"Mr. Foote is anxious to have it impressed on your minds thathe is not a licentious writer, and that this word does not fairlyapply to his publications. You will have the documents beforeyou, and you must judge for yourselves. I should say that heis right. He may be blasphemous, but he certainly is not licentious,in the ordinary sense of the word; and you do not find himpandering to the bad passions of mankind."
I ask my readers to notice these clear and emphatic sentences, for we shall recur to them in the next chapter.
The jury retired at twenty minutes past twelve. At three minutes past five they were discharged, being unable to agree. It was a glorious victory. Acquittal was hopeless, but no verdict amounted practically to the same thing. Two juries out of three had already disagreed, and as the verdict of Guilty by the third had been won through the scandalous partiality and mean artifices of a bigoted judge, the results of our prosecution afforded little encouragement to fresh attacks on the liberty of the press.
I have since had the pleasure of conversing with one of the jury. Himself and two others held out against a verdict of Guilty, and he told me that the discussion was extremely animated. My informant acted on principle. He confessed he did not like my caricatures, and he considered my attacks on the Bible too severe; but he held that I had a perfect right to ridicule Christianity if I thought fit, and he refused to treat any method of attacking opinions as a crime. Of the other two jurors, one was convinced by my address, and the other declared that he was not going to assist in imprisoning like a thief "a man who could make a speech like that."
The next day I asked Lord Coleridge not to try the case again for a few days, as I was physically unable to conduct my defence. His lordship said:
"I have just been informed, and I hardly knew it before, whatsuch imprisonment as yours means, and what, in the form it hasbeen inflicted on you, it must mean; but now that I do know ofit, I will take care that the proper authorities know of it also,and I will see that you have proper support."
His lordship added that he would see I had proper food, and he would take the defence whenever I pleased. We fixed the following Tuesday. During the interim our meals were provided from the public-house opposite the prison gates. My diarrhoea ceased at once, and I so far recovered my old form that I felt ready to fight twenty Giffards. But we did not encounter each other again. Feeling assured that if Lord Coleridge continued to try the case, as he obviously meant to until it was disposed of, they would never obtain a verdict, the prosecution secured anolle prosequifrom the Attorney-General. It was procured by means of an affidavit, containing what his lordship branded as an absolute falsehood. So the prosecution, which began in bigotry and malice, ended appropriately in a lie.
Our victory in the Court of Queen's Bench was an unmitigated loss to Sir Henry Tyler and his backers, for it threw upon them the whole costs of the prosecution. It was also a loss to ourselves; for I have it on the best authority that, if we had been found guilty, Lord Coleridge would have made his sentence concurrent with Judge North's, and shifted us from the criminal to the civil side of the prison, where we should have enjoyed each other's society, worn our own clothes, eaten our own food, seen our friends frequently, received and answered letters, and spent our time in rational occupations. To the Freethought cause, however, our victory was a pure gain. As I had anticipated, the press gave our new trial a good deal of attention. TheDaily Newsprinted a leading article on the case, calling on the Home Secretary to remit the rest of our sentence. TheTimespublished a long and admirable report of my defence, as well as of Lord Coleridge's summing-up, and predicted that the trial would be historical, "chiefly because of the remarkable defence made by one of the defendants." A similar prediction appeared in the ManchesterWeekly Times, according to which "the defendant Foote argued his case with consummate skill." Across the Atlantic, theNew York Worldsaid that "Mr. Foote, in particular, delivered a speech which, for closeness of argument and vividness of presentation, has not often been equalled." Even the grave and reverendWestminster Reviewfound "after reading what the Lord Chief Justice himself characterises as Mr. Foote's very striking and able speech, that the editor of theFreethinkeris very far from being the vulgar and uneducated disputant which theSpectatorappears to have supposed him." Other Liberal papers, like thePall Mall Gazetteand theReferee, that had at first joined in the chorus of execration over the fallen "blasphemer," now found that my sentence was "monstrous."
So true is it that nothing succeeds like success! I did not let these compliments turn my head. My speeches at the Old Bailey were little, if anything, inferior to the one I made in the Court of Queen's Bench. There was no change in me, but only in the platform I spoke from. The great fact to my mind was this, that given an impartial judge, and a fair trial, it was difficult to convict any Freethinker of "blasphemy" if he could only defend himself with some courage and address. This fact shone like a star of hope in the night of my suffering. As I said in one of my three letters from prison: "For the first time juries have disagreed, and chances are already slightly against a verdict of Guilty. Now the jury is the hand by which the enemy grasps us, and when we have absolutely secured the twelfth man we shall have amputated thethumb."
