ atmosphere !”
“ permeated by our wills !” Well, I was going to say, “ after that comes in
a horse to be shaved,” but really I hardly know what to say ; for whilst
reading the accounts of these spirits, I feel almost bewildered, and as the
mediums say that there is what they call“ spirit-writing,” and that spirits
seize the person’s wrist, and make them write just what they wist, I suspect
that the spirit of botheration has got hold of my hand, and is making me
write what it pleases ; and I therefore hope the “ gentle reader ” will excuse
me if I write down here ‘‘Handy pandy, Jack a dandy,” or any other
childish nonsense ; for as this table lifting and turning seems to alter and
set aside altogether the law of gravitation and all the universal laws of the
universe, that used to be thought by simple people as fixed and unalterable,
so likewise these “ spirit hands ” and “ spirit rapping ” seem to put reason
and rationality entirely out of the field. Therefore, as common sense cannot
be used in any sense on this question, as it is utterly useless in the present
state of affairs to attempt to “ chop logic ” with “ raps,” and their mediums
upon such tables as these, it will be here quite in place to talk a little non
sense. The reader will therefore, I am sure, bear with me if I make two or
three silly suggestions upon this phenomena of moving tables.
Under ordinary circumstances, when persons who are not “ habituated ”
have any natural substance to deal with—say, for instance, a deal table—the
mind naturally endeavours to account in a natural way for such apiece of fur
niture moving or being moved without any assignable natural cause. Common
sense in this case being “ put out of court,” and the scientific world having
seemingly “ given it up,” there is no other source left but to deal with the
spirits or their mediums in this matter ; and I would here ask if these tables,
heavy or light, are moved by this “ life-sphere ” or “ atmosphere ” which is
“permeated by our wills or if the hands made out of this airy n othin g -m ove
and lift the furniture ? As they can give an answer to the query, we shall
all surely be very much obliged to them if they will do so ; and whilst they
are preparing their answer, I will go on with a little more nonsense, and
make a most ridiculous suggestion upon the table lifting, quite as ridiculous
perhaps as anything that has emanated from the spirits òr their mediums.
It may seem absurd to bring “Dame Nature ” into this “ circle,” but never
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theless it does seem true that animals who are associated with man seem to
partake, to a very large extent, of man’s intelligence. Dogs particularly so,
cats pretty well, and even pigs have been known, when domesticated, to be
cleanly and polite, and of course we have all heard of the “learned pig.”
Dear little birds, and even asses and geese, have been known to share in
this “life sphere” or “atmosphere” of man’s brain. I knew a man who
was educating and training a goose, to come out before the public as a per
former as a learned goose, which intention was unfortunately not carried out,
in consequence of an accident which happened to the poor bird about
“ Michaelmas ” time. It appears that he got placed so near a large fire that
he was very soon “ done brown,” and upon a “ post mortem ” examination it
was discovered that he was stuffed full of sage and onion.
We are so accustomed to have intelligent animals about us, that we do
not look upon it as anything very extraordinary. Nevertheless, the pheno
mena is not the less wonderful for all that. Now I lay this question on the
table, for the spirits to rap out an answer—viz., as tables and chairs are
associated with man (and woman, of course), can, or is the vital spark, or
life principle, conveyed from the body into the wood, which is porous, and
can it make these otherwise inanimate objects “ all alive alive 0 ?” The
reader must excuse me for asking such a silly question, and will please to
recollect that I am not putting the question to him, but to the silly spirits
and their mediums, for these spirits, it is stated, are sometimes quite as silly
as any body can be. I therefore ask again whether the vital principle or
force is conveyed into the tables whilst the parties or “ circle ” are pressing
their hands upon it; and if not, please to tell us what it is, for the “ outer ”
world are very anxious and waiting to know. It must be observed that the
tables only move under this pressure, and whilst the “ circle ” is thus acting
and using its atmospheric influence, otherwise the tables might or would be
always jumping about the room; and if the tables are not thus moved by
animal heat, how would the animal man be able to get his meals ? And it
follows as a natural—beg pardon, spiritual—consequence, that if this be not
the case, or the cause, then are the spirits a very thoughtful and wellbehaved society, to be thus careful not to rattle or roll the table about and
jump it up and down when the dinner is spread; or perhaps these spirits
partake of the “ good things of this life,” as very poor Drench emigrants
used to do, namely, by merely smelling the viands at a cook’s shop “ sniff,
sniff, ah ! dat is nice a roast a bcf—sniff, sniff, ah ! dat nice piece de veal
ah ! sniff, sniff, dat a nice piece a de pork-—ah ! ah! sniff, sniff” but if they
don’t eat it appears they drink; for in an article by R. H. Hatton, in the
“ Victoria Magazine,”* entitled “ The Unspiritual World of Spirits, it states
that Mr. Howitt “ believes in a modern German ghost that drank beer,
which called forth the words (with a horrible exclamation), “ it swallows!
and at a “ seance ” held at a chateau near Paris, three years back, a gentle
man asked for some brandy and water, which when brought was “ snatched
out of his hold by a spirit-hand which carried it beneath the table,” and “ the
glass came back empty.” We are told that the spirits have difficulty in
making a finger; if so, they must have a greater difficulty in “ making
* Published by Emily Faithful. And I take this opportunity of wishing success to the
“ Victoria Magazine,” as a part of the good work in which that lady is engaged.
j
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•mouths;” but suppose they do make a mouth, and the spirits drink the
beer and spirits, where is the liquid to go to, if they have made no stomach
out of the atmosphere of the ladies and gentlemen forming the “ circle ”
round the table? This does not look as if it were “all fair and above
board;” but, on the contrary, very much as if there were some clever rascally
little bodies playing their pranks and taking the “ spirits ” under the table ;
however, if it be the real spirits who drank the beer and spirits, I as a teeto
taler must express my disgust at such conduct, and, for one, will have nothing
to do with such spirits ; indeed, I am quite shocked to find, contrary to all
former ideas of spiritual life, that even these “
spirits ” have still a taste
for the spirit of alcohol. I really begin to fear that these drinking, if not
drunken spirits, do haunt the “ spirit-vaults.” The beer they drink is, I
presume, “ Home-brewed.”
But to turn again to the “ table-turning.” One way that I would sug
gest this question, to test, as to whether it be the life principle that gives a
sort of life to these wooden Zqys, and drawers, and body, and flaps, from
which the spirits send out their “ raps,” would be, to substitute an iron table,
a good heavy iron table, and as it is said they can lift any weight, let ’em
lift that; and if not iron, then try a good large marble slab. If the iron will
not “ enter into their soul,” let them try if their soul will enter into the iron,
or if the stone will be moved by the “ atmosphere ” of their flesh and their
bone.
Wonders, it is said, will never cease, and most assuredly some of the
tales told of these “ seancesf and some of the reported spirit exhibitions are
so wonderful, so astounding, that one does not know how to believe them;
and there are certain circumstances in some parts of the performance that
1 look so like trickery, that it is impossible to accept the whole relation as
fact, however much-we might feel disposed to receive a part thereof. Some
of these performances are performed in the dark, in the “ pitch dark,” so dark
that the company cannot see each other ; and it is in this state of “ inner ”
and “ utter” darkness that the spirits prefer to lift Mr. Home, andyZoai him
up to the ceiling* so that the spirits who lift him are “invisible spirits,” and
Mr. Home is invisible also. And this makes me think that these spirits are
without clothing, and being so, are ashamed to show themselves. I put
this as a question to Mr. Home, and also, as they only make hands and
shake hands, if they are not “ ashamed to show their faces,” why don’t
they make faces ? (I don’t mean grimaces). But I should not only like to
know why they don’t make some “atmospheric” “life-sphere” faces, but
should also very much like to sketch their likenesses, or “take them off,” as
people say.
Touching upon these faces reminds me that a new feature has been
introduced in this new world, that is, taking up this new fashion of the old
world by having “ carte de visiles.” A Mr. AZkm-ler, of Boston, U.S., dis
covered that these spirits have a taste for art as well as music, and that they
have a little vanity like ourselves; and it has since been discovered that /raziiZ
has been discovered., of photographers—“palming off as spirit likeness—pic
tures of persons now alive!” But here comes the clothes test again, these
* I should like to ask a question here—
Is Home by spirits lifted, or by “ atmosphere ?”
D
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spirited portraits have all got their clothes on. Apparitions of suits of clothes,
spirits of coats, boots, and ladies' dresses 1!!
This test of the clothing is very severe, for without having clothes the
ghost can’t appear; for even that extraordinary clever invention of Professor
Pepper’s, the “ patent” ghost, which he exhibited at the Polytechnic Insti
tution, and which is introduced into a piece called “The Haunted Man and
the Ghost’s Bargain,” now performing at the Adelphi Theatre, and which
ghost, I am sorry to say, I have not yet had time to see, but this “ patent
ghost,” of course, has CLOTHES on. In fact, apparitions cannot appear
without clothes, and apparitions of clothes cannot appear; and so—but
really I had quite forgotten that I had left Mr. Home sticking up against
the ceiling, upon which it appears he makes his marZ>—all in the dark
as a kind of“ skylark.” “ Seeing is believing,” but as his friends could
not see him, he was obliged to do some thing of this sort, suspecting, I sup
pose, that his friends would not take his word. When a light was thrown
upon this scene, Mr. Home was discovered lying upon his back upon the
table ! It may be rude to say that all this was all a trick, but pardonable,
perhaps, to say it looks very like trickery.
Talking of “ skylarking,” reminds me, that in conversation with a friend
of mine, who is a believer in Mr. Home, and expressing a doubt about the
possibility of Mr. H. kicking his heels up in the air in this way, and
asking if it were not imaginary, my friend assured me that it was no “ flight
of fancy,” that it was quite true, and that it was not at all improbable but
that some day, in daylight, we might “ see Mr. Home floating across the
metropolis!” I suggested that Mr. H. had better mind what he was
about, as there was danger in such a flight, for some short-sighted sports
man, or if not short-sighted, he might be in such a state of fuddle as
not “to know a hawk from a hand saw,” and might mistake him for some
gigantic, monstrous blackbird,” or some “ rara avis,” and bring him down
with his gun, though in this case he would not want to “ bag his game.”
To prevent such a hit as this, or rather such a mischance, I would suggest
that due notice should be given to the public when Mr. Home intends
appearing up above the chimney-pots; and that in addition to his floating,
that the spirits should run him along the “ electric telegraph” wires. That
would be something worth seeing, and much better than the stupid, silly,
nonsensical tricks they now play either on the table or under the table.
There used formerly, even in my time—I don’t go back so far as the
reign of the Charles’s, but to the days of the “ charlies,” as the old
watchmen were called, and before the “new police” were introduced to
the public,—in those days ghost tricks were played in various parts of
London ; one favourite spot was in front of St. Giles’s churchyard, near unto
a “ spirit vault.” It used to be reported that there was a ghost every night
in this churchyard, but it was an invisible ghost, for it never was seen,
though there was a mob of people gaping and straining their eyes to get
a peep at it; but during this time, some low cunning spirits used to creep
out of the adjoining spirit vaults, mix amongst the crowd, and having very
fingers, used, instead of tapping the people-on the knees, as the spirits
do at the “seances,” they dipped their hands into the “atmosphere” of
respectable people’s pockets, and “ spirited away” their watches, handker
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chiefs, pocket-books, or anything else that came in their way, and then bolt
into the vaults again.
N.B.—These spirits conld swallow spirits, like those described in the
preceding pages.
Spirits of the old style used to delight in the darkness of night, but
sometimes they’d show their pale faces by moonlight. A “ seance” is de
scribed that took place by moonlight. I don’t mean to assert that it was
all “moonshine.” A table was placed in front of a window between the
curtains ; the “ circle” round the table and the space between the curtains
was the stage where the performance took place. Query : How did the
•mediums know, when they placed this table, that the spirits who “ lent a
hand” in the performance would act their play at that part of the table ?
By the by, the table plays an important part m these spirited pieces ; the
spirits surely would not be able to get on at all without a table ! At
each side of this stage, lit by the moon, and close to the window curtains,
which formed as it were the “ proscenium,” stood a gentleman, one on each
side, like two “prompters,” one of whom was Mr. Home; and when one
particular hand was thrust up above the rim of the table, and which hand
had a glove on, Mr. H. cried out, “ Oh ! keep me from that hand ! it is so
cold; do not let it touch me.” Query : How did Mr. H. know that this
hand was so cold? and had it put the glove on because it felt itself so
cold? And out of whose “atmosphere,” or “life sphere” had the spirit
made this hand ? if it were so cold, it must have got the stuff through
some very cold-hearted “medium.” Then comes my clothes test again, where
did the hand get the glove ? Suppose it was a spirit hand,, the hand of a soul
that once did live on earth, could it be the spirit of a glove ? Whilst waiting
for an answer to these queries, I would suggest to these “ mediums,” that if
they see this “ hand and glove” again, they should ask, “ Who’s your glover ?”
Yes, it would be important to obtain the name and address of such a glover,
as such gloves, we may suppose, would not wear out, nor require cleaning.
An old and valued friend of mine attended a séance in 1860, of
which he wrote a short account, and which he keeps (in manuscript) to
lend to his friends for their information and amusement, upon this subject ;
and although he confesses that, as a novice, he was rather startled upon one
or two occasions during the evening, that the extraordinary proceeding of
the séance had something of a supernatural tinge about it ; nevertheless,
upon mature reflection he came to the conclusion that the whole was a very
cleverly-managed piece of trickery and imposture. As I am permitted to
quote from this manuscript, I will here give a short extract to show the
reader how an American medium—a Dr. Dash—assisted by two other
“mediums,” also Americans, managed the spirits upon that occasion. A
party of eight were seated round a table :—
“ Shortly and anon, a change came o’er the spirit of the Doctor. He
jumped up and said, ‘ Hush! I hear a spirit rapping at the door.’
*******
11 The Doctor told us there was a spirit which wished to join our seance
the door was opened, a chair was most politely placed at the table, and
there the spirit sat, but, like ‘ Banquo’s ’ GhoBt, invisible to the company.”
In the Waterloo Road there resided—next door to each other—some
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years back, two paperhangers, who vied with each other in doing “ sten
cilling ”—that is, rnbbing colour on walls through a cut out pattern ; there
was great opposition between them, and one of them (No. 1) wrote on the
front of-his house in large letters, “ The Acme of Stencilling,” upon which
No. 2, determined not to be outdone in this style, wrote upon the front of his
house in letters cZowSZe the size of his neighbour’s, 11 The Heigth of the
Acme of Stencilling. ’ how, I do not know whether this pretended intro
duction of an invisible spirit, and putting a chair for this worse than nothing
to sit in, when he had nothing to sit down upon, may be considered as the
heigth of the acme of unprincipled, impudent imposture ; but it goes far
enough to show that trickery can be and is carried on, and carried on even as
a trade or “ calling ’ in this “ spirit-rapping ” business, for I have seen a
printed card where a y>ro/esswraaZ “medium” gives his name and address, and
has on it, “ Circles for Spiritual Manifestation—hours from 12 to 3 and
5 to 10 p.m. to which is added, “ Private Parties and Families visited.”
If such a card as this had been introduced in “ The Broad Grin Jest
Book,” some years back, it would have been quite in place, but to think that
such a card as this should be circulated in this “age of intellect,” as a
business card the card of a “ Maître de Ceremonie,” who undertakes to intro
duce invisible spirits, into parties and private families, is something more
than I ever expected to see, on the outside of Bethlem, or in the list of
impostures at a police station.
As this Dr. Fash pretended that spirits were “mixed up ” with this party
were indeed surrounding the “ circle,” and who had come into the room
without hnocking, and were not accommodated with chairs, why should this
gnost of nothing kriocK at the door, and how did the Dr. know that he
wished to join the séance, and why should this invisible Mr. Nobody have
a chair, and the other spirits be obliged to stand ? And then was this spirit
dressed in his best ? for as it was an evening party, he ought to have been
“ dressed with care.”
The calling up of one spirit seems to call up or raise another spirit, and
as Dr. Fash introduced a dumb and invisible spirit who was supposed to
take his seat at a table, I take this opportunity of introducing a spirit of a
very different character—one of the old fashioned spirits—one that could
both be seen and heard, and who was seen to take his seat at the table, and
enter into conversation with his friends. An extract from the “ Registry of
Brisley Church in 1706,” runs thus :—A Mr. Grose went to see a Mr. Shaw,
and whilst these gentlemen were quietly smoking their pipes, in comes
(without “rapping”) the ghost of their friend Mr. Naylor. They asked him
to sit down, which he did, and they conversed together for about two hours ;
he was asked how it fared ■with him, he replied, “Very well,” and when he
seemed about to move, they asked him if he could not stay a little longer,
he replied that he “ could not do so, for he had only three days’ leave of
absence, and had other business to attend to.”*
Now this is something like a ghost, whose visit you observe is recorded
As, according to Mrs. Crowe, ghosts can smoke, and upon equally good authority,
spirits can swallow spirits, no doubt this ghost of Mr. Naylor, who did not come without
tne help of his tailor, took a pipe with his friends, and took something to drink with them
also, for you may rely upon it, that the ghost’s friends were not smoking a (< cry pipe.”
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in the registry of a parish church, and as the party I believe were all clergy
men, of course the Rev. Mr. Naylor came in his clerical li habits as he lived,”
no doubt “ dressed with care.” Yes, this you see was a respectable sort of
ghost—one that you could see and listen to, not such a poor “ dummy ”
as Dr. Dash’s poor spiritless spirit, Mr. Nothing Nobody, Esq.,
Who could neither be seen nor heard,
Which even to name, seems quite absurd.
The reason for thus suddenly pretending to introduce a spirit, was to
produce an effect—a sensation—upon the nerves of the party assembled (par
ticularly the novices), for it is only under excited nervous feelings that any
thing like success can attend the operations of such “mediums.”
The Creator has so formed us that our nerves are more excitable in dark
ness than in the light, and our senses thus excited, are for our safety and pro
tection, when moving about in the dark, either in-doors or out, as we feel and
know, that there is a chance of our being seriously injured by running against
or fading over something, or that there might be evil spirits in the shape of
robbers lurking about, against whom it would be necessary to be ready to
defend ourselves, or to avoid. Our faculties being thus put on the “ qui
vive,” is natural, healthy, and proper; but when the mind has been imbued
from childhood with a belief in ghosts, and the individual should happen to
be in a dark and lonely place, and should hear or see indistinctly something
which the mind on the instant is not able to account for, naturally, or com
prehend rationally, then under such circumstances, to use a common expres
sion, “we are not ourselves,” and in giving way to imaginary fears, under the
impression of supernatural appearances, the stoutest hearts and the strongest
men, have been known “ to quiver and to quail,” to be confused and to feel
that thrilling sensation, that cold trickling down the back from head to heel,
which is produced from fright, and nothing but the rallying of their mental
and physical forces, and rousing up a determined resolution, has enabled
such men to overcome this coward-like fear, and to discover that they have
been scared by some natural sound, or some imperfectly-seen natural object,
that it was all “ a false alarm,” or perhaps a made up ghost, by some fool
or rogue, or both, who was playing his “ tricks upon travellers.”
But with weak and nervous persons, ' who believe in supernatural
appearances, the effects of fright, under such circumstances, produce the
most painful feelings, total prostration of the faculties, and sometimes
fatal consequences. Here is an instance where all the faculties were
prostrated by fright in consequence of seeing a supposed apparition, followed
by the death of an innocent person :—
In the year 1804, the inhabitants of Hammersmith, a village situated on
the west side of the metropolis, but now forming part of it, were much
terrified by the appearance of, as it was said, a spectre clothed in a winding
sheet. This apparition made its appearance in the dark evenings in the
churchyard, and in several avenues about the place. I well remember “ the
Hammersmith ghost,” as it was called, being the “ Town Talk ” of that day,
and not only in Hammersmith, but even in town, many persons were afraid
to leave their homes after dusk. Besides a man of the name of John
Graham, who was detected, and I believe imprisoned, there were several
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actors in this ghostly farce, which was however brought to an end in a
tragical manner—that is, by a young man of the name of Thomas Millwood,
a plasterer, being shot dead by one Francis Smith, an exciseman, who at the
time (as the narrator states) was rather “ warm over his liquor ”—that is
about half drunk ; and in this state he was allowed at the “ White Hart ”
public house to load a gun with shot, and go out for the purpose of dis
covering the ghost, and he no sooner saw a figure in a light dress (which
was the poor plasterer in his working dress, on his road to fetch his wife
home, who had been at work all day at a house in the neighbourhood of
“ Black Lion Lane,” where this murder was committed) than he lost the use
of his faculties, and was in such a state of fright that, as he said in his
defence, he “ did not know what he was about,” and unfortunately, under
these circumstances, killed an innocent man, which he never would have
done had he not been a believer in apparitions and ghosts.
In p. 46, of the “ Victoria Magazine,” the writer, in speaking of an
interview which Mr. Home had with the spirit of the Count Cagli ostro,
states that the said spirit diffused and wafted over his friend Mr. H. the most
“ delicious perfumes,” and that they “appeared to have been a part of the
Count’s personal resources and argues for various reasons that these spirits
are “ sensitive to sweet smells,” and that the spirits are “ adepts in per
fumery,” “ are fond of it,” and surround themselves and their medium
“ with exquisite odours.” And as Mr. Home is such a great favourite
with these “ spirits,” his “ life sphere ” and “ atmosphere ” must be
very highly scented and perfumed with smells, and this accounts at once
for the spirits playing “ Home, sweet Home ” upon the accordian, when he
holds it under the table with one hand, and they play upon it, I suppose,
with “ their hands of atmosphere I” Be this as it may, however “ sweet upon
themselves ” they may be, these spirits are at this moment in very “ bad
odour ” with a large body of the press, as also with the large body of the
public, and it therefore rests with the “ mediums” to bring these “spirits of
darkness ” into light, and that these supposed spirits, their mediums, and their friends should place themselves in a right position before the public.
“ Come out in the road ” (as the low folk say when they are going to fight).
By the by, there surely must be (as they are all spirited fellows) some
“prizefighters” amongst these “rapping” spirits, and if so, I would suggest
that mediums, as “backers” and “bottle-holders” (provided they don’t
have any “spirits” in their bottle), should get up a “prizefight” as a
public exhibition, between such spirits as Jem Belcher and Tom Crib, or any
of those celebrated deceased popular heroes; and there would be this advantage
in such contests, that the “sporting world ” would have all their favourite
sport, and be able to bet upon their favourites in these “ sham-fights ” with
out the attendant horrible and disgusting brutalities of the real fights ; for
although they would, of course, “ rap ” each other, their fists being only made
of “ atmosphere,” they could not hurt or disfigure each other as they do in
the earthly boxing. And if these aerial boxers did “ knock the wind out ”
of each other, it would be of no consequence, for as they would be sur
rounded with lots of their own kind of “life sphere,” or “ atmosphere,” they
could soon “ make themselves up ” again, if even they did not “ make it up ”
with each other. But I see some difficulties in carrying out these “sports,”
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which did not occur to me at first ; for instance, if they cannot make their
own thick heads out of the “ atmosphere ” of the heads about them, having
no heads then, how can they be “ set by the ears ?” Besides, they could
not hear when “time” was called, and then, again, the patrons of the
“ Prize ring ” would not be satisfied unless they could see these spirited
ghosts “ knock each other’s heads half off.”
If these spirits cannot “ make head,” and keep up with the intellectual pro
gress of the spirit of the times, and with the spirit of the world. If they cannot
be a “ body politic,” or a body of spirits, or any other body, let the mediums
set their hands to work, “All hands, ahoy !” Let them lend a hand to any
“ handiwork“ hand-looms,” “ or hand about the tea and bread and butter
at parties, or make themselves “ handy ” in any way, even if they were made
to use “hand-brooms.” Yes ; let them put their hands to any honest call
ing rather than keep their hands in idleness, for they should recollect what
Dr. Watts asserts—
“ That Satan finds some mischief still
Por idle hands to do.”
And if these “ spirit hands ” are too flimsy and delicate to work—to
do hard work—then let them play musical instruments, get up popular con
certs, and as they can make perfumes, or are themselves perfumers, they
could thus whilst playing gratify their audiences with sweet sounds and sweet
scents at the same time.
However absurd this asserted fact of tables being moved by spirits may
appear, and to many persons appearing not worth a “ second thought,”
yet it is natural that we should endeavour to account for such a movement
in a natural way, one cause assigned is natural heat, the other involuntary
muscular action, etc., etc. In this state of uncertainty a little “guess work”
about the table movement, may perhaps be excused, even if it be as absurd
as “table lifting” itself. We know that the common air, dry or moist,
affects all earthly materials, and that
The water and the air,
Are everywhere,
Changing, the flower and the stone,
The flesh and the bone.
And we also know that wood, being a very porous material, is powerfully
affected by the “broad and general casing air,” that it expands or contracts
according to the condition of the atmosphere, and thus we find when there
is any considerable change in the temperature, that all the book-cases, ward
robes, chests of drawers, clothes presses, tables, or “ what-nots,” in different
parts of the house, will indicate this change by a creaking, cracking noise.
I have in my studio an oaken cabinet, which acts under the influence of the
change of air, like a talking thermometer, and with which I sometimes hold a
sort of a “ cabinet council” upon the subject of the change of weather.
When seated in my room, with doors, and windows, and shutters shut, if it
has been dry weather for any length of time, and my cabinet begins creaking,
I know by this sound from the wood, that the warm moist air, which has been
wafted with the warm gulf stream from the West Indies, is diffusing itself
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around the room, and producing an effect upon me and my furniture, even
to the fire-irons and fender, and so, on the contrary, after wet or moist
weather, if the creaking is heard again, I know pretty well “ which way the
wind blows,” and that it is a dry wind, without looking out at the weather vane.
If it merely goes creak, creak, crack, and stops there, the change will not be
great, but when it goes cre-ak, cre-ak, creak, crack, crack, crack—rumble,
rumble, rumble, creak, crack ! then do I know, and find, that the charge will
be considerable, and can spell out, change—rain—rain—rain, much rain.
Many persons who have given any thought to this question, are of opinion
that electric currents passing from the human body is the cause of this “ table
moving,” and I introduce my “weather wise ” cabinet to the public here to
show, that if a little damp air, or a little dry air will move, and make a large
heavy cabinet talk in this way, how much more likely it is that a table should
be moved, and particularly if these “ electric currents ” fly “ like lightning”
through the passages or spiracles of this popular, but at present mysterious
piece of furniture.
No wonder then if the “ life sphere ” and “ the atmosphere ” of the “ light
headed,” “light-heeled,” who “permeate their wills” into this otherwise
inanimate object, should all of a sudden “ set the table in a roar,” and “rap
out their rappartees,” and that “ the head of the table ” should bob up and
down, so as to make the people stare, either standing around or stuck in a
chair, and that the legs all so clumsy, should caper and dance and kick up in
the air, to the tune of “ Well did you ever!” and “ Well I declare !” ! ! !
This cabinet of mine is filled with the spirited works of departed spirits,
including some of my dear father’s humorous works, also of the great Hogarth,
the great Gilray, and other masters, ancient and modern; the mediums
would, I suppose, say—
That when this cabinet begins a “ crack
or creaking,
It is these sprites of art, who thus to me are speaking.
And as one of the panels was split some years back, the mediums would
perhaps suggest that these “droll spirits” made the cabinet “split its
sides with laughter,” but I know it was the hot air of a hot summer, a,nd
certainly not done by a drum or a drummer—that this “splitting” or
“ flying,” only shows the force of the common air, and I hope adds to the
force of my argument in this respect, and further, of this I feel assured, that
if I were to “ clear the decks for action,” bring this cabinet out into the
middle of my studio, and could induce some of the lady and gentlemen
“mediums” to come and form a “circle,” and clap their hands on and
around this piece of furniture, that, although Monsieur Cabinet has no “ light
fantastic toe,” that he would nevertheless join in the merry dance, and cut
some curious capers on his castors, and even “beat time ” perhaps with his
curious creaks and cracks. By the by, glass being a non-conductor, a table
made of glass, would at once settle this question, as to whether the tables are
moved by electric currents or not.
I am now about to suggest what I feel assured every one will admit to be
a grand idea, and which would be to make these spirits useful in a way that
would be highly appreciated and patronized by the public, and put all the
* Scotch for talking.
�ADDENDA.
41
“fortune-tellers” and “rulers of the stars ” out of the field altogether, and
perhaps even damage the “ electric wires ” a little. It is to establish a com
pany, to be entitled, “ The Human Question and Spirit Answer Company !”
The principal “ capital" to work upon, would be the overpowering principle of
curiosity; in this case, instead of having a “cWr-man,” they would, I
suppose, have a ¡fuWe-man ; if so, then Homo would be the man, and of this
company it never could be said, that they had not a rap at their bankers.
“ Limited,” of course, but the business would be 'O'^-limited, with profits,
corresponding ; branch question and answer offices, branching out all
over the globe, with “letter-boxes” and “chatter-boxes”. If the busi
ness of such offices were worked and carried out in a “ proper spirit," it
would assuredly be “ a success.” I am supposing, of course, that these
spirits will be able to “ tell us something we don’t know,” for up to the
present time it does not appear that they have told anything to us that we
could not have told them, and in a more common sense and grammatical
style than most of the communications which they have “ rapped out,” but
if there are any reaZ, great, and good spirits amongst these gammocking
table-turners, they must, one would suppose, know all about everything and
everybody, and everybody would be asking questions, and if so, “ Oh, my !”
what a lot of funny questions there would be ! and what a lot of funny
answers ! {all 11 private and confidential," of course) as nobody would be sure
not to tell nobody any secrets that nobody wanted anybody to know.
Under ordinary circumstances I am not at all what might be called a
curious person, but although I should (like other people) like to know how
certain matters might turn out, and although I should never* think of asking
a “ fortune-teller” or of consulting the gentry who profess to “ rule the
stars,” yet if such a company as this were started, I feel that I should be
compelled to start off to the first office I could get to, for the purpose of
putting two or three questions, to which I want immediate answers if it
were possible, and should not mind paying something extra for favourable
answers. I will here just give a specimen of some of these questions.
Some literary gentleman and others belonging to the “ Urban Club,”
and also some members of the “ Dramatic Authors’ ” Society, have formed
themselves in a committee (upon which they have done me the honour to
place my name), for the purpose of setting on foot and assisting to raise a
fund, if possible, to erect a monument in honour of William Shakspeare,
as the 23rd of April, 1864, will be the ter-centenary of that poet’s birth
day. Another committee for the same purpose is also in formation, and
the two committees will either amalgamate or work together. I have
suggested to the first committee that in order to assist the funds for the
above-mentioned purpose, that a notice be sent out
the public to this
effect—that all persons having any works of art, either paintings, drawings,
or sculpture, should be invited and respectfully requested to lend such works
to a committee of artists, to form a gallery or national collection illustrating
this author’s works, to be called “ The Shakspeare Exhibition,” and in
which designs for the said monument could also be exhibited. The ques
tion, therefore, I would put to the spirits through the proper medium would
bo this, viz.—If such invitations were sent out, would the holders of such
works lend them for the purpose of thus being placed before the public ?
�42
ADDENDA.
And further—If the Government were applied to, would they “ lend the
loan” of a proper and fitting building to exhibit the various works in ? Anri
a little further, and “ though last not least,” would the nobility and gentry,
and the public at large, patronize such an exhibition largely, and what the
receipts would amount to ? I should like to have all this answered, and
that at an early day. But as it may be a long clay, before such a company
could get into working order, and as the members of the public press are
a good-natured, shrewd class of spirits—if the idea is worth anything, they
would most likely take it up, and I should be as much pleased to get an
answer through that medium as any other that I know of.
There are several other questions which I should put to this “ Spirit
Answer Company” if it were started, and which I feel that I could not well
put to any one else, as I do not think that any body would give themselves
the trouble to give me an answer; and it is not every body who coulcl give
me satisfactory answers, however much they might feel disposed to do so. I
enumerate two or three.
Firstly—After a dreadful railway accident which occurred the other
day, Lord Brougham in the House of Lords suggested, I believe, that an
act of Parliament should be passed compelling the public to travel at a
rational speed; and as civil engineers declare that if the public would be
content to do so, that it would decrease the risk of life to about 999 per
cent., I want to know if the public are ever likely to adopt the moderate
speed, or sort of safe and sure, mode of travelling by rail, instead of flying
along at such a risk of life and limb, as they do now, occasionally coming to
a dreadflcl smash, with an awful unnecessary sacrifice of life, picking up
the bodies or the pieces thereof, crying out “All right, go a-head,” and
dashing off at the same irrational speed with the probability of the like
accidents again ?
Secondly—If it is at all likely that “ lovely woman” will ever leave off
wearing dresses which constantly expose her to the risk of being burnt
to death ?
Upon looking, however, at some of the other questions, they appear so
frivolous and ridiculous, that I do not think I would put them even to these
spirits. For instance, one was, that supposing I took a part in one of
Shakspeare’s plays, for the purpose of assisting this proposed Shakspearian
fund, and for some other purposes, if, as I can draw a little, should I, under
such circumstances, draw a full house ?
There is a common saying amongst schoolboys, that “ If all //i; were liacls,
and all 7zad.$‘ were Shads, we never should be in want of fish for supper.”
How the if, in this spirit question, is an important if. for if ad be true, that is
asserted by the “medmms” of the marvels which they publish, then are those
marvels some of the most marvellous and astounding wonders that have
ever been known or heard of in the authentic history of the world. And
from the extent to which this belief has spread, and is still spreading, and
also from the injurious effects it has already produced, and is likely still
further to produce, on the mental and physical condition of a large number
of the people, it now becomes rather, indeed, I may say, a very serious ques
tion. Some of the effects produced by attending the soirees of these “ good,
bad, and indifferent” spirits, will be seen from the reasons stated by a staunch
�ADDENDA.
43
supporter of these supernatural, pastimes for giving up—in fact, being com
pelled to give up—seances,li because, in the first place (he states), it was too
exhausting to the vital fluids of the medium. (They “ took too long a pull,
or swallowed too much of his atmosphere.”') And also “ because the
necessity of keeping the mind elevated to a higher state of contemplation,
while we were repeating the alphabet and receiving messages letter by letter,
was too great a strain upon our faculties ; and because the undeveloped and
earth-bound spirits throng about the mediums, and struggle to enter into
parley with them, apparently with the purpose of getting possession of their
natures, or exchanging' natures; and I have heard of sittings terminating
from this cause in cases of paralysis or demonaical possession.”
In such a state, no doubt the poor creatures imagine that they see
apparitions. I had an old friend who was affected with paralysis of the
brain, but not from this cause, as he was a total and decided disbeliever in
apparitions ; but from the diseased condition of his brain he had the appear
ance of a person or ghost constantly by his side for a considerable time, at
which he used to laugh, and which I wanted him to introduce to me; but to
me it was always invisible. One day at dinner he stood up, and said to those
present, “ Don’t you see I’m going ?” and fell down—dead !
Although there is much to laugh at with respect to these modern spirits,
although some of the scenes at the seances are perfectly ridiculous—and
would have afforded capital subjects for the powerful pen of my dear deceased
friend, “ Thomas Ingoldsby”—the “raps” rapped out sometimes are positive
nonsense and sometimes positive falsehood; and “ evil communications,”
which all who have been to school know, “ corrupt good manners,” yet, on
the other hand, there are serious symptoms sometimes attended with serious
consequences.
The mediums tell us that these spiritual manifestations are permitted by
the “ Omnipotent ;” that Jesus Christ sanctions some of these spiritual
communications, and are indeed given us as if proceeding from Himself;
and yet we find that some persons who attend these “seances”- have their
nervous system so shaken as to distort them limbs, in fact, lose the use of
their limbs altogether, or are “ driven raving mad !”
In “ The Light in the Valley,” a work which I consider ought to be
entitled “ Darkness in the Valley,” but which I must do the author the
justice to say is written and edited in what is evidently intended as a pro
found, proper, and religious spirit, and with a good intent; but however
sincere and honest those pious feelings may be, they are nevertheless distorted
religious opinions, containing symbolical ideas as dark as any symbolical
emanations ever given forth in the darkest ages.
In this work specimens are given of “ spirit writing” and 11 spirit drawing
The “ spirit writing” consists of unmeaning, unintelligible scribbling scrawls,
and very rarely containing any letters or words. These productions are
ascribed to a “ spirit hand ” seizing and guiding the medium’s hand, but which
is nothing more than involuntary action of the muscles under an excited
and unnatural state of the nervous system; and the spirit drawings are
executed under similar conditions. The drawings profess to be designed
and conjointly executed in this way, by holy spirits or angels, and are given
as sacred guidances to man. These are the medium’s opinions and belief;
�44
ADDENDA.
but, unfortunately, too many of these sort of drawings may be seen in
certain asylums. But if I know anything of religion, which I have been
looking at carefully and critically for half a century; also if I know anything
of designing and drawing, in which profession I have been working in my
humble way for more than that time, I pronounce these spirit drawings
(in the language of art) to be “out of drawing,” and contrary to all healthy
emanations of thought as design and composition; and instead of repre
senting subjects or figures which would convey a proper and great idea of
Divine attributes, are, in fact, caricatures of such sacred subjects.
I shall here give a few extracts from the communication of these false
spirits, and spiritual explanations of these spirit scrawls and scratches ; but
some which I had intended to insert, upon reflection, I refrain from giving,
believing that they would not only be offensive to sensible religious persons,
but injurious to youthful minds. Some of the illustrations given in this book
are furnished by a “ drawing medium,” under the titles of “ Christ without
Hands,” “ the Bearded Christ,” “Christ among the Sphere,” “the Woman
Crucified,” etc., etc. In the first of these something like a figure is scribbled
in, and surrounded with scratches, called spirit writing; the “ Bearded Christ”
is merely a bust, very badly drawn, and produced in the same unnatural way,
and surrounded by the same sort of scribbling. The shape of the beard and
the atmosphere of the beard are, it appears, most important matters; and
the author, in speaking of this, says, in describing Him, “ In ‘ the Bearded
Christ’ the atmosphere of the beard, as well as the beard itself, is repre
sented ; and I am acquainted with a ‘seeing medium,’ who has seen the
beard-atmosphere, not only when the beard is worn, but about the shaven
chin, with sufficient precision to decide of what shape the beard would be
were it allowed to grow” !!! !!! !!! !!! !!!
The subject professing to represent “ Christ among the Spheres” is a
better and more finished drawing; but, according to all the laws and rules
of proportion, the figure of Christ, by the side of our globe, would be
30,000 miles in height, and a lily which he holds in his hand 15,000 miles
long ! All these gross absurdities show, that the real spirit has nothing
whatever to do with such absurd doctrines or productions. This “ drawing
medium” gives an account of the trials and sufferings, bodily and mental,
which she went through before she became an accomplished and complete
medium ; and, according to her own statement, she must have gone through
a most fearful and horrible schooling. In one part it is stated she went
through “ several months of most painful bewilderment and extreme distress of
mind; ’ and in another part she says that the intensest antagonism between
truth and falsehood, between light and darkness, encounters the astounded
and unprepared pilgrim upon his first entrance into the realm of spirit.
“ I felt frequently as if enveloped in an atmosphere which sent through
my whole frame warm streams of electricity in waving spirals from the
crown of my head to the soles of my feet; and occasionally, generally at
midnight, I was seized with twitchings and convulsive movements of my
whole body, which were distressing beyond words. All these symptoms at
length came to a crisis in a frightful trance.” And this drawing medium
signs herself “ Comfort !” and further states that—
“Waking in the night, the strange drawing process instantly commenced,
�ADDENDA.
45
and I felt and saw within me the figure of an angel, whose countenance
resembled that of Christ, descending from a morning sky towards me, and
bearing upon his shoulders a large cross, whilst from his lips proceeded these
words—‘ Love, mercy, peace, but not till after death.’ Again my soul
trembled with anguish, for that strange portentous word, ‘ death,'' was ever
written within me or without. This peculiar stage of development soon
produced a singular affection of my throat, an affection of the mucous
membrane, which caused several times a day, and especially when rising in
the morning, the most distressing sensations. After suffering thus for several
days, the mysterious writing informed me that I must take a certain quantity
of port wine every day, and then the sensation would leave me.” And she
adds, “I followed the spiritual direction, and found almost immediate relief.”
The spirit doctor, in fact, after the dreadful suffering the scholar had
gone through, prescribed a “ drop of comfort,” a drop of the spirit of
Alcohol, which spirit is very much like these rapping spirits, deceitful and
dangerous, and this, we may presume, is the reason why the medicine adopted
the name of “ comfort.” Well, some people will say that some little comfort
was needed after so much discomfort and suffering—but why, all this suffer
ing ? Cannot these spirit drawing-masters instruct their pupils in this poor,
wretched, miserable style of drawing, without all this misery and punishment?
If not, I should think that very few ladies or gentlemen would like to take
lessons in drawing, or, indeed, in any other art, under such painful circum
stances. A spirit drawing-master’s card would, I presume, be something
like the following:—
TOM PAIN,
MEDIUM SPIRIT DRAWING- TAUGHT, UNDER EXTREME TORTURE,
«
IN TWENTX-FOUR LESSONS, AT SO MUCH ILL-HEALTH
AND SUFFERING PER LESSON.
N.JB.—Private Residence, under the Table.
V All the Drawing and Writing Materials to be provided by the
Pupils. The lashing supplied by the Spirit, and the Medical Advice Gratis ;
but the Pupils to find the “ drop of spirit comfort” themselves.
In taking one more extract from “ Comfort,” I hope that I am not giving
any discomfort to that “medium,” who, from my mmost heart I hope and
trust, is now enjoying that rational and natural comfort which all well-wishers
to their fellow-creatures wish strangers to feel, as well as their friends. The
medium proceeds to say:—“Ignorance of their real nature and of their
alternate purposes in the progress of civilization and development of mind,
has already caused immense misery in many directions, and will cause more
and more, even infinitely worse, until the time arrives that the medical
world will follow the example of Dr. Garth Wilkinson in his valuable
pamphlet on the treatment of lunacy through spiritualism, and calmly regard
this growing development not as insanity, but as a key whereby to unlock
insanity ” !!!
I have not the slightest notion of what this pamphlet contains, but from
the above very -uncomfortable opinion expressed by “ Comfort” upon this
�46
>
ADDENDA.
matter, it seems to me that a sufficient 11 key” is here given to unlock, if not
all, at all events, the greater part of the mysteries of this spirit drawing and
spirit writing, and, indeed, the whole of this spirit movement.
I would here call the attention of the medical world to the way in which
the spirits are acting towards that body. I presume that they are the spirits
of deceased members of the profession; and if so they are acting in a
most unbrotherly, underhanded manner, in fact, undermining the pro
fession altogether by “rapping” out prescriptions from under the table, for
which they do not take a “rap” as a fee. Yes, “ advice gratis” for nothing.
I entreat medical men not to smile at my remarks, for they may be
assured that there is a dark conspiracy—I cannot say “ afoot,” because
spirits have no feet—but I may say in hand; and as matters stand at present,
it looks as if “ The D. without the M., and Da. Faustus” had entered into a
partnership to destroy all medical doctors by introducing a system which
they could not only not practise, but, as far as I am able to judge, could
never understand, and which, though it is given in the “ Light in the Valley,”
II read” they may, and “mark” they may, “Zetrm” they cannot, and “in
wardly digest” they never will.
In the concluding pages of the “ Light in the Valley,” a letter is intro
duced, which is evidently written by a highly-educated person, in support of
“ an occult law,” and from all that is stated in this letter the writer
might as well have said at once, I believe in witchcraft, or that craft
which enables an ignorant old woman, who is called a “witch,” to
make contracts with the Evil One, for the purpose of torturing, or
making miserable for life, or destroying unto death, her neighbours, their
children, or their cattle ; and that an ignorant old man, under the name of a
“wizard,” may do the same; also, in astrology, or “ruling the stars,” to
predict coming events, or the future fate of individuals born at particular
periods of the year, according to the position of the stars at that time; or in
“ fortune-telling,” performed either by “ crossing the hand” with a piece of
money, got out of some simpleton’s pocket for that purpose, but which never
gets back there again; or by bits of paper, called “ cardsto which also may
be added, as a matter of course, I believe in ghosts, hobgoblins, and in every
thing of a supernatural character.
We can readily understand why the ignorant and uneducated believe in
all these matters; the cause is traced and known; but it seems almost
impossible to believe that educated persons, even with a small amount
of reflection, can put their faith in such superstitious delusions ; and if the
question is put to such persons, as “ show us any good” resulting in the
existence of an “ occult law,” we may safely defy any one to show one
instance, where any good has ever resulted from such a belief in what they
term the deep “ arcana of Nature’s book,” or rather unnatural nonsense.
Whereas, on the othei' hand, the amount of evil arising from this source
has been fearfully great, and the murders many ; dragging poor old creatures
through ponds, and hanging them, and even torturing them to death in a way
too disgusting to describe. Our own records are, unfortunately, too massive
of such ignorant and savage atrocities ; but not only were such deeds enacted
in this (at that time) so misnamed Christian land, but also in other countries
denominated Christian; but which title their brutal acts gave them, like our
�ADDENDA,
47
selves, no right to assume ; not only in Europe, but also in America. In that
country, about the year 1642, many poor old women were persecuted to
death. One woman was hung at Salem for bewitching four children, and
the eldest daughter afterwards confessed to the tricks that she and her
sisters had played in pretending to be “ bewitched.”
But in our own time we find that this belief in the power of foretelling
events leads to much mischief and misery, and from certain facts we may be
assured that there is a larger amount of evil from this cause than is made
known to the public. The “ occult law” leads to many breaches of the law
of the land, and to serious crime; it opens the door to gross imposture,
swindling, and robbery, misleading the minds of simple people, and turning
their conduct and ways from their proper and natural course, and the
strange unaccountable conduct of some persons might be easily accounted for,
when traced to this “ fortune-telling” foolery. The happiness of one family
was destroyed only the other day by a deaf and dumb “ruler of the stars,”
who is now in penal servitude, and who would have been executed had the
offence been committed some years back. Several such “ rulers of the
stars,” or “fortune-tellers,” have been hung for similar crimes, in my time,
one I remember was a black man, hung at the Old Bailey.
The clothes test cannot be brought to bear upon the predicting of events,
but there is a test, which maybe brought with equal force upon this question,
which is, that although these prophets profess to tell what is going to
happen to others, they cannot foretell what is going to happen to them
selves, for if they could, they would have, of course, avoided the punish
ments which the law has, and is constantly inflicting upon them for their
offences. And Mr. “ Zadkiel,” for instance, would not have brought his
action against Admiral Sir Edward Belcher, if he could have foreseen the
result; after which, no doubt, he cried out, “ Oh ! my stars !—if I had known
as much as I know now, I never would have gone into court!”
A “Bow Street officer” (as a branch of the old police were styled) told
me that he had a warrant to take up a female fortune-teller, who was pluck
ing the geese to a large amount. Her principal dupes were females, and he
being a gander had some difficulty in managing to get an introduction (for
this tribe of swindlers use as much caution as they can). He however
succeeded in getting the wise woman to tell him his fortune, for which he
professed himself much obliged, and told her that as he had a little faculty
in that way himself, he would in return, tell her, her fortune, which was,
that she was that morning going before the magistrate at Bow Street,
who had some power in this way also, and he would likewise tell her her
fortune. She smiled at first and would not believe in what he said, but he
showed her the warrant, and all came true that he had told her; but
nothing came true of what she had told him.