On May 1 the following letter from Admiral Maxse appeared in theDaily News:
"TO THE EDITOR OF THE 'DAILY NEWS.'SIR,—Foote's brilliant defence last week will probably haveawakened some fastidious critics to their error in having depictedhim as a low and coarse controversialist, while Lord Coleridge'sjudgment will have convinced the public that had Lord Coleridgeoccupied the place of Justice North, the defendant would haveescaped with a mild penalty. In the meantime, Mr. Foote continuesto undergo what is virtually 'solitary confinement' in a cell,and is condemned to this punishment for a year. A more wickedsentence, or a more wicked law, than the one which Mr. Footeand his companions suffer from, is, in my opinion, impossibleto conceive, that is to say in a country which professes toenjoy religious liberty. His crime consisted in caricaturinga grotesque representation of a religion which has certainlya higher side. People who are truly religious should be obligedto Mr. Foote, if he managed to shock some people concerning anyfeature of religion which is gross and degrading to that religion.I know something of Mr. Foote, and I am quite certain he wouldnot say anything to shock a refined interpretation of religion.Refined Christians are anxious themselves to get rid of theexcrescences of their creed. The question at issue really isas to whether a coarse picture of religion, and of one religiononly, is to be protected by the State from caricature, and fromcaricature alone; because it seems to be granted that anintellectual absurdity may be intellectually impeached. It isimpossible such a monstrous doctrine as this can stand. It willpass away, and probably in a few years it will be rememberedwith some astonishment; but oppressive and persecuting lawsare only got rid of by the spectacle of an impaled victim.'By the light of burning heretics Christ's bleeding feet I track.'The impaled victim is now Mr. Foote. It is a disgrace to Englandthat his solitary confinement—twenty-three out of the twenty-fourhours are solitary—or indeed, that any punishment whatever ispossible for a man's style in religious controversy; and to aLiberal it is profoundly humiliating that such a proceedingtakes place under a Liberal Government and without one word ofremonstrance in the House of Commons. Where are the Radicals?—Yours obediently, FREDK. A. MAXSE."April 30th."
Let me take this opportunity of thanking Admiral Maxse for his courageous generosity on my behalf. Directly he heard of my infamous sentence he wrote me a brave letter, which the prison rules forbade my receiving, stating that he would join in any agitation for my release, or for the repeal of the wretched law under which I was suffering "the utmost martyrdom which society can at present impose." I have always regarded Admiral Maxse as one of the purest and noblest of our public men, and I valued his sympathy even more than his assistance.
Further correspondence appeared in theDaily News, and the Liberal papers called on Sir William Harcourt to intervene. Memorials for our release flowed in from all parts of the country. One of these deserves especial mention. The signatures were procured, at great expense of time and labor, by Dr. E. B. Aveling and an eminent psychologist who desired to avoid publicity. Among them I find the following names:—
Admiral Maxse George Bullen C. Crompton, Q.C. George Du Maurier Charles Maclaren, M.P. George Dixon Dr. G. J. Romanes Henry Sidgwick. Dr. Charlton Bastian Herbert Spencer Dr. Edward Clodd Hon. E. Lyulph Stanley, M.P. Dr. E. B. Tylor J. Cotter Morison Dr. W. Aldis Wright Jonathan Hutchinson Dr. Macallister John Collier Dr. E. Bond John Pettie Dr. J. H. Jackson James Sully Dr. H. Maudsley Leslie Stephen EditorDaily NewsLient.-Col. Osborne EditorSpectatorP. A. Taylor, M.P. EditorAcademyProfessor Alexander Bain EditorManchester ExaminerProfessor Huxley EditorLiverpool Daily PostProfessor Tyndall Francis Galton Professor Knight F. Guthrie, F.R.S. Professor E. S. Beesly Frederick Harrison Professor H. S. Foxwell G. H. Darwin Professor R. Adamson Professor G. Croom Robertson Rev. Dr. Fairbairn Professor E. Ray Lancaster Rev. R. Glover Professor Drummond Rev. J. G. Rogers Professor T. Rhys Davids Rev. J. Aldis R. H. Moncrieff Rev. Charles Beard Rev. J. Llewellyn Davies Rev. Dr. Crosskey Rev. Dr. Abbot S. H. Vines Rev. A. Ainger The Mayor of Birmingham Rev. Stopford A. Brooke
I doubt whether such a memorial, signed by so many illustrious men, was ever before presented to a Home Secretary for the release of any prisoners. But it made no impression on Sir William Harcourt, for the simple reason that the signatories were not politicians, but only men of genius. As theWeekly Dispatchsaid, "Sir William Harcourt never does the right thing when he has a chance of going wrong." TheEchoalso "regretted" the Home Secretary's decision, while thePall Mall Gazette, then under the editorship of Mr. John Morley, concluded its article on the subject by saying, "The fact remains that Mr. Foote is suffering a scandalously excessive punishment, and that the Home Office must now share the general condemnation that has hitherto been confined to the judge."