Erom the high and pure character of many persons well known to me,
who are mixed up in these seances, it is almost impossible not to believe
their statements of these wonders, the truth of which wonders they so
positively assert. If true, they are indeed wonderful; but if tricks, then do
they surpass all other tricks, ever performed by all the “ sleight of hand”
gentry put together, who ever bamboozled poor credulous, simple creatures,
oi’ astonished and puzzled a delighted audience.
�48
ADDENDA.
There can be but two sides to a question, true or false; and, as already
hinted, it remains for the mediums to prove their case, and to place the
matter in a. better light than it stands at present, which is indeed a very dim
and uncertain sort of “ night light;” but as, up to this time, their assertions
are at variance with what has hitherto been considered as sound sense and
understanding, those outside the “ circle” have not only a right, to be cautious
of stepping into such a circle, but, until some more reasonable reasons are
given—even putting aside the cwi bono for the present—unless some rational
natural cause can be assigned, they have a right to suspect the whole, either
as a Delusion or a Disease.
But even if this party prove, that these “ thing-em bobs” are recd spirits,
they appear to be so dreadful and dangerous, and there really is such a
“ strong family likeness” between some of them, and a certain “ Old Gentle
man,” that I would say “the less they have to do with them the better;”
but even supposing they are not “ so black as they are painted ” (by their
mediums), if even they are a sort of “ half-and-half,” nevertheless, I
would say—
“ Rest, rest, perturbed spirits rest;”
For if not for you, for us ’twill be the best.
There may be, as already observed, more things between heaven and
earth than were dreamt of in the philosophy of Horatio ; but let the
“inquiring spirit” rest assured that amongst these “ things” there could not
be included the Ghost of Iron Armour; and though ’tis said “there’s
nothing like leather,” yet none of these said “ things” could have been the
leather of “ Top-boots”—no, not even the leather of the “ tops” nor the
leather of the “ soles” thereof.
In concluding, I will just add to this Addenda, that,—
Although I have seen, (in the “ mirage,” in the sky)
A ship “ upside down,” the great hull and big sails,
No one, has ever yet seen, such things, as the Gliosis,
Of Hats or Wigs, or of short, or long Pig—tails.
And this is the “long and the. short” of my
DISCOVERT CONCERNING GHOSTS,
with
A RAP AT THE RAPPERS.
THE END.
UiBBILD, PBIHTBB, LOX LOX.
��
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Victorian Blogging
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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A discovery concerning ghosts. with a rap at the rappers
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Cruikshank, George [1792-1878]
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An account of the resource
Place of publication: [s.l.]
Collation: 48 p. : ill. ; 25 cm.
Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Printed by Marrild, London. Tentative date of publication from KVK.
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[s.n.]
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[1864?]
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Conway Tracts
Ghosts
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STRAUSS’S NEW WORK ON THE LIFE OF JESUS.
Das Leben Jesu, fur das deutsche Volk bearbeitet. (The
Life of Jesus, adapted to the German People.) von
David Friedrich Strauss. Leipzig : F. A. Brockhaus.
1864.
Nearly thirty years have now elapsed since a “ Life of
Jesus” by David Frederic Strauss made its first appearance.
We were at that time in Germany, and remember well the
startling effect that it produced. There were not indeed
wanting men who at once perceived, that the views which
it set forth with such uncompromising fearlessness, were a
natural consequence of principles of criticism which had
been for a long time partially and perhaps unsuspectingly
applied. But even those who were familiar with such prin
ciples and ’freely recognized them in relation to insulated
points of the gospel history, had never fully realized to
themselves the results with which they were pregnant, and
were filled with a sort of terror when they saw all their
possible applications gathered to a focus and urged home
with remorseless consequentiality to their legitimate issue.
Of replies to this alarming book there was no lack; but
none of them, not even that of Neander, were felt to have
effectually repelled the serious blow which it aimed at the
old traditional trust in the strictly historical character of the
evangelical narratives. Every ensuing contribution to the
. criticism of the New Testament which bore on it the stamp
of solid learning and thorough honesty, though it might
approach the subject from another point of view, moved in
the same direction, and tended rather to confirm than to
weaken the scepticism raised by Strauss. This was espe
cially true of the Tubingen school of theology. The imme
diate effect' was a general unsettling of opinion and a
pervading sense of uneasiness. It was impossible for things
to remain as they were. The old rationalism, which, assu
ming the impossibility of miracle, had attempted to unite
with this negative theory a literal acceptance of the facts
recorded in the Gospels, had exhausted'its resources, and
was shewn by the unanswerable logic of Strauss to be more
untenable and absurd than the simple, childlike faith which
it had undertaken to replace. Only one of two courses now
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remained: either to fall hack into broad, self-consistent
orthodoxy, which took things as they were written with
unquestioning credulity; or else to go boldly forward in the
path opened by Strauss and Baur, and develop the results
which they had established, with courageous honesty into
all their consequences. A perfect trust in truth and fearless
ness of the world, such as few men possess, was indispensable
to the adoption of the latter alternative. It was a trial of
the spirits, and not many were equal to it.
From the storm of reproach and execration which assailed
him on all sides, Strauss took shelter in studious privacy ;
and for many years, finding little encouragement to the
prosecution of theological research, busied himself with pur
suits of another though still kindred character, which bore
valuable fruit in his biographies of Ulrich von Hutten and
Reimarus. Meantime the world moved on, however theolo
gians might wish to be stationary. The events of 1848 and
1849 had powerfully roused the popular mind of Germany;
and the outbreak of the almost contemporary movements
of the German Catholics on one hand, and of the Protestant
Friends of Light on the other, shewed what a craving there
was in all quarters for release from ecclesiastical bondage
and freer religious development. Strauss from his retreat
marked these ominous phenomena with thoughtful and not
irreverent eye. Cautious and temperate in his political
views, he felt with growing conviction, what he has so
strongly expressed in the preface to his present work—that
the country of the Reformation can only become politically
free, to the extent that it has wrought out for itself a
spiritual, religious and moral freedom.
*
He discerned the
risk to which many minds were exposed from their inability
to draw a clear line of separation between the permanent
and the perishable in Christianity—of renouncing the spi
ritual substance with the historical form—or at least of
oscillating continually between a wild unbelief and a spas
modic piety.-f- The result was a firm persuasion that it
was a duty to come to the relief of this morbid condition of
the popular mind. He had convinced himself that, owing
* “Wir Deutsche konnen politisch nur in dem Masse frei werden, als wir
uns geistig, religios und sittlich frei gemacht haben.”—Vorrede, xx.
+ Ibid, xviii.
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to the wide diffusion of education, the people of Germany
were prepared for the profitable entertainment of many
questions, which might have been justly thought to be
prematurely agitated a quarter of a century before. He had
gained the experience, which has been constantly that of
other teachers of religion,—that on spiritual topics where
the premisses lie within every human consciousness, there
is often a readier perception of deep, fundamental truth in
simple and earnest men of the lowest class, than is to be
found among their superiors in social position, whose minds
are clouded by conventional prejudices, and not seldom dark
ened by the interposition of an useless mass of artificial
book-learning between their inner vision and the eternal
realities of the universe. In this purpose of bringing his
views before the general public, he was encouraged by the
warm sympathy of his brother, who, though himself a manu
facturer, took a strong and intelligent interest in the theolo
gical controversies of the time, and was regarded by Strauss
as no unfitting type of the middle-class intellect of Germany,
fully competent to decide on the main points at issue be
tween the conservative and the progressive schools. Before
the publication of the present work, Renan's Vie de Jesus
appeared in France. The reception it met with furnished
additional proof, that the time had come when the ancient
limits of learned insulation might be broken through, and
an appeal be safely made to the popular mind and heart.
Beyond this general appeal from the verdict of a craft to
the judgment of the world, the works of Renan and Strauss
have little in common.
*
Strauss’s first-work was intended immediately for theolo
gians. Some wished at the time that, like Bretschneider’s
Probabilia, it had veiled its heresies in Latin. From the
task that it proposed to itself, it was essentially analytic
and destructive, and it seemed to leave behind it a very
negative result. It took the whole mass of gospel narra
tives as it found them, and subjecting them to the severest
* In one point they touchingly agree—in the dedications prefixed to each ;
one to the memory of a beloved sister, the other to that of a brother. In both
we painfully miss the distinct recognition of a hope, which to us seems the only
availing consolation in such cases. Yet both are affectionate in tone, and, we
do not doubt, are genuine utterances of the heart—each strongly marked by
the idiosyncrasy of character and race—that of Strauss, grave and earnest; that
of Renan, airy and sentimental.
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Strauss's New Work on the Life of Jesus.
critical test, it affirmed that it had succeeded in dissolving
much that had been received as history, into legend and
even into myth, of which the source could often be traced,
and of which the aim was obvious. Like the lines of ap
proach drawn round a beleaguered city, the hostile move
ment was from the circumference towards the centre—
constantly advancing further and further, and breaking
down one defence after another, till at last it seemed doubt
ful whether the inmost citadel itself would not be. stormed
and reduced to a ruin. There was something almost ap
palling in the imperturbable coolness and apparent reck
lessness of consequences with which Strauss pursued his
work. But it was a work which had to be done. It was
desirable to test the utmost force of criticism on the histo
rical frame-work of Christianity. Dissent as we may from
the author’s conclusion, and even in cases where he leaves
no way to any definite conclusion at all, it is impossible
not to admire, in many sections of the book, the remarkable
acuteness and skill with which a number of widely dis
persed and scarcely appreciable, indications are combined to
throw light on the possible origin of a particular narrative.
Though the general theory of Strauss, in the unqualified
largeness of its earliest enunciation, must doubtless undergo
important limitations, yet his first work will ever retain a
high value, as opening the source from which many ele
ments have been supplied to the present texture of the
gospel history, and furnishing the student with a model of
thorough critical investigation.
His new work has been written with quite another view. It
is in no sense a revised edition of the first. If the object of
the former was to decompose a multifarious whole into its
constituent parts, the main design of the present volume is to
reconstruct, by gathering up the residuary facts into a solid
nucleus, and then attempting to explain how a mythic atmo
sphere has formed around it. It reverses the order of the
foregoing process. It advances from the centre towards the
circumference, making good its ground as it proceeds—striv
ing to convey as distinct an impression of the origin and
founder of Christianity as facts now ascertainable permit,
and maintaining with calm earnestness throughout, that no
results of historical criticism can affect the certainty of those
eternal truths, or impair the influence of that beautiful life,
�Strauss's New Work on the Life of Jesus.
5
which make the gospel what it is—a possession for ever to
mankind. This is evidently the aim of the hook. No
candid reader can dispute it. There are occasions on which
we think he has overstrained his theory. We cannot accept
all his assumptions without material qualification; and his
own premisses appear to us to yield more positive and con
solatory conclusions than he has himself drawn from them.
But the volume before us, with all its deficiencies, is the
clear expression of an honest, an earnest, and, we will add,
a noble mind—a mind which has sought truth for its own
sake, though on some vital points we feel strongly that it
has missed it, and which has at least proved its own since
rity by cheerfully paying the penalty which truth’s loyal
service too constantly incurs. Strauss, in his preface, does
not conceal his anxiety that his two works, as having dif
ferent objects, should be kept perfectly distinct; and he
has even left directions in his will, that in case a new edi
tion of his former work should be called for, it should be
faithfully reprinted, without any reference to the present
volume, from the first edition, with only a few corrections
from the fourth.
*
The limits to which we are restricted, will prevent us
from giving more than a summary outline of the plan and
contents of this learned and suggestive work. After a rapid
survey of successive attempts to write a “ Life of Jesus”—
beginning with Hess near a century ago, and terminating
with Renan and Keimf—Strauss proceeds to determine the
criteria of authenticity, and to inquire how far they are
satisfied by any extant testimony to the Gospels. He de
cides, that in their present form they furnish no evidence
at first hand. They are the embodiment of a cumulative
tradition, carrying down with it some written memorials of
particular discourses and transactions from a very early
date. He shews how credulous and uncritical were the
earliest witnesses to the books that form our actual canon
* Vorrede, xiii.
+ Die Meftschliche Entwickelung Jesu Christi (The Human Development of
Jesus Christ), a very interesting inaugural address on accepting the chair of
Theology at .Zurich, December 17, 1860 ; much commended by Strauss, and
furnishing, in the warm devotional sentiment with which it envelopes the
person of Christ, a not unwelcome relief from the somewhat chilling influence
of his own more negative views.
•
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—Irenaeus and Tertullian, and even the more learned and
philosophical Origen and Eusebius. Fidelity to simple fact,
even after the desire to harmonize the four evangelists had
awakened something like a critical spirit, was constantly
overpowered in their minds by dogmatic or practical consi
derations—by the wish to extract a moral or establish a con
clusion. This was the spirit of their age.' They were conscious
of no wrong in yielding to it. The examination of Papias’s
account of the origin of Matthew’s and Mark’s Gospels,
proves that the works referred to by him could not have been
identical with those which we now possess under the same
names. Indeed, the preposition rara—according to—hardly
allows direct authorship. In like manner the indication in
Luke’s preface of many contemporary records of Christ’s
ministry, and the evident desire which both the Gospel and
the Acts betray, of reconciling the opposite tendencies of
the Jewish and the Pauline schools, presuppose a later
period for the composition of both those books than is re
concilable with their having proceeded in their present form
from a companion of the apostle Paul. Contrary to the
opinion which he once held, Strauss has yielded to the
arguments of Baur, and is now convinced that the apostle
John cannot have been the author of the fourth GospeL
He ascribes the tenacity with which Schleiermacher and
some other eminent men have clung to the opposite view,
rather to sentiment than to critical proof, and thinks it had
its source in strong reaction against the old rationalism
■which was supposed to find its chief support in the Synop
tical Gospels. Only in the Epistles of Paul, and in the
Apocalypse which he regards as the work of the apostle
John, does Strauss recognize any works of direct apostolic
origin in our present canon. Having upset the earlier dates
which the old apologists had attempted to fix, he does not
pretend to find any more definite lower down. We gather
from the general tenor of his criticism, that he supposes our
four Gospels to have assumed their present form some time
in the earlier part of the second century. With the notions
now prevalent in the Christian world, this may appear dis
tressingly vague. But can those who complain, satisfacto
rily establish anything more certain? We want evidence,
not declamation. When we consider how these narratives
have been composed, of what materials they consist, through
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7
what changes of form they have passed, how gradually they
have in all probability been accumulated, and how little
anything like formal publication, in our sense of the word,
can be predicated of them, till their authoritative recogni
tion by the Catholic Church towards the close of the second
century—it is obvious that the assignment of a precise date
to the authorship of any one of them, is altogether out of
the question. By taking this broad though vague ground,
from which there is as yet no final verdict of criticism to
warn him off, Strauss gains time and space for that free
development of tradition and its consequences, in which he
finds a natural solution of many perplexing enigmas in the
gospel history. Possibly he may carry his theory too far
in this direction, as he certainly on some points overstrains
its application ; but he is at least more self-consistent than
Ewald, who agreeing to the full with Strauss in an absolute
renunciation of the miraculous, cuts off by his limitation of
the date of the Gospels, especially the Gospel of John, all
possibility of accounting without violence for its introduction
into the narrative of the New Testament
*
Notwithstand
ing this free treatment of the written documents of Chris
tianity, Strauss distinctly admits that a full and living
stream of tradition poured itself into them, which bore along
with it the new spirit of Christ,—vivid impressions of the
most salient features of his personality, and authentic records
of his most remarkable words and acts—and with such a
penetrating and diffusive power, wherever it spread, that it
“ created a soul,” to use a fine expression of Milton’s, “ under
the ribs of death,” and deposited far and wide over the ex
hausted soil of heathenism the elements of a higher faith
and a nobler life. We have often thought we could trace
a wonderful providence in the apparently defective medium
through which Christ has been revealed to us;—not set
* Most unnecessarily, on more occasions than one, Strauss seems to us to
have explained away a very probable fact into the exposition of a mere idea.
Can anything be more fanciful than his interpretation of Luke’s statement, that
Jesus, in consequence of the unbelief of his own kindred, transferred his resi
dence from Nazareth to Capernaum, where he met with a more cordial reception
—as a symbolical announcement of the rejection of Christianity by the Jews,,
and its acceptance by the heathen ? (p. 121). There is to us also something
equally unreal in his comparison of the Sermon on the Mount with the Sinaitic
legislation (p. 124), though this may have been suggested to him by his strong
persuasion that, according to the Messianic conceptions of that age, the Christ
was to be a second Moses.
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forth in clear and definite outline, with every feature exactly
delineated, and every light and shade filled up—a present
ment which would have exhausted by at once satisfying
the imagination,—but disclosed to us in transient glimpses
of ineffable sweetness and surpassing majesty, which require
the co-operation of our own highest thought to interpret
and complete them, and make the Christ in whom is our
deepest trust, the creation in part of God’s own spirit within
us. What Christ planted in the world, was not a dogma
nor a form, but a living word, which had its root in his own
life, and carried with it his own spirit. It propagated itself
under God’s blessing, but through human agencies, over all
the earth, imbibing a flavour from the various soils which
nourished it, and taking a new colour from changing skies.
We mark its earliest growth in the Galilean records of
Matthew. We observe how its vital juices sprout into lux
uriant tendrils and put forth leaves and blossoms in Paul
and Luke.. We see it bending with purple clusters in
John. There is a sense in which the fourth Gospel, while
deeply tinged with the ideas of the time, may still be said
to present us with the most genuine expression of the spirit
of Christ, because it exhibits the highest point of organic
development within the New Testament; though it may
not have been written by the apostle whose name it bears,
and though many of its contents may not correspond to
historical fact.
“The Johannean Gospel,” writes Strauss (p. 143), “with its
image of Christ, attracts more sympathy from the present gene
ration than the Synoptical with theirs. These, written out from
the quiet heart of undoubting faith in the primitive society (for,
in their conception of the person and being of Christ, there is
comparatively little difference between the liberal Judaism of the
first, and the tempered Paulinism of the third Gospel), found a
natural response in the equally sure and quiet trust of the cen
turies of faith. The former, with its restless striving to recon
cile a, new idea with the existing tradition—to represent as an
objective faith, what it grasped subjectively as certain truth—
must be better suited to the temper of a time, whose faith is no
longer a tranquil possession, but an incessant struggle, and that
would fain believe more than it yet properly can. In reference
to the impression which this side of its influence makes on our
present Christianity, we might call the Gospel of John, the
romantic Gospel, though in itself, it is anything but a romantic
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*
production. The unrest, the intense sensitiveness, which in the
believer of to-day result from his effort, amid the new views
which irresistibly force themselves on him, still to keep firm hold
of his ancient faith—proceeded, on the contrary, in the evangel
ist, from his endeavouring to raise the old tradition to the height
of his new ideas, and mould it into accordance with them; but
the restlessness and the effort, the flickering before the eye, the
wavering in the outline of the image so produced, is on both
sides the very same ; and hence it is precisely towards this Gospel
that the modern Christian feels himself especially drawn. The
Johannean Christ, who in his self-delineations continually, as it
were, overdoes himself, is the counterpart of the modern believer,
who to be a believer must be ever in like manner overdoing him
self. The Johannean miracles, which are resolved into spiritual
signs, and yet at the same time exhibit the extreme form of out
ward miracle, which are reported and attested in every way, and
yet are not to be regarded as the true ground of faith—are mira
cles and yet no miracles ; people ought to believe them, and yet
believe without them : just as this half-hearted age seeks to do,
which wears itself out in contradictions, and is too worn and
spiritless to attain to clear insight and decisive speech in reli
gious things.”
There is much truth' in these words, but not the whole
truth. They do not do full justice to the very case which
they so forcibly put. No doubt we have in the fourth Gospel
a vivid expression of the endeavour to reconcile the simple,
popular trusts which are transmitted to us in the three
first, with a philosophic conception of God’s relation to the
universe which at that time pervaded with its subtle influ
ence the whole upper region of thought throughout the
Greco-Roman world. But it was not all unrest; it was not
interminable struggle. In those wonderful chapters, from
the 13th to the 17th, which are the highest utterance of
the Johannean Gospel, the problem has its solution. In
love and trust, in oneness of affection and endeavour with
the omnipresent God, in self-surrender to the Parent Mind
through the heart’s deep sympathy with the holiest human
manifestation of filial obedience—the troubled spirit finds
at last the rest and peace for which it has yearned. And so
it will be in the final issue of this agitated and questioning
* The allusion is to the distinction between the classical and the romantic
schools, familiar to all who are acquainted with the history of German litera
ture in the early part of the present century.
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age of ours. When the battle between science and faith,
between historical traditions and the religion of the in Tier
consciousness, has been fought out, and their mutual rela
tionship has been adjusted ; the spirit of Christ will survive
these controversies of the intellect, and disengaged at length
from artificial obstructions and gratuitous difficulties, will
descend with all its power into the human soul, and fill it
with a profounder faith and a holier love.
*
The somewhat tentative character of Strauss’s first book
and its large application of the mythic principle, that on
the image of Christ, as presented to us in the Gospels, some
of the most striking features had been impressed by the
Messianic assumptions of the primitive Church,—left on the
reader’s mind a painful doubt whether the author recognized
any historical Christ at all, and whether what we had been
accustomed to accept as such, was not to a large extent a
product of the imaginative enthusiasm of the first believers ;
or, to put it in the briefest form, whether, instead of Christ’s
having created the Church, the Church had not rather created
Christ. The supposition, conceived in this broad, unquali
fied way, is so preposterous that it furnished those who
were eager to find in the work not what it might contain
of truth, but where it could be most effectively assailed, a
ready and obvious point of attack. It is only justice to
Strauss to say, that his mature thoughts embodied in the
present volume, afford no ground for imputing to him so
wild an extravagance. He affirms most distinctly not only
the historical existence of Jesus of Nazareth, but the won
derful effect of his personality in introducing the greatest
spiritual revolution in the history of the human race. What
he contends for is simply this : that the image of that per
sonality has not been conveyed to us through perfectly
transparent media ; and that though the features are suffi
ciently distinct to enable us to verify the individual, they
have been blended in their transmission with the deep sub
jective influence of the recording mind. Before we condemn
this view, we must first shew that with a thoroughly honest
criticism we are able to escape it. That Jesus was born
* How searching are these words of the great Augustine! “Vae animae
audaci, quae speravit si a te recessisset, se aliquid melius habituram. Versa et
reversa in tergum et in latera et in ventrem, et dura sunt omnia. Tu Solus
requies.”—Confess. Lib. vi. c. 16.
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and bred of humble parentage in Nazareth of Galilee ; that
he was a hearer of John, and received baptism at his hands ;
that he commenced the career of an independent religious
reformer in Galilee, sharing in the general Messianic ex
pectations of his time ; that he penetrated to the spiritual
substance of the law, and believed that in the coming age
its outward form would be abolished for ever; that he
attached followers to himself from his own rank in life,
and preached to multitudes repentance and faith, awaken
ing into consciousness the higher life that was slumbering
in them ; that he waged an unsparing war with the formal
ism and hypocrisy of the professed guides and instructors
of the people, and gave his interest and sympathy in pre
ference to publicans and sinners; that the essence of his
teachings is condensed in the Sermon on the Mount, in
innumerable parables, and in occasional words that escaped
from the fulness of his inmost spiritual being in varied inter
course with the world,—all summed up in the two great com
mandments of love to God and love to man, of which his
whole life was a living impersonation ; that, though he
foresaw the fate which awaited him from direct encounter
with an irritated and malignant priesthood at Jerusalem,
this did not deter him from resolutely pursuing his pro
phetic career till its close ; that, betrayed by one of his own
followers, he fell into the hands of his enemies, and was
executed ignominiously by the Boman authorities on the
cross ; that notwithstanding the dismay and the dispersion
which this event immediately produced among his disciples,
they nevertheless after a season recovered their confidence
and hope, and firmly believed in his resurrection from the
dead and his continued presence and visitation from the
heavenly world;—these are facts which Strauss clearly
recognizes as the historic frame-work of the evangelical
narrative, and as the basis of his further speculations re
specting their accompaniments. He thinks that in conse
quence of being so far above the ideas of his age and coun
try, Jesus has been often misunderstood by those who heard
him ; and that we are therefore justified in interpreting the
general tenor of his instructions by the highest and most
spiritual utterances recorded of him ; that, for instance, we
have probably a truer reflection of his spirit in some of the
parables peculiar to the Pauline Gospel of Luke than in
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others which occur in Matthew’s, and hear evident marks
of the Judaic narrowness of its original materials. He
believes that we can trace a spiritual growth in the mind
of Jesus, and that the consciousness of his Messianic mission did not take possession of him all at once,—that it first
becomes distinctly conspicuous about the time of the trans
figuration. Having once acquired the conviction that he
had been chosen by God to fulfil the Messianic work, it
was only a natural consequence that Jesus should apply to
himself, and expect to find realized in himself as God’s
instrument for a great purpose, the several predicates that
were attached by universal belief to his office. In this part
of his life, however, it is especially difficult to disentangle
what he may actually have said about himself, from the
stronger and ampler language respecting the Messiah then
current among the Jews, which later faith assumed that he
must have used, and therefore unhesitatingly applied to him.
Enough—he was profoundly sincere in his conviction, cou
rageous and ready for self-sacrifice in carrying it out; and
if the admission implies that there was a certain tinge of
enthusiasm in his character, he possessed this quality in
common with some of the purest and noblest spirits that
have adorned the human race; nor is it in any wise incom
patible with a providential vocation and a divine life. Such
we gather to be Strauss’s impression of the historical Jesus.
But in this history there are two elements—one which we
have just described, probable in itself and consistent with
the known laws of matter and mind ; another, intermingled
with it, which transcends those laws and stands out as an
exceptional case in the history of the world. Strauss’s
theory of the universe (of which we shall have to say a
word or two by and by) precludes him from admitting the
possibility under any imaginable circumstances of such
occurrences as would constitute the latter element. The
problem, therefore, which he has to solve, is to account for
the copious infusion of this element into every part of a
history which contains so much of the highest truth and
has left so profound an impression on the subsequent course
of human affairs. His explanation is the following: that
assuming the traditional facts of Christ’s actual life as their
basis, it was the object, first of the preachers of the gospel,
and afterwards of those who reduced our earliest records t(
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13
writing, to establish on that basis a conclusive argument
that Jesus of Nazareth was the Christ or expected Messiah,
the Son of David, the second Moses, the Son of God; and
that the working of this strong purpose, blended with intense
conviction, on the traditional materials subjected to it in a
mental atmosphere already deeply charged with foregone
conclusions, evolved more and more, as the actual facts re
ceded into further distance, the mythical halo which has
invested the whole narrative with a supernatural character.
If Jesus were the Messiah, then all the passages of the Old
Testament which had a Messianic import, and all the ex
pectations to which the current interpretations of them had
given rise, must have had their fulfilment in his person
and his life; and this assumption, ever present to the mind
of the evangelists, moulded unconsciously the loose and
fluctuating mass of oral tradition into the form in which
we now possess it, and mingled with it elements that had
their source in the fervid faith of the believing mind. This
is what has been called the mythic theory of Strauss. The
old rationalistic school, including Eichhorn and Paulus and
not wholly excluding Schleiermacher himself, disbelieved
equally with Strauss the possibility of the strictly miracu
lous ; but they attempted by various expedients to explain
it away from a narrative which they accepted in the main
as historical. Strauss saw the futility of this method, and
the violence which it did to the plainest rules of exegesis;
but he attained the same object of accounting for the intro
duction of the miraculous, by carrying down the Gospels
to a later date, and ascribing it to the imperceptible growth
of tradition.
It becomes necessary here, for the sake of the English
reader, to define a little more exactly the idea conveyed by
the word myth, when used in this sense. Heyne was one
of the first who shewed that the myth was a necessary form
of thought in the earlier stages of human development.
While language is yet imperfectly furnished with abstract
terms, and the imaginative are ascendant over the reasoning
faculties, ideas struggling for utterance clothe themselves
in an objective shape and find expression in narrative and
personification. Heyne made a distinction between conscious
and unconscious fiction; and regarded the latter alone as
properly a myth. In this sense a myth has been called the
�i4
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spontaneous expression in a historical form of the indwelling
idea of a community. Since Heyne’s time the subject has
been more scientifically developed by George in his essay
on “ Myth and Legend.”* In legend, according to him, there
is always at bottom some fact, however much it may have
been subsequently overgrown by the wild offshoots of the
imagination. A myth, on the contrary, fills up with its own
creations from the first—imagining what must have been—
the absolute vacancy of the past. But in the proper myth,
as in the proper legend, according to this interpretation of
them, whatever fiction they may involve is unconscious, is
unintentional. With the progress of the intellect, however,
and a clearer perception of the distinction between a fact
and an idea, this primeval unconsciousness becomes no
longer possible. Fiction is still practised, but it now justi
fies itself by its intention, that of ineulcating a moral or
enforcing a truth. The literary conscience of antiquity was
much laxer in this respect than our own. The line between
fiction and history was far less distinctly recognized. If a
good end could be served, no hesitation was felt in assum
ing a false name to recommend a work, and in arbitrarily
combining and interpolating the actual facts of history to 1
bring out more effectually the impression intended to be
produced. The centuries preceding and following the birth
of Christ, abounded in works of this description. It was
almost a characteristic of the age. The late F. C. Baur was
the first theologian of standing and authority who ventured
boldly to assert the occurrence of this practice within the
limits of the New Testament, as an element towards the
solution of the complicated question of the relative credi
bility of the evangelists. It was with him an unavoidable
consequence of the conclusions at which he had arrived
respecting the origin and composition of the fourth Gospel.
Indeed his clear and forcible reasonings reduce us to this
dilemma ; we must either admit the authenticity and trust
worthiness of John, in which case the Synoptics fall at once
in value, as shewn to be constantly in error; or else, assum
ing the three first Gospels to exhibit the primitive Pales* Mythus und Saga: Ver such einer wissenschaftlichen Entwickelung dieser
Begriffe und ihrer Verhaltnisses zurn christlichen Glauben. Berlin, 1837..
Legend is an inadequate, and in reference to its etymology, an inaccurate ren
dering of Saga, for which there is no exact equivalent in English.
�Strauss's New Work on the Life of Jesus.
15
tinian tradition and John to have used their materials, we
must allow that he has handled them, in many instances
at least, with a freedom that deprives them of all proper
historical character. No third course seems possible. Strauss
has embraced apparently in their whole extent the views of
Baur on this subject. He describes the Johannean Gospel
as another Apocalypse, projecting its images not, like that
of the apostle whose name it has assumed, on the thunder
clouds of the future, but on the quiet wall of the past
(p. 156). He has been compelled, too, under the same in
fluence, to use the word myth in a much wider sense than
that to which it had been restricted by Heyne and George,
including conscious as well as unconscious fiction. In its
application to the evangelical narratives, he considers the
only distinction of importance to lie between the historical
and the ideal, from whatever source the latter may proceed.
“In this new form of the Life of Jesus, I have,” he says,
“ chiefly in pursuance of the indications of Baur, allowed more
scope than formerly to the supposition of conscious and inten
tional fiction; but I have not on that account thought it neces
sary to employ another term. Rather in reply to the question,
whether even the conscious fictions of an individual can properly
be called myths, I must, even after all that has been written on
the subject, still say : by all means, so far as they have found
credence, and passed into the tradition of a people or a religious
party; for this is at the same time a proof that they were fash
ioned by their author not simply at the instance of his particular
fancy, but in harmony with the consciousness of numbers. Every
unhistorical narrative, however it may have arisen, in which a
religious community finds an essential portion of the holy foun
dation on which it rests, inasmuch as it is an absolute expression
of the feelings and conceptions which constitute it what it is, is
a myth ; and if Greek mythology is concerned in separating from
this wider definition of myth, a narrower one which excludes
the idea of conscious fiction, critical, on the other hand, as
contrasted with orthodox theology, has an interest in embracing
under the general conception of myth, all those evangelical nar
ratives to which it assigns a purely ideal significance.”—P. 159.
The mythic principle so understood Strauss applies to
the explanation of the second of the two elements which
we have described as entering into the composition of the
Gospels. The earliest, evangelists preached and wrote to
shew that Jesus of Nazareth was the Christ; and the course
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of their argument, with the kind of proofs on which they
chiefly insisted to sustain it, was powerfully influenced by
the conception through which they habitually realized to
themselves the Messianic character and office—whether as
the Son of David, the Son of God or the Incarnate Word.
The devout Jew of that age firmly believed that the Messi
anic era was at hand. His exalted faith threw its own
glowing imagery on the sacred pages of the law and the
prophets; so that wherever he opened them, whether he
lighted on history or poetry or precept, the mystic interpre
tation in which he had been trained, enabled him to discern
some foreshadowing of him that was to come. The Chris
tian had convinced himself that he was already come in
Jesus ; and consequently all those passages of the ancient
Scripture, in which "he had been accustomed to find the
clearest indications of the future deliverer of Israel and
mankind, he assumed without doubting, as God was true,
must have their fulfilment in his person and life. What
men are persuaded they must see, we know as a rule that
they will see, even when present appearances are against
them; but when this enthusiastic conviction operates not
on contemporary facts, but on a continually receding tradi
tion, it inevitably overpowers the objective by the subjec
tive, and envelopes the history of the past in a hazy atmo
sphere of imaginative feeling. Without adopting Strauss’s
theory in all its details, and strongly questioning some of
his assumptions, truth nevertheless compels us to admit,
that of many statements in the Gospels, after thoroughly
analyzing and comparing them, the origin and character are
best explained on the supposition that this mythic principle
was largely concerned in producing them.
This side of the history of Jesus, Strauss has brought out
in a series of mythic groups, in each of which he endeavours
to discover the formative idea which gave birth to it; in
other words, what Messianic assumption has invested the
simple historical nucleus with a character of its own. In
the first of these mythic groups relating to the birth of
Jesus and the communication of his supernatural powers,
three views are clearly traceable which must have origi
nated in different conceptions, and are incapable of perfect
reconcilement with each other, though they are blended to
some extent in our existing Gospels. We have first the
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17
account of the. descent of the Spirit at his baptism, which
is probably the oldest view ; then two narratives, in Mat
thew and in Luke, of his conception by a virgin under
divine influence, which are inconsistent with each other;
and lastly, the doctrine of the word made flesh in John,
who omits the genealogies, and has no allusion to Christ’s
having come into the world in any other than the ordinary
way. His birth at Bethlehem, with the miraculous accom
paniments of the star and the heavenly host, and the adora
tion of the magi and the shepherds,—the murderous jealousy
of Herod, the flight into Egypt, and the presentation in the
Temple,—incidents which it is utterly impossible to weave
together into a self-consistent narrative, and which, strange
and startling as they were, do not appear to have exercised
the slightest effect on thirty ensuing years of tranquil ob
scurity,—we can hardly doubt were assumed to have
occurred, because certain passages referring to the Messi
anic advent in the Old Testament were believed to require
them, and because they were such as antiquity, Jewish and
heathen, constantly associated with the entrance of great
men into the world. Strauss has instituted a parallelism
between the life of Moses and that of Jesus which is to us
novel, and which we think he has somewhat overstrained.
Both, however, were deliverers; both effected the emanci
pation of their people through sore trials and temptations ;
and both, according to the popular belief, ran a risk of
perishing in infancy. This last incident often occurs in
the legendary memorials of the heroes of the world. It is
told of Augustus by his freedman Julius Marathus, in the
broad daylight of Roman civilization, and in an age contem
porary with Christ.
*
The relations of Jesus with the Bap* Suetonius, Octavianus c. 94. It had been announced a few months before
the birth of Augustus, that a citizen of Velitraa (to which his family belonged)
should become the ruler of the world ; whereupon the Senate being alarmed,
issued a decree that no child bom in that year should be reared. We had
marked this passage some time ago as forming a parallel to the story of the
murder of the innocents, and noticed, what Strauss has omitted to mention—
that the language used is identical with that in which Suetonius in another
part of his book, and Tacitus in his History, describe the Messianic expecta
tion of the Jews. The following is the prophecy about Augustus: “ Velitris,
antiquitus tactfl, de coelo parte muri, responsum est, ejus oppidi civern quundoque rerum potiturum.'’ Of the Jewish belief Suetonius thus writes : “Esse
in fatis, ut eo tempore, Judced profecti rerum potirentur” (Vespas. c. 4); and
Tacitus in the very same words: “Profectique Judaa rerum potirentur”
(Hist. v. 13).
B
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tist and with his earliest followers have probably, according
to Strauss, been tinged in the later conceptions of them
with something of a mythic hue. The acknowledgment of
his superiority by the former, could not have been so clear
and decided from the first as is represented ; otherwise the
disciples of the Baptist would not have continued to form
a separate sect, nor would Christ’s own ministry have first
taken independent ground when the Baptist had been
silenced by being cast into prison. With regard to his dis
ciples, Christ is described as summoning them at once, and
the call (to give a greater air of authority to his words) as
having been immediately obeyed. In both cases, probably,
the effect was gradual. The result only is given. What
had preceded it is passed over. The development of these
two relationships—the first with his forerunner, the second
with his followers—forms the subject of two separate mythic
groups in this part of Strauss’s exposition of the life of
Jesus. Less difficulty will generally be felt in accepting
the accounts of the temptation and the transfiguration as
mythical; for few thoughtful theologians of any school can
now for a long time past have seriously treated them as
historical. A conflict with the Evil One is the fundamental
idea pervading the whole ministry of Christ; and a sym
bolical representation of it would form a natural introduc
tion to the history of his public life. So, again, Moses and
Elias had prepared the way for the gospel; and besides the
current belief that the old prophets would reappear in the
days of the Messiah, it was a fitting consecration of the last
and most trying period of his ministry, when death was
awaiting him and all worldly hopes were about to be extin
guished in the blood of the cross, that his great predecessors
should be seen to be associated with him in glory, and that
the voice from heaven should once more be heard pronounc
ing him the Beloved Son. In these transactions we have
two other mythic groups. It is unnecessary to go through
the entire series. We would simply remark, that in those
passages of the life of Jesus which record the exertion of
miraculous power, the theory of the author assumes its
strongest expression and most uncompromising application.
Strauss’s philosophical system precludes his recognizing
the strictly miraculous in any sense. Its utter impossibility
is an assumption which he carries with him ab initio to the
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19
criticism of the evangelical narrative; and it is an assump
tion so deeply rooted in his first principles of belief, that no
accumulation of outward testimony could overcome it, any
more than it could make him accept a logical contradiction.
His theory, therefore, leaves him no alternative but to eli
minate the miraculous from the history as something neces
sarily untrue. He starts from this premiss; and all his
reasonings are in harmony with it. His book is self-con
sistent throughout. With him the phenomenal universe is
an ultimate fact, carrying its cause and principle within
itself. There is nothing, and we can know nothing, beyond
it. He would not, of course, deny that there may hereafter
be an evolution of new and unexpected results from laws
and agencies already in operation; but those laws and
agencies, once clearly ascertained, themselves furnish, in his
view, the limit to any further development of phenomena
that can be conceived. Any power not already contained
in the phenomenal, that could control its course and infuse
a new element of life into the growth of the universe, he
would disown as a gratuitous assumption. His belief, if
we understand him correctly, is limited to the phenomenal
alone, and does not extend to any power extraneous and
antecedent to the phenomenal.
Every theory of the universe must start from some
assumption : the question is, whether the assumption which
admits or that which excludes benevolent intelligence and
righteous will as the root and sustaining principle of the
universe, is most in accordance with the only analogies that
can guide us in a matter so entirely beyond our experience,
and best satisfies the instinctive belief, the spontaneous trust,
the devout yearning which, if the voice of our collective
humanity be not the utterance of a falsehood, must indicate
some corresponding object in reality. It is not our intention
to argue this question with Strauss. It is one too vast and
deep to be discussed within the limits of the present paper,
and belongs in fact rather to philosophy than to theology.
We notice it here only to mark with distinctness the point
where our own views diverge widely from those of the
author, which, though not essential to his historical criticism,
nevertheless underlie it throughout, and give to his conclu
sions the cold and negative character that need not of
necessity belong to them. The religious philosophy implied
B 2
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in this book, which, we again say, should be considered
something apart from its historical criticism, seems to us
essentially pantheistic, and at war with the deepest heart of
the religion of whose history it is the exposition. Take away
the belief in a Living God who can be approached in prayer
and has communion through his omnipresent Spirit with the
human soul; take away the sense of our personal relation to
a Personal God—the child’s sense of kindred with an Ever
lasting Father, which gives the hope of an undying life in
Him ; take away the trust, that the love and the worth and
the beauty which shew themselves in things perishing and
phenomenal, are an influx from an exhaustless Source which
is at once within and beyond them; and what remains that
deserves the name of religion—to carry home the words of
Jesus to the inmost recesses of the heart, or to explain the
power and sanctity of his own life? We feel, therefore, a
much stronger objection to the philosophic theory which pre
vents our author’s admission of the miraculous—that is, of
the intrusion of any power from without into the phenomenal
—than to the historical criticism which shews that in any
particular case the report of the miracle has probably had a
mythic origin. We will even add, that were criticism to suc
ceed in demonstrating that not one miracle recorded in the
New Testament was historically true, with a better religious
philosophy put under that criticism and tempering its re
sults, our faith would receive no shock, and our trust in the
great truths of Christianity would be as strong as ever.
The difficulty that we experience in wholly giving up the
miraculous, is not a religious, but a critical one. Not a few
of the miracles of the New Testament, it is true, may, we
think, not unreasonably be considered as the product of
tradition, interpreting literally the poetic imagery of Isaiah,
*
and assuming that the wonderful works of Elijah and Elisha
must have been repeated by Messiah himself. But allow
ing the utmost for this source of the miraculous, there still
remains so large an amount of extraordinary curative influ
ence, .explicable by no laws at present accessible to us,
interwrought with the inmost substance of the history of
Jesus, that if we attempt to separate it, the very texture of
* “ Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf shall
be unstopped. Then shall the lame man leap as a hart, and the tongue of the
dumb sing.” (Isaiah xxxv. 5, 6.)
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the narrative is destroyed; and if we suppose it altogether
the creation of a pious fancy, so sharp a blow would be
inflicted on the credibility of even the great fundamental
outlines of the history, that we could hardly tell whether
we were dealing with any reality at all. Our faith in
Christ’s word and work does not depend, we are free to
confess, on any alleged miraculous attestation in their favour,
but on our inward experience of their truth and power ; we
should believe in them just as firmly, if it could be proved
that not a single miracle had ever been wrought: but we
wish to save the character of the narrative through which
they are conveyed to us ; and taking our stand on the ear
liest and most authentic Palestinian traditions, which have
probably been preserved to us in Matthew, and partly, per
haps, in Mark,—we have never yet met with any critical
process which could entirely extrude what has at least the
semblance of miracle, and leave eveji the ground-work of a
credible history behind. What the consistent anti-supernaturalist has to shew is this—how he can divest the
person of Jesus of all miraculous influence attaching to it,
and yet leave as large a residuum of positive history as
Strauss himself accepts as the basis of his theory. John the
Baptist was in the first instance as much the object of Mes
sianic expectation as Jesus, and for some time their two
ministries appear to have occupied independent spheres;
yet no traditions of supernatural power have gathered round
the person of the former. We find it difficult, therefore, to
believe that gifts of some extraordinary kind, displayed
chiefly in curative effects, and involving al.^o deep spiri
tual insight, were not possessed by Jesus—a result of the
peculiar organization with which he was originally endowed;
and that these formed, as it were, the punctum saliens of
primitive fact out of which the whole mass of mythic and
legendary amplification naturally grew, as they may at first
have been the providential means of exciting and securing
the attention of some whom more spiritual influences would
not so readily have reached. Obscurity is cast over this sub
ject by the vague meaning attached to the word miraculous.
Scarcely two persons use it in the same sense. No one of
any philosophical culture, whatever his religious theory,
ever supposes God to act without law. Law springs out of
the very nature of mind. The more perfect mind is, the more
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surely it is obedient to law, as the condition of harmonious
and self-consistent action,—involving in its effects all the
difference between a kosmos and a chaos. But it does not,
therefore, follow that the deepest laws of the infinite working
can be seized by a finite intelligence, or are even contained
as yet within the limits of the phenomenal. The idea of
progress and development which the past history of our
planet irresistibly forces on us, implies the continual acces
sion of something new, which, as it transcends the actual,
the actual is not of itself competent to originate. Out of
the vast, unexplored possibilities of the spiritual, which
enfold and pervade and underlie the phenomenal, influences
at times may, and (if the world is to advance) must issue,
which contradict the results of experience, and limit the
universality of laws which a premature generalization had
accepted as final. It is this occasional intrusion of the spi
ritual into the phenomenal, which we suppose people mean
in general to express when they speak of the miraculous.
No doubt the disposition to believe in such intrusion (which
is in itself significant, as forming a part of the natural faith
of the human soul) has led constantly to its gratuitous sup
position, and, in ages when there was no science, assumed
its presence in cases which further inquiry shewed were
resolvable into laws uniformly in operation around us. The
number of such cases, it must be confessed, has been regu
larly on the decrease with the progress of science. Never
theless, after every deduction on this account, phenomena
are still on record, supported by unexceptionable testimony
(testimony, the rejection of which would subvert the foun
dations of all history), and inexplicable by any laws which
science can define, for the solution of which we must go to
something beyond the phenomenal as yet known to us.
Every one at all acquainted with the history of religion, or,
if the reader so pleases, of superstition (for the two histories
are closely interwoven with each other), is well aware how
constantly every fresh outbreak of the religious life, espe
cially after a long suppression in formality and indifference,
has been accompanied by some mysterious and unaccount
able phenomena. Our own generation has witnessed them.
The miracles ascribed to St. Bernard are reported on more
direct testimony than can be alleged for those of the Gos
pels. All such cases we would have subjected to the seve-
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23
rest scrutiny, and left to rest each on its appropriate evidence,
apart from any theory. They will probably be found to
contain a large mixture of delusion and self-deception with
some unaccountable reality at bottom—linking our human
nature, here and there, amid the tangled web of the actual,
with dim, mysterious agencies which are slumbering as yet
in the bosom of the Infinite, and of which only at the rarest
intervals we catch a passing glimpse. This is a subject on
which no man will venture to dogmatize. It is the truest
philosophy to hold the mind in candid and reverent sus
pense. The extreme devotion of the present age to the
physical sciences confines its interest and belief to the
ascertainable and phenomenal, and indisposes it to any
recognition of the vaguer realities of the spiritual. We only
desire to enter our protest against the narrow and one-sided
philosophy which would shut up all possibility within the
limits of law reducible to scientific formulas, and exclude
the great Parent Mind from all direct action on the condi
tion of his human family.
*
The logical rigour with which Strauss carries out the
consequences of his system, and his determination to ex
plain every word and every act which appear to him not
to come within the range of the strictly historical, in ac
cordance with its pervading principle, have blinded him
in some cases to the moral beauty and significance of the
narrative, and the deep spiritual intuitions which, amidst
errors of scriptural interpretation, have filled Christ’s words
with enduring light. His theory binds his faculties as with
a spell, and keeps him intent on exploring the dim traces
of rabbinical refinement and mysticism, when with a mind
* There is a superficial philosophy cun-ent in some quarters, that will probably
treat with derision the conceded possibilities of the foregoing paragraph ; that
accepts without difficulty, by the aid of certain traditional formulas, all the
miracles of the Old and New Testament, as exceptional cases (peculiar and
limited to them) in the order of the world, and yet scouts as weak and irrational
credulity every attempt to reduce such cases to deeper but constant laws, and
bring them into harmony with the facts of universal history. To the consider
ation of such persons, who, to be consistent, should believe more or believe less,
we commend the following wise and seasonable words, ascribed (we have reason
to know, on the best authority) to one of the first mathematicians of the age :
“What I reprobate is, not the wariness which widens and lengthens inquiry,
but the assumption which prevents or narrows it; the imposture theory, which
frequently infers imposture from the assumed impossibility of the phenomena
asserted, and then alleges imposture against the examination of the evidence.”
Preface to a book entitled, “ From Matter to Spirit,” p. xxix.
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more open and erect he could not have failed to bring more
prominently into view that remarkable feature of the gos
pel history—the sympathy, if we may so express it, of its
miraculous elements with the moral life of Christ himself,
glowing with the same warm hues of human tenderness
and love, breathing the same deep tone of devout trust and
aspiration, as if the common and the miraculous of the re
cord grew out of the same spiritual root. This may be no
sufficient proof of the strictly historical character of these
narratives, but it attests at least the intensity of the im
pression under which they were conceived, and shews how
the spirit of Christ had entered into and moulded anew
the minds that consorted with him, and handed down the
living tradition of his personal presence which has taken
shape and consistency in our present Gospels. The pre
dominance of this moral and religious element is the great
distinction of the canonical from the apocryphal Gospels,
and a proof of the fine spiritual tact of the primitive Church
which so clearly separated them.
We shall notice only two instances of what appears to
us a certain logical narrowness in Strauss. In commenting
on the beautiful words about the resurrection, Matt. xxii.
51, 52; Mark xii. 26, 27; and Luke xx. 37, 38 (pp. 259, 260),
he sees no force, as De Wette does, and as we do, in the
inference drawn by Christ from the pregnant expression,
“the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob,” clenched by
the sublime universalism peculiar to Luke—iravrse yap avrw
Z&<nv—“ for all live unto him.” We may admit that the exe
gesis adopted by Christ in this passage was a rabbinical one,
and that the words taken by themselves furnish no direct
proof of the doctrine associated with them. But Strauss
himself discerns an evidence of Christ’s greatness in the new
spirit with which he read the old scripture, shewing him
to be a prophet, though no interpreter; and it is surprising
to us that one who can see and acknowledge all this, should
not also feel the depth and force of the spiritual intuition
which perceived at once there could be no death for the
soul in God, and, truer than the ancient words in which it
*
found utterance, was the revelation of an eternal reality to
the world. - The other passage is the story of the raising of
Lazarus. We are constrained by internal and external evi
dence to believe with Strauss that this narrative cannot be
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25
historical We cannot else understand how an event of
such importance, affecting the most intimate friends of
Jesus, could have been so entirely passed over without the
remotest allusion by the Synoptical Gospels. We think
there is great force in Strauss’s reasons for regarding it as
an embodiment in this concrete form of the doctrine, that
the Word is in himself, h avaoraaic, koI f) fah—“the resur
rection and the life.” But in his rigid development of this
idea, and in his anxiety to shew how it has influenced
every part of the narrative, he loses all sense of that ex
quisite tenderness and pathos which would seem to have
so entirely possessed the mind of the evangelist, that in
the glow of composition he forgets the divinity of his sub
ject, and is completely carried away by his human sympa
thies, and in individual expressions falls into dissonance
with his general theme. Strauss, like some other critics,
more logical than his author, is driven to harsh interpre
tations to bring him into harmony with himself. The be
trayal of deep emotion at the grave, conveyed by the words,
ive[ipip.T]ffaTo, trapafcv, f.p.[3pipLpEV0Q (John xi. 34, 38), he un
derstands of the indignation of Jesus at the insensibility of
the bystanders to the greatness and power of the present
Logos. The whole context, however, shews that the writer
meant something very different, and permitting his human
traditions of Christ to overpower for the moment the hypo
thesis of his divinity, has described with uncommon beauty
the struggle in the mind of Jesus with the strength of his na
tural affections. That this is the true rendering of the pas
sage is evident from the subjoined rip Trvsvpan and er lavra,
which qualify the original force of the verb Ipflpipaopat, and
from the single word ISaKpvaEv which furnishes a key to
the whole.
As John has added some things not contained in the
Synoptics, so he has strangely omitted others which are
pre-eminently characteristic of them. There is no curative
effect more constantly recorded in the three first Gospels
than the expulsion of evil spirits, while no instance of it
occurs in the fourth. Strauss’s explanation of this pecu
liarity is at least plausible and entitled to consideration.
Reported cases of this kind were common in that age all
over the world. Josephus and the sophists make frequent
mention of them. And something analogous is said to be
�26
Strauss’s New Work on the Life of Jesus.
met with to this day in the East. Strauss thinks that the
great moral power of Jesus, and the reverence which his
presence inspired, might exercise a healing influence on 1
persons liable to the affections that were popularly ascribed
to demoniacal possession. This was in perfect harmony
with the popular persuasion respecting him. We know
there were then regular exorcists by profession both among
the Jews and the heathens. But this class of persons had
already fallen into disrepute at the commencement of the
second century; and Strauss finds an indication of the later
origin of John’s Gospel in the exclusion from its pages of
all cures of this kind, which it would have been no longer
regarded as consistent with the dignity of the incarnate
Word to ascribe to him.
After the foregoing exposition of his theory, it is hardly
necessary to add that Strauss does not believe in the histo
rical fact of the resurrection of the body on the third day,
nor, we fear we must add, in individual immortality. Indi
viduals, like all other phenomena, according to his view of
things, are transient and perishable. Only the primal idea
which evolves and develops itself in and through them, is
eternal. He exposes with great acuteness the complexities
and inconsistencies of the several evangelical narratives, and
shews that they exhibit traces of two perfectly distinct tra
ditions of the appearances of the risen Jesus—one dreamy
and phantom-like, the other, and probably the later, hard
ened into the distincter outlines of corporeal manifestation.
He thinks that the apostles and their associates fled on the
event of the crucifixion into Galilee ; and that hence arose
the tradition that Christ first manifested himself to them
amid the scenes of his early ministry, in fulfilment of his
promise to meet them there. It took more time, in his
opinion, than is allowed by our present Gospels, for the full
growth of the conviction that he had risen from the dead,
had appeared to his first disciples, and was still spiritually
present with his church. The minuter specifications of time
and place and particular appearance—three, eight and forty
days, the Galilean mountain, the walk to Emmaus, the
closed chamber at Jerusalem, the shore of the Sea of Tibe
rias—he considers to be altogether the product of a later
tradition. All idea of resuscitation after an apparent death,
which was a favourite resource of the old rationalists, and
�Strauss’s New Work on the Life of Jesus.
27
which appears from his posthumous papers to have been
entertained by Schleiermacher himself, is rejected by Strauss
unconditionally, as inconsistent with the best attested facts
of the case. What became of the mortal remains of Jesus
there are no means, he thinks, of our ever knowing. The
belief in the resurrection of Christ he regards with Ewald
as a result of the intense hopes and longings of the disciples,
tradition magnifying dim and uncertain rumours, and the
words of Messianic promise working with a foregone con
clusion on fervid and enthusiastic minds. But this expla
nation does not appear to us, any more than that of Ewald,
sufficient to explain the extraordinary fact in the origin of
the new religion which five words of Tacitus have impressed
in indelible characters on the page of universal history—
repressaque in prcesens—rursus erumpebat. What was the
cause of that wonderful change in the mind of Paul which
made the spiritual world a reality to him ? His own words
imply (1 Cor. xv. 5—8) that the same appearances which
convinced him that Jesus was risen from the dead, had con
vinced others before him. And what was the effect of that
conviction ? It transformed their whole mind and life. The
disciples before and the disciples after the death of Jesus
(an event which might have been expected wholly to crush
the nascent faith, and in the first instance seemed actually
to do so) were completely different men; before, doubting,
timid and carnal; after, bold, confident and spiritual. Nor
was the effect limited to them. Through them, a new light
entered the world, a new hope brightened the horizon of
our planet. Immortality, which had been the floating dream
of a speculative^ few, became the steadfast trust of multi
tudes. The earliest literature and art of the Christians,
their simple hymns and the rude frescoes which adorned
their tombs, touchingly shew how the future beyond the
grave, to which friends and kindred had already passed,
was to them a nearer and more vivid reality than the
troubled and persecuted present in which they lived on
earth. And this has been the animating principle of Chris
tianity throughout its subsequent diffusion over the earth,
marking a new era in the spiritual development of our race,—•
the assurance of a wider and more glorious future for the
immortal soul. The origin of this new conviction we can
trace back to a definite period in past history associated
�28
Strauss’s JVew Work on the Life of Jesus.
with the traditions of Christ. And can we account for it
without the supposition of some fresh infusion from the
spiritual into the phenomenal ? Can that which renovated
the world have grown out of the world? Could death
develop life ? We may never be able to give an objective
precision to our conception of the cause. It is involved in
deepest mystery. But we think Baur was nearer to the
truth than either Ewald or Strauss with all their elaborate
explanations, when of the impression—which transformed
the mind of Paul and of all who with him were engaged in
evangelizing the world,—which linked invisible by a living
bond with visible things, and constituted the firm, immove
able basis of the whole superstructure of the future church
—he declared, as the result of a long life of profound and
fearless inquiry, he did not believe that we should ever by
any psychological analysis be able to give a satisfactory
account. And the deep conviction produced in our mind
by the contemplation of these historical phenomena is this—
that as in relation to the present world the welcome recep
tion of Christ’s spirit and the experience of its happy effects
are an evidence of the eternal truth which flowed in it,—so,
by whatever means it may have been first infused into the
tide of human thought, the firm hold which the doctrine of
immortality has had on the mind of civilized men ever
since the days of the apostles, the response that it has met
with, the uneffaceable mark which it has left on literature,
philosophy and art, and the way in which it has contributed
to harmonize and round, off into a consistent whole, our
conceptions of God and providence and human life,—are
proof conclusive that a doctrine which possesses such en
during vitality and draws its nourishment from the deepest
sources of humanity, can be no other than the voice of God,
and must have its certain counterpart in some invisible
reality.
One satisfaction at least we can derive from this work of
Strauss. It shews us the utmost that we have to fear from
hostile criticism. We now know the worst. Never were the
earliest records of our faith subjected to a more rigorous and
searching scrutiny. Never were the possible elements of
truth and falsehood sifted with a more suspicious and un
sparing hand. The author has done his work with a cold
blooded courage and determination. No lingering affectior
�Strauss's New Work on the Life of Jesus.
29
has blinded the clearness of his intellectual vision. No pre
judice of the heart has hindered him from seeing the bare,
simple fact involved in any dubious narrative. And now—
bating his religious philosophy, which is something quite
extraneous to his historical criticism—what, after all, is the
result ? What great principle of conduct, what consolatory
trust of humanity, is weakened—that would have stood on
a firmer basis and been surrounded with clearer evidence,
had we still continued to take the whole mass of the gospel
history as historical truth, and had no one ever thought of
separating myth and fact? We have still authentic indica
tion of the earliest workings of the greatest moral revolution
that has taken place in the world; and we have glimpses,
so original that they must be true, of the wonderful perso
nality which introduced it, and the more stimulating, the
more spiritually creative, for the very reason that they are
glimpses. We can still trace the first swelling and shooting
forth of the prolific seed which has impregnated the world
with a new life. We feel to this day that we are possessors
of the same deep consciousness and the same aspiring trust
which originated those great changes, and unites us with
them in one unbroken continuity of spiritual life. Now, as
then, it is through the heart and conscience of believing
man that God speaks to our world. As we trace back the
great stream of human thought through the ages to its
source, we observe how it is enriched at a particular point
by a sudden accession of moral and spiritual strength ; and
that alone would prove the intervention of some great in
spiring mind, were the result of modern criticism on ancient
books more destructive than it really is—and would still
have proved it, had those books never existed at all, or been
entirely swept away in the persecution of Diocletian. We
are thankful indeed for their preservation as they are ; but
their chief value to us is the witness which they bear to
the regenerating influence of a spirit which could only
have issued from some great and holy mind, and through
that mind from God himself. Dor the grandest of human
trusts is the presence of a Living God in history, suggesting
the highest thoughts and noblest impulses that animate it,
and guiding them to distant issues, which the very souls
through which they worked, did not anticipate and could
not conceive.
%
�30
Strauss's New Work on the Life of Jesus.
We have remarked in an earlier part of this paper, that
Strauss does not do justice to the resources of his own theory.
It is more conservative than he allows it to be. His philo
sophy has marred the applications of his criticism. He
remarks (p. 624), with a cold desolateness of tone which
sometimes chills the reader in his pages, that the dispersion
of the mythic from a narrative does not restore the historical;
and that we know less of the actual Jesus of Nazareth than
of any great man of antiquity—less, for example, than we
know of Socrates. Even if we confine ourselves to the intel
lectual and objective life, which is all that the criticism of
Strauss here contemplates, this statement is certainly over
done. It is not more difficult to trace the characteristic fea
tures of the man Jesus through the different media by which
it is transmitted to us in the three first Gospels and the
fourth, than it is to form an idea of the peculiar idiosyncrasy
of Socrates from the widely different representations of Xeno
phon and Plato. But if we descend into the deeper life of
the soul, into the region of affection and sympathy, where
the truest evidence of personality is to be found,—then we
say the advantage is altogether on the side of Christ, and
we have proofs of love and reverence and the transforming
influence of a great and genial soul in the diversified con
ceptions of the apostolic tradition, such as the records of
the Socratic school are unable to supply. Even the mythic
may here be said to cumulate the evidence; for it could
only spring from a depth of impression and an intensity of
feeling, going down to the very sources of the moral life,
which the cold admiration of Athenian intellect was impo
tent to produce.
Strauss remarks, that only one side of our humanity is
fully exemplified in the person of Christ—that which con
nects us with God and the religious life; while the indus
trial, the political, the scientific and the artistic elements,
which are so indispensable to the progress of our race, are all
wanting. This is true, no doubt; but he should have added,
that the spiritual element which is so perfectly revealed in
Christ, is essential to the growth of all the rest, and in every
human being of every class and in every age is the source
of inward peace and the principle of a real sanctification of
the life. When, the soul is once placed, as it is by the
spirit of Christ, in a right relation towards God, the great
�Strauss's New Work on the Life of Jesus.
31
conversion of humanity is effected; it is put in the path of
Bhealthful self-development; and the qualities which may
yet be needed to complete the full proportions of our nature,
may be left to arrange themselves organically around this
central germ, through the free working of our collective
faculties guided by the results of experience. In a fine
passage (p. 625), which we have not left ourselves space to
quote, Strauss does ample justice to Christianity, and places
Jesus in the first rank of those who have contributed to
develop the ideal of humanity.
We cannot close this volume, strongly as on some points
we have expressed our dissent, and notwithstanding our pain
ful sense of the serious deficiencies of its religious philosophy,
without a strong feeling of respect for the author, not only
for his learning and ability, which none will dispute, but
also for his courage and truthfulness, his moral earnestness,
and his general candour towards those who are opposed to
him. With all its faults and extravagances, for no theory
finds its true limits all at once, his book will leave its per
manent mark on the theology of the future. It has fixed
one or two points in advance, from which it will henceforth
be impossible to go back. What we have most to complain
of is a certain one-sidedness, which the author no doubt
identifies with completeness and consequentiality. On all
points he makes it too much an absolute question of Yes
or No. He therefore shews on all occasions far more tole
ration for the old thorough-going orthodox than for those
who, cautiously feeling their way towards a wider truth,
stop short of the sweeping results at which he has himself
arrived. Our own modification of his theory would doubt
less bring us under the censure which he pronounces on all
who seek their rest in a juste milieu. We can only say we
have striven to imitate him, where he is most worthy of
imitation—in his love of truth—by giving utterance simply
and without reserve to the conviction that has been produced
in us by the perusal of his book, and by some previous
years of thought and study on the same subject. For the
rest, we regard with no slight suspicion all violent disruption
from the faith and hope which have guided and consoled
the best and wisest of our race through long thousands of
years; and we have yet to learn that truth must always
be sought in one of two contradictory extremes.
��
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Victorian Blogging
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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2018
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Strauss's new work on the life of Jesus
Creator
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Taylor, John James
Description
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Place of publication: [s.l.]
Collation: 31 p. ; 22 cm.
Notes: A review in English by John James Taylor of David Friedrich Strauss's work 'Das Leben Jesu, fur das deutsche Volk bearbeitet; Leipzig: F.A. Brockhaus, 1864. Inscription in ink on front page: With the respect of J.J.T. Includes bibliographical references. Reprinted from Theological Review 1:335-365, July 1864. Author not named in the review. From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Title of the book translated: 'The Life of Jesus, adapted to the German People'.
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[s.n.]
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[1864?]
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G5252
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Jesus Christ
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English
German
Conway Tracts
David Friedrich Strauss
Jesus Christ-Historicity
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Text
NATIONAL SECULAR CWW A Y
DISCUSSION BETWEEN MR. THOMAS COOPER AND
MR. CHARLES BRADLAUGH.
FIRST NIGHT.
On Monday, the 1st ofFebruary, a discussion was begun at the Hail
of Science between Mr. Thomas Cooper, some time Freethinker,
and recent convert, also the well-known author of the “ Pur
gatory of Suicides,” and Mr. Charles Bradlaugh, who has, for
some years past, acquired a very wide spread reputation as lec
turer under the name of “ Iconoclast,” and has devoted the time
which is not occupied by his professional avocations in the elimi
nation of secular and religious anomalies.
The chair was occupied by James Harvey, Esq. The fo-low
ing was the order of the discussion as stated in the published
programme :—
1. Mr. Cooper to state the Argument for the Being of God, as
the Maker of the Universe, on the First Night—and the Argu
ment for the Being of God, as the Moral Governor of the Uni
verse, on the Second Night; and each statement not to extend
beyond half-an-hour.
2. Mr. Bradlaugh to state the Argument on the Negative side,
each night; and each statement not to extend beyond half-anhour.
3. Not more than a quarter of an hour to be allowed for reply
and counter-reply, to the end.
4. No written speeches to be delivered, and no long extracts
from printed books or papers to be read on either side.
5. The chair to be taken at seven o’clock, and the Discussion
to conclude, as nearly as possible, at ten, each evening.
The Chairman said : I have consented to take the chair to-night,
both by request of Mr. Cooper and some friends, and with the
consent of Mr. Charles Bradlaugh; and I think I shall have your
consent also during the discussion which takes place this evening.
You well know that the duty and power of a chairman is very
limited, being entirely confined to the preservation of order; and
unless he has the support of those over whom he presides, his
authority is of little avail. I trust, therefore, that you will listen to
the arguments that will be addressed to you to-night. There must,
of course, be great difference of opinion on every abstract question,
�2
otherwise there would be no reason for discussion ; so that every
lady and gentleman who comes here may be presumed to have
formed an opinion beforehand ; but trusting^ your forbearance, I
have no doubt that we shall be able to get through the business of
the evening without any unseemly interruption. I feel it is a very
important matter that we have under discussion, respecting not
only us who have met to take a part, but humanity in general.
It is “ Whether there be a God ?” And I hope that whatever
arguments may be adduced, you will patiently hear the
speaker to the end (hear, hear), that a speech shall not be inter
rupted in the middle of a sentence; that you will listen thought
fully and decide candidly. If we act on this principle, if we en
tertain this spirit, we shall be conscious that we have not
lost our evening. I am sure that you will hear both parties fully
out, and support any decision at which I may arrive under the
circumstances (hear, hear.) Mr. Cooper will occupy half-anhour in introducing the subject—“For the Being of God, as
Maker of the Universe, and for the Being of God as the Gover*
nor of the Universe.” Mr. Bradlaugh will then state the Argu
ment on the Negative side, and will also occupy half-an-hour.
After that each speaker will occupy a quarter of an hour, or as
much less time as he pleases. In that case, it is the more neces
sary that a speaker should not be stopped in the midst of a sen
tence which the argument may require to be completed; nor
should be be called to time at the exact moment the quarter of
an hour has elapsed. I mention this that no gentleman may
think I am dealing with one more favourably than the other. I
now call on Mr. Cooper, who will take the affirmative of each
statement, to sta*e the case on his side, but not to exceed a period
of time beyond half-an-hour. (Hear and cheers.)
Mr. Cooper then rose, and was received with cheers. He said :
Eight years have elapsed since I stood in this Hall. It was on
the 13th of February, 1856, when I told my audience that I
could not lecture on Sweden, the subject which had been an
nounced. I told them that my mind was undergoing a change.
This hall was closed against me. I need not say why. Mr. Bendall
was ill, and the Hall in John Street was shut, so I was left without
the means of earning bread. After awhile I was allowed to
go down into the cellar of the Board of Health and copy letters
—seventy words for a penny. It was drudgery, and poor Frank
Grant, who is since dead, and a well known person also since
deceased, said to me—“ Why, it is enough to madden a man like
you 1” But a man who could undergo two years’ imprisonment
in the cause of truth, was not to be deterred by drudgery. Mr.
Bendall applied to me. It was before he was struck down with
paralysis. I did not apply to him, but he came to me, and told me
I must come to this Hall. Now, during the years I lectured
�3
here, there were few men whom I respected more than Mr. Ben
dall, so I recommenced here on the 21st of September, 1856, and
concluded on the 13th of May, 1858. I began with the “ Design
Argument,” and continued to lecture in this hall for a year and
nine months. An hour was allowed for discussion. For five
years and eight months. I have maintained my convictions : one
year and eight months I was in Scotland, and four years in Eng
land. I have lectured in chapels, on platforms, in churches and
in pulpits. Owing to the kindness of Mr. Bendall. who has given
the use of this hall for two nights—this night and Wednesday night
—I am again enabled to addiess you. I am accompanied by some
Christian friends and ministers of the gospel. I assure you I
address you in the spirit of kindness, although I think some of
you have not said the best things of me, or allowed the best
things to be said of me (hear and dissent.) I come, then, out of
kindness to you to propose this argument for the being of God.
It is an argument carrying me to the very door of the proposi
tion that accompanies it, and one which I have revolved in my
mind during the five years and eight months that I have been
absent from you. It has been repeated to you so often, it has
been talked about so constantly, that there can be no mistake
about it. I am. I know that I exist; I am conscious of it. I, a
reasoning, conscious, intelligent, personal existence. But I have
not had this personal, conscious, intelligent existence very long.
I have not long existed, but something must have existed before
me. Something must have always existed ; for if there had been
never anything in existence, there must have been nothing still,
and because nothing cannot make something—something alone
makes, originates, causes something to exist. Thus far, then, I
think we are all agreed. I have said I am a personal, conscious,
intelligent existence. Now either this personal, conscious, intel
ligent existence has always existed, or it began to be. If it began
to be, it has had a cause—indeed, if it has not always existed,
but began to exist, it must have had a cause, and must have been
either intelligent or non-intelligent. But non-intelligence can
not create intelligence. You might as well tell me that the
moon is made of green cheese, or the sun of Dorset butter, that
an oak leaf is the Atlantic ocean, or that Windsor Castle is London
Bridge, as to tell me that non-intelligence can cause to exist a
thoroughly conscious, perfect intelligence. Therefore, this per
sonal, conscious intelligence is itself the result or the effect of
an intelligence pre-existing, which is the cause from which I derive
my existence, the same to which men make reference when
they speak of God. But I discern that there is everywhere
not only something that has always existed everywhere,
I discern also that there is no such a thing as “ nowhere
there never was “nowhere,” there cannot be “nowhere.”
�4
Do you feel inclined to dispute this proposition ? Try, then,
to imagine ‘nowhere.” Where will you go?—beyond the
great solar system ? You may go on for millions and
millions of miles, still there is somewhere. If you try to imagine
nowhere, you gradually begin to apprehend that there is “ every
where,” and that intelligence always has existed everywhere.
You say, then, that something has always existed everywhere.
Can you conceive of that something having existed for nothing ?
Then there is no such thing as nothing; there never was nothing ;
there never could have bern nothing. Something must always
have been, and been everywhere. If we decide thus, we have a
right to say that something is not only everywhere, but on every
point of everywhere; and if this chain of reasoning be broken,
there is no line of demarcation to separate one part from the other.
So we come to the idea of motion. I am gifted with certain
senses, and I come to discern motion by a comparison of the
relation of different objects to each other. I observe motion to
be an attribute of master. By a conscious intuition, we are able
to perceive, and, by the aid of reason, to discern that this personal
existence, this preceding cause, is everywhere present, that it is
an eternal, conscious, nnderived, uncreated, uncaused Being whom
men worship and call God. (Cheers.) So by this personal, con
scious intelligence, men have communication with, and can per
ceive the outward features of this natural universe. But this
material universe is not the something that has always existed,
because it is in parts, because it is divisible, and the parts are
moveable one among the other, and not only moveable in the
sense of motion, but separable in the sense of change. Thus
the fleshly clothing of this body is constantly changing. Our
bodies are not now the bodies we had in infancy, nor those
which we had ten years ago the same as we have now. But by
the exercise of the will, which is a part of intelligence, and thia
wifl'Ucting on matter—matter is separable and moveable. So that
man is not one underived, uncreated, eternal existence. Yet
by his intelligent will, with the assistance of his organised
body, which of itself cannot move matter, he can mould it into
various shapes and perform wonderful results—fitting, shaping,
adapting; aud although we judge by these results that a man is
exercising the power of intelligence, we cannot see him exercising
it. You never saw a man contrive. You never saw a man
design. Yon cannot see that. It is only by analogy that you
can judge of it. There are three forces by which he acts—know
ledge, consciousness, and testimony, and by the aid of these
be is constantly designing and contriving. If you come
to observe the fashion of an object, although you see no maker,
yet when you inspect it and observe the various parts of which
it is composed, their suitability and fitness for the purpose they
�fulfil, then you presume that intelligence has been at work there,
and you recognise its operation, although you could not see it
contrive or design. If I come to a piece of a fashion apparently
the most complicated, yet more remarkable when you understand
it, seeing how simple are the principles of its construction, then
is my admiration called forth. And when I look on the curiously
wrought body, and mark all its various parts ; when I examine
this eye with its wonderful lenses and pulleys, when I look over
this hand with all its wonderful contrivances of adaptation and fit
ness, as to render man lord of the endless plain and the wide
mountain--even of the universe; and still when I look on the
wonderful contrivances in the forms of the animals in creation, and
wonder at their entire adaptation to the wants of each—eyes and
lungs fitted to changes of the atmosphere, and yet so little change
in the atmosphere itself, and when I look at “ this brave over
hanging firmament fretted with golden fires,” and see their
systems extend for millions and millions of miles pursuing their
several ends, and going their refulgent round—I am filled with
thoughts which make me humble, and I come to the conclusion
that this universe has its conscious, personal, and intelligent
designer; that he exists, that he is the author of my intelligence,
that he is the author of the intelligence of the millions that sur
round me. He exists. I did not always exist, that, therefore, he
is all-intelligent, and must be the author of the universe.
Finally, that since my will has such power over matter that he
must be uncontrollable, and, therefore, all-powerful, since he has
been able to produce this universe, he is over my existence, over
your existence, and over every existence; that he is the great un
created, underived cause whom men reverence, and whom I call
God.
Mr. Cooper resumed his seat amidst very warm plaudits.
Mr. Bradlaugh rose and said : Sir, I have listened with con
siderable attention, and with some disappointment, to the brief
address which has been delivered to us in proof of the position
which Mr. Cooper has taken upon himself to affirm this evening,
which position, if I understand it rightly, is that there is an all
wise, all-existent, all powerful, underived, uncaused, personal,
conscious, and intelligent being whom he (Mr. Cooper) calls God.
If saying it amounts to proof, then undoubtedly Mr. Cooper has
demonstrated his position ; but if anything approaching to logical
demonstration be required here this evening, then I shall respect
fully submit that it has been utterly and entirely wanting in the
speech to which we have just listened. (Cheers and dissent.) Mr.
Cooper tells us that something has always existed everywhere—
some one thing, some one existence, some one being. All his
speech turns upon that. All his words mean nothing, except in
so far as they go to support that point. Just notice the conse-
�quenceg involved in the admissions contained in his affirmation
that there is only one existence. If God always was one exist
ence, one eternal, omnipresent existence, beside whom nothing
else existed, what becomes of the statement made by Mr. Cooper
to-night, that the material universe is not that infinite existence,
but exists biside it ? There are thus two existences—the one
everywhere, and the other existing somewhere, although nowhere
remains for it. The one infinite is everywhere, beyond it there
cannot be any existence, and the finite universe has to exist out
side everywhere where existence is not. I will take it to be true
as put by Mr. Cooper, that this same one existence, which has
existed everywhere from eternity, is without motion, because, as
he says, motion implies going or moving from point to point:
existence being everywhere has nowhere to go; because it is
always everywhere, and it cannot move from point to point any
where. Just see, then, the lamentable position in which he
places Deity. If Deity be everywhere, and Deity, as he puts it
to you, made the universe, if made at all, it must have been
somewhere, it cannot have been on one of the points occupied by
Deity, for Mr. Cooper would hardly argue that two existences
can occupy the same point at the same time, from which it would
result that it cannot be in everywhere, and it cannot be anywhere
else, because there is nowhere else for it. There can have been no
making, because there was nothing to be made, everything being
already in existence, and there being not the slightest vacuum
for anything more. But the difficulty is more apparent when
you come to weigh his words. Surely if the word making means
anything, it involves the notion of some act; and if so, how can
you have an action without motion ? I should, indeed, like my
friend to explain this. He has evidently some very different
notions from those which I have. I want to know how we can
have the action of making without motion. I want to know how
Deity, which as Deity has been always motionless, has ever
moved to make the universe. We will examine the position still
further. My friend says that these are arguments derivable from
the fact of consciousness, and in illustration of this, he says—“ I
exist. I am a personal, conscious, intelligent being. I have not
been always, and, therefore, there must have been some time i
when I began to be. I am intelligent^ but have not been always,
and, therefore, I must have been caused by an intelligent being,
because non-intelligence cannot originate or create intelligence.”
Whether he meant non-intelligence and intelligence as positive
existences, it is exceedingly difficult to understand, and it would
be worth while, if we are to follow out the argument, that Mr.
Cooper should explain that to you, or else you will perhaps make
some mistake about it. What does he mean, I ask, by non-intel
ligence ? So far as I understand intelligence, it is a quality of a
�4
mode of existence varying in various modes of existence, and we
only know mode of existence as finite. We cannot conceive the
quality to be infinite, which we only know as appertaining to a
mode—that is, to the finite. I want Mr. Cooper to tell me how I
can reason from such a premiss, which only regards intelligence as
a quality of mode—of the finite, up to what he puts to you as a
quality of the absolute. I confess that on a subject like this some
difference may be expected, and my opponent may rely on the
authority of great names ; but I say that I have not relinquished
my right to examine these great problems, and work out the
result if it be possible for my reason to attain them. He says,
then, that non-intelligence cannot form intelligence. I don’t
wish to make mere verbal objections, or I might put it to him
that I do not understand what he means by intelligence being
formed at all. I must trouble him to make this point as clear to
my mind as it is to himself—before such an argument will con
vince me much more is required. I have no doubt that such an
argument must have come to my friend’s mind in some clearer
form before it carried conviction to him. He says, “ This personal,
intelligent, conscious being had a cause.” Yes ! I suppose every
effect must have had a cause. He tells us that analogy is a good
guide in working out a reasonable result. He uses it himself,
but he does not mean to say that by analogy, he argues back
from effect to cause, and that, from himself, he would go back to
an uncaused cause. “What exists merely as a cause exists for
the sake of something else, and, in the accomplishment of that
end, it consummates its own existence.” “ A cause is simply
everything without which the effect would not result, and all
such concurring, the effect cannot but result.” According to
these passages from Sir William Hamilton, “that which exists
as cause exists for the sake of something else.” Effect is thus
the sequel to cause, and causes are but the means to ends. The
only way of dealing with this question of cause and effect is to
put it frankly that every cause of which we can take cognisance,
is, at the same time, effect and cause, and that there is no cause
on which we can lay a finger, that is not the effect of cause pre*
cedent, to it—yon have an unbroken chain. I defy my friend to
maintain the proposition that, without discontinuity, there can
be origination. If he doesnot, his argument falls to the ground. But
I really labour under considerable difficulty arising from the fact
that my friend has used a large number of words and terms without
explaining to you or to me what he meant by them ? I really
must trouble him by pleading my ignorance as to the meaning
which he attaches to the word uncaused caudb, for I frankly allow
that my reason doesinot enable me to comprehend the word un
caused as applied to existence. I conceive existence only modal
of existence itself—the absolute I cannot conceive. I am not
'
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1
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1
I
1
�8
enabled by my reason to go beyond modes of existence. I am
not able by the aid of my intelligence to go beyon'd phenomena,
and so reach the noumenon. Until he has enabled me to attach to
these words, which he has used so gliby, a meaning of a definite
kind, I must confess my inability to appreciate his reasoning.
He would say that there is non-intelligence as well as intelli
gence. If he does not mean that, his words have no meaning. He
has said that non-intelligence could not produce intelligence.
That God by his will caused it. But how if intelligence be
everywhere—infinite, one, eternal—if you cannot limit its dura
tion in point of time or its extent in point of space, if it is so in
definite that to follow it as far as the faintest trace of it can be
observed, it is. infinitely intelligent, how can you talk about
non-intelligence at all ? If intelligence is everywhere, then nonintelligence is not possible. My friend worked up his argument
to a strange sort of climax, that the personal, conscious, eternal,
infinite, omnipotent, intell'gent being was what most men wor
shipped and called God. I take exception to that, and say that
the word God does not, in the mind of any one, express that, and
that in the minds of the majority of men it exprtsses something
very different from that. Indeed, so far as I have been able to
ascertain, the great mass of human kind have precisely opposite
notions when they are using the word God. All their ideas
concerning God comprehend the idea of human and fallible
action, and are held in connection with creeds involving contra
dictions innumerable. The word God is the result of old tradi
tions coming from one generation to another, from father to son,
from generation to generation. In no case is it the out-growth
of the unaided intelligence of the man who makes use of it. To
put it further. I say there are no two men who use the word
God in the same sense, and that it is a mere term which expresses
no fixed idea. It does not admit the preciseness of a definition,
nor can it be explained with an accuracy to admit the test of in
quiry. The idea expressed by the word bears in most cases some
relation to what has gone before, and is useful when appealing
to the popular mind to cover deficiencies in the illogical argu
ments addressed to it to account for the universe. Our friend
passed from the argument from consciousness to what is generally
known as the argument from design. He said that, having seen
the result of man’s contrivance, if he met with a piece of work
fashioned after a peculiar mariner with a view to a particular end,
he should expect from analogy some contriver for it. But sup
pose he had never seen any result of contrivance at all—how
much would his argument help him ? In that case he must en
tirely fail, and in this how little does design help him here ? To
affirm origination from design of already existing substance, and
by analogy it is only of this he can give us any illustration, in
�9
volves a manifest contradiction. The argument distinguishes not
the absolute from the material, the conditioned. It is the finite
which he tells you is God, and yet cannot be God. There is
an utter want of analogy. It is impossible to reason from design
of that which is already existing, and thus to prove the creation
of that which before did not exist. There is not a particle of
analogy between these two propositions. But further, if it were
needful to argue on it, if our friend had put before you the
design argument, it is still utterly wanting as an argument for
an infinite Deity, being "one entirely from analogy. Analogy
cannot demonstrate the infinite wisdom, or the infinite, the
eternal existence of God. It cannot demonstrate infinity of sub
stance, for to reason from finite effects as illustrations, analogy
only takes you back by steps each time a little way, and to a
finite cause. To assert an origin is simply to break a chain of
causes and effects without having any warrant for it, except to
cover your own weakness. The argument falls with this; you
cannot demonstrate the infinity of Deity ; for, admitted a finite
effect, how can you from it deduce an infinite cause ? Thus the
omnipresence of Deity remains unproved. If the substance of
Deity cannot be demonstrated infinite, neither can his attributes;
so that, so far as the proof goes, his wisdom and power may be
limited ; that is, there is no evidence that he is either omniscient
or omnipotent. When our friend talks about having, proved an
all-powerful, all-wise self-existence, he simply misrepresents
what he has tried to do, and he should not use a phrase which
does not, and cannot bear the slightest reference to the argu
ment. So far, then, we take exception to the speech which he
has given us to-night. By whatever means my friend has at
tained his present conclusions, he must surely have gained the
convictions upon some better ground than those which he has
expressed here to-night, unless, indeed, we are to suppose him. to
have changed without any reasoning at all. (Cheers.) I wish,
before concluding, to point out to you that in the position I
have taken up I do not stand here to prove that there is no God.
If I should undertake to prove such a proposition, I should de
serve the ill words of the oft-quoted psalmist applied to those
who say there is no God. I do not say there is no God, but I
am an Atheist without God. To me the word God conveys no
idea, and it is because the word God, to me, never expressed a
clear and definite conception—it is because I know not what it
means—it is because I never had sufficient evidence to compel
my acceptance of it, if I had I could not deny it—such evidence,
indeed, I could not resist—it is for these reasons that I am
Atheist, and ask people to believe me not hypocrite but honest,
when I wtell them that the word “ God ” does not, to my
mind, express an eternal, infinite, omnipotent, intelligent, per
�10
Sonal, conscious being, but is a word without meaning and of
none effect, other than that it derives from the passions and
prejudices of those who use it. And when I look round the
world, and find in one country a church with one faith, in another
country, another creed, and in another a system contradicting
each—no two men agreeing as to the meaning of the word—but
cursing, clashing, quarrelling, and excommunicating on account
of its meaning, relying on force of arms rather than on force of
reason—I am obliged to suppose that deficiency of argument has
left them no other weapon with which to meet the power of
reason. In this brief debate, it would be folly to pretend while
we may combat the opposite opinion we shall succeed in con
vincing each other; but let me ask that to which ever side we
may incline, we may use our intelligence as free from pre
judice as possible, so that we may better understand what
force of each other’s reasonings. Let us agree, it we can, in the
clear and undoubted meaning expressed in the terms we use.
There was a time when men bowed before the word God with
out thought and without inquiry. Centuries have gone by, and
the great men of each age have cast light on what was hitherto
dark. Philosophy has aided our intelligence, and stripped from
the name of God much of the force which it had previously held.
It is in the hope that this progress of human thought may be
more rapid and of higher use, and that, from out of debate, fresh
truths may be gained, that it may teach men to rely upon them
selves, and so make their lives better the longer they live.. It is
with this hope that I have taken the position of to-night.
Mb. Bradiaugh resumed his seat amidst general applause, and
some manifestations of dissent, which lasted for several seconds.
Mr. Cooper : I am very sorry to see all that—I am very sorry
to hear it. I do not want any man to clap his hands for me. I
came here to reason. I did not come here simply to meet Mr.
Bradlaugh. I wished to see appointed representative men. It
is to them and to you that I want to speak. I have nothing to
do with Mr. Bradlaugh’s personal opinions. He says he is not
here to take the negative—to prove the non-existence of God. If
he reads the bill which I hold in my hand, it will tell him that
Mr. C. Bradlaugh will take the negative. But he says he is not
here to take the negative—that he is not here to produce an
argument that there is no God. He knows nothing about God.
(Hear and cheers.) Now, what is the meaning of that cheer ?
(Cries of go on with your argument.) Now, I am afraid it is of no
use : you are not disposed to argue—to reason, but the argument
remains, notwithstanding—(cries of question.) This is the ques
tion. I want you to be less excited. We are here to form some
opinion as to the truth, and not to be crowing over ^ch other.
Mr. Bradlaugh said that I said there was only one existence
�11
always—T never said eo. Then, according to him, “he talked
about millions of existences without motion.” But I said with
out motion such as matter has. I suppose the meaning of what
he said was, There may be many kinds of motion beside the
motion of matter.” Then Mr. Bradlaugh said that I talked of
more than one existence being on one point. There may be a
thousand existences on one point for anything that I know. I
do not know why there cannot be only one existence on one point,
I did not say there could be only one existence on one point.
Expressions of the kind I never used. Then, he said, action
implies motion; but what I Baid was, that God had no motion
such as matter. He was kind enough to tell us what existence
and non-existence were—what intelligence and non-intel
ligence meant—but I thought we all knew these things pretty
well before. Then, he says, existence is a quality of a mode. Man,
he says, is fiuite; he cannot perceive that existence can be infinite.
That is a kind of Spinozaism. I wish he would tell me what he
means by “mode.” He says that I said non-intelligence could
form intelligence. I never used such a word—(cries of oh ! oh!)
I never said anything so nonsensical—(loud cries of oh ! oh !) I
said that non-intelligence could not create—that it could not
originate. I never used the word form. Then again, “ Analogy
was a good guide ”—but he said no more about that, and then ha
quoted Sir W. Hamilton to the effect, that cause was that with
out which effect would not result. “ There is no cause,” he says,
“ on which you can lay a finger, aud not say that it is both cause
and effect,” and he defies me to break the chain of causation
cause and effect I suppose he means. He next quotes from Samuel
Taylor Coleridge, a passage which says—there is an infinite chain
of finite things. Why, it is an utter contradiction. Every man
has intelligence enough to perceive that. What we mean by
uncognised is that there is something unknown, uncognised if
you please. There can be no question about that. He com
plains of the time being taken up with such words, and he goes
on to say—“ My reason does not enable me to comprehend the
uncognised.” Certainly it don’t. More than that, I am very
sorry he cannot comprehend it. But there are many things which
we cannot comprehend. The light for instance. We cannot com
prehend what it is to be everywhere present, but we apprehend
it. There are millions of things which we cannot comprehend,
but we can apprehend them. Then, he says, we talk about nonmtelligence and intelligence, because he contends God does not
exercise any amount of ability. Among men, he says, God means
something that is traditional, and which has no reason to support
it. That has nothing to do with the question. Suppose, he says,
I had never seen the result of design—how could I, by the help
of reason, arrive at it ? It cannot, he says, be. No cause, he sayq
�12
can exist without causing a result. The result of design is part
of our intelligence and experience. There is a modification of
existence only—it is not proved that everywhere existed. But
Mr. Bradlaugh knows that existence is being, and he knows, he
says, that, unless you can substantiate the assertion that it has
always existed, it does not show that he was all-wise. We reason
from this personal, conscious intelligence of man, to the fact that
God had created millions of conscious, intelligent beings—that he
was the author of all existence—that he was intelligent—we do
not reason from man’s finite nature. We see in the manifestations
of his will the type of a higher will, of a nature that is supremacy.
The argument is untouched. Something has always existed, as
personal, conscious, intelligent beings exist—either intelligence or
non-intelligence must have produced them : but non-intelligence
cannot create, cannot originate. You might as well tell me that
there is no such thing as existence, as to try by sneers, and ask
ing me what I mean by intelligence, to say that God does not
exist. I say that I exist—that the world exists—that God made
it. We have come here to establish this. We come here to
reason for the existence of God. It is of no use to say that there
was never nothing to make it out of. Our argument is mistaken.'
Mr. Bradlaugh has not taken up the argument. The bill is
before me in which he is stated to take the negative, but he
has not taken the negative; he simply says he knows not whether
there is a God or not. (Cheers.)
Mr. Bradlaugh : We want the argument for the existence of
God! He (Mr. Cooper) is quite right. We do want it. We
have not had it yet. He says I am bound to prove a negative,
and relies on the wording of the bill. This is hardly fair. The bill
is Mr. Cooper’s own fram ng, unaltered by me. I only tried to
have one word different, and that was refused.
Mr Cooper : You should not want to hide your name.
[Some disorder occurred at this point of the debate, when]—
The Chairman interposed and said : I beg that no reference
may be made to anything which might lead to any wrong feeling.
Mr Bradlaugh : My friend, if he wishes the argument ad- ■
hered to, should have himself made no reference to matters which
were altogether beside it. Let him remember what is the
subject chosen for discussion, and adhere to that alone. He says
that, according to the bill, I am to take the negative side. It
has been my lot in life to be present at the trial of many issues, but I
never heard that the defendant had more to do than rebut the
case sought to be made against him. I will take, as example, an
instance, such as when a man had stolen any article, or committed
some act for which he might incur penalties. It was the duty of
the counsel employed in such a case simply to negative the
evidence which was brought to support the case. The onus pro-
�13
bandi to-night lies with my friend, and the only task that lies
upon me here is to show that he has not succeeded in performing
the duty which he came here to perform. He has declined to
explain certain terms used by him, on the ground that everybody
knew them. Surely he might have enlightened my ignorance;
and, at any rate, he had no right to assume that everybody un
derstood them after my declaration to the contrary. He has used
words on the construction of which the whole argument depends,
and he has failed to explain to us the meaning he intended to ex
press. He might have enlightened my ignorance as to the mean
ing of words he used ; but, instead of that, he has called on me
by way of retort to explain some words used by myself. Now,
by “mode,” I mean a phase of conditioned existence. This glass is
cne mode Of existence, and the water, which I have poured out of
it, is another mode of existence. “ Quality” is an attribute or
characteristic. It is some characteristic, or number of charac
teristics, which enables or enable me to distinguish one mode
from another. If he wishes any better explanation that it is
possible to give, I shall be happy to supply him with it. When
he was asked for explanations, he said it was sufficient that he
had said it. Now if non-intelligence cannot create intelligence,
how do you come to the conclusion that intelligence can create
non-intelligence ? Why is one less possible than the other, or
why is one less reasonable than the other ? If intelligence be
everywhere, then non-intelligence—where is that ? In this kind
of argument, by asserting without warranty that intelligence is
everywhere, and non-intelligence somewhere, you contradict your
self. Then, my friend says, “create” is a word everybody under
stands. He confesses that he did not understand me in quoting
from Hamilton, or when I urged that creation and destruction
were alike impossible. Now we are utterly unable to construe it
in thought as possible, that the complement of existence has
either been increased or diminished—we cannot conceive no
thing becoming something, or something becoming nothing.
The words creation and destruction are, to me, without mean
ing. When our friend uses these words, he should not pre
sume that the majority of the audience comprehend the
meaning he wished to put upon them, or still less that they
apprehended it- He says he does not come to speak to me but to
you; but, for such as have elected me to appear on their
behalf, I ask for those definitions. But Mr. Cooper says he
never did assert that there was only one existence always. Well,
then, does he mean that his argument admitted the possibility of
two existences occupying the same space ? And if one be every
where, where can the other be 1 Oh ! says my friend, there may
be a thousand existences of different natures on one point, though,
if one be all-powerful, it is hard to imagine it exercising power
�14
over other existences having nothing of common nature, and
with which it can have no relativity. Will he tell me how this
can be ? He puts the matter thus to you, and he is bound to
give you some explanation of it. He says, with regard to
motion, that he did not say that one existence had no motion. I
must trouble him, when he rises again, to tell me what he means
by motion, for I really do not know. I thought I had some
notion of it when he began his speech, but now I think he has no
meaning for it. I am bound to concede to him that the words
represent in his mind some ideas he intends to express; but
when I question him on the words he uses, they represent simply
confusion of thought. When I ask him the meaning of uncaused
cause, he says he cannot comprehend it, but can apprehend it like
light and life ; and he asserted that you can no more comprehend
light and life that you can uncaused cause. If he wished to
choose illustrations destructive of his own argument, he could
not have adduced one better adapted to that purpose. He says
that I cavil with words, but the argument is made up of words.