On July 11 a mass meeting was held in St. James's Hall to protest against our continued imprisonment. Despite the summer weather, the huge building was crammed with people, every inch of standing room being occupied, and thousands turned away from the doors. Letters of sympathy were sent by Canon Shuttleworth, Admiral Maxse and Mr. P. A. Taylor M.P. Among the speakers were the Rev. W. Sharman, the Rev. S. D. Headlam, the Rev. E. M. Geldart, Mr. C. Bradlaugh M.P., Mrs. Annie Besant, Dr. E. B. Aveling, Mr. Joseph Symes, Mr. Moncure D. Conway and Mr. H. Burrows. The greatest enthusiasm prevailed, and the resolutions were carried with only two dissentients.
Still Sir William Harcourt made no sign. At last Mr. Peter Taylor, the honored member for Leicester, publicly interrogated the Home Secretary in the House of Commons. Mr. Taylor's question was as follows:
"Mr. P. A. TAYLOR asked the Secretary of State for the HomeDepartment whether he had received memorials from manythousands of persons, including clergymen of the Church ofEngland, Nonconformist ministers, and persons of high literaryand scientific position, asking for a mitigation of the sentencesof George William Foote and William James Ramsey, now imprisonedin Holloway Gaol on a charge of blasphemy; whether they havealready suffered five months' imprisonment, involving untillately confinement in their respective cells for twenty-threehours out of every twenty-four, and now involving twenty-twohours of such solitary confinement out of each 24; and whetherhe will advise the remission of the remainder of their sentences."
Thereupon Sir William Harcourt reared his unblushing front and gave this answer:
"Sir WILLIAM HARCOURT—The question of my hon. friend is foundedupon misconception of the duties and rights of the Secretary ofState in reference to sentences of the law, which I have oftenendeavoured to remove, but apparently with entire want of success.It is perfectly true that I have received many memorials on thissubject, most of them founded on misconception of the law onwhich the sentence rested. This is not a matter I can take intoconsideration, either upon my own opinion or upon that of 'clergymenof the Church of England, Nonconformist ministers, and persons ofhigh literary and scientific position.' I am bound to assume thatuntil Parliament alters the law that law is right, and that thosewho administer the law administer it rightly. If I took any othercourse, outside my opinion—if I had one upon this subject—I shouldbe interfering with the making and with the administration of the law,and transferring it from Parliament to the Executive and to a Ministerof the Crown. I am quite sure my hon. friend would not like thatcourse. It has been said, "Oh, but you can deal with sentences."(Hear, hear.) Sentences must be dealt with not upon the assumptionthat the law was wrong, and that the jury and judge were wrong,but upon special circumstances applicable to the particular casewhich would justify a Minister in recommending to the Crown aremission of sentence. What are the circumstances? Nobody—I donot care whether legal persons or belonging to the classes mentionedin this question—who has not seen the publication can judge ofthe matter. I have seen it, and I have no hesitation in sayingthat it is in the most strict sense of the word an obscene libel.It is a scandalous outrage upon public decency. (Opposition cheers.)That being so, the law has declared that it is punishable by law.I have no authority to declare that the law shall not be obeyed;nor do I think that within less than half the period of the punishmentawarded by the Court, if I were to advise the Crown to remit thesentence, I should be discharging the responsibility which restsupon me with a sound or sober judgment. (Opposition cheers, andmurmurs below the gangway.)"
The Tory cheers which greeted this malicious reply suffice to condemn it. Sir William Harcourt has told many lies in his time, but this was the most brazen of all. He knew we were not prosecuted for obscenity; he knew there was not a suggestion of indecency in our indictment; and he had before him the distinct language of the Lord Chief Justice of England, exonerating us from the slander. Yet he deliberately libelled us, in a place where his utterances are privileged, in order to conciliate the Tories and please the bigots. Some of the Radical papers protested against this wanton misrepresentation, but I am not aware that a single Christian journal censured the lie which was used to justify persecution.
Freethinkers have not forgotten Sir William Harcourt, nor have I. Some day we may be able to punish him for the insult. Meanwhile, I venture to think that if the member for Derby and the editor of theFreethinkerwere placed side by side, an unprejudiced stranger would have little difficulty in deciding which of the two was the more likely to be bestial.