If you knock all these words to pieces, where does the argument
lie 1 If there be your uncaused cause at all, according to you it
is substance, which substance I define as being that existence
which we can conceive per se, and the conception of which does
not involve the conception of any thing else as antecedent to it.
Life may be defined as organic functional activity. You cannot
give any definition of uncaused cause—you might as well say a
square triangle, or a triangular circumference, or sweet number
three. Now, I am placed in this difficulty, that Mr. Cooper,
not prepared to prove his position, calls on me to take up the
attack. We want, he says, the demonstration of God’s non-existence. There is always a great difficulty in trying to do too
much ; but I will endeavour to do what is possible—i.e., to demon
strate to you that there is no such being as the God my friend
argues for—namely, a God everywhere, whose existence being in
finite, precludes the possibility of conceiving any other ex’stence,
but in proof of whom is involved the conception of another
existence created in addition to everything, and which exists
somewhere beyond everywhere—a God who, being infinitely
intelligent, precludes the possibility of conceiving existence with
out intelligence, and yet beside whose infinite intelligence, nonintelligent substance exists. Nothing is easier than to prove the
negative of this, if that is what my friend means. I will endea
vour, for a moment, to do so. I may be ineffective. Our friend
says that God is all-powerful and all-wise. Now either intelli
gence manifests power and wisdom, or it does not. My lriend
says that it does, because he seeks to demonstrate power and
wisdom from the intelligence he discovers in existence. Surely
if it be assumed that intelligence is evidence of power and
�15
wisdom, the lack of or absence of intelligence must be evidence
ot deficiency of power and wisdom. My friend says there is nonintelligence, and I say that non-intelligence demonstrates want
of power and want of wisdom in creating substance without in
telligence. Intelligence is either good or bad. Our friend savs
it is good because it helps him to make out God’s attribute of ail
goodness. If it is good, then the absence of intelligence must be
the reverse; and if non-intelligence is bad, it must be that the
Creator either had not the will or desire to make existence infi
nitely intelligent. My friend says that there is non-intelligent
existence, and he says that God had all-power and all-knowledge.
God must, therefore, have been without the desire, in which case
he would not be all-good. Our friend says I have misquoted
Coleridge. Coleridge says, without discontinuity, there can be
no origination, and my argument is that you are lost in the con
templation ot the chain of causes and effects, and that you can have
no conception of creation or of origination, and, therefore, must
be without the conception of God. (Cheers.)
Me. Cooper : Mr. Bradlaugh has told us that it has been his
lot in life to be at the trial of many issues. Now we are not
lawyers, and cannot say how far this experience may serve the
argument. My friend said there was one word which he had tried
to get in the bill. He should never put on a great hat, and put
on a great name if he did not earn it. I never called myself by
a great name in my life. If I have had a name, I was content
to receive it from others. I never called myself either Icono
clast or I fiddlestick—(Cries of order, oh I oh 1 and cheers.)
Well, if you do not like this, you should not have encouraged it.
He says I should have enlightened his ignorance. I have often
stooped to enlighten him. When he was only a boy here of
eighteen years old, I had marked out his course. He asks how
we come to the conclusion that non-intelligence does not create.
I did not think that Charles Bradlaugh would have asked a ques
tion of that kind, I thought he had more sense. I did not sup
pose that any one in this assembly—any man of common-sense,
had need to ask such question. I said I should teach him. I am
doing my best to teach him. “ Everybody cannot judge well the
reason why he contrives.” But I should have thought that all
reasonable men would have seen that clearly enough. They
have personal intelligence. But, then, he says non-intelli rence
annihilates intelligence which is everywhere. That is not so.
He says also that creation is a word without any meaning for
him. It means, however, an act of God—of the great existence.
But he wants definitions; and, again, he says since there has been
that intelligence existing everywhere, there must have been two
existences occupying the same space. I never indicated such an
argument in the slightest way. I simply spoke of all other
�16
existences being moved, separate from, and derived. I have not
spoken those words that have been imputed to me. I never
said such words. He wants to know what is the motion of
matter. He cannot conceive what matter is and what is motion.
But why has he been talking about motion if he does not understand
it ? He has given us his ideas of motion. He fails to perceive
what is matter, and what is meant by the motion of matter.
But there is matter enough in this room—there is matter enough
before us. If he does not understand what is meant, I go further
and ask what it is ? I am. to understand by a definition which
he has given of life, that it is organic functional activity. He
has explained to me that this was life. He said the remark that
it was uncognised cause, could not be apprehended. Will he
define what he means by organic functional activity? He is
not bound to believe me, but if he does not give some more pre
cise explanation, it simply comes to nothing. He has not come
to any conclusion. He says there cannot be an uncognised cause ;
that it is as unmeaning as a triangular square, or a triangular
circumference, or sweet number three. He has mentioned Sir
William Hamilton and others. I should have relied upon
such men as Butler, Sir Isaac Newton, L .eke, Samuel
Clarke.
When these great men spoke, I should have
thought it might be admitted that it would do. ’ Oh I no.
This was certainly a modest way of talking. Well, it was the
wrong way. It is the wrong sort of modesty. He says I have
endeavoured to prove the possibility of any other existence. I
have not. I have proved that something also is in existence—that
it must be intelligent, and must exist in part everywhere. Stop.
Take the argument—take hold of it—take it to pieces. It con
vinces my own mind. It has passed through my mind fully and
clearly. I said that God was all-powerful and wise. I do not
want to misrepresent, but I want to tell you what Mr. Bradlaugh
did say, and my reply to it. He says that either there is
everywhere intelligence, or that there is somewhere where there
is no intelligence. He says that non-intelligence cannot create
intelligence. He says that in some part of everywhere, there is
non-intelligence. Because I had said that non-intelligence exists,
he denies that God exists everywhere intelligent. But he
must be intelligent, because he created all the intelligence
that exists—because He created every derived intelli
gence. Now, with regard to the moral argument of God’s
goodness, we have nothing to do with that to-night. If we come
to that, it must be on Wednesday. Then his goodness as a moral
governor of the universe comes into question. Now, I did not
say that Mr. Bradlaugh had misquoted Coleridge, What I said
was, that Coleridge never taught me that an infinite chain of
finite intelligences could have existed. I say that Samuel Taylor
�17
Coleridge never maintained any such thing in his life. Coleridge
was a great believer in God. (Hear and laughter.) No sneer or
laughter, I assure you, disturbs me. I exist ; and I have not al
ways existed. Something has always existed. I am conscious
of an intelligent existence. If it began to be, it was caused to be
by some other existence, and must have been so caused. If any
person can persuade himself that non-intelligence can cause
existence, intelligent, personal, conscious existence, let him show
me that he believes, and that he maintains such a doctrine. I
need go no further at present—-there are just these steps in the
j argument. Here is the argument, and if our friend does not give
us the argument for the non-existence of God—that is, the nega
tive of the question—I have shown that I exist, and that, having
begun to exist, something must have existed before me. I am
intelligent, personal, conscious, and so the something which al
ways has existed was personal, conscious, intelligent. It has
always been or began to be. If it began to be, it has cause, and
the cause must be either intelligent or non-intelligent. I say
that non-intelligence cannot be an intelligent creator, an origina
tor, has no reason, will, judgment, can’t contrive, cannot be a cause.
Therefore, I know that my existence, that personal, conscious, in
telligent existence proceeds from that uncaused, underived, un
created intelligence, whom all men reverence and I call God. I
want that disproved. (Applause.)
Mr. Bradlaugh: Were the Danes and the Germanic forces
on either bank of the river Eider to turn their backs to each
other and fire, they would stand in about the same relation as
Mr. Cooper and myself. He will not give definitions, and he
attaches different meanings to the words he uses to those which
I attach to them. How are we, therefore, to arrive at any con
clusion that will be instructive or useful ? He says that he has
often been able to teach me, and if this is so, he should not
have relinquished the office of teacher to-night; but I confess that
if he has taught me, it has been at the greatest possible distance
between himself and myself. The opportunities have certainly
been often sought by myself for instruction at Mr. Cooper’s
hands, but I have only been favoured once or twice. My friend
urges that he does not put himself forward under a name he has
not won, and though these topics have but little to do with
to-night’s debate, I can say that I have fairly won the right to
use my nom de guerre Iconoclast. I have won fame for it with
d fficulty, and maintained my right to use it despite many a pang.
My opponent, though but one consequence can arise from his
stipulation, has compelled me to print my name—that consequence
is an increased difficulty in my business life. But for this I
do not care. Though, unfortunately, placed in this disadvantage,
I print my name and answer for myself, although I am really
�18
surprised that a man with the love of God and strength of truth,
with ability, with learning all upon his side, cannot allow me
my poor folly, if folly it be, and bear with me and my nom de
plume. He says, “ I will not give definitions.” I say, in reply,
you cannot—that you do not know the force and relevance of the
words you use, and you simply don’t tell us because you do not
know. I tell you in the clearest manner that, from your last
speech, you have no notion of the accurate meanings of the
words you used—you talk about “ other and separate, and
derived,” and seem not to know that the words are contradictory.
Derived existence must be relative, cannot be separate iu sub
stance. At least a teacher in using philosophic language to a
scholar ought to have put it more clearly. Let us see. He says
there is one existence, infinite, intelligent. He says everybody
knows that it is more possible for intelligence to create nonintelligence, than for non-intelligence to create intelligence. I say
sthis has no meaning. I defined intelligence as a quality of a
|mode of existence, and cannot understand quality creating subIstance. He has not told us what was meant by uncaused cause;
|and if he will not take intelligence to be a quality of a mode of
| existence, he has not told us what it is. He says there is intel| ligent existence now, therefore its cause is intelligent. You
j might as well tell us for our information that this glass is hard,
| and, therefore, its cause must be a hard existence, and then you
I might as fairly say that because that glass is hard, its cause is
i eternal hardness. There is no relevance whatever between argu| ments founded on phenomena and the noumenon which it is
sought to demonstrate. It is no use my friend denying the
> truth of any one definition, unless he is prepared to give us a
I better, so that you can compare the one with the other if you please.
? Our friend says that intelligence can create non-intelligence, but
| this involves a contradiction of the most striking character. For
I if intelligence is infinite, non-intelligence is impossible, and for
1 infinite intelligence to create non-intelligence is for it to annihi* late itself. My friend appeals to everybody’s knowledge, but the
I whole force of his appeal lies in his confusion of existence and its
J qualities. Intelligence is a quality of a mode—mode is neither ing finite nor eternal, and the attribute cannot be greater than the
I mode it pertains to. You can have no knowledge of existence
§ other than by mode, and can have no knowledge whatever of
I different existences of which one is all-powerful, all-wise, and
| everywhere present; and the other is, or others are, somewhere
| where this one is not. My friend calls on me to prove that difg ferent kinds of existence do not exist at the same time upon the
1 same point. I think it is for the man who talks about these
| existences, and not for me, to show what he means. By Creation
s Mr. Cooper says he means an act of God; if this is what “ create -
�19
*
*
*
>
means, and if he explains it to you in such terms, then is every act
of God a creation ? Our friend surely won’t say that, and if he
means some one particular act of God, he must enable me to
identify it. I am not dealing with the moral argument as to God
as Governor, but if the argument on design as manifesting intel
ligence is relevant, so far it strikes at the want of power,
want of wisdom of God. Is it not an illustration of the poverty
of my friend’s logic, and the weak efforts that are made to sustain a weak case, when an argument is attempted to be conveyed
in such terms as I fiddlestick (cheers), although a pretty tune
might be played on it ? He says he does not know what I
mean by organic functional activity, and asks me to explain.
Well, suppose I could not tell, that would not explain what is an
uncaused cause, I will, however, try to show that I have not
given an improper definition of life. By organic functional activity,
I mean the totality of activity resulting from or found with the
functions of each organism. My friend comprehends that which I
term organism in the vegetable and animal kingdom. If he tells
me that he does not know what I mean by organism, I can
only refer him by way of illustration to the organism of a tree or
of a man ; and by organism I mean the totality of parts of such
tree or man. It is possible that a better versed man than my
self might make this more clear; but it is not for my friend to
shelter himself under my want of knowledge, and to say he will
not give definitions while he requires them from me. Well,
he says, “ I exist; something has existed. It has not existed
always. It has been originated.” I take exception to the word.
I do not understand the word origin in reference to existence.
He says he will not define it. I do not know whether he means
by origination coming into existence where it was before. If so,
I tell him that the conception of this is impossible, that the ap
prehension of it is impossible, that he has used a form of words
which convey nothing of meaning either to you or to me. But
when we tell him that we do not understand an uncaused
cause, he says he don’t understand a scholar without modesty.
Well, then, Locke understood it, he says, and a great many other
great names understood it. Will he tell us how they understood it 1
Surely I have a right to ask him how they apprehended it. He
uses the phrase, and I have surely a right to assume the onus of
proof to be with him. When he does not or will not give us a
lefinition, I believe it is because he cannot. If he has a great
-esson to teach, I cannot suppose that he would be guilty of the
folly of withholding from you all the information that he had, or
could obtain ; but I am bound to suppose it is from his utter
inability to give you any, that he is wholly unprepared, either
with facts or arguments. If intelligence be a quality of mode,
then in so putting it you have entirely overridden the question of
�intelligence as existence, or as infinite attribute of existence. It
is for my friend to make clear his position to you. I know
that to many of you it may seem mere word play, but it is word
play which strikes at the root of the question. What does he
mean, when he says there may be a thousand existences beside
God 1 Does he mean that there may be a thousand existences
scattered and separate ? What does separate mean? It means clear
from, and distinct, and having no link in common with. If there
are a thousand such existences separate, then God is not infinite ;
and if not, our friend’s argument comes to nothing. I find it
difficult to see how my friend can understand that he has proved
his case. I find it more difficult still to conceive how holding at
one period other opinions, he could have been carried away from
those other opinions by such arguments as these. Surely we have
a. right to ask him to make this matter as clear to us as it is to
himself. The argument which convinced him, should convince
us, each individual here. God is personal ? What does this word
personal mean in relation to the infinite 1 God conscious ? Con
scious of what ? Has he an immutable consciousness? Was he
always conscious of the existence of the universe ?—that is, did
he know it to exist before it was created, or has his consciousness
been modified by the creation?
Was God conscious of the
material universe when it yet was not ? If yes, how could he
e know a thing to be which was not yet in being ? If God’s consciousness was once without the fact of the universe, and if God’s
f ‘ consciousness is capable of change, what becomes of the immu| tability of God ? Tell me how it was supplemented since ; tell me
| how something has been added since? You dexterously play
| with terms which you cannot explain, and hope to affirm by asser
tion what you cannot demonstrate by argument. (Cheers.)
Me. Cooper: I have a note about teaching Mr. Bradlaugh. Well,
I am teaching him now, I cannot help it. He d;d not care ! Well,
a quee” word that for young lads. I do not wonder that he is
unfortunate. Most people are unfortunate who do not care. He is
unfortunate, now where is the worst misfortune, I cannot say.
One does not like to talk about these things. Well, he wants to
know why he should be compelled to believe in God, and why
his little folly should not be granted to him ? Well, he wil find
that out some day (cheers and hisses), he must expect it (renewed
expressions of dissent); now do not get into a bad temper ; he
complains that he cannot demonstrate, that I do not know the
use of the terms I use. Then he says derived from, and separate
cause. Really, I thought I saw a great many persons sepa
rate from one another before me, and we separate from them. I
cannot understand this curious kind of definition. I cannot.
Then again, intelligence is a quality of personal, conscious
existence. Well, I spoke of it so. You may call it an attribute,
�or use the word how you please. Why did I say that God could
create ? Because his will must be all powerful. I was talking of
our intelligence, of our will. We have intelligence. I talked about
the power of man’s will as a part of bis personal, conscious, and
intelligent existence. It is therefore a power in G d, and must
be uncontrollable. That power, therefore, must be all powerful.
I have not confused the quality of existence. I never did. But
I want Mr. Bradlaugh to answer the arguments adduced. The
question, he says, is an attribute or mode, and not of existence.
What is the meaning of that ? I said it was not an argument for
to-night. For the moral argument,*lhe right time will be Wednes
day night. I said we must not bring it on to-night. I said it ia
impossible for a thing to come into exis ence when it was not
before. Has he not come into existence, and have not millions of
people come into existence where they were not before ? Now, I
do not know whatryou mean by this :—“ Is it reasonable to sup
pose something separate over which no power can be exercised ?
That glass is separate from me, aad yet I can exercise power over
it.” (Cries of prove it, cheers and dissent). I wish you would rea
son and would not clap your hands. If you do, I can only say
it is sheer nonsense. What does personal, eternal, infinite consci usness mean ? Has God’s consciousness ever changed ? All
things are present to his mind, and always must have been
present to him from his very nature. But I must ask my friend
what life is. He has not made me to comprehend what life is,
although he defines it as organic functional activity. There is no
man can comprehend life. What is man’s life ? What is angel life ?
—it is in vain to tell me about organic functional activity—what is
vegetable life ? And now, since you twit me with absence of
duration where it was never before, am I to understand that in
telligence is a quality of mode, and not a quali y of substance, or
that separate means something over which no power can
be exercised ? Where is the sense of it ? How am I to understand
it? I believe now I have mentioned every thing of importance.
Mr. Bradlaugh : My friend’s last question is, where was the
sense of it ? If it applies to his own speech, I will tell him nowhere—
it really displayed none from beginning to-end. Our friend must
have ability to know the difference between unconditioned exist
ence and modal existence; or if he has not the ability he
is not justified in championing the cause for which he is argu
ing. What he argues for, is not conditioned existence, but for
God, the absolute. If he does know for what he is arguing, or
knows and will not explain—or if he has not the ability to define
my terms, he should not have come here to teach you. In other
words, he should not, if wise, pretend to an ignorance which seta
before us incoherent statements like those he has made in lieu of
the proof he was bound to furnish. I will show you presently
�22
how little he was able to take the part as affirming the being of God
as maker of the universe; and how much he attempts to conceal
in taking that part. He says that God is immutable, and all
(things are now present to him, and ever have been present to
; him. He says this must have been according to God’s very
i nature, but he did not trouble us with a word of reason for this
I startling statement. His affirmation is, that God was as equally
I conscious of the universe before the creation, as after. But to
| say there was a time when the material universe did not exist, f
? and yet that at that time God was conscious of its existence—is »
absurd, and an utter contradiction. How could God be conscious !
that the universe was when it was not ? The phrase is so ludicrously
self-contradictory, that my friend could not have thought at all
when he u*tered it. If God were at any time without conscious
ness of the material universe, and afterwards became conscious
of the new fact of the origination or creation of the universe,
then there was a change in God’s consciousness, which could
not be immutable, as my friend contends. It would be supple
mented by the new fact. I cannot understand what he means
when he talks of the immutability of God’s consciousness being
a necessity of his nature. Surely such a word as nature implies
the very reverse of immutability. And if not, I should be glad
to know in what meaning my friend used a word which in com
mon acceptation implies constant mutation. In dealing with
the question of separate existence, Mr. Cooper says, that you and
I are separate from each other. We are separate modes of the
same existence, but are not separate existences. Does he mean
that the universe is separate from God in the same way that we
are from each other ? If not, this is a subterfuge. He does not
seem to know himself where the sense of his argument lies.
Then he says, “ I am separate from this glass, but I can exerc se power over it.” Here is the illustration of mode—of mode,
in whica there is common substance, common existence, but it
is not an illustration having any analogy. It is only because
he will not think that there is a difference between relative and
absolute terms, or see that we are each using words in opposite
senses. This discussion is degenerating into talk on one side, and
repetition on the other. He says again he is an existence, I say '
he is a mode of existence. I have already defined existence as ’
identical with that substance, which is that which exists per se, ■
and the conception of which does not involve the conception of
an.y other existence as antecedent to it. Mr. Cooper has not dis
puted this definition. He claims for God such existence, and yet
says he himself is an existence. If he means that he is a separate
existence from God—if he says that he is separate and exists
per se, then I do not, I repeat, understand his meaning. I want
an explanation from him. He cannot exist per se, for he says
�23
that he did not always exist, He cannot urge that he came
into existence from himself, or he would argue that he existed,
and did not exist at the same time. His existence can only be
conceived relatively as a mode of existence, such existence
being in truth before its mode, and existing after this mode shall
have ceased. He is not existence, but only a condition of exist
ence, having particular attributes by which he is distinguished
from other conditions of the same existence. He says that it is
nonsense when two men stand on the same platform to discuss an
important matter, and use the same words in a different sense’.
It is undoubtedly nonsense, when one of the disputants passes
over all the definitions of the words without disputing them, or
supplying others. Does he mean to say that he admits the defini
tions I have given ? If he does, the way he speaks of them clearly
shows that his arguments are based on, and prove only modes of
existence, and do not prove existence absolute, so that he has
admitted the whole point for which I am contending (cheers).
He says separate existences can exercise power over each other.
I ask him to show me how, because I have told him it is im
possible to think of two existences distinct and independent of each
other—that it is equally impossible to conceive that two sub- ,
stances having nothing in common, can be the cause of or affect Eone another. He says then that man’s will has furnished him t
with the basis for arguing for God’s power. He reasons up to the |
will of God from the will of man. But if man’s will be, as 1?
declare it to be, the result of causes compelling that will, and
if God’s will is to be fairly taken as analogical to man’s will, then|
God’s will also results from causes compelling his will. But in
this case, the compelling cause must be more powerful than God,
and thus the supremacy of God’s power is destroyed (cheers). &
I know that in this it is possible I may be arguing beside |
the question, because our friend does not take reasonable pains |
to make any explanation as to the value which he attaches to =
the meaning of his words. Le* us see how his demonstration
breaks down:—God’s will and consciousness are identified by
my friend. God’s consciousness, according to him, has never
changed, and never can change. God belore creation must have
been conscious that he intended to create, but if his conscious-,
ness has never changed, he must have been always intending to ;
create, and the creation could never have commenced. Or, Gocl .
must have been always conscious that he had created, iD which
case there never could have been a period when he had yet to
create. He must either at some time have been conscious that
the material universe did not exist, or he must have been con
scious that it always existed. In the last case, there could be no
creation ; and in the first, if God’s consciousness were unchangedJ j
the universe would not yet exist to him. I am not responsible?;
�24
for the peculiar absurdity of this sentence. God either always
willed to make, or he never willed to make. But he could not
have always willed to make, because otherwise there would have
been some time in existence preceding the act of making, which
there could not have been, because God is immutsne, and could
not have changed—there could never have been making without
change—without change there never was intention preceding act,
nor act preceding intention, and there could never have been
manifested that power which he argues for as demonstrating
Deity. I appeal to the audience to think for themselves, and I ask
them whether our friend has adduced any reasonable evidence for
God as the maker and creator of the universe ? I ask whether
he has not put before you an unintelligible jumble of words
without any relation to the question ? I ask you whether he can
fairly be regarded as presenti’ g the united intellect of that
muster-roll of names which he has given as arguing from design
in favour of Deity. How can he claim to be a teacher, who
cannot explain words he uses, or does not know the meaning of
the words his opponent uses ? I simply claim to be a student.
I admit I have not that confidence in myself that enables Mr.
Cooper to regard himself as impregnably entrenched and en
camped, so secure that nobody can touch him. When one sends
a stone through the window of his argument, he says it is not
broken, and when the doors are battered down he declares that
they still stand. I admit so far he is better off than I am. If
he can convince you, and if that conviction be worth anything,
I can only ask when he taunts me about the trial of issue, whether
this is not the most momentous issue that man can have to try ? I
ask not as a lawyer, but as a man. He must meet the question
fairly and honestly, and without a taunt, or before I have done
he will have full payment for all the taunts he gives. (Loud
cheers.)
Mr Cooper: When Mr. Bradlaugh says that the doot-s have
been battered down, and a stone sent through the window—I
say I never said a word about doors or windows. When he says
I will not teach—I say he will not learn. (Cheers and confusion.)
When he says I wish he would not fling such big words at me
—I say his words are so big they split my ears, as they make
such a terrible noise. (Cheers and hisses.) I hardly know what
be was saying when he was talking—(loud cries of question)
Now we are all to the question. (Laughter and oh ! oh !) Who
is that silly man that says question ? You should have
brought your brains in here, and not come without them. (Hisses
and confusion.) Mr. Bradlaugh says I ought to know there is a
difference in condition. That is what I argue for. He says I
have not the ability to discern it, and, therefore, should not have
come here. He says I know it all or 1 conceal it. I have never
�been in the habit of concealing things in my life. “All,” he
repeats, “ is present to the mind of God, that is his conscious
ness.” I said it was present to his mind because he is always.
If my friend tries to show that it is not, let him show it. Pre
sent to his consciousness! He asks—How can it be present to his
consciousness when it has not existed—how can anything be
present to my conscience that has passed away from existence?
There is memory, and he knows that must exist to all eternity—
that is how it is present to his consciousness, so that his immut
ability and his consciousness are essential, he being perfectly wise.
Show me how that can be, says Mr. Bradlaugh. We are separate
modes of the same existence; that glass is a mode of existence.
What is separate 1—the mode ? A jumble of words—indeed, I call
this gibberish. What is this eibberish that tells us that intel
ligence is a mode, or rather a quality of existence ? Show what
is mode ? How are we the same existence as that glass ? Please
to enlighten me. He talks of those listening to mere talk from
me. I really do not know what he is talking about sometimes.
Then he says it is nonsense for two men on the same platform to
use two words in a different sense. Why there is no debate if
we can agree. I don’t want to use words in the sense that myself
and a glass are the same substance. If there are two existences,
one acting on the other, you say it is an affirmation and was not
proved. .Well, but it did not follow, he says, that God was al
ways creating because his conscience was immutable. “ It don’t
show that he should do anything ; acts of will are not tied to the
proof of his consciousness; that can be consciousness something
else, not will, that may be done.” Why that is playing with '
words. Then, again, he says because conscience is immutable
— make affirmation that bis will is immutable. Now I want
my argument answered. (Cheers and hisses.) He asks what we
mean. Why, if he cannot bring forward a better argument than
he has afforded us to-night, he cannot argue it. I exist; but
something must have always existed. I am a personal, conscious,
intelligent existence. You know what it is, or you could not
ask such a question. You did so for a puzzle, perhaps. It is
an act of intelligence to ask the question. Oh ! but I am asked
to define what intelligence is, and when I define it, then to define
the definition. Organic functional activity, he repeats. I have
no explanation of it. Did you define that definition ? (Cries of
yes, yes, and no, no.) Well, you know there is a personal, con
scious intelligence—either there was always existence, or it began
to exist. Then whatever has come into existence must have a
cause. Non-intelligence can’t create intelligence. Conceive it, if
you can. That which can’t be needs no proof. Justas if one could
perceive than a thing can’t be, and yet it necessarily exists. So
non-intelligence cannot create intelligence. “Our friend has not
�26
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shown that it can.” He says he does not know the meaning of
the word create. “He has not shown what he means,” Mr.
Bradlaugh says, “ by personal, conscious, intelligent existence.”
That it has always been, that it is derived from some personal,
conscious, intelligent always existent being. Well, I mean that,
if you like. (Cheers.)
Mr. Bradlaugh : My friend, in conclusion, said I had not
shown that non-intelligence could create intelligence. Consider
ing that I have repeatedly declared that I do not know the mean
ing of the word create, I think my friend must be rather san
guine to suppose that I would undertake to enlighten him upon
this point. It does not lie upon me to prove that non-intelligence
can create intelligence, but on my friend, who affirmed a con
tradiction in terms, to prove it. This statement of my disincli
nation does not help his inability. If I am lame, it don’t prove
that he can walk without crutches. But Mr. Cooper says that
in representing to you God’s consciousness as immutable, I do
injustice to his views; that, although all things are perpetually
present to God's consciousness—God need not, and does, nut, he
says, always will to create. But surely such a declaration is
entirely without evidence, and nowise improves Mr. Cooper’s
position. If there was any period when God did not will to
^create, then he must have changed when he varied his will to the
act of creating. But I want to know how a thing can be present
'when it is non-existent ? If all things were always present to
God, all things must have always existed. To God there never
could be a time when they did not exist. There never was to
him a time when it was necessary to create—he could not have
created that which to him had ever existed. He said, he did not
understand what I meant, when I talked of intelligence being
quality of mode. He said it is a quality of existence, a quality
of substance, and therefore God, who created substance, must be
intelligent, his intelligence was a quality of all existence. Not
all, for he says there are some existences, or some parts of sub
stance that are not intelligent. Then intelligence is a quality of
existence, and it is not! Because existence, according to Mr. Cooper,
may be, and is with it and without it. Now, I say that intelli
gence being a quality of mode of existence, that in various modes
we find varying qualities. All intelligence is not of the same
degree, but varies as the modes differ. They differ as by their
Various characteristics. It is by difference of quality that you
distinguish the one mode from the other. If intelligence b’e infi
nite, there can be only one kind of it, and of one degree; it can
never be lesser or greater. But intelligence varies according
tv mole. You find different degrees or ii te’ligence ma ues" . * different organisations. (Heat, hear). It must therefore be, if
Mr. Cooper’s logic be worth anything, that one kind of intelli
�27
gence creates like ; then, seeing that no two men are alike
organised or intelligent, there must be as many different Gods to
create as there are different intelligences. I am driven to this
line of argument by the absurdity of my friend’s speeches. I can
not believe but that he must know better ; if he does not, little
indeed can he have read the elaborate essays of modern
thinkers—little can he have examined the terms used by great men
from whom he professes to quote. Little indeed can he have
read either the volumes of Hamilton or Berkeley, or of the men
whose ideas be professes to put before us. Surely the philoso
phy of the unconditioned has formed, at some time or other, a
reading lesson for my friend. He declares that he has the ability of
teaching one so ignorant as he believes myself to be ; but
when he uses words so irrelevant and so void of meaning, I am
obliged to assume that he uses them ignorantly, or he would be
more heedful of giving their meaning. He says that the glass
and himself are different existences : he cannot understand their
being different modes of the same substance. His understand
ing must be sadly deficient, if he cannot distinguish between
the characteristics of this mode and that one and that each
mode has more or less different qualities with the same substance.
Here, theD, in each quality my friend will have something by
which he can in thought separate modes, but he cannot in
thought give a separate existence to the substance of each mode,
because he well knows that the same substance as this glass, in
another mode, might have gone to form an intelligent being at
some period of existence. If he says he does not know what he
means by his own words, then, by obtuseness of intellect
he is incapacitated as a public teacher, or it is evident he
dare not use the plain meanings of technical language, because
he is afraid of its logical consequences. Then he says that God,
who is everywhere present, yet besides whom there is somewhere
where he is not—that he has a consciousness of existence
passed away. I deny that there ever was existence which
has since passed away. I take a firm stand on this, and I sub
mit that the two phrases, “ creation,” and “ existence or substance
passed away,” are utterly without meaning. Our friend, surely
if he meant anything, cannot have meant existence that had
ceased to be—that something could never become nothing, yet he
alks of existence passed away—he speaks of existence as no longer
existing. If he means that God’s range of observation is limited,
and that it did not come within his range of observation, then I
can understand it; but if he means this, then he abandons the
attribute of omniscience for Deity. It is difficult really to
guess what interpretation he wishes to be put upon his words.
If there is anything which does not exist always to God, it can
never have existed, as my friend denies the possibility of anything
�23
beaming n th’ng, Therefore, to speak of anything which has
passed out of existence, is to use words without sense or relevance.
(Laughter and cheers.) Our friend says that he did not know
that the window was knocked out and the portal carried away. I
am afraid he is the only one in this room in so blissful a state of
ignorance. He complains of my loud voice. I am always desirous
to limit my voice to the place in which I speak, and not to give
offence. But I am apt to remember my subject rather than my
voice. I am apt to remember alone the cause in which I am
speaking rather than the manner of speech. I know that there
is much in my address capable of improvement; and if my friend
wishes to reprove me, let it be by the contrast between us. His
better chosen phraseology, courteous and patient demeanour, quiet
and kindly bearing, will, coupled with his calmness while I
am replying, be more effective than any verbal rebuke. (Loud
cheers.)
It was now a quarter to ten, Mr. Cooper begged to be informed
by the chairman as to a point of order. He said that, in his discus
sion with Joe Barker, the order was that the person who opened
the discussion for the night closed it.
The Chairman, in reply, said :—I think that the best way is
to adopt a rule. I understand from the paper, the order of
speaking is to be alternate speeches of a quarter of an hour each. I
think it best that the person opening should not speak last. There
will be two more speeches. Mr. Cooper will speak for a quarter
of an hour, and Mr. Bradlaugh will speak for the following
quarter of an hour, when the discussion will terminate to-night.
Mr. Cooper : I told you I came here in a friendly spirit, but as
this is the last time I shall have to address you, I must say I
have been grieved to observe a contrary spirit in you. I wish
that you could behave not like an audience of bagmen, and could
sit without clapping hands or making ejaculations, and crying up
some person, whether he' has sense or not. (Cheers, hisses, and
confusion.) Why need you come her'e? You say you want
truth, then why can’t we discuss truth with all proper patience
and kindness, and not be clapping each other, with jeers, because;
I suppose our friend understands sarcasm, which you Londoners ‘
like so very much ? I am old and used to you. I used to see
all that thing before. (Cheers, shouts, and hisses.) Well, I will sit
down if you do not want to hear me. (Cries of sit down, go on
with your argument.) I discovered that sauce for goose was not
sauce for gander here. (Cheers, hisses, and laughter.) Do not
be so very hard on a poor man. “He cannot understand a word
of Greek,” I thought every body knew that. “But it was
wrong to bring into existence that which had no existence before.”
Mr. Bradlaugh c nnot understand, and as he does not, he wants .
a definition.^ I did not say that God was always willing. I did
�29
not say there never was a period when he did not will a certain
thing. He may will something at one period, and some'hiag at
another period. But, then, we are told it did not follow that he
either should or did exist always. I repeat, that things may
have been present to his conscious intelligence before he created
them. It happens not to be mine, but Plato’s universe, that is,
Plato’s language—“ all things are present to his conscious intel
ligence before he created them.” Our friend goes on, “ I am an
old fashioned reader of old fashioned men.’’ He tells me “ if it
be a quality of existence, it is a quality of all existence.” There
are different qualities of the same existence, there is only one
intelligence ; but, says Mr. Bradlaugh, if God be infinite, there
must be different Gods. If there be different men and different
intelligences, if he can create them anywhere, does it follow that
they do not understand ? Does he not understand this logic ? He
must know better than I speak that it must be so. (Hear.)
Some poor man said “ hear.” Well, I came to you as friends, I
came maintaining your sincerity. I never called you infidel, because
that term is generally used to signify blackguard. I never spoke
ill of you, I never questioned your sincerity, I do not question Mr.
Bradlaugh’s sincerity. We come with the belief that God exists.
We believe it to be a most important belief, and most important
it is if it be true. I see no reason for calling this glass and my
self different modes of the same existence. There may be some
men here who think otherwise, but that is not proving they are
modes of the same existence. Well, existence that has passed
away may yet exist somewhere, although it is not present to my
vision. It is in my conscious intelligence, everything I have been
acquainted with. That is my meaning. I think it is clear enough,
but before I sit down, I will re-state my argument. I am told
that I argued inconsistently and unmeaningly. I will try again,
while I am in possession of the time, as it is the last opportunity
I shall have to-night. I exist. I say it for yourself now. I exist.
I have not always existed. Something must have always existed.
If there never had been a period when nothing existed, there must
have been nothing still. I am conscious of a personal, intelligent
existence, which must have always existed, otherwise it began to
be. It must have had a cause, and that cause must have been
intelligent or not; non-intelligence cannot create intelligence.
Show me how it was. “ Show me how you can infer the possi
bility of intelligence,” &c., is what I have been asking every time
I rose to speak to-night. But he has not done it. I cannot see
how he can perceive that non-intelligence could bring intelligence
into existence. Since there was that always in existence, I must
have belief in another act of consciousness that I have exercised,
for I am certain from the observation of my own intelligence,
that something has always existed everywhere, in every, part of
�So
everywhere. Therefore, there are no lines of demarcation—it has
no motion such as you affirm of matter. I do not say that it has
no motion at all. It don’t need to move to one point of every
where, that is already in every part of everywhere, and there is
everywhere. And now I have clearly arrived in my own mind,
at the knowledge of an uncaused existence. It has become
clear to my perceptions that as this existence was everywhere,
it was omni-present, all-powerful, uncreated, underived, per
sonal, conscious, reasonable existence. Then, I turn even towards
J this material universe. It cannot be the something that always was.
I know that I exist now. I know that at two years old I existed.
I recognise change, and I know that I have changed ; that this
universe changes, and therefore it can’t be that which has always
existed. I said I could move, mould, shape, fit, and design
matter. I can recognise the results of design, although I cannot
see the act of the mind. I reason by analogy, from my personal,
conscious existence, that men are contriving and designing; if I
find their composition to consist of parts and peculiar fashions
adapted and fitted for the purpose it fulfils, and if the principle
on which it worked were simple, I should admire it, and by the aid
of reason, conclude that it had a personal, conscious, and intelli
gent existence for its designer and contriver. Then, I look at
this curiously formed body, the bodies of animals; and I remem
ber the power of this hand, and when I look through a telescope
at those shining bodies in the heaven, and see their immensity,
and recognise them by the light of reason to be themselves the
suns of other systems, I then say he is al'-intelligent, since all
intelligence must have come from him—he only existed from all
eternity—he is the author of all things. Whatever exists must
have been by his will, and by his power, therefore he is uncon
trollable by aDy other will, and therefore he is maker of this
universe. I have said that he is not the mode, but that he exists
simply by his will, and in him we live, move, and have our
being—therefore, in him is my being and your being, and the
being of every animal, and that they can be kept in existence only
by One Almighty, all-wise, and everywhere present, self-existing,
self-created, underived, uncognised, personal, conscious, intelligent
being, whom I worship, and men call God. I have re-stated my
argument. If any one seeks to overturn it, let him go through it
step by step. No person has done so here. No person can do it.
It is an argument that shall not pass away, but must come every
day before your eyes, and possibly to your minds. (Cheers.)
Mb. Bradlaugh : Our friend says something exists, that the
universe exists. I reply, that if something now exists, you cannot
conceive when it did not exist. The supposition that there ever
was a period when the universe began to be, is introduced and
assumed without the slightest warrant for such an assumption.
�31
You cannot limit its existence, you canmt limit its duration. He
says something is everywhere, but that the universe is finite in
extent, as it is, according to his view, finite in duration. He can
not in thought put a limit as to how long the universe has existed,
or how far it extends. The duration and extent of existence are
alike illimitable. Then, he says that substance is not naturally
intelligent, and that the intelligence we find must result from
infinite intelligence. I have endeavoured during this argument j
to explain to him that intelligence was a word that could only be j
properly used in the sense of a quality of a mode, in the same way i
that you would use the word hardness, broadness; and that as
you could not say it was all broad, or all hard, no more could
you say it was all intelligence, or without intelligence. I must
confess that I have never listened to any argument more pre
tentiously and less ably put, than that of my friend to-n’ght.
There was only one part of it that would, if complete, have
deserved any reply, and that he took imperfectly from Gilles
pie, where you may see what his argument ought to have been,
for it is there put as clearly and comprehensively as possible.
He says, he comes here to talk to us in a friendly way. He
would assume that we had imported into this debate that which
lacks friendliness. If it be so, I regret it. But, when he is
asked the meaning of one term, he says he was not bound to tell
us that, and when a definition is given by me, and the argument
is approached on that basis, he says hemeant no such thing. He has
said he will not reproach you as infidels, for that infidels are iden
tified with blackguards. Infidel does not mean blackguard. It means
without faith, outside the faith, against the faith. Mr. Cooper is
infidel to every faith but his own. I am but in one degree more
an infidel, and surely we are none the more blackguards because
we are opposed to the faith which he preaches. I am not ashamed
of the word infidel. Nobler men than ever I can hope to be,
truer men than I in my highest aspirations can pretend to be,
have been content to be classed among those who had that name
applied to them, and they have won it proudly in the age in which
they lived. There have been heroes in every age—infidels, if you
please —but I declare them heroes in the mental battle fields who
have been able to hold their own in life, assailed though they were
by calumny when the grave had received them. Our friend says
that he cannot tell why I speak of a glass and myself as different
modes of the same substance, but in my first speech I took pains
to define what I meant by substance. If he had a better defini
tion, he should, in justice to his subject, have presented it to us ;
it was not for him to say he would not give it, and then to say
“ I don’t understand my opponent.” But he says that “ some
thing could never have been produced from nothing. Intelligence
exists, and must therefore have been created by an all-wise intelli-
�32
| gent Deity.” “ TV ere is either no existence without intelligence,
|or there is existence without intelligence.” My friend declares all
|existence is not alike intelligent, but that some is unintelligent,
|and in this I urge that he contradicts himself. If Mr. Cooper
gis right in declaring that there is any substance non-intelligent,
[(then it can only be (on the hypothesis that God is infinite intelli| gence) by supposing God in such case, and so far, to have anni^■hilated his intelligence. But, if there is anv substance non- (
intelligent, then intelligence is not infinite, and the God my friend I
' contends for does not exist. If God brought into existence that
f which was not himself, but something different from himself, he !
■ must have brought something not out of himself, but something
; out of nothing! He contradicts his own argument, and indulges
in the strangest assertions The universe is moveable, God is not.
He does not give us the slightest reason for this statement. He
declares that God is the master of the universe, but does not even
show you that he understands the relevancy of the argument
addressed to him. When he used the phrase, he must have
meant either that what God created was the same as himself, or
different from himself. It could not have been the same as him
self, otherwise there would have been no discontinuity, no break—
there would have been, nothing to distinguish the creator from
the created—no break of continuity to enable us -to conceive
creation possible. Nor could that which God created have been
different from himself, unless my opponent is prepared to con
tend that things which have nothing in common with each other can
be the cause of, or affect one another.. This shows that Mr.
Cooper has not well considered the terms he employs. If our
friend bases any argument for God’s existence upon his intelli
gence, let him explain what he means. It is not enough for him
to take cognisance of the universe, and so cognise certain effects.
All those finite effects do not aid him one step towards the infi
nite. His design argument was a structure without a founda
tion. You have seen how little our friend can understand the
meaning of his own words. He has talked about his trials, and
yet he asked how I could talk about my misfortunes. I have
not yet talked of them. I have not said how men, when I was
yet at an early age, for these opinions drove me out from home,
, and from all that I loved and was dear to me, and threw me within
! eight of the truth, where I have had since the happiness of striv
ing for that truth—lifting up the banner of our cause, showing
that true men may be made truer, and the world be better worth
living in than it was before the struggle. (Cneers.)
|
�SECOND NIGHT.
ON GOD AS MORAL GOVERNOR OF THE UNIVERSE.
At seven o’clock precisely Mr. Harvey, the Chairman, accornp^
nied by Mr. Cooper, Mr. Bradlaugh, and several representative
friends, came upon the platform, and were received with loud
cheers. The Hail was not quite so crowded as on the first night,
but was well filled in every part.
The Chairman : I have to announce that the discussion will
now commence. With your permission I willread the subject from
the printed progran&rie. The argument on the first night was
as to the Being of God, to-night -it is for the Being of God as
Moral Governor of the Universe. As before, each speaker will
occupy half-an-hour and no more for his first speech, or as much
shorter, a period as he may think proper, and afterwards a
quarter of ap hour each. I must again ask the audience to give
me their confidence. I hope they will abstain from unnecessary
cheering or calls of time. If either speaker should get out of
order, I will remind him of it. I have no doubt, if you will
listen to the speakers tilt they have concluded, you will have an
evening of instruction, and be able to appreciate their arguments.
Mr. Cooper : If there is one word of more importance to me
than any*other that could be mentioned—one word of more im
portance to me—to human beings, than any other, that word is
duty—duty, a word, I say, that is all-important to me. We are
not talking of the duty of pigs, of dogs, of rabbits, weasels, snails,
butterflies, bullocks, or elephants—duty belongs to man. Crea
tures have no duty. We never talk of the duty of a snail, of a
horse, of a cat, of a bullock. Duty belougs to man. (Cries of
yes, yes, and question.) Well, the parties of your side who pro
fess a philosophic duty, seem to think that there is no such thing as
duty connected with religion. ‘Who told them so? We believe
that there is a duty of religion, though we ought to obey our
own convictions. Well, but you say we are as moral as you are
on the other side—we follow duty. My question is to, a person
who talks about moral duty as a result of philosophy. Is he a
perfect mau? Is any of you a perfect man? If you are, send
your name to the Times, and be sure you have it put in the
second column, where they put all the curious advertisements—
�34
indeed, you might take a house in Belgrave Square, and people
would come to see you if you were a perfect man. But no;
really I am not a perfect man, nor you. There are none of you
perfect men. Then, I say you, each of us, breaks his sense of
duty again and again. You get out of temper with your wives
and children—you ill use them very likely—you say something
that grieves them very much. Oh, it’s all right—you were out
of temper ! You wonder at yourself for striking her; well, but
whenever any one has struck, or ill used, or trampled on you, you
come to a conviction of another kind. In two or three days,
perhaps, after you have been guilty of this misconduct, you are
sorry. You say, “ what a scandal to have used my wife so.” I
should not have done so. But you have done this often. You
say, I must not do these things again. You accuse yourself, you
threaten to flog yourself. What is all this ? But perhaps you
are a shopkeeper; no matter what the article is that you sell.
A.person comes into your shop: perhaps he is fastidious. You
think he has come in to get something as cheap as he can. There
is nothing doing. You show your articles. You say to your
self, what am I to do with this man ? He has spent a quarter of
an hour in your shop, you seem to have had some time waiting
upon him. Something begins to say to you, “ rent and taxes
must be paid.” He seems to want the article. Yes, it’s a very
well manufactured article. Yes, is the reply, what will you take
for it ? You hesitate; you say to yourself, “I must, I will have
as much as I can get for it.” He pays you your price, and you
are struck with wonder. So off he goes. You have charged
him pretty well. It comes up in your mind that day. You
say to yourself, I have to support a family—it is very difficult to
support a family, also to pay rent and taxes. So you reason
against rates and taxes—wife and children—it beggars you—and
so on. Again, you fall into habits of drink. Some sensible
fellow said to you one day—Turn teetotaler. Depend upon it
he was a sensible fellow who said that—gave you that advice.
You thought it was rather hard at first; you tried it, however,
and you found how effectual it was. When you got up in the
morning you said, “ How light I feel—how comfortable I am.
I am not a slave to drink, I do not wallow in the sty,
a sleep does not oppress me now as it did before. One
day last summer, wnen it was very hot, there was an excur
sion to Gravesend. You wanted relaxation. Young people
are rather fond of that, so you went on the excursion, and
you stopped now and then to see the country. At last you saw
somebody take a glass of porter. You were thirsty. He asked
you to have one, as you were one of the party. Well, you are
over-persuaded. You take one You felt it was wrong, a bad
step. But why, how could this be ? I need take no more. But
�85
you do drink another glass, and your thirst is not slaked. Then
somebody said to you, take a drop of something short, that will
queneh your thirst. And so you do, and your senses come short.
You get into bed. You have burning; a great drum thunder
ing through your head. But conscience comes up, and then you
say—“ I am a brute again. I have gone into drunkenness
again.” How was it that you felt condemnation ? How was it
you felt condemnation as a husband, a father, or a man—all that
condemnation ? Iam sure you could not help it. I do not,ear®
whether you call yourself Atheist, Deist, Sceptic, Freethinker, or
whatever you call yourself, you could not help it. It is a part
of your nature, of a moral nature that you have different from
the inferior animals, that you should have remorse for doing
wrong. You threaten to flog yourself, to lacerate yourself for it.
A man may continue to offend against this something. Stop,
what do you mean by a moral nature ? We talk about defining
words. It is quite necessary to define this word. I remem*
her Robert Cooper being present here so long ago as March,
1856, about the time that I was avowing a change in my
opinions, and another time in John Street. He did notreply to me in a speech, but he did so in a pamphlet. In that
pamphlet, he showed that he did not understand what I have
said. “ Man has an immoral nature, and, therefore, he has a
moral government where he has an immoral nature.” If that
was the amount of his acquaintance with the form of moral
philosophy, it showed he knew nothing about the matter in the
philosophic sense. Man has not an immoral nature, but a moral
nature. It is called “ moral Bense ” by Shaftesbury, “ moral
reason ” by Reid, consciousness by Butler, and is a power within
man which warns him of what is right and what is wrong. It
don’t matter where he is—where he lives—what land he possesses
—what language he speaks, or what colour he is—he is sure to
ask of it, and the reply is infallible, What is right and what is
wrong ? Oh ! but that is not consciousness, says the other side.
We say there is no such power.* It is a thing of education, you
say. It depends on how a man has been instructed. “ Your
conscience is not my conscience, one man’s conscience is not
another’s.’’ The conscience of a Jew is not that of a Christian ;
the conscience of a civilised man is not the same as that of a
savage. “ It is a thing of education.” To be sure ! Well, but
somebody says I cannot understand what conscience is. What
is this moral nature ? Let us try to understand. It is a faculty
in man that discerns that there is right and wrong, and testi
mony is infallible—a faculty, no doubt, that needs to be educated.
You cannot educate it in animals—it is not there. There must
be a right for a man to do right, a wrong to do wrong, each of
which his spiritual nature recognises and distinguishes. I shall,
�36
of course, contend!, that we have in this Christian country the
highest moral teaching in Christianity itself; and if this were
denied, a high moral sense, which some of my friends would attri
bute to the discernment of reason. Moral sense, I say, is the
clearest and strongest discernment of moral nature—it discerns to
practise what is right; that virtue, truth, honour, and so on de
serve praise, and in their very nature confer their own reward;
that the practise of vice, error, which we call wickedness, sin,
and trangre^sions deserve punishment. Man has this moral sense.
He has not an immoral nature, which says that virtue deserves
punishment and error reward. Robert Cooper, therefore, did
not know what he was talking about. There is this faculty in
man—it is part of his intellectual nature. Conscience responds to
it more or less ; and as he is a free agent, so he can resist and sin
against it, which he does easily, so that he sears it as with a red hot
iron, and he may sin on till he is steeped to the lips in vice;
still there it is. For instance, a man meets another who
looks very hard at him in the street. He bolts down the next
entry. He says, “ that man knows me.’’ He wishes it was dark
so that nobody would know him, and when it is dark, and he is
in bed, he pulls down the sheet over his face. Criminals have
made these confessions. Oh ! says somebody, you don’t call that
conscience; didn’t Palmer, that Rugby fellow, die as hard as
iron ; he could not have what you call conscience ? Now, I wish
you would listen to a person of extreme credibility, who had it from that criminal himself—viz., Mr. Goodacre, the clergyman
who attended Palmer every night in the gaol. When Palmer
went back to the gaol after the trial, he was as hard as iron. But
the last night came—he was in the condemned cell. The chap
lain spoke to him, but it was, so to speak, like pouring water upon
a duck’s back. There was no conversion. The clergyman goes to his
lodgings, and prays to bring the unhappy criminal to a sense of his
situation. He felt also that he could not go to bed; doubt pressed
upon his mind as to whether he had said all that he ought to
have said, for before eight o’clock the next morning all would be
over. “ I may not,” said this gentleman to himself—“I may not
have said all that I ought to say—I must say all that I can.” He
went back and knocked at the prison door—by law the chaplain
can get admission into the gaol at any hour. This is the rela
tion given by the gentleman, which exactly illustrates the case in
point. He entered the cell where the wretched man was. “I
am come to speak to you,” said the chaplain. “ I must come and
speak to you. You are a great sinner. I am come to say that
there is pardon for you,” and he alluded to the thief who was *
pardoned on the cross. “ Will you try,” he exclaimed, “ and con
fess your sin, and you may yet find pardon.” It had such an effect
on Palmer that he asked—“ How pardon ? If I should confess about
�37
my wife, I should have to confess about my brother too.” Why,
returned the chaplain, and did you murder your brother also ?
And Palmer clung to the bed stock with both hands, and groaned
as if he would rend his soul. That groan was the voice of con
science. He had sinned against his conscience. But you say
this was not remorse for crime, for this was nor. in his character.
Just imagine to yourself an old lion who entered into a corner of
the wilderness, and groaning because he had killed so many
antelopes, or a cat into the chimney corner, because she had
killed so many mice! How does this happen but because we
have this moral nature ? What does it tell us that vice and
wickedness are wrong, that untruthfulness, tyranny, despotism,
sensuality, all deserve blame and punishment—that virtue, honour,
goodness, self-denial, benevolence, deserve praise and reward—in
a word, it is a dictate of the mind of man ? How comes this to be,
but that there is a moral governor to whom we are accountable ?
We cannot get rid of the responsibility. Deny it as we please, it
is there ; it follows the moral governor exists. We look on his
moral government. We see organic law punishing man for sin.
We sin; punishment fearfully suddenly overtakes the wicked.
Men speak and talk about it. We see vice triumphant, men
wading through blood and gaining a throne ; kings grasping
liberty by the neck, and as each moment rolls on dishonesty,
violence, and weakness successful. Well, say you, is it part of
the moral government that we see the rich getting wealth and
the poor growing poorer, and virtue and poverty suffering to
gether? You look on the great man. There is happiness, you
exclaim, and you say, “ this is not right according to the principles
of your moral government.” You can only come to this conclu
sion at last, and that is my conclusion, that he could only resist
the sense of moral conviction, he could only disobey this sense of
responsibility, because God’s moral government has only begun,
and is not completed. There must be a state where wrong will
be righted—where no four millions of black slaves shall be
lorded over by white men—no bad men sit on thrones, no good
men be imprisoned. There must be a state of equality. What
we see in progress here must be worked out finally. We see in all
these things around about us proof that man i° a being of pro
gress, and which shows that he cannot be limited to this state of
existence. This cannot be the be-all and the end-all. I con
clude that this is only the beginning, and that we are going on;
that this life is not the conclusion of our existence—that a moral
governor exists, that his moral government has begun progressing
« towards perfection. We cannot deny that it is here. You say
there is no moral government. Then why are you punished :
has not sin its penalty ? Why this discontent, this uneasiness, if
there be no hereafter, no accountability ? When you see a throne
�88
like Louis Napoleon’s, who will say there is no hereafter ? If
there were not, why not act like great Caesar himselt ? Cato
could have aided him, and Caesar drove him to suicide. Why is
all this if there be no moral government ? What does it prove ?
This, that a moral governor exists. (Cheers.)
Mr. Bradlatjgh : I am delighted to be able to pay the speaker
who has just sat down, the only compliment that has seemed his
due during the time he has spoken since the commencement of
this discussion. It is that he has occupied, with a degree of skill
which I am utterly unable to imitate, a large portion of your
time, but without the slightest relevance to the question which we
are met to discuss. It says a great deal for the presence of mind
of any speaker, seriously to address an audience not in the spirit
of comedy, but in all solemnity, for so long a period without
touching the subject. It says a great deal for his tact when he
can get through twenty-eight minutes of the time in talking
altogether beside the question, and put into the last two minutes
a sort of preface to the topic for debate in lieu of a serious argu
ment. Last evening we had but little approach to discussion, and
were I content to leave the question where my friend has left it
this evening, we should have no discussion at all. There has not
been a particle of evidence adduced by him for the existence of a
moral governor of the universe (hear, hear, and cheers). In all
that he has said there is not a scintilla of evidence, but in lieu we
have some hopes, but however patent his hopes, and however
certain his prophecy, the facts he has stated are evidence only to
himself and not to me. I fancied that my friend was to state the
argument for, and affirm the being of God, as moral governor of
the universe. If he has done anything at all, the most that he
has effected was to allege, without evidence, that there was such
a person or being as he called moral governor of the universe ;
some such thing as that which he called a moral nature, and that
is some evidence for the existence of some being who gave that
moral nature to the individual possessing it. That is the fullest
possible extent to which he has carried his argument. He was
obliged to qualify it, such as it was, with numerous admissions.
He admitted that this faculty which he callad moral sense or
conscience, was a faculty requiring education ; but then he says—
“ It is a faculty which discerns that there is right and that there
is wrong.” I submit, on the other hand, that a man has no
separate faculty, but that his conscience is the result of the
education of the whole of his faculties—that man has no sepa
rate conscience other than is the result of the condition in which
all his faculties may be at any one time of his life, none certainly
that would enable him to judge right and wrong independently
of his education. I submit that a child newly born is without
any such faculty, that it is entirely destitute of any faculty that
�39
would enable it to judge right and wrong, and that that which
my friend calls moral nature, I repeat, is but the result of the
education of all the faculties in man—further, that what he calls
man’s moral nature, if any one chooses to examine the matter
closely, will be found to vary with tribes, countries, and climates,
vary even with the same individuals at various periods of their
lives, and from such a varying, shifting standard you are to pro
duce the evidence of an immutable Deity as moral governor of
the world. If it be po-sible to effect such a demonstration, my
friend will have to display a talent for logic which he has not
manifested during this debate. Let us see whether his facts were
correct. I submit, even if they were, they were worth nothing,
as being irrelevant; that if everything he said were true, from
Alpha to Omega, then it is not worth anything. But I submit
that what he alleged as facts, are not so. “ Did you ever hear,”
asks my friend, “ of a lion that was stricken with remorse over
the numerous animals he has slaughtered ?” Did you ever hear of
a Thug who, having committed murders by the score, felt joy rather
than remorse for his conduct ? What conscience taught him that
he was more sacred to his deities for the skill displayed in his mur
ders ? Our friend, who certainly manifested a more philosophic
conception of words than he w as able to manifest on the last
night of discussion, might have given us a novel definition of
conscience had he read some essays on the practices of Thuggee,
which he might have found in some of our old review—I have
several of these passing through my mind at the present moment
—he would have also found some extremely serviceable evidence
taken before a parliamentary commission, upon the terrible prac
tice of strangling prevailing among the Thugs of India. He
would have found how faithful wives and good mothers to their
children could regard the taking away human life as a positive
virtue, and a matter deserving praise and reward, and that the
more murders they committed, the holier the devotees of Bowanee
regarded themselves. So far from being like Palmer, groaning
as though he would rend his heart, these Thugs regarded murder
as matter of absolute virtue, making them better men and women
than, according to their belief, they could be otherwise. If this
stood alone it would be enough to at least neutralise all that our
friend put before you, but we shall be able to deal with this
question of the moral governance of the universe hereafter more
effectually than this. The whole of our friend’s argument was
founded on what he calls man’s moral nature. I submit that if
his facts had been true, they would not be much evidence on the
subject. But he has cleverly tried to turn the tables on myself.
He said, if there were not this remorse, this uneasiness, this
misery, what inducement would you atheists have to be virtuous 1
But suppose I showed this was not the subject for debate—sup
�40
pose I should urge, as I might have done, that it was only to
introduce an excuse for the occupation of time, that this point was
urged, and suppose I did not choose to take up the question, how
much would that advance my friend’s case ? He was to prove the
existence of a moral governor for the universe. And as he has not
chosen to battle on his own ground, he requires that I should
breach his fortress, aud storm it for him. I will therefore accept
the issues that he has laid before you. But before doing so,
permit me to point you to one or two matters that seem to strike
against the moral governance of God. Is there a moral governor
rewarding virtue. How then is vice in luxury while virtue is
starving ? How can you account for this, that when two thousand
women kneel in one church, that he permitted them to be burnt
and suffocated there ? If you cannot deal with these two thousand,
I will put before you millions instead of thousands. Instead of
these women dying in sudden anguish, rushing round the church,
and crying out to God for mercy, who showed them none, I will
point to millions in the world dying slowly from poverty, that
strikes them down in lingering misery, and whom God pities no".
This gr -at fact meets you in the face, that if there be a governor,
he allows human beings to come into the world faster than food
for them, and that starvation and misery strike myriads down
to die of disease amidst squalid misery. You may tell me that
poverty constituted a crime; it is a disgrace to the world that
it is so. God the moral governor of the universe ! When in the
square of Warsaw women and children prayed to God for help,
for life, for moral strength, when they besought him to hear
their prayer for liberty, and to alleviate their sufferings, you will
hardly tell me that God was moral governor of the universe
when he permitted the Cossack’s lance point to drink the blood
from their breasts as answer to their praying. You will not say
that God is governor, and yet that this happened without punish
ment on the guilty. But you say that because these wrongs are
not redressed here, they will be hereafter. Who made you prophet
for kingdom come? Who gave you the right to require us to
look mildly and contentedly upon all evils here, on the ground
that they will be put right in another world ? You tell me that
when a man is starved to death in this world, he will be led in the
next, when he can eat no longer ; or that if he is unjustly put
here in the prison cell, that it is what God pleases, and that God
will set all this right at some future time. Set it right 1 How
can you hope that ? He it is, if governor, who causes the child
to be born in poverty and misery, and without power to extricate
itself, and helpless to contend against the woe surrounding it.
He kept its parents starving, that they might give the unfortunate
babe a wretched physique. It was he who made the only instructor
of the child, the police or the magistrate. He brought the child
»
�41
from the cradle to the gallows, with a hempen cord round its neck
—he who initiated it into the world helpless to avoid the crime—
he who ended its career there, helpless to escape the retribution.
You make God do all this ill, then you tell me I am a blasphemer
(loud cheers and hisses, which were protracted for some time).
It is you, and not I, who is blaspheming—you, whenyouaffirm that
God rules and that innumerable wrongs result; it is you and not
I who affirm that God rewards vice with imperial purple, virtue
with threadbare fustian; it is you, and not I, who affirm that
God deals thus unfairly with his people.. And when the earth
quake—as that at Lisbon—comes, when it rends not merely the
mansion of the rich but the hovel of the poor, and when after
rending these, it leaves thousands dying from plague and starva
tion in the streets of a great city whose inhabitants it thus
steeped in ruin and misery, by that which you say is the act of
God—don’t tell me of one or more acts apparently beneheent as
illustrating his goodness and sense, until you deal with th&se acts
so clearly malevolent. Do not tell me that God punishes the
wrong-doer here, or if you do, I will ask you why you drag
another world of punishment out of the future ? Don’t tell me
of some wicked men stricken dowu in the streets to die by God’s
decree, for if you do, then do I sav, that God is unjust in smiting
a few and sparing the majority. Your argument lor God’s moral
power is at an end unless you can explain why the imperial mur
derer is spared and the ragged wretch is stricken. (Cheers, hisses,
and confusion). If you want to hiss, wait till I have said some
thing better to deserve it.
The Chairman: I beg that you will keep Order.
Mr. Bradlaugh : You shall have enough to hiss for when I
shall have said what I wish to say against your threadbare
theology, and it is indeed that wh ch I impeach. (Cheers, and cries
of question and time).
The Chairman : It'gentlemen will be quiet and not cheer so or
cry question, all will be able to hear. I will call time when it is
proper to call time (Cheers)
Mr. Bradlaugh: You ask me why I do not steal; why I do
not lie; why I do not, like a neighbouring scoundrel, aspire to a
kingdom, bieaking oaths and shedding Mood togain my point.
I will endeavour to tell you why, but to do this, I must take
up your position that vice must be punished and virtue rewarded
in some future .state. I will say that from the Atheist’s point
of view that is not so. All mere punishment for crime past is
in itself a crime, a wrong, and is omy to be defended in so far
as it goes to the prevention of crime future, but not in so far
as it can be regarded as vengeance lor crime past. The Atheist
view is not that crime should be punished by some overlooking
judge, but that it carries with it its own punishment in limiting
�42
man’s present happiness and increasing his present misery. The
Atheist does not argue that virtue will gain him Heaven hereatter, but declares that it spreads happiness around the virtuous
doer here, and makes happiness for him because it makes hap
piness amongst his fellows—honesty, truth, manhood, virtue,
work their own reward in rendering happy the doer of them,
and in spreading pleasure in the circle in which he moves. You
admit that God suffers rascals to climb into thrones, and permit
his clergy, who at least should know his will, to pray to him to
keep them there. You who know that God has permitted a
great country to be heavily taxed for the support of a clique of
rascals who perpetrated the coup d'etat, and inaugurated the
reign of the imperial scoundrel who now rules in God’s
name, aad as God’s anointed. You say he is going to punish in
the next world the man who thus climbed into a throne in
this, when we know, if your argument be true, he could not have
ciimbed there without G >d’s help. God knew beforehand the
designs of the man "ho broke his solemn oath to the young
Republic; but this man could not have perjured himseli without
God’s permission, if he be 'he omnipotent governor you say,
any more than he could have climbed to a thione without his
aid. God then, according to you, must have helped this cri
minal here in order to punish him some other time. Is that so ?
If these are your views of God as moral governor of the
universe, I give way at once. They are unanswerably absurd.
But does this dispose of the question ? I do not think it does. I
should like our friend, when he pleases to deal with the
question in vyhat he calls its philosophic sense, to be a little
more profuse of his explanations than he was inclined to be
during the discussion of last evening. As to the moral teaching
of Christ, he will find no one more ready than I am to con
sider that question. But we have nothing to do with Christ
here to-night, any more than we have to do with Mahomet,
Moses, or Zoroaster. If he wants to tell me that Christ has
given us a moral system without reproach, I will reply that
under no system of morality which can pretend to be without
blemish, is so much vice permitted. Christianity is a system
which teaches submission to injury; courting wrong, and volun
teering yourself for oppression. I will tell him, that at present
I pa^s it by, because it is not the subject of our argument; it
is no part of the argument, and is at least a mistake, unless
he introduces it for the purpose of evading the real question, as
also the question arising on his allegation of man’s free agency.
If he would discuss to-night Christian morality, he might have
put it forward fairly as a subject for disenssion, when I should
be ready to meet him. He tells me that he is a free agent. He
had much better have supported his argument on both evenings
�43
by some facts, instead of relying on naked allegations. I will
endeavour to show him the most convincing testimony of free
agency that could be required. He says that man is a free agent,
for he can sin against his conscience. I say that he cannot sin-rman cannot resist the circumstances that result in volition. As to
this he has had no freedom of selection. What are these cir
cumstances ? First his org nisation, then the education affect
ing that organisation to the moment of volition. I say that
no man is perfectly free to choose his education, or the organi
sation educated up to the moment of volition. To talk, there
fore, of man sinning against his conscience—itself the result of
education—is to tell you the grossest absurdity that could be
put before you. Well, Samuel Taylor Coleridge says that any
act to be a sin must be originated in the will entirely apart
from and independent of all circumstance extrinsic to the will.
I say there is not this volition preceding any act resulting from
the will, but that all volition is the result of various circum
stances conducing to the wil’.
Then our friend somewhat
abruptly refers to the thief on the cross who got into paradise.
I will admit, if he wants to try the question according to Bible
Christianity, the greatest rascals on earth are the most likely
to be rewarded in heaven ; and if that establishes anything in
favour of moral governance of the world by God, then the New
Testament, corroborated by the Old, shows that those who have
been liars, thieves, and murderers, have got into heaven by God’s
grace, while some of those who have been especially truthftal and
honest became the others’ victims on earth, and were kept out
of heaven. If any of you doubt that, however, I will abandon it, as
the only evidence is that of the Bible, which for me is indefensible,
though for him it is unanswerable. God is an immutable being,
our friend says, and yet declares that his moral government is
begun but not completed. He urges that because vice is
triumphant here, that this must be set right hereafter, that God
the immutable will change his mode of governance, that slavery
he e is to be compensated by eternal freedom hereafter. If this
is to be taken as evidence of future and more complete moral
governance, it must also be taken that the moral government is
at present incomplete, and therefore is no evidence of ability in
the governor to govern more perfectly. He either lacks desire or
ability. One supposition denies his goodness, the other his power.
Then you say, “ that the wicked who escape here shall be sent to
hell fire hereafter.” I am obliged, you add, to admit that the
moral government is incomplete, but these rascals will be punished
by and by, though before this takes place, though before this
retribution comes, they will be dead. Good men will be rewarded
in the next world who have starved in this. Have not men who
made the world resound with the fame of their intellect and utility
�44
of their philosophy, died in garrets neglected and uncared for!
Have they not been villified and calumniated for centuries—men
whose brows were bound with laurel, the fruit of their own selfreliant genius in this world, and oh, by-and-by, God will reward
them. The men who have struggled for liberty have been stricken
down, and have died despairing, while you have been obliged to
admit vice triumphant, despite the moral governor. What, I ask,
is the object of the war that is raging only a few hundred miles
from where we stand ? Does it rage for the rights of man, for
his liberties, for any great principle, or for the purpose of setting
up one piece of state tinsel against another ? Who is it that keeps
this strife up—who starves to pay for this—the people, those whom
you tell me are God’s people, whom God cares for, whom God
helps ? Never till they help themselves—never till they are able to
strike for themselves—never till they upraise themselves. For
those who tell me of a moral government by God, I will turn to
them the whole map of the world, each page of its history, and I
challenge you to show me any people whom God ever helped
until they helped themselves. (Cheers.) Amongst the tribes of
uncivilised people, or even amidst more favoured nations, where
there was the more ignorance the people were more on their knees
praying and less on their feet thinking. It was there where men
were more trodden down, were more serfs, more slaves; there
was always a priesthood to help the king, but never the people.
Where then is the moral government of the universe ? Not by
God. Where even the governance of society ? Not by God but man,
by human intellect; not by Church edict, but by human thought;
not by a moral government outside the world, which teaches right
and wrong according to a standard that can never be altered; but
rather by the advancing knowledge of each hour which, with
better in f ormation, discovers evil to -morrow where it is yet unseen
to-day, and finds truth to-day where yesterday belief bad found
no trace of it. Mankind must be saved by the development of
its common humanity, and we strive in this to advance with
certain steps to the great truths scattered in the depths of the
mighty unknown around us. We seek to gather not pearls,
sapphires, rubies, and diamouds, but truths, that we may build
them into a priceless moral diadem, and therewith crown the
whole human race. (Loud Cheers.)
Mb. Cooper : (Cries of “ go on, Tommy.’’) I will be very much
obliged if you will never clap your hands any more when I rise. I
feel really tired of complaining thus, and I might as well not occupy
your time in this matter, for I am tired of this childish sort of
work, and if anything could disgust me more it would be this silly
laughter. Thomas Cooper is not a man to be laughed at. I have
been a long time on this platform £.I. was never a disgrace to it
(nor any other) when I was on it. Tnever deserted a good prin-
�45
ci pie that once impressed me; I do not know why you are to treat
me in this manner. I think a man of fifty-nine years of age ought
to have some reverence. You have (turning to Mr. Bradlaugh)
just complained before sitting down that every speech delivered
by me as yet was beside the mark—as if a man could live fiftynine years and then argue as if he talked nonsense whenever he
opened his mouth. I have not heard an argument—not a frag
ment of an argument, in answer to what I have stated. Mr.
Bradlaugh says the most I have done is to affirm that man was
not a moral nature. There are many faculties, he says, but the
child has no faculty. That is no argument. In answer, I say the
child has faculties, but does not display them, that everybody
knows, and no one can deny it. Then “God cannot be immutable
because he creates mutable creatures.
He must be mutable
because the creatures must be mutable.” Where is the contradic
tion ? Then he proceeds, “ If what I said were facts, they were,
not facts.” How has that been shown? Because something wa^z
done amongst Thugs. I have not heard about the Thugs. I know
nothing about these young women who were glad they had com
mitted more murders than others. They exulted in it. Now if
any man says there is no moral sense in Thugs, I should like to
have some conversation with him before I believed him. I appeal
to you and not to Thugs. He said, I cleverly tried to throw my
friend off, to turn the tables on him, and some person imme
diately said “ hear.” Do you mean to call me a liar ? I never had
Mr. Bradlaugh in my thoughts. I will re-affirm that he said
that I would introduce anything to occupy the time. He com
menced by stating that I had manifested something like a philo
sophic apprehension of the meaning of words which had no mean
ing, and that I was trying to keep your attention from the ques
tion. Well, there are only the Thugs’before us at present. There
is only an appeal to persons’ nature—we are talking of acts ; we
are going to what our friend says appears to be complete disproof
of the moral government of the universe. He has not dealt with
that fact, that great fact, which you must feel to be fact yourself.
I mean conscience. Can any one of you tell me that he does not
feel when he is sinnin'g against his conscience ? Why then do you
read with such zest the confessions of criminals, the workings of
the human mind, the convictions of a marl that he is a scoundrel,
a bloodthirsty villain? “ Oh, sinning against conscience is the
greatest absurdity that can be mentioned.” Is it ? Strange procla
mation this in the middle of the 19th century. If this is philoso
phy, I do not know what the world will say to it. Abolish all
the laws of government! What is the use of them ? Well, a
man cannot sin against conscience. Do you see what it is you
defend (hear, hear). Will you have the kindness not to cheer a
sentence of that sort without thinking ? Then we heard about
�46
2,000 women whom God shut in and delivered up to the most
terrible of deaths. Then again, I was esteemed a person who had
pretended to look into the future. Will our freind say that God
showed them no mercy ? That is a very large undertaking for my
friend. Then there is the poverty of millions born into the world
and no food to support them. I say plenty of food, but men are
bad one to another. Man is an enemy to man. What sort of
government would you have ? Had you rather that man had
been a moral agent and have no choice ? But you know that you
have a choice, you feel that you can choose, you are sensible of it.
“ God cannot make us free.” Indeed. And you say, “ subject at
the same time.” You allude to the punishment which is inflicted
upon men by God in conformity with the organic formation of
their bodies. “ Millions in poverty.” Yes, indeed, many of them
suffering deeply. Some, however, are poor by their own fault.
Some men are idle and will not work, others spend their wages,
others beat their wives, and others are dishonest. Among the
rich there are dishonest also, so there are dishonest among the poor,
and so suffering comes by a man’s own fault, folly, or vice, as the
case may be. But, says Mr. Bradlaugh, there were 2,000 women
burnt out of existence. The attention drawn to that topic was
something extraordinary to be addressed to men’s judgments.
He says, did moral government exist then, but then 12,600 persons
have died since we came into this room, 84,000 odd, or 32 millions
eyery year. Men die in suffering and great pain. Those 2.000
left children, brothers, relatives, so have the 2,000 that die hourly.
But who complains of the order of life ? Can you tell me of any
particularly good son that would like his father to live for ever ?
How can we believe in a world constituted as this is of men and
animals—who will say that life should be perpetual 1 Now think
of these 2,000 poor women, they were free beings, those priests also,
whom they say acted so cruelly, delivered them over to the Virgin,
and all that sort of thing, but God is not to force man to be good
if he be a free agent. I am asked who made me a prophet of the
moral nature as well as of God’s declaration ? I feel this con
demnation, and I know by it what is wrong. I feel some great
constitutional disease. In the progressive nature of men there must
be moral disease. They would not be governed without it. God
does not train up children to be slaves. I am not to talk about
blasphemy, for there was a hiss when it was mentioned, and you
cheered Mr. Bradlaugh in his sallies against Deity, so that I
should not wonder to hear a hiss when you hear it affirmed that
God trains up a child for happiness. I say God has a moral
government, and that he makes free beings. Men act on each
other’s circumstances. The mere talk about they could not choose
where they were born, that they could not choose their food, that
they were under the control of circumstances, is mere talk and
�nothing more. Circumstances do not altogether control me. I
have trampled on circumstances a hundred times. Men do right
and wrong, we are actuated by it. We sin against our conscience,
where should be the absurdity of God’s government being begun
and net completed? If God exists,he exists from all eternity, and
he has made millions of beings who exist also. Is it to be denied
that one object of his government is that he purposes these beings
for a higher state? This higher state stands before them an
eternity of happiness if they will conduct themselves properly in
this state of trial. I may here take notice that I have been
faithful to my part of the engagement. Mr. Bradlaugh has some
times spoken so loudly I never thought I had a right to say that
has nothing to do with the question. But I see my time is gone
by, and I must reserve what I have to say.
Mr Bradlaugh : I frankly and unreservedly retract the com
pliment I paid my friend for his ability in evading the subject.
It would be improper in me to persist in tendering him a compli
ment which he repudiates. I also frankly confess I now do not
know for what purpose the first speech was delivered at all, and
this the more because the second speech has not improved the
position. Our friend has been kind enough to express his opi
nion, that it is hardly fair towards a speaker to urge that his
speech has nothing to do with the question. Surely my friend
wants me to offer my opinion on his speech. I have done so; and
if any ot the audience agree with my view, so much the worse
for the speech, because it would show that it produced on the
mind of more than one person an impression, that our friend had
not proved anything which he had proposed to affirm. As to
the moral faculty in a child, Mr. Cooper says the child has no
faculty for some years. I ask whether children up to a certain
ace are without aid from the moral government, and whether
they are not in more need of it than men with matured faculties ?
I ask him whether his argument does not altogether break down
when needed most ? He says that I based an argument on the
fact of man being mutable, whilst God is urged to be immutable.
This is not so. Our friend had urged that men were imperfect—
and I put it to you that we con d hardly expect an imperfect
result from a perfect creation and a perfect creator—a being with
ability to make perfect if he pleased. If I have not made this
clear to you before, I hope I have done so now. Mr. Cooper
declares that he has not heard much about the Thugs hugging,
and that I must bring this hugging business closer to you. My
friend boasts that this argument is very wide and without effect.
I cannot very well oblige my friend by dwelling at any great
length on this phase of human error and crime; for I cannot
do him the injustice to suppose that, in hw endeavours to judge
fairly of moral nature, he should purposely have left out the
�48
history of a large portion of mankind when generalising on the
whole, so that he might make out an argument for the moral
government of the world, 14 The Thugs,” he says, “ are a
long way off.” So was Jesus Christ a long way off. If any ad
verse argument is implied in being a long way off. I retort’ that
they are not so far away as Moses, so distant as David, so far
away as Jonah or Jeremiah. I am not quite so far off as these,
and I must tell him if he will dispute the fact of Thugee strang
ling, he must do so boldly. I will undertake to affirm it. If he
does not know whether the facts he talks about are facts,
he ought not to challenge them by inuendo. The audience will
be able to judge for themselves, whether my friend did not leave
them with an equivocal sort of denial which may mean either
admission of their verity or allegation that they are not correct.
Say you do not know anything about these facts, or that you do
not believe; if you say you do not believe them, I will undertake
to prove them. It may fairly be that, however well a man may
be read, be cannot be presumed to know everything, and your
ignorance is no weapon in my hand. Does he take pains to tell
you what he means by the word sin, or what he means by the
word conscience ? He has not done so, yet persists in speaking
of morality, as though it always and everywhere had one meanir g. Here it is immoral to have two wives. In Turkey it is
not immoral to have two wives. The consciences of the men
who commit polygamy in Turkey, do not burthen them with re
morse, because they have committed what we here should term
a crime. I object to the word sin, because theologians have at
tached a cant meaning to it which I deny. My friend has not
told you his definition. He uses it as though it conveyed a
meaning in which you are all agreed. An act which a man could
not help committing, is not a sin. The wretch who steals a loaf
of bread because starvation, ignorance, poverty, misery, squalor,
and degradation have surrounded him, is not even in your eyes
so guilty as a person of better education and better circumstances.
I will put it to you further, that there are many cases in every
day life, when the same act condemned in one instance, so far
from being regarded as culpable, finds precisely the contrary ver
dict in another. If this be so, our friend’s d:scernment of the
moral government of God is exceedingly short-sighted. How, •
then, does he speak of a common standard for judging right and •
wrong ? I will take you to a great many decent men and women
who would rather prefer stealing to being atheists, and who
would regard it as a greater crime to entertain such opinions as
I hold than to be guilty of theft. To me it is no sin against my
conscience. It reproves me not; on the contrary, the mode in
which my faculties have been educated makes me believe it an
honour to hold and avow these views. He is not dealing with
�49
you fairly when he puts it that men have a common standard of
right and wrong. He said, why deal with the two thousand sq
sadly burned, and not with millions dying around us ? That was
what I did. It was only in one or two short sentences I referred
to the Chili catastrophe, in a few words that I dealt with the two
thousand, and then especially commented on the millions killed by
poverty and disease. My friend replies—the case of the two
thousand poor women startles us from the relief in which it
stands out from the great picture of millions that are stricken down,
that are crushed by poverty—which poverty, he says, only exists
by men’s misdoings, but which I say exists, if there is a moral
governor of the universe, because he keeps it there. For whose
misdoing is a poor child born of weak parents, for whose mis
doing are the parents starving in an unhealthy home with in- 1
sufficient clothing, wretched surroundings, squalid, and with
teaching worse than none ? On whom are we to charge
all this? On the father, on the mother? This cannot be,
because both father and mother are but a part of the squalor,
wretchedness, and misery that existed before them. Then does
God the moral governor of the universe allow all this, never
stopping the pain—never checking the evil ? Our friend has
made a most extraordinary admission. He says these things
result from man’s misdoing. We will take it that a man does
wrong'sometimes—he does it, then, in spite of God or by his
permission, or by his instigation ; but he cannot do it in spite of
God, for Mr. Cooper says that God is omnipotent, therefore it is
impossible to do anything against his power—against his will.
The wrong doer must either be instigated to the wrong doing by
God, or permitted by God to do it; but God being infinite in his
will to permit, would be to compel. It is the same to instigate
as to leave the path for a man to do wrong, who without this
could not help but do right. All wrong and misery exist by
God’s wish or against it. But it cannot exist against God’s wish
if he be all-powerful; nor does Mr. Cooper think ev.il exists
against God’s wish, for he makes God remedy hereafter that
which he might prevent here. God, all-powerful, has the ability
to prevent misery; God, omniscient, knows how to exercise this
ability; and God, all-good, would desire to exercise it. The
population problem, which would take too long to fairly examine
in this debate, is pregnant with weighty arguments on this head.
Poverty exists; and God’s existence, or his power, or his wisdom *
or his goodness stands impeached by it. It would take many
evenings to debate this point fairly, but he does not go beyond
bare assertion, or advance one word of argument about it. He
could not conceive how a good son could wish his father to live
forever. If I understand the meaning of this aright—it would
be that all who wished their fathers to live for ever must be bad
�50
gons. (Hear and laughter.) He says, this life is a probation for
some other state. Which other ? What has he to say except
that the present state is so terribly wicked, so full of treachery
and bloodshed and evil, that he is not heard to express a hop®
to make it better, but is obliged to go to some other world as an
.«
escape from this ? (Laughter and cheers.)
i
Mr. Cooper : So in spite of all I have said about the impropriety
jf of it, the want of wisdom of the thing, the decency of doing it,
I i Mr. Bradlaugh commences again in the same manner. He must
II retract his compliment. He is utterly at a loss to account for the
I,1! first speech; he passes on to say that he must chastise me. I
should say, that that was consummate impudence. Seeing that he
approved of the hisses, he must have great confidence in his powers
of effrontery in conduct like this. (Cries of no, no, he told you to
be less excited)—and he turned round and told this person who
cheered me that he was wrong. (Cries of no, no). I did not say
the child had no moral faculty. I said he did not display that
faculty. He said that an imperfect man was hardly to be ex
pected from an imperfect maker. If he could conceive God at all,
he must be a perfect God, and he could not wish any other God,
but if he saw anything bad, he would say that he was not com
petent to be the framer of the universe. I say there is only one
framer of the universe, God invisible, everywhere present,
all-wise, existent always, an almighty, all-holy being. He knows
that that all-wise and holy being cannot make a being as
perfect as himself. You might as well expect him to make a
triangular circumference. “All-being,” he says, “would be perfect.”
Why waste time on words of this sort ? Our friend then said,
he would make it clear what he meant, when he said, there
was no sinning against conscience. Then he told me about
men having two wives in Turkey; that men had no sense of mora
lity, and that there were men in England who had two wives and
did not think it immoral. We think they do wrong. He says an
act which man cannot help committing is no sin. If I were
disposed to indulge in humour, I should exclaim, a Daniel come to
judgment. A man cannot commit a sin in doing what he cannot
help ; if it is no law to him, he cannot transgress the law. It is
no sin to commit an act. (Cries of question). I did not say that
»il men and women in England had the same standard of judging
of right and wrong. I said no to that, and I said the moral faculty
had to be educated. Every faculty has to be educated. I was
not talking about the millions who suffer death through poverty.
* was talking of the millions that die naturally in an hour. There
such a thing as memory. I did not attribute evil to God because
He never limited or checked it. He talked of weak parents and
the injustice of punishment of sin. Do we not see reasons in the - organic punishment for moral crimes that man can bring disease
�on his children and on himself? Yon say why does God dothat?
Does not vice visit itself? What do you do with that fact ? You
say you cannot take a fact out of the world. Well, it is there.
God says that sin is sinful, that it is abominable in his sight, it is
unholy ; he gives it strong punishment here and everywhere. If
man will not regard himself, he may as regards his children.
Give me an idea whether or not there can be any moral government
where there is no freedom, no will, no possibility of transgression.
Show me that. I cannot understand it. I understand moral
government to mean a government of moral agents by a moral
governor. Moral government means that there are laws to observe,
he must have special rules, that is, the governed must know he
has a government, that is to say, there must be law. What is the
sanction of law ?—punishment. Abolish punishment, and you
abolish law virtually. Just conceive that the Queen abolished
all punishment for crime. Let recognised justice go on. Well,
there is a trial to-night, there is the judge in his scarlet robes, the
barristers in their wigs and gowns, the jury in the jury box. It
is a murderer that is to be tried. He is convicted—what follows ?
The judge puts on his black cap, and sentences the murderer to
death. The keeper then lets him go into the street. A robber is
sentenced to ten years, or twenty perhaps ; he rushes out of the
box and joins his companions in the streets. Then at nisi prius,
it is a horse case, lying seems inseparable from a horse case.
Throughout the whole case there is lying, sticking to your false
hood throughout. You are convicted of perjury, and there is no
punishment. How long will this go on ? There is law then, and
there is a penalty which is the sanction of law. Then there is a
governor, good government if there is a law, and if you abolish
law you abolish government. For God to permit suffering and
wrong is not for him to will or to wish it. I may permit several
things, I do not will them. The father does, the mother does,
the wife does—in all relations of life we often permit that which
we do not will in the active sense. If we come to the philosophic
nature of things, yes; and in the broad sense of language we
permit many things that we do not will. So it is from the moment
that life commences, and for ever. Mr. Bradlaugh knew very
well what I meant. (Cheers.) Why do you clap your hands at my
saying this ? Is it a dignified way to come here ? I expected to
have something like reasonable discussion, and I have to complain
that the argument was never touched. (Hear, dissent, and cries of
“not by you.’’) If any one of you will tell me where the argu
ment was touched, I will be much obliged to him. (Cheers and
hisses.) What is the use of encouraging all this vulgar stuff?
(Hisses.) It is not like reasonable men that want to come to the
truth. There was something that Mr. Bradlaugh said before, that
I meant to touch upon, but had not time. He said, that from the
�52
Atheist’s stand-point, vice should not be punished or virtue
rewarded. Punishment was only to be inflicted so far as it is
preventive. It is to be remedial. May it not be so when he
visits the sin of the parents upon the children 1 Is there not 3
warning ? But then we are told that vice works its own punish
ment and virtue its own reward. Why then complain of Louis
Napoleon ? Should he not be punished according to that theory ?
I cannot see that vice works its own punishment there. I love
Mazzini with all my heart. He is the greatest man I have ever
known in my life. Is virtue rewarded in his mournful life ?
Tyrants on thrones and clergy to help them 1 What does Louis
Napoleon care about clergy?—he makes instruments of them. He
does not believe them any more than did the first Napoleon.
There was also some observation in a former speech about the
ignorant being oftener on their knees than on their feet. The
Kaffirs and the lowest races in the world. But that is not in
the round of my reasoning even if it were true.
Mr. Bradlaugh : Our friend puts it that he did not say the
child had no moral faculty, but he said the child did not display
it. I am sorry I misunderstood him. I will wait for the present
till the report comes out, but I fancy that my comment upon the
old man as upon the child did not misapply. How do you know
that the child has got this faculty before it is manifested ? By
what fact do you discover what is not displayed ? You certainly
have not displayed that faculty of putting things clear, or you
would have tried—
Mr. Cooper : That is your impudence.
Mr. Braelaugh:—Tried to give us some reasons for
supposing that a child has what you call the faculty for judging
what you call right and wrong, and yet having this faculty disp!ays it not. You said that God cannot make another being as
perfect as himself, because you say he is infinite—and he cannot
make another infinite. If that is a fair argument, it destroys
the doctrine of creation altogether. If God cannot create another
infinite, neither can he add to his own infinity. To add a finite
universe to infinity is equally as absurd as to add an infinite.
If God’s ability to create a being as perfect as himself is limited,
then he is not omnipotent. If he is omnipotent, there can be no
such limitation. You say that sin is a transgression of law;
law has two meanings, one scientific as expressing invariable
sequence, and the other moral, as command. You cannot trans
gress the one and the other ; you can the right or duty to dis
obey ; command depends upon who gives the command—with
what sanction it is given—whether it be good or bad to obey or
not to obey. There are many statute laws at the present time
which it is perfect virtue to break, and no sin to disobey.
Mr. Cooper : That won’t do.
�53
i
{
•j
f
i
?
?
Mb. Bradlaugh : Then my friend says vice visits itself on
children, and asks, How does the Atheist deal with that ? He
finding, whether there be a God or not, a moral governor or not,
that children begotten of diseased parents are born in a diseased
state ; strives to educate the parents to observe physical laws—
to know the sequences on which health depends, and to carry
out this law so as to ensure health as the result of the physical
law. As an Atheist, he knows that where there is a child born
into the world and the conditions of health have been known
and observed by its parents, the child is more healthy, whether
there be a God or not. You say that moral government implies
that there are special rules established by the inoral governor.
If a man break these rules unconsciously, is there a penalty?
My friend contends, as I understand him, that those who sin not
knowing the law, escape the penalty. The rules of God—do all
know them ? Yes or no. If all do not know them, what
becomes of this special government ? Some are ignorant. Again,
is God able to make all know them ? If yes, and he only teaches
partially, he is unjust, for He requires from one a higher duty
than from another. You say there is a difference between per
mitting error and willing it. The illustration of the father or
mother permitting without willing has no analogy. No argument
founded on man can conduct you to a demonstration for the
character of Deity. If your assertion of God’s will as infinite
betrue, there is no permission without his will, and the will of
any other cannot be in opposition, because he is omnipotent. If
all things be from God, is it not a fair query how augjht can exist
except by God’s will? He says ihe good are to live for ever :did
he say where or how ? Is it to be in the moon for ever, or in the sun
for ever, or where ? My friend simply appealed to your prejudices,
the prejudices created by your religious education, when he spoke
this. He knew that he meant nothing by it— he did not know any
thing about living for ever anywhere. When he says that his
moral nature leads him to hope that when he fiuds that this life
is imperfect—that God is able to make another, which he hopes
will be better, but he don’t know how it is to be, where it is to
be, or indeed whether it is to be at all, he has not given us a partide of information about it. Now, however, he finds it convenient, having said that he was going to take the broad view of
the question, to take you abroad altogether—and he desires to
take you into the next world, which he would have you examine
in preference to the subject, but we have not that before us, but
tojudge of his Deity as moral governor. He could not have been
more unfortunate than wheu he went to the Kaffirs in his speech,
who have no knowledge of this moral government which he sets
up. There are the Kiffirs, the Dyaks of Rajah Brook, and
many other nations of the world, who have no conception of a
�54
future state of existence, who have no conception of God as sepa
rate, apart, and distinct from the universe, and who, therefore,
they do not pray to. He has used such a defence to-night as
will rather defeat his argument for the existence of God. It is
either good or bad that men should know ot God’s existenceIf it was good, then God should give all men that knowledge ; if >
he did not, he himself was not all good—that is, was not God. I
admit that my friend is right when he says I did not hit his argu- J
ment. I tried as hard as I was able, but it is hard to hit nothing.
- (Cheers.) Why blame Louis Napoleon, and praise Mazzini ? I
complain of him whom I hold to be a scoundrel, because I hope
to make the rest of the world avoid his vices—and because I
dare to wake up a nation to a desire for liberty, whom God lets
sleep in political slavery. Mazzini, whom I love and honour as
much as you can—whose truth I have learned to revere as much,
as you have learned to revere it—when you ask me what reward
this man has, I say that his reward is in his own honour, in his
honest truthfulness, in the love for humanity he expresses, which
makes thousands love him. He has no fears such as possess that
man, that vagabond of the Tuileries, with his baud against
every man ; but this exile, almost prisoner, this recluse, this man
shut out from the world, his life of truth gives me the highest
hope, for he gains and gives sympathy forth to the world and to
the noblest in the world. You tell me of your God. Why does he
allow one to be hunted by police, and keep the other in a posi
tion to drive Europe before him with the edge of his sword ?
Why doesjiGod permit the armies of this crowned scoundrel of
France to protect those Roman bandits, who keep daily open the
bloody wounds of wretched Italy ? I did not bring Napoleon
or Mazzini into the debate, but if you want an argument against
God’s moral government, take that sink of vice and crime, Rome,
the birthplace of your Christian faith, and source of all your
Christian frauds ; Rome, the cancer in the womb of Italian liberty.
You shall have my sympathy with liberty and truth wherever
needed, but we rather forget in this the subject for debate. We
come here to discuss one theme which our friend has entirely
neglected. We ought to have some evidence of God’s moral
- government of the world. So far as our friend is concerned,
every theme has been selected but this, and except reading from
his memorandum book the pencil notes which he has made,
my argument he has met by simplv saying that “he cannot
understand." He cannot understand the meanings of the words
he uses himself, any more than the argument which he heard
used against him. And he tells you of my weakness and
my impudence, but each man has the right to say his b st in his
own way. Age carries with it no respect here, other than it
Warrants by matured thought. Mr. Cooper’s past service carries
�55
with it no respect here, unless he continues it by present duty.'
The speech which must not provoke laughter is sober and earnest
utterance, and the service which finds respect is sterling honest i
work. Let our friend rely not on the past, not on old certificates
of respect, but on the services he performs now, in bringing truth
before you, speaking to your hearts and educating your brains,
developing your intellects, and enlarging your humanity. When
he does this he will have done something entitling him to reproach
you if you fail in respect, and he will save himself the need of
reproaching you at all, for he will win, as I do now, your warmest
sympathy. (Loud Cheers.)
Mr. Coopee : I go on to follow the plan which I suppose to
be the right one. He claims to do the same thing. I think this
the right plan to take up every sentence uttered, and to show
that they are not to the point, that they are instead, great non
sense, and don’t bear on the argument, and are simply false con
clusions. I suppose that to be my plain duty. I come here to
argue for the being of God as moral governor of the universe;
Mr, Bradlaugh comes here to argue that there is no moral govern
ment. I spoke of children having a faculty. He asks how I know
that children have a faculty? Isav by watching its develop
ment. He says sin is not transgression of the law, for law con
sists of command and sequence. What has that to do with the
position ? I know that law is command, and there is sequence,
which is punishment, if you do not obey. But how does that
■overthrow the truth of sin being a transgression of the law ? If
children are born without a faculty, how come they to ever dis
cern whether there is a God or not ? Indeed, that is?the question
between us—whether there is a God or not. Do not all men
know God’s laws ? If he says we see this inequality of punish
ment, he would ask what is God ab mt 1 I say that all human
beings know more or less of God’s law. He says that of some,
more than others, God requires duty without reason. I say no:
where precept has not been given to man, God does not expect
him to fulfil. There is no teaching of any sort that I am aware
of against this. I never learned among any class of persons any
other belief in God, but that he dealt with all al ke. Io that
sense, there was no such inconsistency of philosophy. But Mr.
Bradlaugh said I was not to talk of myse.f. When I was talking
cf permission, I did not mean instigation. I did not mean any
•such thing as “to will it.” I was not also to talk of analogy
between men’s nature and God’s, between toe intelligence of man
and that of God. I say again that permission does not mean
instigation. He says it does. I say it don’t. He 3aid something
about “ living forever.” Why does he affect not to know what
every one else knew, why affect to be so stupid ? “ How
ndid I know that there was an hereafter ?” Because life is not so
�56
perfect as my moral nature. I call will choice, and my moral
nature is so strong on these points that I am obliged to attend to
them. All men are aware of this hereafter, and their conscience
in regard to it troubles all. But then he says, “ Where is this
future life to be ? Is it to be here or elsewhere ?” I am not
anxious about that; I know that the judge of all the earth will do
right. I am sure that the God who made me will do right ; I
am, therefore, not anxious. I am sure that it will be right. I
cannot speak to what will be appointed to me. I may particu
larly call your attention to the strange remark made by Mr.
Bradlaugh, when he instanced what he called a fact, that the
Kaffirs had no hope of a future state, and . that all ignorant peo
ple are oftener on their knees than on their feet. He says he has
proved such a deficiency as will overthrow my argument for
God’s existence. I showed that man is forgetful, and he says
that overthrows my argument. I said that the argument had
not been met, and he said he had nothing to meet. Here are
those representative men on this platform. Is the argument to
he dismissed in this manner ? Is that to go forth from this plat
form as an argument ? And then what he says about the glass
being of the same existence as that of man. (Cries of no no.)
I cannot help being surprised at all this gibberish. (Cries of
question, hisses, and cheers.) Why, you are not fit to listen to the
question. (Hisses, and some confusiou.) I am appealing to
representa'ive men What is the use of argument, if this is argu
ment ? He treats the question as he likes. He tells us that he
had a mission, and he said that all precognition was an utter
absurdity. But the argument of the moral sense was the greatest
argument that could be brought for the existence of a moral
government. It has convinced others, and it has convinced me.
That was the way in which such men as Clark and G Hespie, to
whom Mr. Bradlaugh referred, arrived at the knowledge of moral
governance. He said “that I said what I said before was there,
only that it was not there.’’ But if these great men held those
doctrines which I defend, if thousands of other great men have
held them ; if these arguments have passed through rhe strongest
minds of Englishmen, men who have done such mighty things in
mathematics, men of such disciplined intellect, that there is a God *
as maker and moral governor of the universe, I am compelled ,
to remind him that the argument was neither touched nor
answered, and that all this “flibertigibbet ” is not argument. Is
this to be the close ? Can you offer no further argument? Are
you who assemble here to accept that as argument ? Will you try
to argue thequestion out or—(Cries of hear and his-es ) Thankyou
for nothing. He complains of the order of moral government, and he
talks of L >uis Napoleon as having been success'ul while Mazzni ishunted by police, and he says the reason he does so is to rouse the
�57
nation. It is a queer nation that—when one reflects on its meanness,
its littleness, its lickspittleness, one feels contempt instead of admi
ration for a Frenchman at this time of day. (Cheers and hisses, which,
lasted for some seconds). Show me any six men whom you talk
about—you may tell me that I am talking of the body of Frenchmen in the streets of Paris, but I say that they are unworthy as a
nation to enjoy liberty. But in reply to my question, how is
Mazzini rewarded ? You say by his own sense of honour and truth.
Why do you then say that he is neglected ? What is there to
complain of that things were not right ? Why, according to this,
it is right after all. But no, says my friend, it is not right. My
friend blows hot and cold at the same time. Either the con
science of such men is guilty, and that things are not right in this
world, or they are. Which will he have ? He has chosen to
take the latter conclusion with respect to these two cases. Why
do such things exist, but because there is a moral government and
we are moral agents ? Then he talks of Rome, or rather he says,
“We can talk about Rome.” That is not my religion, that is not
where I am. I always hated her for her bigotry and her tyrannies,
and if I were a Roman Catholic and wished to put down Freethought, I should perhaps have to arrest you first. But that is
not my religion. I do not come from Rome. He then complains
of my reading notes. But please come to this fact, that you have
a conscience. I say you know it, and that you cannot conceal the
fact from yourselves, that when you do wrong there is an inward
chiding; you cannot shake it off. How came you to have it there?
and for the future if there is no moral government, all will soon,
be over. “Men reasoned,” and we are told further, that all
sensible men laughed at the notion of immortality I professed.
But he was sure that he would enjoy this world and everything
that he could have in it as well, whether there was no future, and
he referred to broad history But whatever he may say, I say you
sin against conscience, and you are rebuked by your moral sense.
Oh, but he says “ There is no such thing.” I say there is, that if
you do harm to your wife and children, or to your neighbour; if
you commit d shonesty, you know that you blame yourself—the
faculty, the moral faculty blames you. How could yon have it if
there were no accountability—no moral government? How comes
it there ? It has not been esteemed so very ridiculous by some of
the greatest men that ever lived. It was said that when argu*
ments would not convince Pascal, the moral feeling did. It is ou
record of Emmanuel Kant, the great German philosopher, that
when the design argument, and the argument a priori failed to
convince him, the moral sentiment convinced him. It was the
testimony of Liebig that he was convinced by the moral argument
When nothing else could convince him. “ I feel this moral power
Within me, he said; “ I cannot destroy it, I cannot see it, it
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impels me, it controls me, it blames me. Why is it so, if this be
the be-all and end-all, and there is no moral government ?”
(Hear, and cheers.)
Mr. Bradlaugh : It is not true that it convinced Locke,
Newton, or Samuel Clarke. They take lines of argument opposed
to each other. The illustration is not a fair one, any more than
the quotation from Plato was a correct one. I am surprised at
Mr. Cooper’s lamentable blunder as to laws, as denoting in
variable sequence, telling me that law means command, and that
the sequence follows the breach as punishment. Now, with fiftynine years of experience, to make such a sad blunder when his
distinction of law as command and law as sequence were put before
you in my speech, is at least most extraordinary. I cannot believe
that he has been serious. He surely cannot be so ignorant of the
commonest terms with which thinkers deal; or, if he is so igno
rant, I am justified in standing up in this debate and saying that
he has no right to discuss these subjects at all. If he does not
understand the argument, if he does not understand the ipeaning
of words, then I say that he is unfit to argue; and if he does un
derstand them, his speech is worse than worthless, because wil
fully evasive.
Mr. Cooper : I do not know what you are referring to.
Mr. Bradlaugh : I will do him the justice to say that he did
not, in his last speech, refer to the subject we have met to discuss.
I think I will also do him the justice to say that it was the strangest
and most incoherent speech I ever heard, and I am free to add
that in his attempts to demonstrate Deity he has broken down
lamentably. (Hear, and cheers.)
Mr. Cooper rose, and was understood to say that this was
downright impudence.
Mr. Bradlaugh : I did not interrupt when he was talking
about gib' erish. I have a right to comment on his speech in my
own way—in the way that seems to me best. I asked him how
he knew that the moral faculty existed in children. He says by
watching its development. He took no pains to tell you what
he meant. I will try to do so. The basis for this so-called
faculty is organisation, differing in each individual—that organi
sation is educated, and this education also varies with each.
Therefore this so-called faculty is ultimately resultant from
development of organisation. That basis must be limited and
varied.
It varies perceptibly in different races of mankind.
There is a different development to each individual, and this
education of organisation helps to make up what we call con
science, this conscience varying in its exercise in different
spheres, and by different individuals. Faculty I say it is not,
it is only a condition, the result of all these circumstances, but
-is never independent of them. This alleged moral laculty never
�59
existed without these, either in children, men, or women, at any
age. Then our friend said that all human beings knew more or
less of God’s laws—some knew more, he says, some knew less.
Well, if that is so, if some had abundance, and some were deficient,
then God has been unkind either to them to whom he has given
but little knowledge, or to those to whom he has given much.
The knowledge of God’s laws must be either good or bad. If it
is good for all to have a complete knowledge, then there is in
justice in giving to some more, to some less: if it is bad to have
the knowledge, then there is injustice in giving it to any. In
either case you have an argument against the moral government.
Then our friend goes on to say, “ The future does not trouble
me.” He knows what kind of service will be allotted to him by
God or by any one competent to make the allotment. I can tell
him one kind of service which will certainly not be allotted to
him, and that is, the task of proving that there is a God—or the
moral character of his government. (Cheers.) That duty will
never more be allotted to him. (Cheers.) Our friend was good
enough to tell us that it was the strongest effort of his mind this
demonstration of moral sense, and that he had made it so clear
that there was hardly any use in his arguing the question with
me about it. I will wait till the report shall be in print—that
will speak for itself. I did not refer to last night till he took the
opportunity of introducing it. I would not have brought it
forward because there remained no point needing comment. I
can well conceive a man lamenting during the day over a defeat,
and trying again to-night to talk it into a semblance of victory.
You referred to Mazzini, and asked why I complained. You say—
“ Oh, but it is right or it is wrong.” Why use this term right er
wrong ? If you use them, the one as conducing to happiness,
the other as producing a state of pain, I can unde’-stand what you
mean. It is a state of happiness for a man to work for good—to
work for truth—the development of truth amongst his fellows ;
he finds happiness in so doing. But it is a source of pain to him
to know there is so much evil yet to be undone You can believe
the man more happy who does right than he who commits a
wrong, and this whether there be a God or not. But God, my
friend says, is all-good—that which results from him is there
fore all-good—it must be all-good, as no tvd can come from an in
finite God. Adieism is in the world, and it mu-t come from some
source, as out of nothing nothing can come. God is the source
of all, it must therefore come from God, therefore Atheism is
from God ; but God is good, therefore Atheism i< good. And n w
for the French. They are a queer nation, says our friend He
has been told so perhaps, but those who bave been am mg them
think otherwise. Queer they are, but the men who are most
queer amongst them are the men who are most under the domi-
�60
Stance of theology, and least under the influence of Freethought.
I have found that men who are least under the influence of the
priest are the men who have been best d'spnsed to bring about a
better state of things for their country. These are not the men
you speak of in such unwarrantable language. There are men who
bend before the rising sun, who bow before the crown, but these
are not the men developed by thought and truth. There are men
■who have been mbdeveloped by the misgovernment of kings and
priests ordained by God, who left them without moral thought,
and destitute of manhood. Those men whom you call lick
spittles—men in Paris, men at Lyons, men at Bourdeaux, in the
North and in the South—are men speaking for their country, men
working for liberty, hoping to attain it for their own country and
for others. Men are now striving for liberty again in France.
(Cheers.) Then you come to Borne. Is that so far from your
religion that you can afford to attack it ? Rotten branch, you do
well to shun the stem from which you spring (Loud cheering.)
Matricidal son, you do nobly to plant the dagger of calumny in
the breast of the mother church which bore you How well
pleased her son should be to cover her with odium; but where
would be your church without its early gospel forgeries—where
your Christian establishments, your bishoprics, your evidences,
your prisons, your revenues, all things that go to make up your
faith, if they bad not been treasured up, garnished, furbished in
Rome ? You say you are not Roman Catholic, and that Roman
Catholics will burn men—so will Protestants. Protestants have
burned Roman Catholics. There is a place not so far as
Caff'rar'a, there is Newgate, where Protestant Christian noble
men piled up stones on men of the Romish faith until the blood
gushed from their forehead and finger-ends because they would not
plead before judges who had pre-determined to condemn them.
You tell me you do not—I answer, you do not, because you dare
not do such things now. It is within the brief span of your own
lifetime, when you were but little older than I am now, that
dissenting clergymen sentenced Richard Carlile and Robert
Taylor to Oakham, Giltspur Street, and Newgate, and harassed
Carlile’s family with starvation for holding such opinions I now
hold. (Loud cheers.) You could not do all this to-day, because
the stream of human thought is rushing onward, and would
drown your fires if you dared kindle them. You are only losing
|; time in advocating the past, because new thought is more powerful thau old faith—it has trampled out your faggots. Make not
J a boast over Roman Catholics, both fruit of one tree—rotten fruit
I admit; both are laden with poison, both have given to the
world a heritage—slavery, tyrants, and chains. It is left for the
republic of human intellect to erect a better state of things.
(Loud and protracted cheering.)
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�61
Mb. Cooper : I am returning to the affirmation with which he
sets out. He says that Locke, Newton, and Clark oppose each
other upon this question. I say they don’t. He said what I
quoted from Plato is not in Plato. I say it is. What use in
trying to persuade people that I do not understand my own
argument ? I said I did not understand what Bradlaugh said
about command and sequence. He knew he said that I did not
, understand my own argument. He asked me how did I know
i that men in this world in various nations and situations had
i; more or less knowledge of God’s law ? I said I knew it by their
acts, and then he said it was unkind that God did not reveal to them
the law. He could not; and only when this great moral world
should be destroyed, would there be justice done. If men
transgressed the law, says Mr. Bradlaugh, they should not be
punished for it in this state, he will have no doubt about it in the
next state. So my friend will argue that the virtuous are more
happy even in this world, and yet nothing is right. Can you
understand this reasoning ? He asked me not to blow hot and
cold. It is the most stupid talk I ever heard in the world. He
first tells me that it is right, and then that it is wrong. I cannot
understand all this- The men in France and the priests are so
and so. Yes. Why? Because they bowed to the dominance of
the priests, and not because of theology in general I have it on
the testimony of a gentleman who went to live in a house in
Bordeaux to commence an undertaking as an agriculturist. He
commenced by giving some books to the peasantry on bis estate.
They bowed as they received them, and appeared thankful. In
three days, however, they came back to him, and politely re
quested that they might see the governor of the farm. The Pere
[Mr. Cooper pronounced this word with accent on the last syllable,
a circumstance which caused some laughter and surprise, which
it is necessary to explain, that a portion of the following speech of
Mr. Bradlaugh’s may be understood.] The Pert was a priest in
the village, who, he said, told him that they did not read such
books because of their religion, and they very seldom made acquain
tance with anything beside theology. The great mass of them
bow to the domination of the priest; and so these lickspittles
exist in France, and are, according to my friend, made under God’s
moral government. Has he shown that any other government
will account for the various arguments that have been adduced?
As this is the last time I shall address you, I will simply appeal
to your consciences again. You have a conscience, every man
has a conscience, to which he is responsible in the first instance.
You need not smile—it will not be a smiling matter if, on your
death-bed, your conscience tells you that I am right and that you
are wrong. We will all have to meet it. Every one of us. I
have talked before of death-beds, and there was no indisposition
�62
to listen to me then. If morality is not taught in this room now,
it ought to be. It used to be. You have a conscience which has
dictates, and which, if you do not obey it, flogs you. If you vio
late conscience, on your death-bed it will not be a happy one.
You say there is no future. You may contrive to allay the
gnawings of conscience in some degree—you will not kill them.
They will be there up to the last. You had better listen to con
science before it is too late. The more you ponder on this fact,
the more you will begin to see that there is a moral nature, and
the more clearly you will apprehend that there must be a moral
governor. I wish I had pondered more on this fact in my early
life. It began with that point of government—it began in John
Street in a discussion upon one of Mr. Owen’s propositions, that
man is the creature of circumstances. He was laughed at when
he said there was no praise or blame. In the controversy, I
began to blame myself and praise others. Why, I began to ask,
do you praise such men as Louis Blanc, Mazzini, and Kossuth
when their name is mentioned, and execrate Louis Napoleon?
Praise and blame I We cannot help it. It is no use telling me
there is no such thing as sinning against conscience—there is
something which you cannot get rid of, which cannot be sot out of
the mind, which cannot be got out of the heart. You go about
with this conscience, with the certainty that it is there perpetually
—a tribunal within you. If you reflect on it, the more you will feel
convinced that moral government exists. I reflected, and I said,
what I have ever since maintained, that there exists a moral
government for man, whose head is the Governor and Creator of
the Universe. (Hear, hear.)
Mr. Bradlaugh: It would be impossible to demonstrate to
night that my remarks, in reference to Locke, Newton, and Samuel
Clark, were well founded. A quarter of an hour will not suffice
for that purpose. But I will take occasion to say something in
respect of what has been said to come from Plato. It is very
curious that, in the “ Timaeus ” which I hold in my hand, there is a
passage precisely the opposite to that which my friend quoted,
and I have not been able to find any thing like the sentence he
quoted from Plato. What I do find is in opposition to what he
has attributed to Plato. I take pains to be moderately correct
before I challenge an assertion made in this way. (Mr. Cooper
here interrupted ) He tells me the passage is there, and when I
discover a passage having an opposite meaning, he "a;ks me where '
it is. You first quoted the passage which you say is in J^'ato, and f •
it is for you to point it out.
Mr. Cooper : I don’t know what you are talking about.
Mr. Bradlaugh : You soon will know what I am talking
about if you are indecent enough to continually interrupt. If i
you do not begrudge me this last speech, at least keep quiet. If
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�63
fifty-nine years have not taught you the advantage of imitating
younger men by listening patiently to opposite opinions, such a
lesson may be taught you here to-night.
Mr. Cooper: Hold your impudence. (Loud cries of “Keep
your temper.”)
r
Mr. Bradlaugh: With regard to the agricultural population,
that of England would be as little likely to preserve and read the
works of Paine or of Cobbett, as were the agriculturists of the
South of France to read works that were not recognised by the
Roman Catholic Church. I submit that no greater illustration
in favour of my friend could be drawn from the conduct of the
agriculturists in France, than I could draw, on the contrary, from
the agricultural population in this country, and even in the
counties of Essex, Suffolk, and Norfolk, where the people are
ignorant in the extreme, many of them in these enlightened days
being unable to read or write. They have plenty of clergymen—*
take Harwich and for miles round, it is a place where you will find,
an agricultural population as ignorant, as pious, and as poor as any
in England. Our friend again appealed to conscience, without
having devoted one thought to the way in which he accounted
for conscience. Never having permitted himself to explain one
of the points challenged by me, he talks about conscience as if it
had never been referred to in my speeches. Feeling that his posi
tion was weak, and knowing that he had made nothing of it, he
comes to the old and oft-tried death-bed argument to frighten
those whom he cannot convince. (Cheers.) I ask you, will you
think yourselves the better men that you are frightened into this
conscience dogma, which you could not reasonably believe, and
which you are asked to accept from fear, though you rejected it when
you said there was not evidence enough to convince you ? When
he thus deals with death-beds, is it, does he think, to have some
effect on the conclusion of the debate ? If he search for death
bed arguments, he may find enough for his own refutation. He
has appealed to the cross, and I accept his challenge, and ask him
what were the dying words of Christ himself? “ My God! my
God ! why hast thou forsaken me ?” If he who claimed to be
God and man was so deserted in his dying moments, what hope
? Better recommend salvation by your own manly
thought your own efforts for the development of human hap
piness. My friend says that morality used to be taught in this
room when he was here, and implies that the reverse is now the
case. What call you morality ? Is that a moral act which tends
to the greatest happiness of the greatest number according to the
knowledge of the actor ? No other definition can you give. I
challenge all of you who stand before me whether in every lecture,
teaching, or preaching by me—if you will have it so, whether the
burthen of my lecture has not been the inculcation of morality ?
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The Freethinkers have not fallen away from the cause of truth
and morality. When you presume to deal with myself and my
audience her -, as if we were schoolboys still and you teacher,
you should be prepared with solid instruction as justification for
your presumption, and when you wish men not to laugh at you,
you should have some reason better than your age—something
more argumentative than impudence. You should, at least,
km w better what you are talking about. (Loud cries of question,
question, hear, hear, and cheers.) When the construction of
terms is referred to, and you tell me more than twice that you do
•«. not understand the difference between sequence and command, I am
obliged to tell you that you do not understand the commonest rudimeuts of language, and are unfitted to conduct a grave discussion ;
and when 5 ou say you “ never did say so and so,” that you have a
short nn mory. I can only add that you are either unable to
argue at ail, or you are disingenuously concealing what you know
would be fatal to your position. (Cheers.) There has not been,
I repeat, an attempt by you at logic or argument. How is it that
the friends whom I saw around Mr. Cooper last night have this
evening fled from his flag ? I saw la^t evening, and I was pleased to
see sitting on that side, men of intellect, men of talent—equal to
the task of weighing the force of an argument, addressed to them,
and. knowing the exact value of words. How is it that they
were brought here to wait on victory, but have not returned here
to witness the fray, now the hope for victory has become defeat ?
Is it because there was not on the part of the Chr.stian
advocate even the shadow of a pretence of having advanced any
thing in favour of his side the question ? It is because they came
here seeking in me one who was, as you have declared, too igno
rant to meet you, but notwithstanding I am now here to fulfil
my part, and show that even my ignorance transcends your
knowledge.
"
Mr. Cooper : Is that argument ?
Mr Bradlaugh : I know it is not argument, but it is as good
argument as “gibberish;” it is as good argument and quite as
forcible as the “ impudence,” or that you did not come here to
meet Charles Bradlaugh; that you are not to be answered because
you are fifty-nine years of age. It would have been better for both
of us to have discussed carefully, and to have reasoned together
step by step till we reached the height of this great argument which,
deserves great discussion; but when an attempt is made to override
discussion, I am obliged to turn round, and to show thecause of such
hardiness which lies either in his utter inability or his desire to
avoid the question altogether. (Cheers). I leave the matter in your
hands. I admit that I am not the ablest or the fittest represen
tative the Freethought party might have put forward. But
although I am not the best I have honestly upheld the principles
�/
-of those who trusted their cause to me, and if I have failed, I
have failed in consequence of the weakness of th* advocate; but
you, with the cause of God on your side, and boasting of your
great intellect, you thinking you had only a poor piece of igno
rance to combat—I say you have only made a shadow of a de
fence. On your side has been all the pretence. I remember
when at the Wigan Hail, at the U. P. Kirk, Glasgow, at Man
chester, and here you refused to meet me. (Loud cries of question,
question, cheers, and hisses ) Why, there is not a shred of the
question left. (Great cheering.) I say again it was in the public
Hall at Wigan, it was in the U. P. Kirk, Glasgow, in this Hall of
Science, in the chapel at Manchester, that you told me I was too
ignorant to be met, that I could not understand the meaning of
a&s®
AStow, I words. We have to-night an illustration of your learning when,
sdj .hi ■_ I in the language most commonly spoken throughout Europe and
edF I the world, we hear the word p'ere (father) pronounced pary
rfjae^ I (laughter), proving the extent of your erudition. It would
have been improper for me to deal with this stupid blunder if he
had not been used to boast of the acquisition of fourteen lan
guages, and summoned the world as scholars to hear his champion
■wnttw’ | lectures. Are you then the Christian who placards the walls of
r*®?drio I cities professing to meet all Freethinkers in England with a view
3V!TOOtjf’ | to convert their doubts ? Are you^ar excellence the person who
&MT«Sif': I has read every book carefully to find evidence and argument for
sow -sift I the existence of God, who claim to be teacher and preacher of
■shgfirf-9- I Christian doctrine, bridging over centuries of history with irre
f4d;«»S# | fragable evidences ? It is to be hoped that when it is necessary
i ,m»* o* I to find a champion for the tottering orthodoxy and an argument
MOV-S^Ilf I in favour of a blind belief, some abler representative will be found
i .atflWB
by the Christian body to whom to trust the marshalling of its
forces for another defeat.
----- o----a .tM .
Mr. Bradlaugh sat down amidst loud cheering, which was re
newed again and again. This concluded the discussion, and a
yyMhi'dT
formal vote of thanks having been passed to the chairman, the
meeting separated.
^aimp
�’T-
APPENDIX*
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A PLEA FOR ATHEISM,
CrTTLESPiE says that £*an Atheist propagandist seems a non*
descript monster created by nature in a moment of madness.” Despite this opinion, it is as the propagandist of
Atheism that I pen the following lines, in the hope that I
may succeed in removing some few of the many prejudices
which have been created against not only the actual holders
of Atheistic opinions, but also against those wrongfully suspected of entertaining such ideas. Men who have been
famous for depth of thought, for excellent wit, or great
genius, have been recklessly assailed as Atheists, by those
who lacked the high qualifications against which the spleen
of the calumniators was directed. Thus, not only has
Voltaire been without ground accused of Atheism, but
Bacon, Locke, and Bishop Berkeley himself, have, amongst
others, been denounced by thoughtless or unscrupulous
pietists as inclining to Atheism, the ground for the accusation being that they manifested an inclination to improve
human thought.
It is too often the fashion with persons of pious reputation
to speak in unmeasured language of Atheism as favouring
immorality, and of Atheists as men whose conduct is necessarily vicious, and who have adopted atheistic views as a
desperate defiance against a Deity justly offended by the
‘ badness of their lives. Such persons urge that amongst
< the proximate causes of Atheism are vicious training, im- ■
; moral and profligate companions, licentious living, and the <
like. Dr. John Pye Smith, in his “ Instructions on Christian Theology,” goes so far as to declare that“ nearly all
the Atheists upon record have been men of extremely
debauched and vile conduct.” Such language from the
Christian advocate is not surprising, but there are others
who, professing great desire , the spread of Ereethought,
�A PLEA FOR ATHEISM.
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and with pretensions to rank amongst acute and liberal
thinkers, declare Atheism impracticable, and its teachings
cold, barren, and negative. In this brief essay I shall
except to each of the above allegations, and shall en
deavour to demonstrate that Atheism affords greater possi
bility for human happiness than any system yet based on
Theism, or possible to be founded thereon, and that the
lives of true Atheists must be more virtuous, because more
human, than those of the believers in Deity, the humanity
of the devout believer often finding itself neutralised by
a faith with which it is necessarily in constant collision.
The devol ee piling the faggots at the auto da fe of an
heretic, and that heretic his son, might, notwithstanding, be
a good father in every respect but this. Heresy, in the
eyes of the believer, is highest criminahty, and outweighs
all claims of family or affection.
Atheism, properly understood, is in nowise a cold,
barren negative; it is, on the contrary, a hearty, fruitful
affirmation of all truth, and involves the positive assertion
and action of highest humanity.
Let Atheism be fairly examined, and neither condemned
—its defence unheard—on the ex parte slanders of the professional preachers of fashionable orthodoxy, whose courage
is bold enough while the pulpit protects the sermon, but
whose valour becomes tempered with discretion when a free
platform is afforded and discussion claimed ; nor misjudged
because it has been the custom to regard Atheism as so
unpopular as to render its advocacy impolitic. The best
policy against all prejudice is to assert firmly the verity.
The Atheist does not say “ There is no God,” but he says,
“ I know not what you mean by God; I am without idea
of God ; the word ‘ God ’ is to me a sound conveying no
clear or distinct affirmation. I do not deny God, because
I cannot deny that of which I have no conception, and the
conception of which, by its affirmer, is so imperfect that
he is unable to define it to me.” If you speak to the
Atheist of God as creator, he answers that the conception
of creation is impossible. We are utterly unable to construe
it in thought as possible that the complement of existence has
been either increased or diminished, much less can we con
ceive an absolute origination of substance. We cannot con
ceive either, on the one hand, nothing becoming something,
■■
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�A PLEA FOR ATHEISM.
or oil the other, something becoming nothing. The Theist
who speaks of God creating the universe, must either sup
pose that Deity evolved it out of himself, or that he pro
duced it from nothing. But the Theist cannot regard the
■ universe as evolution of Deity, because this would identify
Universe and Deiiy, and be Pantheism rather than Theism.
There would be no distinction of substance—in fact no crea1 tion. Nor can the Theist regard the universe as created
out of nothing, because Deity is, according to him, necessa
rily eternal and infinite. His existence being eternal and
infinite, precludes the possibility of the conception of
vacuum to be filled by the universe if created. No one can
even think of any point of existence in extent or duration
and say, here is the point of separation between the creator
and the created. Indeed, it is not possible for the Theist to
imagine a beginning to the universe. It is not possible to
conceive either an absolute commencement, or an absolute
termination of existence; that is, it is impossible to con
ceive beginning before which you have a period when the
universe has yet to be; or to conceive an end, after which
the universe, having been, no longer exists. It is impos
sible in thought to originate or annihilate the universe.
The Atheist affirms that he cognises to-day effects, that
these are at the same time causes and effects—causes to the
effects they precede, effects to the causes they follow.
Cause is simply everything without which the effect would
not result, and with which it must result. Cause is the
means to an end, consummating itself in that end. The
Theist who argues for creation must assert a point of time,
that is, of duration, when the created did not yet exist. At
this point of time either something existed or nothing;,
but something must have existed, for out of nothing no
thing can come. Something must have existed, because the
point fixed upon is that of the duration of something.
This something must have been either finite or infinite
if finite, it could not have been God, and if the something
were infinite, then creation was impossible, as it is impos
sible to add to infinite existence.
j
If you leave the question of creation and deal with the
‘ government of the universe, the difficulties of Theism are ?
by no means lessened. The existence of evil is then a
terrible stumbling-block to the Theist.
Pain, misery,
�A PLEA FOR ATHEISM.
crime, poverty, confront the advocate of eternal goodness,,
and challenge with unanswerable potency his declaration of
Deity as all-good, all-wise, and all-powerful. Evil is either
caused by God, or exists independently; but it cannot be
caused by God, as in that case he would not be all-good;
nor can it exist independently, as in that case he would nofe
be all-powerful. Evil must either have had a beginning,
or it must be eternal; but, according to the Theist, it can
not be eternal, because God alone is eternal. Nor can it
have had a beginning, for if it had it must either have ori
ginated in God, or outside God; but, according to the
Theist, it cannot have originated in God, for he is all-good,
and out of all-goodness evil cannot originate; nor can evil
have originated outside God, for, according to the Theist,
God is infinite, and it is impossible to go outside of or
beyond infinity.
To the Atheist this question of evil assumes an entirely
different aspect. He declares that evil is a result, but not
a result from God or Devil. He affirms that by conduct
founded on knowledge of the laws of existence it is possible
to ameliorate and avoid present evil, and, as our knowledge
increases, to prevent its future recurrence.
Some declare that the belief in God is necessary as a check
to crime. They allege that the Atheist may commit murder,
lie, or steal without fear of any consequences. To try the
actual value of this argument, it is not unfair to ask—Do
Theists ever steal? If yes, then in each such theft, the
belief in God and his power to punish has been inefficient
as a preventive of the crime. Do Theists ever lie or mur
der ? If yes, the same remark has further force—hell-fire fail
ing against the lesser as against the greater crime. The
fact is that those who use such an argument overlook a great
truth—i.e., that all men seek happiness, though in very
diverse fashions. Ignorant and miseducated men often mistake the true path to happiness, and commit crime in the
endeavour to obtain it. Atheists hold that by teaching
mankind the real road to human happiness, it is possible to
keep them from the by-ways of criminality and error.
Atheists would teach men to be moral now, not because God
offers as an inducement reward by and by, but because in
the virtuous act itself immediate good is ensured to the doer
and the circle surrounding him. Atheism would preserve
�A. PLEA FOR ATHEISM.
man from lying, stealing, murdering now, not from fear of
an eternal agony after death, but because these crimes make
this life itself a course of misery.
While Theism, asserting God as the creator and governor
- of the universe, hinders and checks man’s efforts by de. daring God’s will to be the sole directing and controlling
j power, Atheism, by declaring all events to be in accordance
with natural laws—that is, happening in certain ascertain
able sequences — stimulates man to discover the best condi
tions of life, and offers him the most powerful inducements
to morality. While the Theist provides future happi
ness for a scoundrel repentant on his death-bed, Atheism
affirms present and certain happiness for the man who does
his best to live here so well as to have little cause for re
penting hereafter.
Theism declares that God dispenses health and inflicts
disease, and sickness and illness are regarded by the Theist
as visitations from an angered Deity, to be borne with meek
ness and content. Atheism declares that physiological
knowledge may preserve us from disease by preventing our
infringing the law of health, and that sickness results not
as the ordinance of offended Deity, but from ill-ventilated
dwellings and workshops, bad and insufficient food, exces
sive toil, mental suffering, exposure to inclement weather,
and the like—all these finding root in poverty, the chief
source of crime and disease ; that prayers and piety afford
no protection against fever, and that if the human being be
kept without food he will starve as quickly whether he be
Theist or Atheist, theology being no substitute for bread.
J* *
Iconoclast.
�
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Discussion between Mr Thomas Cooper and Mr Charles Bradlaugh
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Bradlaugh, Charles [1833-1891]
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Notes: Includes appendix: A plea for atheism / "Iconoclast" i.e. Charles Bradlaugh. (5 unnumbered pages at end). Annotations in pencil and crayon. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection.
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God-Proof
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Text
ITALIAN UNITY
AND THE
NATIONAL MOVEMENT IN EUROPE.
*
�*** These Lectures were lately delivered at Brighton. The intention of the Lecturer was to explain the nature of the national idea, now
feimenting in the minds of so many European populations ; an his
torical sketch of the movement in Italy, from its rise to the present
time, being given as affording the best practical illustration of the
principle at work. The subject derives, perhaps, more interest from
the recent visit of Garibaldi, and from the remarkable discussion which
took place in our House of Commons, concerning the character and
doctrines of Mazzini, as the friend of a member of the Government.
A few additions have been made in preparing the Lectures for
publication.
London, June, 1864.
�/
LECTURE I.
Prevalent Mistakes concerning the Movement—True Character of the National
Idea—This Idea best illustrated in the Italian Movement—Rise of the National
Feeling in Italy—Mazzini, the Apostle of Unity—His Teaching—The Giovine
Italia—The National Party—The Moderate Party—Revolution, at Milan andVenice—Charles Albert—His Vacillation and Defeat—Flight of Pius IX._
The Roman Republic—Mazzini, Saffi Armellini, Triumvirs—The French Inva
sion-Garibaldi—Fall of Rome—This Epoch misunderstood in England—
Prejudice against Mazzini,
In addressing you upon the Italian question and the National move
ment in Europe, my only claim to your attention consists in my
acquaintance with a subject which has become one of deep and general
interest. The views I am about to express are founded upon observa
tion during many years passed in Italy, and upon much study of the
general question of nationality.
Italian unity,—that is to say, the formation of Italy into one state,—
which for so many years we were accustomed to regard as a mere
Utopia, a dream of the enthusiast, is now generally accepted as a pro
bable reality of future European history ; and even beyond Italy, in
other populations, we recognise the same aspiration to national ex
istence growing up and gaining strength continually. Hence the
Italian movement has a double claim upon our interest and upon our
study. It has a claim for Italy’s own sake : Italy, that has twice given
law to Europe, and rises now to new life amid the ruins of two epochs
of the .world’s history—the Rome of the Cassars, the Rome of medieval
Christianity: Italy, upon whose brow may still be traced the radiance
of imperishable genius. But it has yet a stronger claim ; if we study
the rise and development of the national sentiment among the Italians,
as an illustration of the nature and working of a great power which is
already acting in a wider sphere ; and which heralds the approach of a
new era for Europe as well as Italy.
One glance over Europe at the present moment shows us the national
idea, the form of its expression varying from local circumstances,
manifesting itself in the aspirations or the struggles of more than half
the people of the Continent. In softe countries, as in Germany and
Italy, it is tending to the amalgamation of many states into one ; in the
Austrian and Turkish Empires it acts, on the contrary, as dissolvent,
and is likely to separate those great empires into several tates. In
Poland it takes, the simple and direct form of a struggle against a
foieign domination; and, turning at the cry of agony which reaches us
from that country, we behold a spectacle of sublime energy and indomi
table courage. Hungary has gone through one contest already, and is
preparing for another, to win for herself a perfect and independent
B2
�4
Prevalent Mistakes concerning the Movement,
national existence. In Italy there are signs indicating that a fresh
advance will soon be made for the completion of unity by the acquisition
of Venice and of Rome. In the Ionian Islands our government has '
lately recognised and acceded to the desire of the people to form one
nation with those of their own race and language. Even the war in
Schleswig-Holstein was first entered upon in the name of German
nationality ; while, in reference to Denmark, we have heard prophecies
of a future Scandinavian nation comprising that country, Sweden, and
Norway.
But what is the real nature of this great motive power at work in
Europe, and tending to such gigantic changes?
I think English impressions generally concerning it may be thus
described. Until the year 1859 or 1860 we never thoroughly believed
in it; since that time we have believed in it, but still very imperfectly
understanding it.
It is better to begin by clearing the ground of obstructions which
impede the view of the question in its true and grand proportions, and
I will strike at once at what I conceive to have been oui’ chief source
of disbelief or error. I mean the practice of applying to other countries
opinions derived only from the traditions, oi’ founded on the wants of
our own.
England and France are almost the only countries not likely to be
affected by this great movement; hence we have not felt its force oi’ its
necessity. In all the revolutionary agitation and tendency to change
pervading Europe, we saw only political questions, restiveness under
oppression, a question, in short, of good or bad government. If Poland
rose in insurrection, we thought of no way of accounting for it but by
the tyranny of the Czar, as if the Poles, but for this tyranny, would
neither have a claim to national existence, noi’ desire it. If Hungary
was in revolt, it was in our eyes simply the result of the bad govern
ment of Austria. If the Christian populations of the Turkish Empire
were discontended or rebellious, we imputed it only to the insupportable
oppression of their Turkish masters. It 'was the same in regard to
Italy; for nearly half-a-century that country had presented to us a
picture of continued revolutionary agitation. In the intervals between
the more marked and important insurrections, repeated conspiracies still
showed the volcanic fire smouldering under compression ; and periodi
cally our sympathy and indignation used to be raised at once by be
holding the flower of Italian manhood, intelligence, and worth, perishing
on the scaffold, cast into dungeons, or driven into exile. But while we
contemplated the outward form of the struggle, the hearts of the
Italians were a sealed book to us, we knew nothing of the thoughts,
hopes, and aspirations that were written there. While they were
*
yearning for national existence, and for redemption from the yoke of
the foreigner and the priest, they used to hear from England only the
reiterated recommendation to imitate the English form of government.
And Englishmen, generally impressed with the practicability of so
simple an antidote to tyranny on one side and revolution on the other,
used to marvel at the blindness both of the people and their rulers.
By our indiscriminate recommendation of constitutional government
we used to appear in the eyes of European people like a charlatan,
�True Character of the National Idea.
o
who has the same remedy for every disease. The question never
seemed to occur to us; if all this discontent and this tendency to change
in Europe are caused only by bad government, how is the bad govern
ment itself to be accounted, for ? Have so many European sovereigns,
without any motive whatever, adopted and resolutely persevered in
a system of oppression that endangers their own thrones? Such a
theory could not be accepted. Self-interest is clear-sighted; and,
though some princes may play the tyrant for love of the part, still, as a
general rule, each adopts the system dictated by his interests or his
safety. Those sovereigns were trembling in the presence of a danger
we did not believe in, or could not see. All that revolutionary ferment
was to them prophetic of a reconstruction of the map of Europe; and
their tyranny, like most tyranny, was the offspring of fear. In Italy,
for instance, the national idea obviously excluded the possibility of
retaining more than one, if any, of the seven Italian monarchies; and
circumstances had long ago pointed to the sovereign of Piedmont as
the one who, if he chose, might profit by this door of escape. What
chance of safety then had the other six but in resistance ? in either
crushing put this great hope from the hearts of their subjects, or holding
them chained and prostrate, powerless to work out in action the aspira
tion of their souls ?
The year 1860 may, I think, be taken as the epoch when we awakened
to the conviction of the reality of the national tendency. The events
of that year in Sicily and Naples could not be misinterpreted ; and our
diplomatists, enlightened in their views of other countries by this tardy
discovery of the truth in Italy, began then to recognise this national
aspiration as a great European question and difficulty. .
But truth still contends with error; some of the old mistakes or
prejudices.linger. Either our statesmen do not grasp the full meaning
of the national idea, or they shrink from following it out to its logical
consequences, and from entering, even in discussion, upon a region so
vast and unexplored. Whenever the state of those countries which are
agitated by this great hope, is under discussion in our Parliament, the
debates still turn upon the merits or demerits of the governments; as if
the root of the question, and the solution of the problem, were to be
found in the mode of governing.
Now, a desire to be better governed is one thing; the aspiration to
national existence is another. No doubt, good government, material
prosperity, the gradual perfecting of society, are all comprised in the
anticipated results of the realisation of national existence; but they do
not constitute the direct aim that is worked for; they do not form the
banner that is fought under. This aim is something loftier and more
ideal ; something from which a peo'ple would not be turned aside by
beneficence in its government, as we have seen in the case of the popu
lation of the Ionian Islands; something that has even been pursued, in
certain instances, deliberately at a sacrifice for a time of material pros
perity, or with the consciousness that governments were thus being
driven.into oppression that might otherwise be endurable. The national
aspiration is a tendency in European populations to form themselves into
groupssuch as are dictated by an awakening consciousness that each
people, in its collective or national life, has a distinct phase of humanity
�6
The Idea best Illustrated in the Italian Movement.
to represent, and, beyond the question of its rights or interests, has a
duty to fulfil to humanity, and a special mission in the work of Euro
pean civilization. The phenomena of the movement are not consistent,
as I apprehend I shall be able to show you, with the theory of a less ideal
or elevated aim.
In giving our sympathy or compassion to the Poles, Italians, Hun
garians, or other European peoples suffering under oppression, and in
expressing our indignation against their oppressors, we have done well.
May Englishmen ever feel thus for the oppressed on one side, towards
the oppressor on the other. But let not this compassion or this'indigna
tion divert our attention from the higher meaning of the European move
ment ; neithei’ the suffering nor the tyranny constitute the true question
of nationality; they have been only incidents—and incidents inevitably
occurring—in the course of the great work of change, as the Europe of
the future began to clash with the Europe of the past.
In inquiries of this kind, much depends upon the extension of the
view over a wide expanse of time and space. If the view is contracted,
events are taken in isolation, and each is imputed to some local or
transitory source. A pervading principle is manifest in the whole, not in
the fragments. There is a story told of Rembrandt, that he reproved
some one who examined closely the details of his picture piece by piece,
saying, “ Pictures are not painted to be smelt, but to be looked at.”
And he was right. The details which, examined closely and separately,
have no meaning, seen from the point of view at which the eye takes
in the whole, blend harmoniously together to form one great design;
and each has its signification and importance in conveying the idea of
the artist’s mind.
I shall now present to you an historical sketch of the movement in
Italy from its rise to the present time. Italy affords the most complete
and advanced manifestation of the principle. And, slight as my sketch
must necessarily be, it will enable you to embrace in one view the
whole movement in that country: and you will clearly see the great
thought or purpose th>t pervades it all.
More than six centuries ago Dante, had a presentiment of a future
Italian nation—of the unity of Italy ; and from time to time this
national thought revived in the minds of the profoundest thinkers
among the Italians. But it remained an abstract idea, a theory of the
philosopher, a poet’s dream, till Mazzini transported it from the sphere
of imagination to the ground of reality; and, wedding action to thought,
made its practical achievment the subject of teaching and of contest
*
This great idea was like some sacred fire kept unextinguished for six
centuries, passing from hand to hand, guarded in succession by the elect
among the priesthood. The symbol of a future faith, and preserved in
the holiest recesses of the temple, it remained a secret or a mystery
for the multitude; waiting in the fulness of time, the coming of its
apostle, and the maturity of the people to receive it.
And in the interval between the prophecy of Dante, and the apostle
ship of Mazzini, a change was gradually working in the populations of
Italy, preparing them for their future destiny.
Wherever the love of liberty prevailed in Europe during the middle
ages, it seems to have been associated with a municipal spirit; there
�Rise of the National Feeling in Italy.
7
was, besides, among the Italians an excess of vitality and an individual
energy all tending to impede their union by the formation of many
distinct centres of activity. In some other parts of Europe, as the
feudal system declined, vast military despotisms were gradually forming
by conquest or absorption, out of more passive or servile materials ; and
in the sixteenth century the three great European powers, Austria,
France, and Spain, eager for conquest, burst at once upon Italy—a fresh
irruption of barbarians attracted by a wealth and civilisation superior to
their own. In the same century, Clement the Seventh commenced the
alliance of the Papacy with European despotism ; and this may be said,
speaking generally, to be the epoch of the loss of independence for the
Italians. Italy writhed and struggled for a time under the iron heel of
her tormentors, then sank into the apathy of exhaustion or despair.
For nearly three centuries her populations seemed resigned to be alter
nately torn as a prey and distributed as prizes by foreign powers, with
scarcely vitality enough remaining for a sense of their degradation. But
it was the stillness of a trance, not death; under this seeming apathy
the germs of a new life were forming. As foreign domination fell upon
them, it crumbled by its weight their old animosities into dust, and the
work of amalgamation into one people instinctively and rapidly pro
ceeded. After the last arbitrary partition of spoil and distribution of
populations by the great powers at the Congress of Vienna, Italy
awakened from her trance, palpitating with an undefined sense of a new
life.
.No sooner were the arrangements decreed by the treaties of 1815
carried into effect in Italy, than it became apparent that there prevailed
throughout the country a general restlessness. In the course of a few
years three distinct insurrections were each for a time completely suc
cessful: in Naples in 1820; in Piedmont during the following year,
and in Central Italy in 1831. In each instance the reins of govern
ment passed for the moment into the hands of the iusurgents ; but
when insurrection had triumphed and revolution should have begun, all
enthusiasm, vigour, or even union disappeared, and the impotence of
the movement revealed itself. The leaders raised the banner of consti
tutionalism ; but the people looked upon it with indifference; it did not
image to them their own unshaped thought, nor interpret the vaguo
longing in their hearts. All these insnrrections were prepared by the
sect of the Carbonari. The programme of this sect was—Independence,
Liberty ; but it put forth no definition for either one or the other. It
fitly personified the general state of feeling in Italy at the time—hostility
to the governments and to the whole system as it was, without any
distinct consciousness of what it wished for in its place. Yet it seems
strange that the very existence of such an association, spread as it was
over the whole of Italy, and thus showing the community of interests,
affections, tendencies throughout, did not reveal to its members the
secret of the future.
But the genius destined to initiate the new epoch was waited for,
While yet a student at the University of G-enoa, Mazzini entered
earnestly, both as a writer and an actor, into the political agitation of
the time ; and in 1831, at the age I believe of twenty-dwo, he was a
political prisoner in the fortress of Savona. But he had already seen
�8
Mazzini, the Apostle of the Unity.
enough of the movement as it then existed, to discover the impotence of
all that spirit of hostility to Austria, that hatred to despotism, that aver
sion to priestly rule, without a regenerating and reconstructing force.
He saw that the true source of strength would be found less in the
hatred that disturbs or destroys, and which had produced only isolated
and fruitless insurrections, than in the love that associates, combines,
and creates ; he saw that it was necessary to work for a revolution more
profound, for a larger and sublimer aim, than reforms and constitutions;
to concentrate every ray of Italian patriotism upon one focus—a great
hope representing a new creation—a simple and grand idea that would
be intelligible to the multitude, would attract and elevate them, appealing
to a national or patriotic instinct, and would excite the enthusiasm of
the more enlightened youth. When Mazzini’s imprisonment was ex
changed for exile, he had resolved to make the realisation of the pro
phecy oi' dream of Dante the labour of his life.
When forming this design he took a very different view of human
nature from those who believe that men are to be moved only by interests,
by the hope of redressing some grievance, by impatience of suffering, or
by some prospect of advantage to themselves. “ It needs,” wrote
Mazzini, “ the religious thought which gives the sense of duty and power
of self-sacrifice, to produce those great changes which mark the pro
gressive steps of humanity.”
That you'may understand how Mazzini could believe that in working
to create an Italian nation, he was fulfilling in a certain sensea religious
mission, and how he could inspire with the same faith, and with a
sublime spirit of devotion and self-sacrifice, as he did, thousands of his
countrymen, I must endeavour to give you in few words a general
idea of his teaching. The Italian question cannot be thoroughly under
stood without it; for the self-devotion and enthusiasm which were based
upon his appeal to what I can only call the religious element in man’s
nature, have been the true source of the vitality of the Italian struggle.
The fortress of Savona in which he was imprisoned is situated on the
shore of the Mediterranean, near Genoa. His cell was in the highest
tower of the castle; the window towards the sea—I am giving his own
description of his prison. The earth beneath was invisible to him ; he
was reminded of it only by the voices of the fishermen on the beach,
which occasionally, when the wind was favourable, rose so high; but he
could see the distant Alps—the grandest things of earth, and the sea
and the sky, both symbols of the infinite. With these before him, in
unreleaved solitude, almost unbroken silence, for many months, he
meditated on God’s law of progress for humanity as manifested through
put its history, and on the mission of Italy in connection with this law.
His whole political religious creed rests on the theory of human
progress. To explain more clearly, its foundation is this:—That God
has decreed that his design or idea, which is incarnated in humanity,
shall be continuously and progressively developed by humanity’s own
efforts. Hence, to aid in this development, to work for human progress,
is to identify oneself with His design, to do His will on earth, and the
aspiration towards the infinite which sustains the spirit here in suffering
and self-sacrifice, is in effect, according to this doctrine, a sense in the
individual being, that its own progress, its own movement towards God,
�His Teaching.
9
which will take place elsewhere than here, is to be advanced its first
step by aiding, while here, in the improvement and progress of the
collective being—humanity, the scene of whose development must always
be on earth.
This theory of progress once admitted, it follows necessarily that the
dominant thought which gives the form or character to the progressive
movement must change—perhaps I should rather say, must be enlarged
from time to time. In Mazzini’s own words, “ Our view will extend
with our discoveries, our mission increase with our strength, advancing
from age to age towards destinies yet unknown, for ever purifying and
completing the formula of devotion, as star after star shall be unveiled
for man in the heaven of intelligence.”
In order, then, to direct the religious aspirations in the individual to
its practical labour for humanity in fulfilment of God’s design on earth,
the form which the progressive movement is assuming must be under
stood : it ought, indeed, to find some embodiment in the faith of the
period. This form is to be ascertained by interrogating the wants of the
age. Mazzini did so ; and came to the conclusion that the form which
European civilisation and improvement would take in the epoch th en
approaching was the development of the principle of nationality. He
supported this opinion by reasoning somewhat as follows.
We need not follow him through the tradition of humanity further
back than to the Christian era. Then the principles of liberty and
equality—which is but liberty for all—of which antiquity had in some
instances a presentiment, received the sanction of religion ; and our
Saviour completed and crowned these principles by teaching us our
divine origin and the sublime doctrine of fraternity. It was the
emancipation of the individual man by giving him a sense of power and
dignity, and of a great destiny hereafter. As Christianity has triumphed
and spread, Liberty and Fraternity have necessarily come to be
recognised as abstract principles representing a sort of ideal to be
approached; although their practical realisation is contested, except to
a very limited extent, on the ground of inexpediency or impracti
cability.
Now liberty means freedom to act; and man emancipated, with a
sense of power and responsibility, and having freedom to act, must have
an object to act for. Liberty never can be realised so long as men are
inclined to use it for their own advantage only ; and religion sanctions it
evidently with the intention that it should be used for some high and
unselfish purpose. But man, isolated, cannot act for good in a wide
circle; he may practice charity to his neighbour, but before he can work
in a grander sphere and extend the action to humanity, there needs
a power derived from a combination of individual forces—a combi
nation of the forces of men each having freedom to develope and use all
his faculties. The principle of Fraternity implies the creation of this
power, for it gives the means of association among those who are free.
And this association or organisationj intermediate between the indi
*
vidual and humanity, formed spontaneously by those who, are conscious
that they represent a special group of the human family, conscious that
they have common tendencies and a common mission confided to them
by God for the good of mankind, at which they are to woi’k together—'
�10
Mazzini, the Apostle of Unity.
this is the nation in the high and true sense of the word ; the nation
such as, according to Mazzini, God intends that it should be.
And thus the chain of human progress is continued link by link ;
Liberty and Fraternity, which have been established as abstract prin
ciples in a former epoch, advancing towards their practical realisation
through the development of the principle of nationality. Liberty being
possible without anarchy, association without despotism, only when they
are sought for as a means, not as an end; sought for more in a sense of
duty than with a thought of self-interest. And the very construction of
the nation upon this principle implying an aim beyond itself, so it
becomes but another link in the chain ; it is in effect a division of labour
for human civilisation and improvement, each group taking the work that
it is fitted for, as each country has its products, and all harmonising
together in a common aim.
I need hardly point out how different this is from what the nation has
hitherto usually been ; how different from what monarchs and diplo
matists have understood it, or treaties between governments have made
it; how different from a mere aggregation of human beings held together
by the sword, without community of language, faith, traditions, or
tendencies; how different from any state where the will of an absolute
sovereign supersedes the collective thought and life of the people. But
the truly progressive element in this principle of nationality resides in
the idea which floats over all—that the nation is no association formed
only for the sake of interests or to gain strength for aggression, but that
the right to national existence is inseparable from a duty to humanity.
Now you see the train of reasoning which led Mazzini, more than
thirty years ago, to proclaim that the national movement would be the
form taken by European progress in its advance; and you see how
working for the unity of Italy assumed in his eyes the character of a
religious mission. “ When in my solitude and imprisonment,” he
wrote, “ the thought came to me that Italy might perhaps be destined
to initiate this new epoch, this faith of progress, this new life and fra
ternity for the nations of Europe, the immense hope shone like a star to
my soul.”
In attempting thus briefly to give you an idea of his political faith,
which he unfolds in many volumes with force of argument and eloquence,
and supports by evidence drawn from history, I know I am doing him
injustice, and giving you a very imperfect conception of his teaching.
But it is an essential part of my subject, no description of the Italian
movement can be complete without it, and I have done the best I could
in so few words.
Some years ago it might all have been condemned by an English
audience as visionary. Now the test of the future can to a certain
extent be applied, and his prediction of the tendency of the epoch—the
rising up of nationalities, and his assertion that in the Italian people
there was an instinct of national unity which needed but to be
awakened, are no longer ridiculed as wild and silly theories.
His teaching infused an enthusiasm into many of the youth of Italy
which enabled them to meet with a smile of faith persecution and
reiterated defeat; they taught, conspired, fought, and died on the
scaffold and the battle-field, acting not only without a thought of self
�His Teaching.
11
interest, but influenced, even beyond the sentiment of patriotism, by the
conviction that they were working for the triumph of a principle that
involved the good of mankind.
If the movement had been based only on a sense of interests, every
failure would have had a damaging effect, and it would have been
abandoned altogether, whenever the danger or suffering of perseverance
outweighed the advantage anticipated from success. But the Italian
cause has won its way, especially during its earlier period, as Christi
anity was propagated, by martyrdom. Whenever some patriot suffered
persecution or death for teaching the national programme, whenever
any little band of heroes perished as a forlorn hope in some attempt at
insurrection, for every one that fell on the field or on the scaffold, there
rose up a hundred converts ready to follow his example. And you will
see, throughout the narration of events, how this appeal to what I call
the religious element in man’s nature, has been the Promethean spark,
drawn from Heaven, that has given life to Italy.
It is startling to compare the immensity and splendour of the aim
Mazzini formed for himself—and still more so if we think how far it is
already accomplished—with his position at the time, his imprisonment,
his youth, the slenderness of his means. It is curious too, as a coinci
dence, that at the very time, the year 1831, when he was forming this
great design which was eventually to concentrate every ray of Italian
patriotism to one focus, and give to the revolutionary spirit that already
- prevailed an irresistible force by directing it to its true aim, a severe
political prosecution was going on in Central Italy. An insurrection
had just been subdued there, the executioner was standing sentinel by
the side of every throne, and the governments seemed resolved to crush
out the very germs of the revolutionary agitation. They thought they
had their enemy in their grasp; they saw him bleeding on their scaf
folds, they imagined him groaning in their dungeons, or driven to the
distant shores of England or America there to linger in the privations
of exile, and in all this they read theii’ own security and repose. Their
fears never carried them to that cell in the highest tower of the fortress
of Savona; they thought not of that youth there, gazing through the
grating of his prison window upon the Alps, the sea, the sky; they saw
not in the solemn meditation of his soul, the birth of the great power
that in its irresistible growth would change the face of Italy.
When Mazzini’s imprisonment was exchanged for exile, he began his
labour by addressing a letter to Charles Albert, who had just mounted
the throne of Piedmont, inviting him to identify himself with the Italian
aspiration to freedom from Austria and unity as a nation. “ You can
lead us to it,” said Mazzini, “ if you choose, and we will follow, grate
fully ; if you renounce this leadership, we will press onwards without
you ; if you oppose us, we may die, but our children will snatch the
sword falling from our grasp, and sooner or later our aim will be
achieved, for it is a God-given aim.” The whole sense of the letter
I was a reiteration of the motto at its head, “ Se no, no,” If no, no. If
you are not with us, we are against you.
*
* This motto is derived item the form of the declaration which was used by the
nobles of Arragon at the coronation of their kings. <» Nos, que cada uno somos
�12
The Giovine Italia—the National Party.
In addressing this letter to Charles Albert, Mazzini certainly could
not have expected that he would take up what every Italian statesman
looked upon as the wildest possible Utopia of a young enthusiast; but at
all events such a letter afforded at the time the best practical means of
setting before the Italian people the idea of unity. It was circulated
openly or clandestinely throughout Italy. The answer vouchsafed by the
King to Mazzini, was simply exclusion from the political amnesty which
he had just granted on coming to the throne.
Mazzini then, with a few friends, founded the association of the
Giovine Italia. It soon counted in its ranks hundreds of young men,
chiefly of the middling class, of all parts of Italy ; and absorbed the
best elements of the old sect of the Carbonari. Its aim was distinctly
defined and promulgated in the three words, Unity, Independence, Liberty.
Upon the two first it admitted no compromise. In regard to the last,
although the members of the association were all republicans, and pro
fessed to be so, it was considered that they had no right to decree before
hand under what form of government the future nation should exist,
substituting their own banner for that of the entire people; and that if
Italy willed monarchy, it would be for them to respect the decision of
the majority ; retaining always the right of expression of opinion. So
while they drew the sword for unity and independence, they would use
only the weapon of persuasion for the republic. Thus at the present
time, in submitting to Victor Emmanuel, these workers for Italian unity
do not violate their original programme; and Mazzini, Garibaldi, and
many others, we know still profess themselves republican in principle
and at heart. Indeed, the doctrines of Mazzini, as I have explained
them to you, are clearly democratic; but the monarchy may be sub
mitted to, though not sanctioned as an enduring principle.
The first efforts of the Association were directed to awakening the
national sentiment in the Italians. Writings, printed generally at
Marseilles or in Switzerland, were spread by the members of the Asso
ciation throughout the Peninsula. The governments soon became aware
that they had now a more formidable danger to encounter than before.
An energetic and relentless persecution commenced, and it was even
punishable with death to be found in possession of a writing of the
Association.
The Giovine Italia was not intended, however, to be educational
alone. Thought can be completed only by action; besides there is a
language in action which speaks to all. In the year 1833 insurrection
was attempted in Savoy ; and a simultaneous movement was to have
taken place at Genoat The first failed through treachery or mismanage
ment ; the second was discovered and prevented. Among those con
demned to death for this attempt was Garibaldi; condemned though,
like Mazzini, in his absence, for he escaped. He was one of the earliest
members of the Giovine Italia, and here we see these two young men,
nearly of the same age—Garibaldi is, I believe, a few months the
eldest—first acting together, who were destined at each great crisis of
tanto como vos; y todos juntos mas que vos; os hacemas Rey: si rispectais
nuestras leyes y privilegios, os obediceremos; si no, no.” “ We, each of us being
equal to you; and all together greater than you; take yod for King: if you
respect our laws and privileges, we will obey you ; if no, no.”
�The Moderate Party.
13
the movement, at intervals of years, to work again in concert, as they
are working now. The one, the hero of Italian unity on the field of
battle; the other, the great teacher and the warrior in the mental
contest.
This failure did not check the progress of the cause. Propagandism
went on, and other attempts were made at action. The brothers
Bandiera, who, with seven companions, were executed in 1844 for
attempting insurrection in Southern Italy, answered those who remon
strated with them on the rashness of their enterprise, “ That Italy may
live, we must show the Italians how to die.” And in saying this, they
expressed the very spirit in which many of these attempts were made.
In the course of a few years many perished on the scaffold with the cry,
Viva VItalia I on their lips as the cord tightened round the throat
or the bullet pierced the heart, and thousands were exiled or imprisoned.
But as the rage of persecution increased, the fervour of apostleship grew
also.
Thus the word Unity was cast upon Italian soil, thus it was watered
by blood and tears, and kept taking root deeper, deeper, and spreading
over the country from the Alps to the furthest shores of Sicily.
When Pio Nono ascended the Papal throne in 1846, Italy seemed on
the eve of a general outbreak. The national party, into which the
Giovine Italia had by that time expanded, was growing continually
stronger under persecution, and Pio Nono determined to try a new
policy with his subjects—a policy of conciliation. Supporting him in
this policy, and encouraging other Italian princes to follow his example,
there rose up at this time the moderate party. It represented essentially
conservative and aristocratic interests ; but was supported by all the
timid and the indolent, who were appalled at the gigantic changes con
templated by Mazzini. Now, within the last few years, the moderate
party has accepted the programme of unity ; but at the time I speak of,
it was the avowed opponent of that doctrine, and raised in opposition
the banner of constitutionalism. While the national party necessarily
looked to the overthrow of the governments that held Italy in division,
the moderates condemned revolution altogether, and intended to ame
liorate and support these governments. They strove to allure the people
by the prospect of reforms and other present advantages, from devotion
to the great hope of existing as a nation ; and used to accuse Mazzini of
forcing the sovereigns to be tyrannical by alarming them, and turning
the people aside from seeking real advantages for the sake of a dream.
Such was the state of parties when in March, 1848, revolution sud
denly triumphed in the Austrian States of Northern Italy. In the
course of some fifteen or twenty days Austria lost the whole of the
Lombardo-Venetian kingdom, except Mantua and Verona ; and this
solely through popular insurrection, without encountering one battalion
of professional soldiers.
Six thousand Austrians capitulated at
Venice ; four thousand fell at Milan during a struggle which raged
for five days in the streets of the city ; some were cut off in almost
every town, and Hungarian and Italian soldiers in the Austrian service
deserted, whole companies at a time. The loss of Austria in those few
days is estimated at between 20,000 and 30,000 men. The insurrection
burst forth at Milan immediately after some constitutional concessions
�14
Revolution at Milan and Venice,
had been granted ; it was promoted and led by a nucleus of young men,
most of whom had been members of the Giovine Italia ; and the people
rose to the cry which symbolised Italian unity—“ Viva l’Italia! ” And
“ Viva l’Italia ! ” resounded throughout Italy from Milan and Venice
to Messina and Palermo. While in almost every Italian city little bands
of young men began to arm themselves, and to start off to help their
brethren against Austria.
*
The teaching of the Giovine Italia was bearing fruit.
The Italian princes trembled at this evidence of national feeling ; they
dared not openly oppose the general enthusiasm, and to save their own
thrones they mostly professed for the moment to yield to the desire for
war against Austria. The moderates also gave in to the irresistible
attraction of the national idea, so far as to propose a sort of league
among Italian princes, and a crusade in common against Austria.
Among the chief promoters of this project were Gioberti and D’Azeglio.
But the princes saw the goal to which such a path must tend : they
knew their power had no root in Italian soil, nor was there one among
them whose throne had not, once at least, since the Congress of Vienna,
required the presence of Austrian bayonets to prop it up. They pre
tended to yield only to pervert, delay, or in some way paralyse every
effort. Charles Albert alone made real war, and even he was only
half sincere. When the insurrection broke out in Lombardy his
position was full of danger; the excitement of his subjects, and their
sympathy with the insurgents, were intense ; besides, the cry, Viva la
Republica! had been coupled with that of Viva I'Italia, on the barricades
at Milan. When the news reached Turin that the Austrians had been
driven from Milan by the citizens, he saw thathis only safety from revolu
tion at home was to be found in immediately declaring war and crossing
the frontier. He acted from a double motive ; from hope and from fear.
On the one hand he saw a prospect of aggrandisement for Piedmont;
and possibly a crown of Northern Italy glittered to his imagination in
the distance. But he also entered upon the war, in order to put down
or supersede revolutionary or popular action, and to check that sense of
their own power in the people, with all its democratic tendencies, which
their recent triumph would excite. The diplomatic correspondence of
the time shows that this was the motive he put forward to all European
governments, and pleaded as his justification for declaring war. He
was acting, his ambassadors declared, for the safety of all monarchial
states.
The entrance of the King into Lombardy changed the aspect of the
movement: it lost the character of a war of the Italian people against
Austria for their own independance and existence as a nation, and be
came simply a war by a king of Piedmont, to be fought by a royal
Piedmontese army, Lombardy being the prize contended for. The men
of the national party who had led the insurrection gave place to a pro
visional government composed of Milanese noblemen of the moderate
* An interesting account of this insurrection, and the war which followed, was
written by Carlo Cattaneo, himself the president of the committee of the barricades
during the insurrection. He was a professor at the University of Milan, and a
man of European celebrity for literary and scientific attainmenta.
�Charles Albert'—His Vacillation and Defeat.
15
party, who had had no share in the insurrection. The formation of
volunteer hands was discouraged, everything was done to cheok enthu
siasm, and lull the people into inertness ; the national idea began to fade
into the background, while the Royal army during three months did little
else than occupy Lombardy; neither opening communications with
Venice, nor attempting to intercept the reinforcements which Radetski
was receiving through the Tyrol.
At length Radetski, having reorganised and reinforced his army, issued
forth from Mantua and Verona, gave battle to the Piedmontese army,
and defeated it at Custoza.
When the news reached Milan the population rose up like an enraged
lion; what they had won by their own heroism and their blood was now
lost by the King and the moderate party. The provisional government
in dismay begged Mazzini, who had arrived at Milan from England, the
country of his exile, to counsel and assist them. Under his direction the
population was armed, volunteers were enrolled, and in three days the
city was in an excellent state of defence. The heroes of the Five days
re-appeared ; the people felt it was their own battle coming over again,
and saluted it with joy.
Such was the aspect of affairs when Charles Albert reached Milan in
his retreat. He beheld the popular or revolutionary element, which he
had taken such pains to check and subdue, once more in action. By
allying himself with it he might yet retrieve his defeat. But he hated
or feared it more than he feared or hated Austria ; he wavered for a few
days and ended by rejecting it. Before he entered Milan an armistice
with Radetsky and a capitulation for the city had been already signed ;
yet, in the city, whether drawn for a moment into sympathy with the
enthusiasm he saw around him, or whether trembling at the sight of it;
either sincerely or not, .he publicly declared that he would perish beneath
the ruins of Milan before it should be delivered up to Austria. The
people trusted him. Mazzini then saw that his own presence there was
useless ; that all would depend on the firmness or sincerity of the King ;
and he hastened to Begamo to join Garibaldi, who was advancing with
about 4,000 volunteers. A few days afterwards Charles Albert left
Milan almost secretly, and his troops immediately delivered up the gates
and outworks of the city to the Austrians, in accordance with the capi
tulation.
Garibaldi had, a few weeks before this occurred, returned from South
America; where, an exile since 1833, he had taken part in the wars in
those countries, fighting always on the side of liberty; and had obtained
renown as a daring and successful leader. The movement in Italy drew
him back to his own country, where he arrived with about a hundred
companions, Italians, and mostly exiles like himself. Charles Albert
hesitated to employ him, and he immediately collected volunteers to act
for the cause as he best could. When the King made the armistice with
Radetsky, Garibaldi at once repudiated it; and prepared to advance to
the support of Milan, hoping it would be defended. Mazzini having
joined him carried the banner of the little force. Arriving at Monza
they heard that Milan was already in possession of the Austrians ; they
were attacked and almost surrounded by superior numbers of the enemy,
�16
Flight of Pius IX.— The Roman Republic.
but defended themselves in their retreat as far as Como, where they found
shelter in the mountains.
*
All this time Venice held out under Manin, but the scene of the next
great struggle made by the national party was at Rome.
But I must pause here for a moment to point out some conclusions
which may be drawn from these events, to apply to the present time.
First, we see in this insurrection an answer to those, whether in Italy
or England, who think, or pretend to think, that popular insurrection
* A short account of this affair of Monza was written by Jocopo Medici, one of
Garibaldi’s companions, and now a general in the Italian army. The following
e extract may interest the reader:—
“ After the engagement of Custoza, at the end of which Charles Albert fell baok
upon Milan, General Garibaldi, then at Bergamo, with a small body of republican
Lombard volunteers, about 4,000 altogether, believing that the King of Piedmont,
who was still at the head of an army of 40,000 men, would have defended to the
utmost, as he had promised, the capital of Lombardy, conceived the bold project of
pushing forward and marching towards Milan. His object was to harass the left
flank of the Austrian army in its pursuit of the Piedmontese army, and thus to come
in aid of the future operations whioh the king’s resistance in Milan might bring
about.
“ It was on the morning of the 3rd of August, 1848, and Garibaldi was just about
to quit Bergamo, when we saw appear among us, carabine on shoulder, Mazzini,
asking to join our ranks as a simple soldier of the legion I commanded, whioh was
to form the vanguard of the division of Garibaldi. A general acclamation saluted
the great Italian, and the legion unanimously confided its banner, which bore the
device 1 God and the people,’ to his charge.
ct As soon as Mazzini’s arrival was known at Bergamo, the population ran to see
him. They pressed around him; they begged him to speak. All those who heard
him must remember his discourse. He recommended raising barricades to defend
the town in case of attack, whilst we should march upon Milan; and he conjured
them, whatever might arrive, to love Italy always, and never to despair of her
redemption. His words were received with enthusiasm, and the column left amid
marks of the deepest sympathy.
“ The march was very fatiguing; rain fell in torrents; we were drenched to ihe
skin. Although accustomed to a life of study, and little adapted to the violent
exercise of forced marches, his constancy and serenity never forsook him for an
instant; and notwithstanding our counsels, for we feared for his physical strength,
he would never stop, nor leave the column. It happened even that seeing one of
our youngest volunteers clothed merely in linen, and who consequently had no
protection against the rain and the sudden cold, he forced him to accept and wear
his cloak.
“ Arrived at Monza, we learned the fatal news of the capitulation of Milan, and
heard that a numerous body of Austrian cavalry had been sent against us, and was
already at the other side, at the gates of Monza.
“ Garibaldi, very inferior in forces, not wishing to expose his small body to a
complete and useless destruction, gave orders to fall back upon Como, and placed
me with my column as rearguard, in order to cover the retreat.
“ For youthful volunteers whose greatest wish was to fight, the order to retreat
was a signal of discouragement, and in the first moments was accompanied with
some disorder. Happily, this did not occur in my rearguard. From Monza to
Como, my column, always pursued by the enemy, menaced with destruction at
every moment by a very superior force, never wavered, remained compact and
united, showing itself always ready to repulse all attack, and kept the enemy in
check to the last.
“ In this march full of danger and difficulty, the strength of soul, intrepidity,
and decision of Mazzini, were the admiration of the bravest among us. His pre
sence, his words, the example of his courage, animated our young soldiers, who
were besides proud of partaking such dangers with him; and all decided to perish
to the last man for the defence of a faith of which he had been the apostle, and for
which he was ready to become the martyr.”
�Mazzini, Saffi, Armellini, Triumvirs.
17
and the volunteer element can do nothing against Austria. Secondly,
we see the paralising effect which naturally follows when a revolutionary
movement, after its first successes, passes under the guidance of those
who did not prepare it, and not thoroughly identified with its object
either by their past acts or by their wishes for the future.
When Pius IX. fled from his dominions to Gaeta in November,
1849, the Republic quickly sprang up from the ruins of the Papal Govern
ment ; and it seemed as if the future Italy had found a cradle where all
the vigorous elements of true national Italian life might draw together;
With Rome, the national party had won the key of the position in the
struggle for nationality ; the centre, through which there might be union
between north and south. In the deliberations in the assembly for the
election of a triumvirate, while Armellini was chosen to represent
Rome, and Saffi, the Legations, Mazzini was chosen professedly as the
representative of Italy—the incarnation of the idea of Italy, one and
free. And by this election Italian unity may be said to have been
inscribed on the banner of the infant state, as it actually was upon its
coin. Energetic preparations were set on foot to carry this banner into
the Lombardo-Venetian kingdom ; it was calculated that by the end of
May 45,000 men would be armed and organised; these would have
entered the Austrian States, not to act alone as the Piedmontese army
had done, but to act in alliance with Venice, and in concert with the
popular insurrection. Such were the hopes of the national party when,
in the month of April, these preparations being still incomplete, the
French Government decided upon sending an expedition against Rome.
We must glance for a moment however at events occurring in other
parts of Italy, and bearing upon the position of Rome. In the month
of February, the Grand Duke of Tuscany had followed the example of
Pio Nono, fled from his dominions, and joined the Pope at Gaeta. The
national party immediately agitated for the amalgamation of Tuscany
with the Roman States, thus to commence the unification of Italy; and
there seemed a good prospect of success. The Piedmontese Government,
Gioberti being minister, then formed the injudicious design of restoring
by an armed intervention, both the Pope and the Grand Duke to their
dominions ; a design which, if carried into effect, would inevitably have
lighted up the flame of civil war. But those princes rejected such
assistance; they regarded the Piedmont Government with no friendly
feeling, and considered that, by making real war against Austria, it had
separated itself from the common cause and interests of Italian sovereigns.
While, at the same time, the national party was indignant that such a
design should have been cherished for a moment; and its distrust of
Piedmont was increased. This project falling to the ground, Charles
Albert, on the 12th of March, suddenly put an end to the armistice with
Austria, and renewed the war. No doubt lie was induced to take this
step by the preparations for war which the Roman Republic was making ;
and he acted wisely as far as his own interest and safety were con
cerned. It would have been dangerous, perhaps fatal, to the Piedmontese
monarchy for a new crusade against Austria to be initiated and led
under the Republican banner. It would have been impossible for Charles
Albert to hold back, and humiliating to the monarchy to follow in the
c
�18
French Invasion—Garibaldi—Fall of Rome.
wake of the Republic. He resolved either at once to gain a victory over
Austria, and render his throne secure by surrounding it with the prestige
and the glory thus acquired; or else to find, through defeat, an excuse
for retiring from any further contest. When the unexpected renewal of
the war was known at Rome, a generous spirit towards the monarchy
pervaded all the councils of the Republic. Mazzini said in the chamber,
“ Let us think no more about forms of government; there is now but
*
one real distinction among Italians: it is between those who join in the
war of independence against Austria, and those who do not.” A pro
clamation was issued, which thus concluded : “ The legions of the Re
public will combat side by side with those of the Subalpine Monarchy;
there shall be no contention between them save in valour and in sacrifice;
may he be cursed who would promote discord between brother and
brother.” But before the Roman troops could reach the North of Italy,
the campaign was ended. It lasted but a few days; and, after the
defeat of Novara., Charles Albert abdicated in favour of his son Victor
Emanuel.
On the 18th February, a note had been addressed to the diplomatic
body at Gaeta by the Pope, publicly requesting the armed assistance of
France, Austria, Spain, and Naples, for his restoration. It was soon
known, or rumoured, that France was about to enter the field as a new
enemy for the Roman Republic; and the timid began everywhere to
hold back. The moderate party in Tuscany, headed by the chief nobility
of Florence—Ricasoli among the number—took advantage of this state
of the public mind, and also of the discouragement which the Austrian
victory at Novara had just produced, to bring about a reaction. They
promised in the name of the Grand Duke, though, as it afterwards
appeared, without his authority, that, if recalled, he would govern con
stitutionally, and that no foreign soldier should enter Tuscany. A pro
posal made in the Chamber at Florence for union with Rome, was
negatived ; and the Grand Duke recalled by the acclamations of the
populace of Florence. One of his first measures, however, was to invite
an Austrian army to enter Tuscany; and it met with no resistance \
except at Leghorn.
The battle of Novara had also the effect perhaps of hastening the
French expedition against Rome. The French Government had
already promised to restore the Papal sovereignty, but it wished for
some veil which might soften the harsh and unjust features of the
measure in presenting it for the approval of the Chamber at Paris.
The Chamber was given to understand that the object of the expedition
was merely to support the interests and influence of France in the
Peninsula in opposition to those of Austria ; as if a French army on
the Tiber were calculated to counteract the influence of Austria, whose
forces were on the Mincio and Adige ; for it was not until the French
were besieging Rome that the Austrians either entered Tuscany or
invaded the Legations. And when they besieged Bologna, although the
forces of the Republic had been drawn away for the defence of the
capital, still it was defended heroically for a time by the citizens alone.
It would take too long to enter upon the details of the drama that was
acted before the walls of Rome. Perhaps most of you remember how
the first expeditionary force of 10,000 men was defeated under the walls
�This Epoch misunderstood in England.
19
of the city by Garibaldi, who issued forth with his volunteers and gave
it battle ; how Oudinot, in his retreat towards Civita Vecchia, proposed
an armistice; how Lesseps was sent to Rome to open sham negotia
tions, and, while they were going on, the French army was gradually
increased to nearly 40,000 men; how the attack was then renewed, and,
after an heroic resistance that lasted for a month, during which nearly
3,000 of the truest, noblest, bravest, hearts of Italy gave their life's
blood, the city was surrendered.
To appreciate the grandeur of this defence, we must bear in mind
that those who fought or died at Rome, did so without any hope of an
immediate favourable result, without any expectation of victory against
the French. They fought for a victory in the future ; that future which
is coming now. They fought or died to afford a great moral teaching
to the people, and to call forth reverence for the sanctuary of Italian
nationality, the future capital of Italy. They gave their blood that in
it the Italian people might be baptised at the font of unity ; and,
although the Papal government was restored, the true lasting victory
was with the Italian national party. It was the climax to all that series
of acts of self-devotion by which for eighteen years it had been working
out its mission. The moral teaching for the Italians was complete, and
their education to the idea of unity, was advanced beyond the possibility
of future reaction or decline. Although the weight of France was then
added to that of Austria to keep Italy prostrate, it became a certainty
that sooner or later the innate vitality of the tendency to unity must wear
out all artificial external pressure.
It is remarkable how little this epoch was understood either by our
statesmen or our press ; they appeared to see only a meaningless struggle
without system or object, where in reality a great purpose was being
resolutely and irresistibly worked out. In the Roman Republic they
saw only the form of political liberty—the republic; they were either
ignorant or incredulous of its higher meaning in the national sense, and
judging Italy of to-day by her history in the middle ages, they used
often to condemn or lament the incapacity of the Italians for union
among themselves.
*
* Mr. Gladstone did much to retard the enlightenment of English public opinion
as to the true character of the Italian movement, by giving the authority of his
name to the translation of Farini’s Roman History. That history is of some value,
on account of the numerous diplomatic and other documents it produces 5 but the
English reader is led astray, who studies it without being aware that it expresses
exclusively the views of the Italian moderate party of that day. None can read it,
I apprehend, without receiving the impression that something is kept back, without
feeling that they are introduced into a labyrinth to which no clue is presented.
They read of a prolonged revolutionary or popular movement without any explained
or apparent object, and of tyranny without a cause. The fact is, Farini syste
matically keeps in the background the tendency to unity, and diminishes the
importance, or distorts the meaning, of all those events in which this tendency was
manifest,. The translation of his work into English was the more unfortunate,
because the error pervading it is precisely the one to which we were already
predisposed.
At the time Farini wrote, the leaders of the moderate party had discovered the
impracticability of their own programme—that of converting the reigning princes
into constitutional sovereigns, but they had not acquired faith in the possible
c 2
�20
This Epoch misunderstood in England.
In this slight sketch I have necessarily omitted the mention of many,
important events occurring during this period, and which bore more or
less visibly the impress of the national tendency. My subject has re
quired that I should follow the course of those in which the prominent
actors were professedly working for this great aim of unity. Sicily was
in revolt during 1848 and 1849, and in Naples there were revolutionary
movements, but the national feeling was partially concealed in these
states by a thin veil of demands for constitutional government. Venice
held out against Austria for seventeen months under. the direction of
Manin; but the Venetians followed his views, and, at that time, his idea
of the future Italy was that of a federation of republican states.
Thus I have shown you throughout the sequence of events from 1831
to 1849, how a nucleus of young patriots, which expanded gradually into
a great political party, embracing the flower of Italian manhood and
intelligence, and working always under the influence of one master
spirit, succeeded by resolute propagandism, by a series of daring enter
prises, by failures and martyrdoms, and by glorious though momentary
victories, in converting the programme of the G-iovine Italia—Italy one
and free—into a distinct hope irrevocably awakened in the Italians.
In the second period of the Italian struggle, which will be the subject
of my second lecture, Garibaldi and some other actors are more promi
nent on the scene than Mazzini; though his influence is still omnipresent,
and his labour unceasing though silent : but during the whole period
embraced in my present lecture, he has been the necessary hero of the
scene throughout. Now it is not that I assume you to be particularly
interested in a fair appreciation of him for his own sake, but up to this
achievement of unity. Materialists themselves, without enthusiasm, love, or
genius, they were slow to believe in the devotion of the multitude to a grand and
unselfish idea. They saw only that the programme of the national party had so
far triumphed over their own in the hearts of the people, as to constitute a danger
sufficiently formidable in the eyes of the Italian rulers, to deter these from relin
quishing any part of that despotic power which supplied the most efficacious means
of defence against it. The leaders of the moderate party could not forgive the
authors of their defeat, and their bitterness is illustrated in the tone of alternate
sarcasm and anger which Farini adopts, in writing of Mazzini or others who had
joined in teaching the unity of Italy. He speaks of unity as a crochet of Mazzini,
and declares it to be an aim which is neither good, nor grand,.
Four years ago Farini proclaimed his own acceptance of unity as the tie goal
u
*
of the Italian movement, and his doing so was a severe comment on his Roman
history.
It would appear, also, from Mr. Gladstone’s pamphlet upon the State prosecutions
in Naples, published in 1851, that he was not himself aware of the real character of
the movement in Italy. He evidently fancied the Neapolitan government actuated
in these prosecutions only by an unreasonable suspicion or hatred of constitutional
ideas. He claims our sympathy for Poerio, and other prisoners, on the ground that
they were constitutionalists, aud that their only object had been to establish in
Naples a government resembling our own. Now Poerio himself had been a member
of the Giovine Italia, and the charges against him at his trial were these : that he
had, while minister, corresponded with Mazzini, and joined in the formation of a
secret society at Naples, having the unity of Italy for its object. Whether the
charges were true or false, it is surprising that they did not enlighten Mr. Glad
stone as to the direction taken by the fears of the government, and give him an
insight into the real danger which the widely spread system of political persecution
Was intended to guard against.
�Prejudice against Mazzini,
21
time he so completely personified the national aspiration, that to mis
understand his teaching and action is to misunderstand the movement
itself. And because I have been obliged to say so much concerning
him, I must yet in concluding add another word.
Mazzini has encountered, as all teachers of new truths or introducers
of great changes have encountered for a time, prejudice, misrepresenta
tion, calumny; all which has found an echo in England. Completely
merging all thought of self in the great aim of his existence, seldom has
he replied to, or protested against, this disloyal mode of warfare.
Among other charges, his enemies used to cast upon his head the blood
of all the patriots who from time to time perished on the field or on the
scaffold, because his teaching had urged them on. And although he
had deliberately relinquished fortune, and all the joys of life, for exile,
danger, and incessant toil; although the risks he has incurred of arrest
and death have been so numerous, and his escapes so marvellous, that
his friends have believed that a special providence watched over him;
although, in a word, he has suffered a life of martyrdom, his enemies
have charged it against him as a sort of crime that he happens to have
escaped a martyr’s death.
In some moment, when writhing perhaps under this cruel injustice, or
when possibly repeated failures made him doubt for an instant his own
power of perseverance, or even his own faith, he wrote these touching
lines I am about to read to you, in the preface to his memoirs of the
brothers Bandiera. I have already spoken of the brothers Bandiera,
who were executed in 1844. In writing their memoirs he appropriately
dedicates them to Jacopo Ruffini, who had been one of the first victims
of the persecution against the Giovine Italia. When Jacopo Ruffini
was imprisoned at Genoa, the police authorities, in order to make him
confess who were the members of the Association, showed him a forged
document purporting to be a confession by others, who, they told him,
were in prison, and had bought their lives by this confession. Then
they urged him to do the same. He begged for a day to consider ; and,
in the agony of this great trial, tore a nail from his prison door, opened
a vein with it and killed himself, writing with his blood upon the wall:—
“ This is my answer.” In the dedication of the memoirs to Ruffini,
Mazzini thus addresses the spirit of his friend :—
“ Help me; oh, help me that I do not despair! From the sphere
where you now live a life more powerful in intellect and love than the
earthly can be, and into which new martyrs to the Italian faith have
just risen up to meet you, pray with them to God that He will hasten the
fulfilment of the destinies that He has ordained for Italy. But if,
indeed, this uncertain light, which I have saluted as the dawn, should
be only the light of some falling star, and long years of darkness and
suffering must yet pass over Italy before the ways of the Lord shall be
revealed to her ; then, for the love I bear you, help me, your poor friend,
that I may think and act, live and die, uncontaminated; that I may
never relinquish, either through insupportableness of suffering or bitter
ness of disappointment, the worship of the eternal idea, God and
Humanity; God the Father and Educator—Humanity the progressive
interpreter of His law. So that when we meet in the future life assigned
�22
Prejudice against Mazzini.
to us, you may not have occasion to veil yourself, blushing, with your
wings, and repent of the affection you bore to me on earth.”
What bitter moments of trial in the life of the Apostle, what strug
gling against despair or doubt do these lines reveal. They were written
in 1845.
I have now shown you how the national idea took root in Italian soil;
in my second lecture we shall see how it has flowered and borne fruit in
the events of the last few years,
�LECTURE II
Terms of the Alliance between France ancl Piedmont, 1858—Peace of Villafranca
—National Party re-organised as the Party of Action—Policy of the Moderates
—Sicilian Insurrection—Garibaldi lands—His Victories—Cavour sends an
army to the South—His motive—The Movement arrested—Cavour’s Policy
—The Party of Action in the Italian Chamber—An Attempt on the Venetia
stopped by the Italian Government—Garibaldi prepares to move on Rome—
Aspramonte—Future Prospects of the Italian Movement—Louis Napoleon’s
position in Italy—The Papal Church at Rome—Concluding Remarks on the
National Idea—Our own Attitude and Policy towards the National Movement
in Europe.
In my first lecture I traced the progress of the Italian national move
ment to the fall of Rome in 1849, which concluded, what may be called,
the educational period £of the mission of the Giovine Italia. The con
sciousness of nationality had then become so thoroughly awakened in the
Italians, that it was certain to be the true lever of every future move
ment. Rome and Venice fallen, the leaders of the national party went
into exile, but undaunted. If the edifice they had begun to raise was
shattered, they felt that they had laid the foundation for a new one in
the hearts of the people ; and in spite of France and Austria, they could
say of the national cause, as Galileo said of the earth when before the
Inquisitors, “ Eppur si muove.”
For ten years, however, the cold hand of Louis Napoleon on the heart
of Italy seemed to paralyse her action. The most daring and most enthu
siastic sacrificed their lives, or lost their liberty, in several vain attempts
at insurrection; the many held back, appalled at the prospect of encoun
tering Austria and France at once. The most important of these
attempts were an insurrection in Milanin 1853; and an expedition which,
starting from Genoa, where it was organised, landed in the South, and
attempted to promote insurrection there. Both failed, and both were
condemned; yet the former was but an attempt to repeat what had
succeeded in 1848, and the latter to anticipate the movement which was
successful in 1860. At the head of this expedition were Pisacane and
Nicotera: Rosolio Pilo was to have taken part; he was in another
vessel with men and arms, but by some accident the vessels did not
meet; so he was reserved for a more successful enterprise, and was the
leader of the Sicilian insurrection three years later. He fell at Palermo.
These three young men were among the most devoted and the bravest
of the Italians; all belonged to noble and influential families in the
south ; the two former Neapolitans; the latter, Sicilian. Pisacane was
killed during the expedition, in an encounter with the Neapolitan troops
—Nicotera alone remains ; he was taken and condemned to perpetual
imprisonment. Released by Garibaldi, in 1860, he was afterwards
�24
Alliance between France and Piedmont.
elected a deputy to the Italian Parliament by the very city—Salerno—
which had been the scene of his trial. For the latter attempt, Mazzini
was among those condemned to death by the Piedmontese government.
He was at Genoa when the expedition started, and with difficulty
escaped. He had been condemned to death also in 1833, for the insur
rection in Savoy; and as from that time to the present, he has been
excluded from every political amnesty, two sentences of death hang over (
his head. Hence his life is one of exile ; he frequently visits Italy, but
while there is obliged to be concealed.
At length, in 1859, the weight of France was partially removed. It
was not removed, however, that Italy might rise. Italy did rise; but
this was not the intention of the Emperor of the French.
It has often been assumed that the advance which the Italians subse
quently made towards unity, was made in consequence of an impulse in
that direction given by Louis Napoleon and the Piedmontese govern
ment. This was not the case. When the alliance was formed between
France and Piedmont against Austria, neither Louis Napoleon nor
Cavour contemplated any such advance; all that has been won in that
direction, has been won, I may almost say, in spite of the Emperoi’
of the French. As for the Piedmontese government, it has simply
floated on the summit of the wave, moving with it, but the wave has
advanced by a power within itself. If I should appear to take pains
to establish this, and to direct your attention to it, it is because the con
clusions I would draw concerning the nature of the movement, the great
issues, the vast and lasting changes which I believe it is leading to in
Europe, evidently depend on the fact that it is not stimulated, or
brought about, by any government; but springs from the instincts, or
the ideas, which are in the hearts of the people.
The terms of the alliance between France and Piedmont, as arranged
by Louis Napoleon and Cavour at Plombieres in October, 1858, were
simply an aggrandisement of territory for each: Piedmont to be
aggrandised at the expense of Austria, France to have Savoy and Nice.
Besides this, Prince Napoleon was to marry a Sardinian Princess, as
he did, and in case the Grand Duke of Tuscany, who was an Austrian
Prince, should be dethroned during the war, then Prince Napoleon was
to have the crown of Tuscany. It is true, independence and nationality
for Italy, served as a war-cry against Austria; but the nationality
intended was a sham; it meant merely a federation of States, a sort of
diplomatic league among Italian sovereigns under the Presidency of the
Pope, who would himself necessarily be still under the protection of
the Emperor of the French. And by independence was meant only
independence of Austria, to be purchased by a more humiliating, a
moral as well as material, dependence upon France.
When the war broke out, the national party became for a time, to
a certain extent, disorganised. Cavour, dreading any independent
revolutionary action by this party in Italy during the war; dreading
lest the cry of unity should be raised, which, in the councils of the
Piedmontese Government and in the ministerial organs of the press,
was condemned at the time as a cry subversive of European order,
invited Garibaldi to act under the King; permitting him to summon
volunteers, and promising that he should have the command of 30,000,
�Peace of Villafranca,
25
if so many obeyed his call. More than that number flocked to Piedmont
from different parts of northern and central Italy, generally in the
hope of serving under him. Of these, however, he was allowed to have
about 3,000 only, without cavalry or artillery. The rest were sent
to the depots of the regular’army in Piedmont, and took no part in the
war. But thus a portion of the enthusiastic youth—the revolutionary
element in fact—-was removed from the cities of northern and central
Italy.
The Italian people generally, and indeed many of the national party,
at the outset, applauded this war, and this alliance; influenced at the
moment, I think, less by any thought whether the alliance or protection
of a foreign despot was likely to lead either to independance or liberty,
than by an intense hatred of Austria. Mazzini protested against the
alliance, but at the same time, he prepared to ward off the danger it
might bring, and to turn the opportunity for acting, which it afforded, to
good account. A secret committee of the national party already existed at
Florence, composed of Dolfi, a baker, whose name was often mentioned
in our papers at that time; a man of immense influence -with the
Florentine people; Piero Cironi, a well-known literary man, and two or
three .others. This committee wrote to Mazzini in England, immediately
the war broke out, telling him that Tuscany was ripe for revolution and
asking for his counsel—I am telling you now something of the inner life
of the movement—Mazzini, in reply, advised them to promote revolution
by all means, only to be careful that nothing was done, no cry raised,
which could possibly serve as a pretext to Louis Napoleon for saying
that the people of Tuscany were willing to accept his cousin as their
Prince. Thus this danger was guarded against from the commence
ment ; and, when the Grand Duke fled from Tuscany, the scheme of
placing Prince Napoleon on the vacant throne, was defeated by the
resolute attitude of the population.
It may be doubted if Louis Napoleon ever intended to drive the
Austrians out of Italy, but, probably, the conclusion of peace was
hastened by his finding that his cousin had but little prospect of an
Italian throne ; and that revolution was extending into the Roman States.
Indeed, he frankly declared afterwards at Paris to the ambassadors and
great bodies of the state, when they met to thank him for the restoration
of peace, that he concluded it in order to avoid the dangerous co-opera
tion of the revolution.
The position of Austria in Italy was not really weakened by this war;
she lost only a part of Lombardy, with the city of Milan—an open
country with a large city containing a hostile population, which, in a
military sense, were only an embarrassment. Thus the direct conse
quence of the war and the alliance with the Emperor of the French,
amounted to but a small gain for Piedmont; especially as the cession of
Savoy and Nice was afterwards sternly exacted according to the original
compact. But there was an indirect consequence of immense value ;
a consequence which was never intended by Louis Napoleon, and for
which, therefore, no debt of gratitude was due. Revolution had been
suffered to raise its head in Tuscany and the legations; free popular
action had commenced, and here was a field for the national party
to work unon. After the peace of Villafranca this party began to
�26
Party of Action.
reorganise itself, and Garibaldi and Mazzini once more to act together.
In answer to a letter from Mazzini about this time, Garibaldi wrote:—.
“ Hence forward let us work together as brother and brother.” And
they have done so.
Throughout all the subsequent events there has been going on a con
stant struggle, more or less beneath the surface, between the policy of
Louis Napoleon on one hand—a policy absolutely adverse to the realisa
tion of unity—and, on the other, the irresistible aspirations of the
Italian people in that direction; guided and inspired still by the same
party, for the most part even by the same men, that had been working
for unity from the commencement.
I think it will help you to understand the events that followed the
peace of Villafranca, if I describe more clearly than I have done, the
two great Italian parties. Each of them has always acted under the
influence of one dominant idea, and a knowledge of this, affords the key
to all their policy. The national party, or, as it began to be called at
this time, the party of action,—but I must pause for a moment to ex
plain this change of name. When the Piedmontese government and the
moderate party gave the name of nationality to their project of a league
among Italian princes or a federation of states, and especially when
some of this party, going further, accepted, as a theory, but -without
acting for it, the doctrine that Italy might become one nation, the true
national party began to distinguish itself by this new name. Thus it was
first the Giovine Italia, then the national party, and, during the last few
years, the party of action; by which name I shall in future call it. For
thirty years then, this party has worked unceasingly to make Italy one
and independent; and although the members of the party are thoroughly
democratic in principle and feeling, all question of the form of govern
ment—republican or monarchical—is kept secondary or subservient to
the accomplishment of this great aim of unity.
The dominant idea which has always influenced the policy of the
moderate party, may be defined to be—Hostility to revolution; that
is to say, hostility to free popular action, to any movement not initiated
or controlled by some established government. The shifting policy of
this party in regard to the question of nationality, is to be accounted
for by its consistent adherence to this dominant idea. Thus in 1848
and 1849, when unity meant revolution throughout Italy, it condemned
and opposed this doctrine, and counselled the governments to grant
reforms and constitutions as the surest way of warding off revolution.
In 1860, the moderate party, as we shall see, definitively proclaimed
its adherence to the programme of unity; but still a spirit of hostility
to all free popular movements had much to do -with this decision; for
Garibaldi had just revolutionised Southern Italy in the name of unity,
and it was only by taking possession as it were of Garibaldi’s banner,
that the control of the movement could be transferred from him to the
Piedmontese Government, and so completed, if completed at all, by
the government and not by popular and revolutionary action. This
party represents generally aristocratic and conservative interests, and
its hostility to revolution is chiefly based on a dread of the democratic
tendency of popular movements. But its numbers and its strength
are augmented by all the timid and the indolent throughout the country,
�Policy of the Moderates.
27
and it finds adherents too wherever there exists a remnant of that old
stain upon the Italian character—the preference for working by crooked
ways, by statesmanship and cunning rather than by courage, through
others rather than by oneself.
Between these two parties, inclining sometimes to one, sometimes to
the other, there is the multitude, with the instinct of national unity in
their hearts, and with tendencies generous and good, as the multitude
always has, but wavering and uncertain; capable of being roused into
enthusiasm and heroism by the party of action, or lulled into apathy by
the soporific influence of the moderates.
To return now to the state of Italy after the peace of Villafranca.
The policy then adopted by the party of action was this :—to persuade or
to compel Victor Emanuel to co-operate with them for unity. Mazzini
published a letter to him immediately after the peace. He exhorted him
to continue the war against Austria, and, in place of the alliance of
Louis Napoleon which he had lost, to accept the alliance of twenty-six
millions of Italians. He said, “You have but to utter one word—unity;
and you have them with you sublime in enthusiasm, faith, and action.”
He assured Victor Emanuel that five hundred thousand volunteers would
flock to his standard, and he said, “If you have a soul capable of loving
or understanding the Italian people, you know that you may trust to
their gratitude for your reward.”
Soon afterwards—to encourage the king to enter on this path—the
populations of Tuscany and the Legations voted their annexation to
Piedmont.
1
The first project of the party of action after the peace of Villafranca,
was to spread revolution throughout the Roman and Neapolitan states,
by the passage of Garibaldi at the head of his volunteers from the Lega
tions southward. This was the project of Mazzini, who was there in
Italy, unseen, but organising and influencing all; he sent arms to
Ancona, and prepared insurrection there and in Sicily, the signal foi
*
whose outbreak was to be the advance of Garibaldi. The Italian hero
and his volunteers entered into the project with enthusiasm. Ricasoli
and Farini, then at the head of the provisional governments in Tuscany
and the Legations,—it was just before the annexation of those provinces
—yielded a reluctant consent, and they required that Mazzini himself
should not come forward. On the eve of his advance Garabaldi was
stopped by an order from the king.
In the following year, 1860, Mazzini planned and prepared the
Sicilian insurrection; though he remained in the back ground during the
movement that followed, because it was thought that by coming for
ward, he would increase the risk of open hostility from the Emperor of
the French. Sicily was chosen as the scene for initiating a general move
ment having Italian unity for its scope. Rosolino Pilo and Crispi were
the principal agents in organising the insurrection; both were Sicilian
refugees; they went disguised from England to Sicily for the purpose,
and the former was in effect the chief of the insurrection until Garibaldi
arrived. He was killed just before the taking of Palermo., The plan of
the intended movement was this:—“It was proposed that revolution, be
ginning in Sicily, should pass thence into the kingdom of Naples; all
Southern Italy once gained over to the national cause through popular
�28
Sicilian Insurrection—Garibaldi lands.
action, the Venetian states would be attached by sea and land, in concert
with internal insurrection. It was hoped that Victor Emanuel would
be then forced to cast in his lot unreservedly -with the Italian people,
lest he should lose the prospect of the Italian crown; and the people of
the North and South thus united, would say to Louis Napoleon, “ Now
deliver up our capital. You may remember how the Sicilian insurrection,
which broke out prematurely, maintained itself for about six weeks un
til Garibaldi landed at Marsala from G-enoa with just a thousand volun
teers. On his march towards Palermo he first encountered four thou
sand Neapolitans whom he defeated at Calatafimi. His little force was
then joined by two or three thousand of the insurgents under Posilino
Pilo. As he advanced towards Palermo, an army of twelve thousand
men issued forth to meet him; and here Garibaldi made use of a strata
gem which just illustrates his genius. Out of the direct road to Palermo,
a road branches off leading to the mountains and the ulterior of the
island; but Garibaldi knew that out of this road, at a distance of some
twenty or thirty miles, there branched another which returned to Palermo
on the other side. Instead of meeting the twelve thousand Neapolitans,
Garibaldi took the road leading into the interior, and they immediately
followed in pursuit of him. When he arrived at the branch road which
led back to Palermo, he with his little army turned into that, sending on
his artillery, however—he had two guns—still upon the road into the
interior. The twelve thousand Neapolitans, following the track of the
guns and other signs of the march of troops which were purposely placed
to mislead them, went on into the interior; and were still pursuing these
two guns, thinking they had Garibaldi before them, after he was in
possession of Palermo. By this stratagem he got rid of nearly half of
the garrison of the city.
’
At Palermo, Garibaldi was soon joined by thousands of volunteers
from Northern Italy. With nearly thirty thousand men he arrived at
the Straits of Messina, and gained another battle over a Neapolitan
army at Milazzo. But the Piedmontese Government dreaded the
spreading of revolution, and made an effort to prevent Garibaldi from
crossing into Naples. Victor Emanuel himself wrote to him desiring
him not to cross, while at the same time severe measures were taken
to prevent anymore volunteers from embarking in the ports of Northern
Italy. Garibaldi, however, was firm, and crossed the Straits.
From Calabria he advanced without resistance to Naples. The
Neapolitan soldiers on his road seemed awe-struck. As the vanguard
of the volunteer army approached, bodies of troops joined in the shout
—“Viva l’Italia! Viva Garibaldi!” and eithei' fraternised with the
volunteers or retired and let them pass. Once, a few officers, Mario,
Missouri, and some others, miles in advance of their army, came sud
denly upon a force of six thousand Neapolitans. They expected to be
made prisoners, but they cried—“ Viva l’ltalia ! Viva Garibaldi! ” There
was magic in the sound. Six thousand, men laid down their arms, and
the shout—“Viva Garibaldi! Viva l’ltalia!” was echoed to the skies
*
One may almost imagine that these men heard the voices of the martyrs
who for so many years had been dying for the great hope of national
unity, saying to them, '“ Ye, also, are Italians : stand by ; let Italy’s
deliverer pass!”
�His Victories.
29
The King dared not wait for his approach, but fled from Naples to
Capua-, taking with him the remains of his army, about forty thousand
men.
What military pomp, what glitter of royal ceremonial, can compare
with the glory of that heart-felt enthusiasm which saluted the entrance
of Garibaldi into Naples ! He came worn and ragged; his army was
miles behind ; he was accompanied only by half-a-dozen officers as
ragged as himself. No glittering epaulets, gold lace, or plumes. But
the Neapolitans beheld him in his old red shirt with a radiance around
him ; he was encircled to their eyes by the bright and glorious aureole
of the Italian idea.
Soon afterwards, on the 1st October, was fought the battle of Maddalena, or of the Volturno, near Capua. There eighteen thousand volun
teers completely defeated the entire army of the King of Naples. The
battle was obstinate and bloody ; it lasted from dawn till evening. In the
army of the King of Naples remained his choicest soldiers. There were
his guards and his Swiss battalions ; and Garibaldi said of them after the
battle, that they fought better than he had ever seen French or Austrians
fight. It was the last battle of this marvellous campaign. The original
plan of the movement, as it was projected when the Sicilian insurrection
was prepared, had so far been carried out precisely as it had been in
tended, but it was only half completed; and now it was arrested; not
by the force of the King of Naples—his last effort in the field was made
at the Volturno, and ho could only hold out for a time at Gaeta or in
other fortresses ; not by the power of Austria or of France ; but by the
Piedmontese government and the moderate party, simply through fear
of the democratic tendencies inherent in popular insurrections and in
these volunteer forces.
I have told you how Cavour tried to dissuade Garibaldi from crossing
the straits into the kingdom of Naples. Failing in this, he foresaw
that Garibaldi would triumph throughout the South, and would advance
through the Roman States along the shores of the Adriatic to Venetia.
Then Piedmont would be forced into war with Austria, not in alliance
with a foreign power, but in alliance with the revolution. At all risks
he determined to avoid this ; he hated or feared the revolution more
than Austria. Fie took a bold step ; he resolved to anticipate Garibaldi
and. the revolution, and to occupy the ground before them, by sending
a Piedmontese army into the Roman provinces on the Adriatic, so to
enter the north of the Neapolitan kingdom. The diplomatic documents
of the time show the motives by which Cavour professed to be influenced
in explaining the step to the French Emperor. Baron Talleyrand, the
French Ambassador at Turin, reporting a conversation with Cavour,
thus repeats his words :—“ If we are not in Umbria and the Marches
bexore Garibaldi we are lost; the revolution will invade central Italy :
we are forced to act.” And Thouvenel, the French Minister, in a
diplomatic circular of the I Sth October, thus reports Cavour’s own
exposition of his motives, made to the Emperor at Chambery, by the
Italian envoy Farini:—
e< Signor Farini has explained to the Emperor the very embarrassing
and dangerous position in which the triumph of the revolution, to a
certain extent personified in Garibaldi, threaten to place the Govern-
�Cavour sends an Army to the South—His Motive.
ment of his Sardinian Majesty. Garibaldi was on the point of freely
traversing the Roman states, raising the populations as he went, and,
had he once passed that frontier, it would have been impossible to
prevent an attack upon Venice. The Government of Turin had but one
mode left open to it to prevent that eventuality, and that was to enteri
the Marches and Umbria as soon as the approach of Garibaldi had
pioduced disturbance there, and then advancing, without infringing on
the authority of the Pope, to give battle, if it should be necessary, to the
revolution in the Neapolitan territory. Afterwards to request a con
gress to decide upon the destinies of Italy.”
ko, you see, this army which was sent to invade the Roman provinces
and enter the kingdom of Naples, was sent not so much for the sake of
completing Garibaldi s victories—Cavour did not doubt his triumphant
advance—as to supersede him and the revolution ; to give battle to him
if he persisted. Garibaldi yielded, as he afterwards told Cavour in the
chamber at Turin, to avoid the risk of civil war; and retired broken
hearted to his little Island of Caprera. He was even insulted by the
offer of pensions and a dukedom; it seemed as if the men of the govern
ment were as incapable of understanding him as of imitating him. The
remnant of his glorious and now veteran army of volunteers dispei'sed.
Apostles of an idea, they had fought neither for gold, nor a decoration,
nor the smile of a prince. On the long road from Marsala to the
Volturno how many of them had fallen 1 At Calatafimi, Palermo,
Melazzo, and on the Volturno. When, after his last battle, Garibaldi
decreed a medal for the thousand who started with him from Genoa,
little more than four hundred were found alive to receive it.
Before Garibaldi gave place to the royal army and the royal govern
ment, he. did the best he could, however, to place the King under a
moral obligation to continue and complete the work himself, in which
he was thus superseding his, Garibaldi’s, own action. The election
of the King by the population of the South was certain, Garibaldi had
inscribed the name of Victor Emanuel on his bannei’ in association with
that of Italy. Now he took care that the form of the plebiscite should
be no unconditional election; no mere annexation of the South to the
Kingdom of Piedmont. The form was as follows :—We vote that Italy
be one and indivisible, with Victor Emanuel and his descendents for
constitutional kings. This clearly signified that the South united with
the North under his rule, in order to accumulate the force of twentytwo millions of Italians in his hands, and render him strong enough to
make Italy, one, by driving the Austrians from Venice, and the
French from Rome.
When Cavour, in the Parliament at Turin, announced the King’s
acceptance of this vote, he for the first time proclaimed the adhesion of
the Government to the principle of unity; but while doing so, there
w’as some sign of evading the obligation of practically completing this
unity ; for he said that wai’ for the Venetia would at that moment be
displeasing to the great powers, and that, though Rome would, no doubt
be theirs, it must be with the consent of the Emperor of the French.
I do not condemn Cavour that, up to this period, he, or the Pied
montese government, did not work for unity. True nationality resides
in the hearts of a people, and the effort to constitute themselves as one
�Cavour’s Policy.
31
State should come from them, and be the expression of their conscious
ness that they form together one collective life. If this movement for
unity had been fomented by a Prince or his minister, it would have
sunk from being the assertion of a right, and from the dignity of a
principle, into the vulgar wickedness of royal ambition and State
aggrandisement. But though a Prince cannot initiate a truly national
movement, he may obey the call of a people whose aspiration to
national existence is manifest, and help them in the struggle : and I
do condemn Cavour that, after 1860, when the king might have said to
European Governments:—“Behold, I am not led by ambition; I but
obey the call of the Italian people : ”—he then evaded or indefinitely
postponed the fulfilment of the implied condition of Victor Emanuel’s
election. I know it may be argued with some show of reason that
postponement might be the wisest course, the surest path to eventual
success. But then it should have been postponement for a few months
only, postponement for the sake of preparation. Whereas Cavour,
instead of arming the country, encouraging the formation of more
volunteer forces, making all possible naval and military preparations,
showed the old spirit of subserviency to Louis Napoleon, and distrust
of the Italian people generally, but especially of all those who had
been instrumental in the revolutionary changes that had made Victor
Emanuel already king of three-fourths of Italy.
It is a common mistake in England to suppose that Cavour worked
for the unity of Italy ; and, as he represented the influence and action
of the Piedmontese Government, it is important to correct this mistake.
It originated, I imagine, in this way :—After the banner of unity had
proved in the hands of Garibaldi to be that of victory, and the
Piedmontese Government accepted it as their own; the moderate party
and the members of the Government, in their eagerness to identify
themselves with this banner, began to speak and write of it as if it
had long 1 epresented their aspirations and their aim. This tone was
natural enough, and to be expected, in the ministerial press of Italy;
but it was curious to observe how an influential portion of our own
pi ess blindly followed the example; and many of our newspaper
correspondents in Italy adopted this tone after 1860, whose letters of a
year or two before remained to show, that, at that time, it never
occurred to them to connect the policy of Piedmont, or of Cavour, with
what they then still considered a dangerous and Mazzinian Utopia.
The truth is, that, up to I860, the policy of Cavour, as far as it
extended to Italy generally, was in favour of a settlement of the
countiy on the basis of a federation of States; and whenever he
spoke of Italian nationality, he meant no more than this. Indeed, at
the Congress of Paris, in 1856, he proposed a still further division of
Italy,.by forming the Legations into an eighth Italian State. His great
ambition, and his aim, almost from his first becoming minister, had
merely been to form Piedmont into a kingdom of Northern Italy by the
acquisition of Lombardy, and, perhaps, some further aggrandisement at
the expense of Austria. And, to carry out this aim, he had always
looked to the help of France. It was but a repetition of the old policy
begun by Ludovico Sforza, imitated by many Italian statesmen, and
condemned by almost every historian—that of bringing in the French
�32
Cavour's Policy.
against the Germans. This help, of course he knew, was to be pur
chased only by concessions, either to France or to the Imperial Family J
and it was at length so purchased in 1859. Two years previously, he
had encouraged intrigues and conspiracies for revolutionising Naples,
and placing a Murat on the throne ; always with a view of obtaining
the favour of the Emperor of the French ; and the proposal to form the
Legations into a separate State, was probably made with the idea of
giving a throne to a Buonapartist Prince.
One circumstance alone seems to connect Cavour’s policy with a
thought of unity. He was supposed to give secret encouragement
to a society called the National Society, formed in Piedmont two or
three years before the war, by La Farini and a few of the more
advanced moderates. This association acquired some importance
by enrolling Garibaldi for a short time among its members, though
he separated from it after the peace at Villafranca. Its programme
may be. thus described:—Independence, Unification. The substitution
of the latter' word for unity, signifying that Italy was to be made
one as by some agency acting upon her; it pointed to the exclusion
of revolutionary or popular action in the work, and implied rather
the operation of regular armies. The idea of the association appeared
to be the extension of Piedmont, little by little, as any combination
in European politics might give help from without. Such support as
Cavour gave to this association was no doubt given in part because it
opposed Mazzini’s teaching of popular action ; and also because, in case
the tendency to unity proved a reality, it would attract that tendency to
Piedmont as a centre. Still, not only his avowed policy, but his actual
efforts were directed to a settlement of Italy as a federation of States.
And it is remarkable that after Garibaldi was in Sicily, at the time when
Cavour hoped he would not extend the revolution beyond that Island,
negociations were going on between the Piedmontese and Neapolitan
governments for a settlement of Italy as three States ; a kingdom of the
North, one of the South, and the papacy in the centre; with some sort
of federation or alliance between the three. I confess, my own opinion
is that Cavour was one of the last among the Italians to acquire faith
in the achievement of unity. He represented essentially the views and
feelings of the moderate party; and the leaders of that party, material
ists themselves, without enthusiasm, love, or genius, were slow to believe
in the devotion of the multitude to a grand and unselfish idea. Cavoufll
had faith in the power of interests rather than ideas ; and was not the
man to devote the energies of a life to realise a great conception of uni
certain practicability. And when the events of 18G0 had convinced the
most sceptical that unity was the true goal of the movement, instead of
looking to means corresponding in grandeur with the aim, instead of
stimulating the enthusiasm and developing all the powers of the country,
his plan for working in the direction of that aim, was a revival of the
French alliance against Austria of 1859. In the meantime he tried to
lull the people into inertness by vain hopes, teaching them that if they
remained tranquil all might be done for them by their great protector^
Negociations were undoubtedly going on continually for such an alli
ance ; the terms discussed were a cession of the island of Sardinia, and
co-operation with France in a war for the provinces on the Rhine in
�Party of Action in the Italian Chamber.
33
case Prussia came to the aid of Austria ; as Prussia probably would do
if Austria were attacked in Italy by the French. Such negociations
might or might not have come to any thing, they terminated at the
death of Cavour; though subsequent Italian ministers have been
inclined to the same policy.
Even if independence of Austria could be thus achieved, what wellwisher to the Italians would desire it? Independence and unity for
Italy form one of those aims whose value depends upon the manner of
achieving it. The limbs might be put together; the form might be
complete in all its fair proportions, and Italy remain a corpse. The
consciousness of independence, the sense of theii’ own power and dignity,
all that constitutes a nation’s life—the spirit that should animate the
body—might yet be wanting. I confess, for my own part, had I the
power now by merely opening my hand, to give the Italians at once a
complete and independent national existence, I would not do it. For
their own sakes, and because I wish them well, I would not do it. Let
them win it for themselves. Let them obey God’s law—fulfil the duty
first, then enter on the enjoyment of the right.
When the Giovine Italia first raised the banner of unity, their expec
tation of practical success was logically founded on the conviction that
a people of twenty-six millions can be independent and united, if they
resolutely will it. During a long apostleship of thirty years, they have
striven by precept and example to rouse the Italians to a new life of
enthusiasm and energy. They intended that the Italians should deserve
and become fitted for national existence by the very struggle to obtain
it. I remember in one of his earliest addresses to his disciples, the
founder of the Gio vine Italia thus wrote :—
“ Think how grand,, how religious, and holy, is the work that God
confides to us ; the creation of a people! It never can be done by
crooked ways, or court intrigues ; nor by doctrines invented just to meet
the circumstances of the moment; but only by long struggles, by the
living example of austere virtue set to the multitude, by resolutely and
unceasingly teaching the truth, by the boldness of faith, by the expen
diture of our blood, and by such a solemn, undying, never-failing
enthusiasm, as should be stronger than any suffering or misfortune
that can afflict the heart of man.”
Who can dispute either in a practical or a moral sense the soundness
of this teaching ? Who can deny that it was the very way to accomplish
unity ? And even whenever the monarchy and its regular forces have
come in and taken part, it has been because the people were acting
without them.
When the North and South were first united under the sceptre of
Victor Emanuel, the party of action had resolved to give the monarchy
a fair trial as a means of completing unity. In assembling the first
Italian Parliament, Cavour applied to the elections for Italy the electoral
suffrage in use in Piedmont. This suffrage is so narrow that probably,
on the average, the sitting members have not polled more than three
hundred votes apiece. The use of this suffrage, together with the exer
tion of Government influence, had the effect pf introducing into the
chamber a large majority of the moderate party. This result was
assisted Ho doubt by the fact that the candidates of this party were as
D
�34
Attempt on the Venetia stopped.
loud in their expressions of devotion to unity during the elections, as
if they had been working for it all their lives. Thus a state of things
which had been brought about by the people acting under the influence
of the party of action, was to be regulated in its development by the
moderate party ; and here was an inevitable source of future discord and
confusion. Nevertheless the party of action, represented by about a
sixth of the entire chamber, acted loyally, and laboured constitutionally
to obtain the arming of the country, and a development of all its powers
to bring to a completion the great national work. First, they endea
voured to obtain the introduction into Italy of a system of militia,
resembling that in Switzerland ; where, out of a population of a million
and a half, it supplies two hundred and fifty thousand armed and trained
men. It would have given more than two millions in Italy. Failing in
this, they struggled for permission to form volunteer regiments as in
England. But these and other efforts which they made for arming the
people were all made in vain; and even the regular army was but very
gradually and slowly increased.
When the party of action, after nearly two years of patient trial,
found that the monarchy would not spontaneously continue the move
ment, it turned again to work out its mission in tho old way. Prepara
tions were made in the spring of 1862, for a movement in the Tyrol,
and the Italian provinces of Austria. Insurrection and an invasion of
volunteers were to take place at once. Some twenty or thirty thousand
volunteers would have entered those provinces at four different points,
and communications were established with Hungarian troops in Italy.
While these preparations were in progress, both Mazzini and Garibaldi
appealed to Rattazzi, then Minister,—the one appealing to him in
writing from England, the other personally—in this sense:—They
entreated him not to check such a movement, if only in the interest of
the monarchy itself. A Government, they said, based upon a half
accomplished revolution, cannot remain secure if it ceases to identify
itself with the aim of the revolution ; and the continued postponement
of any preparation for accomplishing this aim, must eventually lead to
anarchy and civil discord. They promised him that if the attempt
should fail, the party of action would take the whole responsibility,
and the Government should not be compromised; but that if the
insurrection maintained itself successfully for two or three weeks, the
Italian Government could then step in, and the leadership of the war
with Austria should be abandoned to it. Rattazzi seemed half to
acquiesce.
Before these preparations were mature, all was stopped by the Italian
Government. It was said, and probably with reason, that Louis Na- 1
poleon, informed of what was going on by his spies or those of Austria,
sent orders to Ratazzi to do so. Volunteers were flocking towards the
Austrian frontier’ in small separate bands. Suddenly, four hundred
were arrested at once at Sarnico ; others at Brescia. Two officers,
Colonels Nullo and Catabene, were arrested in the presence of Gari
baldi, who had just arrived at Sarnico himself. It was during an
impulse of indignation at this check, which he imputed to the orders or
the influence of the Emperor of the French, that Garibaldi went to
Sicily, and commenced the movement against Rome which terminated
at Aspramonte.
�Garibaldi prepares to move on Rome.
85
When Garibaldi conceived this project of attaking the French in
Rome, Mazzini was not at hand to counsel him; and when he wrote
from Sicily to Mazzini in England, to say what he was doing, the latter
answered:—“ You know I thought it would be wiser to organise a new
attempt on the Venetia rather than to move on Rome, but now you
have raised the cry, ‘ Rome or Death,’ and the people of Sicily have
responded to it, we must go on. I am with you with my whole heart,
and hope to meet you at Naples.” He left England and was already
in Italy, on his way to join Garibaldi, when he heard of the disaster at
Aspramonte.
No doubt this enterprise of Garibaldi was imprudent. What then ?
Have not all freedom’s battles been fought against fearful odds ? Had
not Greece a hopeless cause against Persia ; has not Poland against
Russia ? But however imprudent this enterprise may have been, it was
not so desperate as our newspapers seemed to think it. It was under
taken in the hope that the Italian army would refuse to act against
him. Nor was this hope altogether unreasonable, for until he reached
Aspramonte, it had refused to do so ; and the regiments which acted
then, had been selected and brought from Northern Italy on purpose.
If he had approached Naples, that city would undoubtedly have declared
for him. Then, the country with him, and the army not against him,
the king must have changed his ministers and joined him too. There
would have been people, army, prince,—all the powers of the country
combined in the great enterprise. When Garibaldi found the troops
prepared to act, his hope of success was extinguished in a moment; he
never dreamt of civil war. And what can be grander than his majestic
figure when he was a target for the bullets of the royal soldiers, and
exclaiming to his volunteers “ Non fate fuoco ? ”
I must say I rejoiced to see that in judging this attempt, public opinion
in England, after vibrating for a few days, took the nobler side. Let a
man conquer, thousands glorify his name, be his cause divine or devilish;
but most among us visited with our sympathies the conquered, the
wounded, the imprisoned. We told the down-fallen that he was still a
hero for all who love a righteous cause.
Under the Government of the Italian kingdom—a kingdom brought
into existence by the movement for unity—a Government identifying
itself by its professions with this principle—we see the two men who
have been the Apostle and the Warrior of the movement; one an exile,
the other wounded.
And in my opinion, the policy of tbe Government, or the moderate
party, is as unwise as it is ungenerous. The national movement is from
its nature essentially democratic in every country; it is the first great
step on the true path of democratic progress in Europe ; but when
Mazzini, after the peace of Villafranca, invited the King to identify
himself unreservedly with the national aspiration; when Garibaldi a
year afterwards dragged him into connexion with it, by coupling the
name of Victor Emanuel with that of Italy in all his proclamations in
Sicily and Naples, they were drawing him into the only path for the
safety of his throne. Mazzini told him the truth when he said:—“If
you have a soul capable of loving or understanding the Italian people,
you know you may trust to their gratitude for your reward,”
D 2
�36
Future Prospects of the Italian Movement.
I imagine your sympathies have been raised during this narrative in
favour of the party of action ; and this, not merely because in this party
has resided the whole initiative of the movement, but because it includes
all that is most generous and manly among the Italians; all that gives
hope of the uprising of that people to a nobler character and a better
life. And this party in Italy is but the type of such parties which exist
elsewhere. In Poland, it has suffered as in Italy; in Hungary too ;
wherever this national aspiration exists, or is growing up, such a party
is formed or forming. Its members are the three hundred of Ther
mopylae; the forlorn hope of the movement.
In every country the many, high or low, rich or poor, are incapable
of sustained devotion to an unselfish object. For the poor, there are
daily wants, and daily wants are selfish counsellors ; the rich are often
frivolous, corrupt, and sensual. The many may be roused from time to
time into enthusiasm and heroism, but they sink again into intervals of
apathy and inertness. The party of action represents in each country
the sustained, unflagging, active devotion to the cause. Theirs is not
merely the courage of the warrior, which has led them often, few in
number, badly armed, undisciplined, to confront numerous and disci
plined legions; but the courage of the apostle; the devotion to a
cherished faith, which lias led them to encounter imprisonment, exile,
death—and death called ignominious—by the executioner or the hang
man, even before their cause was thought noble by the many. When
unsustained by applause or sympathy, they suffered, supported only by
the conscience, and by the glorious faith, >that the truth they proclaimed,
however condemned it might be then as a folly or A, sin, would one day
triumph ; the seed they died to sow, sooner or later, would bear fruit.
In regard to the future prospects of the Italian struggle, it would, of
course, be idle to speculate beyond the anticipation of certain general
results. I have no doubt, however, that the party of action will, before
long, succeed in producing a movement in the Venetia and the Italian
Tyrol, which will drag the government into war with Austria. A war
so initiated, would be a war by the Italian people, not for themselves
alone, but in the name of the principle of nationality ; and would
necessarily be carried on in alliance with what is called the revolution.
There would be insurrection in Hungary; perhaps in other parts of the
Austrian Empire. The movement in Poland would revive; and the
three nationalities which are preparing to rise upon the ruins of the
Turkish Empire, would probably begin the struggle. These three
nationalities are—the Greek, which would extend beyond the limits of
the present kingdom ; a Roumaine nationality, forming round the
Danubian principalities, and which ought to take in some territory
belonging now both to Russia and to Austria; and a Sclave nationality
of which Servia would be the. nucleus.
The leaders of the national parties in all these countries are in com
munication with each other, and a general and simultaneous movement
has been for some time in contemplation. It was the knowledge that
such a movement was preparing, which induced the Russian government
to order the forced levy in Poland in the beginning of last year, which
drove the party of action in that country into a premature and separate
insurrection, Many circumstances combined with the want of prepara-
�^^Future Prospects of the Italian Movement.
37
tion to prevent the example of Poland from being followed at the 'time.
Among these were the slowness of Garibaldi’s recovery, which made it
impossible for him, last summer, to take part in a campaign ; and the
prudent attitude of neutrality assumed at first by Austria towards Poland,
which assisted the moderates of Hungary in checking insurrection in
that country.
The result of such a war by the Italians against Austria for the
Venetia, can scarcely, I think, be doubted. Austria is strong in a con
test with any great military power ; in such a contest her armies will
hold together, and the question of success becomes little else than a dry
calculation of mere material elements; the comparative strength of the
artillery, and the numbers of the men, who are influenced on one side
by no higher motive than on the other, and are scarcely less machines
than the muskets that they bear. But Austria is weak against insur
rection of her own subjects; then there are moral elements at work,
which give enthusiasm to one side and paralyse the other. For evi
dence of this, we need but compare the power she displayed, in 1859,
against France and Piedmont, with her feebleness in 1848, in the contest
with popular insurrection in Hungary and the Lombardo-Venetian pro
vinces. But, besides all the power of revolution, of volunteer forces, and
popular insurrection, there is now a regular force of three hundred thou
sand soldiers at the disposal of the Italian Government; and, large as is
the army of Austria, still, from the extent of her dominions, no part of
which can be denuded of troops, she never has been able to bring more
than one hundred and seventy or one hundred and eighty thousand men
into Italy.
Perhaps it may be asked;—If the Italian Government disposes of an
army capable of carrying on war successfully for the. Venetia, why
should it be assumed that the initiation of the war will come from the
party of action, instead of from the Government? The answer to such
a question may be found in much I have already said, but, at the risk
of repetition, I reply:—The Italian Government, by postponing any
advance for four years, has not only shown that it has not the desire to
advance, but may be said to have lost the right to do so. The king is
bound by his relations with other governments, and it is only under
manifest pressure from his subjects that he has a right to act.
Without such pressure, it would be but a war of aggression, and a viola
tion of treaties on his part; and the government of Victoi Emanuel has
*
now contrived to keep his subjects tranquil for four years without either
Rome or Venice. In the meantime, it has accepted—and with rejoicing,
too—the recognition of his dominions, as they are, from France, Russia,
and other Powers ; this recognition being given, professedly, on the
supposition that the government would not attempt to extend those
dominions. The attitude of the moderate party, which holds the reins
of government, is now what it has always been. It opposes every
attempt to advance, but whenever insurrection succeeds and an advance
is made, it advances too, in ordei' to secure what is gained to the mo
narchical interest; then its opposition is directed against the next step.
And now both the practical and moral requirements of the problem
demand that a fresh initiative of action should come from the people.
Of course the result of such a war would depend much upon the
t
�38
Louis Napoleon’s Position in Italy.
neutrality of the Emperor of the French. But so long as the Italians
made no attack on Rome, he could scarcely find a pretext for acting
against them; and Austria once driven out of Italy, or weakened by
internal revolution, they might turn to Louis Napoleon, and treat with
him on a footing of equality for the evacuation of their capital. Let the
Italians but have a chance of taking their two enemies in turn, and if
they do not win their national existence, they do not deserve it. The
power of either France or Austria to retain its hold on Italy, is derived
from the presence of the other in the country.
My sketch of the Italian question would be incomplete, did I not
devote a few words expressly to an estimate of the past and present
attitude of Louis Napoleon towards Italy. And whether I look to the
past, or endeavour to raise the veil of the future, the Emperor of the
French appears always to me the worst enemy of Italian unity, indepen
dence, and liberty. The Emperor of Austria and the Italian Princes
inherited their positions in Italy. In struggling to maintain their power,
they have been defending what they considered rights. They have been
the necessary and open enemies of the national movement, which grew
up among the Italians always with a knowledge that these enemies must
be encountered and overcome. But Louis Napoleon created his position
in Italy for purposes of his own ambition : he came, a new, unexpected,
unprovoked enemy.
Those among the Italians, whose policy it has been, of late years, to
persuade their countrymen that he is at heart not unfriendly to the
Italian cause, generally assert that he is not altogether responsible for
the restoration of the Papal Government, in 1849 ; they say, too, that
Austria might have restored it if he had not; and then they point
triumphantly to Solferino and Magenta. These views have even some
times found an echo in England. Now, the expedition to Rome was
sent in consequence of an agreement entered into with the Pope by the
French Government—Louis Napoleon being President of the Republic—
that the Papal sovereignty should be re-established. The Roman Re
public was destroyed as a preliminary step to the destruction of that of
France; French soldiers were to be taught at Rome to fire upon a
republican flag; and Louis Napoleon was sagacious enough to foresee
that the Papacy, restored by him, would be for ever dependent on him
for its existence at Rome; and might become a great power in his
hands, both to forward his designs on the French crown, and for future
influence in Europe. Nor was therein Italy, at the time of the French
invasion, any power that was capable, as far as we can judge, of over
throwing the infant republic of Rome. You may remember, I told you
that the Romans, so far from fearing Austria, were making preparations,
before the French invasion, to take the offensive against her, and to
send an army to act in concert with the Venetians, and with renewed
popular insurrection in Lombardy. Even during the armistice with the
French, the triumvirs appealed to Oudinot to make the armistice certain
for fifteen days—it could be broken at twenty-four hours’ notice—that
their forces might go out from Rome and give battle to the Austrians.!
“ If you will grant this,” said the triumvirs, “ we are convinced we shall
as easily drive the Austrians from our territory as we have driven the
Neapolitans.” And there can be little doubt but they would have done
�The Papal Church at Rome.
39
so. We must bear in mind that the Austrian armies always dwindled
as they approached Central Italy; every city taken had to be garrisoned, and the force was but small which was advancing in the Roman
States. Oudinot, however, refused, and a few days afterwards received
an order from Louis Napoleon to put an end to the armistice and take
possession of Rome at once.
Nor was Louis Napoleon more a friend of the Italians in 1859, when
he declared war against Austria in the name of Italian independence—
why did he not make them independent of himself ?—and received gravely
and self-complacently the acclamations of the people, hailing him as their
“Magnanimous Liberator,” than he was in 1849. There is a fable, per
haps familiar to most of you, of a wolf and a shepherd. The wolf,
feeling disposed to vary the mode of his depredations on the sheepfold,
took an opportunity, when the shepherd was asleep, to steal his hat and
cloak, and, putting them on himself, in this costume gained easy access
to the sheepfold. This wolf, I think, must have been at a school kept
by a fox, he was so cunning. But the wolf, though he had on the shep
herd’s cloak, was the wolf still, with all his wolfish instincts; and when
Louis Napoleon, in 1859, put on the hat and the cloak of a “ Magnani
mous Liberator,” he was the same Louis Napoleon, with the same in
stincts and interests of a despot, as when, in 1849, he sent word to
Oudinot to put an end to the armistice and enter Rome.
The national movement never incurred a greater risk of having its
course perverted or arrested for years, than it did in 1859, through that
scheme for a federation of States under the Presidency of the Pope, and
with a Buonapartist Prince on some Italian throne. It would have
been a condemnation to perpetual feebleness and dependence upon Louis
Napoleon. And he now holds the capital of Italy, keeping the country
in confusion and the movement in suspense, stimulating discord, and
striving to keep the Italians in both moral and material weakness.
Connected with the subject of the French occupation, there is a ques
tion which occurs to the minds of most people :—What will become of
the spiritual authority of the Popes in Italy, when the temporal power
falls with the retirement of the French ?
It was always evident that with the realisation of unity, the temporal
sovereignty of the Popes must cease; it did not necessarily follow, how
ever, that the spiritual authority would fall too. But the spiritual
power, as’an influence on the religious feelings and the minds of men,
has long been dying in Italy, whatever may be its prospect of duration
in other countries. If, however, it had any vitality remaining a few
years since, it certainly received its death-blow by the French invasion,
and restoration of the temporal sovereignty. Oudinot took Rome at
the cost, not merely of the blood of three thousand of the noblest,
bravest hearts of Italy, but at the cost of the last chance for the con
tinuance in that country of the spiritual authority of the Popes.
The Papal Church in the Middle Ages, as a religious agency, helped
the nations of Europe in their moral development, awoke in the soul a
feeling of human dignity, protected the humble and defenceless, and
fostered the noblest creations of the human mind in that age; but its
temporal power acted always in an opposite sense. A struggle gradually
ripened between the liberty which the Church herself had fostered in
�40
Conchtding Remarks on the National Idea.
the hearts of Christian peoples, and the local temporal despotism for
which she strove ; till at length, in the sixteenth century, she abandoned and sacrificed her religious mission for the sake of this local
political power; she sought foreign aid to prop it, and the alliance then
commenced between the Papacy and European despotism for mutual
support. From that time, the influence of the Church upon the Italian
people began to decay, and, in 1848, the truth became at once apparent,
that the Papal power in Italy had no hold on the sympathies or real
religious sentiments that were in the hearts of the multitude. Never
did revolution express more clearly the will of an entire people. No
arm among the subjects of the Pope was raised to support his government. In a population of less than three millions, three hundred and
forty-three thousand men voted in the elections for the Assembly,
though knowing that excommunication hung over the heads of all who
voted ; and the abolition of the temporal power of the Popes was decreed
by this Assembly with only five dissentient voices. Yet there are living
elements of religious life among the Italians, and perhaps some new
organisation of the Church will arise from the links of charity and goodwill which bind the people to the parochial clergy in contradistinction
to the Roman Hierarchy.
Let us now, in concluding, return to a consideration of the Idea
which produces and regulates these attempts—the great Thought that
floats over Europe.
The sketch I have given you of the Italian movement has been presented chiefly to illustrate the nature of this Idea, and throughout the
narrative I have taken pains to show that the movement has arisen
from no artificial impulse given from without, and that the Government
has exercised no real leadership, for here lies the whole question of the
nature of the motive-power at work. The probable vitality of the
movement, the grandeur of its results, its beiug a movement of creation
introducing a new system and a new era, all evidently depend upon the
fact that it represents a force coming from within, and is the expression
of feelings and ideas in the people’s hearts. So I have taken pains to
place in their true light the respective positions held by the moderate
*
party and the national party, or party of action; and to show clearly
the parts played in the great drama by Cavour on one side, and by
Mazzini and Garibaldi on the other; for while the former represents
only the influence and action of the Piedmontese Government, the two
latter represent the aspirations and the action of the Italian people,
As often happens at any great crisis, before a great coming change,
there rose up in Italy the representative man—the O
genius who peneX
J
X
trated the secret of the future, and with his breath wakened into life
and into flame the smouldering fire. Then by his side there gradually
appeared the yet more dazzling figure of the warrior; the two together
incarnating the force, grandeur, and devotedness of the popular aspiration.
The definition which I gave you of the national idea towards the
opening of my first lecture, corresponds, as you may have observed,
with the general views concerning it expressed by Mazzini more than
thirty years ago ; and you have seen how his views have been confirmed
by the course of events. He who could discern the coming movement
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�Concluding Remarks on the National Idea.
41
while yet preparing in the world of thought, before it had shaped itself
into facts which all can see ; who could detect, so long ago, what was
real and living, and contained the germs of the future, in the political
agitation of the time, and, identifying himself with it, become instru
mental in the fulfilment of his own predictions, ought now to be accepted
as an authority for the real signification and future tendency of the
movement. And those who for so many years were accustomed to call
him prophet in derision, because he foretold the rising up of nationali
ties, and declared there was an instinct of national unity in the hearts of
the Italians, which needed but to be awakened,—now, that they can no
longer dispute the truth of his predictions, ought in fairness to hail him
prophet in another sense.
I believe all that vague feeling of love of country, which throughout
history we find manifesting itself almost like an instinct in the heart,
and which has led so often to sublime acts of heroism and self-devotion ;
which gives a sense of wrong and degradation under a foreign rule, and
makes each man feel himself a participator in the greatness or glory of
his country,—I believe all these feelings, to which we give the general
name of patriotism, are developing into a purer and higher sentiment,
and taking a more definite form, in this great idea of nationality ; this
idea raising the conception of the nation by connecting it with the sense
of a duty owing by the nation to humanity. And those populations
which are agitating to break through the arbitrary and artificial arrange
ment of states created by conquest or diplomacy, in order to define and
constitute their own collective or national lives,—whether they are
forming according to race, language, religion, historical traditions, or
geographical boundaries which sometimes mark a country as by the hand
of nature for the abode of one people,—are guided above all, in the
groups they form, by an instinctive sense of having common tendencies,
and a common aim or mission, at which they are to work together in the
organisation and division of human labour.
One word now as to our own attitude and the policy of our Govern
ment towards the movement.
With this grand European problem before us; this immense hope of •
national existence fermenting in the minds of European peoples, and
the soil of Europe upheaving with the germs of young nations bursting
into life to replace the old empires that are dying,—with all this
before us, let us no longer dream that there is only a malady that may
be cured by some doses of constitutional liberty, or local concessions of
semi-independence. Those who always counsel moderation, or gradual
and prudent change, may give us excellent advice. Ours is a normal
state of healthy existence and pacific progress ; there is no question of
our national existence, or of defending or recovering our independence ;
but while moderation may be wisdom or virtue in one case, it may be
folly or cowardice in the other. If you are satisfied from what you
have heard, that the movement corresponds with the wants of the age,
and that it must advance by revolution ; that is, by the efforts and
struggles of the populations themselves; then revolution in those
countries ought to be for us a subject not of apprehension but of hope.
We are ready enough to applaud or sanction accomplished revolution,
revolution that is successful ; but this is not enough, it is revolution yet
E
�42
Our oum Policy towards the Movement.
to come, and attempts at revolution, we should approve. The move
ment is in its infancy. That which is right when achieved, it is right
to endeavour to achieve ; yet think how apt we have been to condemn
the actors in unsuccessful attempts, as silly or wicked disturbers of the
public order ; but, let success once crown their efforts, we have hailed
them as wise, and virtuous, and heroic. This acceptance of the accom
plished fact is but the cowardly and atheistical worship of success; it is
the very spirit which on Mount Calvary would have joined in the cry :—
Crucify Him ; Crucify Him I and a few centuries later, would have
bowed down to kiss the foot of the representative of Christianity, when
he sat in royal robes upon a gilded throne. In the everlasting battle of
good with evil, truth with falsehood, failures precede success ; martyrdom
, , paves the way to victory ; and the martyr is as great as the conqueror.
1 Among the great Powers of Europe, our Government is the only one
which can at all be said to represent the people, or to be the expression
of their collective thought and feeling. Hence, ours is the only one
from which any good will towards this movement might be expected.
The principle of non-intervention has often been proclaimed by Eng
land : this principle is susceptible of two interpretations. If it means an
isolated policy, adopted by ourselves alone, it is simply indifference to
all that may be going on in Europe, which does not touch our own im
mediate interests ; in effect, neutrality between good and evil. But, if
it means a principle of policy to be recognised in common by the great
Powers, as binding upon others as ourselves, and which would give us
the right to say,—“ If you interfere for evil, we will interfere for good,”
—it is the best general principle we could support in favour of the move
ment. Hitherto, apparently, we have scarcely understood it in this sense.
The Austrian empire was saved, and the national movement arrested
in 1849, by flagrant violations of the principle ; by the intervention of
Russia in Hungary, and France in Italy. And during the war with
Russia, we seemed rathe’’ to repudiate than to support it: we might
have said to Russia,—“ Let the elements of dissolution the Turkish
empire contains within itself, work as they may; we will not suffer
intervention on your part, either to hasten her dissolution, or replace
her domination by your own.” Instead of this, we proclaimed the
existence of the Turkish empire to be necessary to the balance of
power. It was a policy calculated to help the designs of the Czar, by
making the young nations which are preparing to rise upon the ruins of
that empire, look to him as their protector; for let the slave once
despair of freedom, and he may accept a new master only from hatred
of the old.
The policy of our Government has generally been little else than
making head against the necessities of the day : but if, once comprebending where there is life and where death in Europe, it should rise
abo/e the political combinations of the day, and extend its views to the
future; it might, without plunging into any revolutionary crusade,
create for itself the sympathies of those peoples destined to rise, win a
moral supremacy in Europe, and prepare a wreath of new and true
alliances for England’s brow.
*I
*
�
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Victorian Blogging
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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Dublin Core
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Title
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Italian unity and the national movement in Europe
Creator
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Barker, John Sale
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: [s.l.]
Collation: 42 p. ; 21 cm.
Notes: "These lectures were lately delivered at Brighton". [From preliminary page]. From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Author not given on title page, taken from KVK. Date of publication deduced from author's preliminary note dated June 1864.
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[s.n.]
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[1864?]
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G5249
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Italy
Politics
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<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (Italian unity and the national movement in Europe), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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application/pdf
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Text
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English
Conway Tracts
Europe-Politics and Government-19th Century
Italy-History-1849-1870
Italy-Politics and Government-19th Century
Nationalism