Poor Mr. Ramsey, not knowing his man, innocently petitioned the Home Secretary from prison, pointing out that he was tried and imprisoned forblasphemy, asking to be released at once, and offering to supply Sir William Harcourt with fresh copies of our Christmas Number for a new trial forobscenity. Of course he received no reply.
My counsel, Mr. Cluer, gallantly defended my reputation in the columns of theDaily News, and he was supported by one of the Jury, who wrote as follows:
"SIR,—From the reference in your short leader on the subject,it appears that the Home Secretary, in answer to Mr. Taylor,declined to consent to the release of Messrs. Foote and Ramsey,on the ground that they had published an obscene libel. Onthe late trial before the Lord Chief Justice, certain numbersof theFreethinker, on which the prisoners were being tried,were charged by the prosecution with being (inter alia) blasphemousand indecent. The judge in the course of his remarks said, thearticles inculpated might be blasphemous, but assuredly theywere not indecent. The opinion of Sir William Harcourt,consequently, though in harmony with that of the junior counselfor the prosecution, is altogether opposed to that of Lord Coleridge,who was the judge in the case."
TheDaily Newsitself put the matter very clearly. "Mr. Foote and Mr. Ramsey," it said, "were sent to prison by Mr. Justice North for publishing a blasphemous libel. Sir William Harcourt declines to release them on the ground that they have published an obscene libel. It is not usual to keep Englishmen in gaol on the ground that they committed an offence of which they have not been convicted, and against which they have had no opportunity of defending themselves." But Sir William Harcourt thought otherwise, and kept us in prison, acting at once as prosecutor, witness, jury and judge.
Mr. Gladstone was appealed to, but he "regretted he could do nothing," presumably because we were only Englishmen and not Bulgarians. An answer to this piece of callous hypocrisy came from the London clubs. One resolution passed by the Combined Radical Clubs of Chelsea, representing thousands of working men, characterised our continued imprisonment as an indelible stigma on the Liberal Government.
Feeling there was no prospect of release, and resigned to my fate, I settled down to endure it, with a resolution to avail myself of every possible mitigation. Colonel Milman included us among the special exercise men, and we enjoyed the luxury of two outings every day; our solitary confinement being thus reduced to twenty-two hours instead of twenty-three. By finessing I also managed to get an old feather pillow from the store-room, which proved a comfortable addition to the wooden bolster. The alteration in our food I have already mentioned.
Sir William Harcourt did absolutely nothing for us, but the Secretary of the Prison Commissioners gave instructions that we were to be treated as kindly as possible, so that "nothing might happen" to us. One of the upper officers, whom I have seen since, told me we were a source of great anxiety to the authorities, and they were very glad to see our backs.
Mr. Anderson called on me in my cell and asked what he could do for me.
"Open the front door," I answered.
With a pleasant smile he regretted his inability to do that.
"Well then," I continued, "let me have something to read."
"Yes," he said, "I can do that. There are many books in the prison library."
"But not one," I retorted, "fit for an educated man to read. They are all selected by the chaplain."
"Well," he answered, "I cannot give you what we haven't got."
"But why not let me have my own books to read?" I asked.
Mr. Anderson replied that such a thing was unheard of, but I persisted in my plea, which Colonel Milman generously supported.
"Well," said Mr. Anderson, "I suppose we must. Your own books may be sent in, and the Governor can let you have them two at a time. But, you know, you mustn't have such writings as you are here for."
"Oh," I replied, "you have the power to check that. They will all pass through the Governor's hands, and I will order in nothing but what Colonel Milman might read himself."
"Oh," said Mr. Anderson, with a humorous smile, which the Governor and the Inspector shared, "I can't say what Colonel Milman might like to read."
The interview ended and my books came. What a joy they were! I read Gibbon and Mosheim right through again, with Carlyle's "Frederick," "French Revolution" and "Cromwell," Forster's "Statesmen of the Commonwealth," and a mass of literature on the Rebellion and the Protectorate. I dug deep into the literature of Evolution. I read over again all Shakespeare, Shelley, Spenser, Swift and Byron, besides a number of more modern writers. French books were not debarred, so I read Diderot, Voltaire, Paul Louis Courier, and the whole of Flaubert, including "L'Education Sentimentale," which I never attacked before, but which I found, after conquering the apparent dullness of the first half of the first volume, to be one of the greatest of his triumphs. Mr. Gerald Massey, then on a visit to England, was churlishly refused a visiting order from the Home Office, but he sent me his two magnificent volumes on "Natural Genesis," and a note to the interim editor of theFreethinker, requesting him to tell me that I had his sympathy. "I fight the same battle as himself," said Mr. Massey, "although with a somewhat different weapon." I was also favored with a presentation copy of verses by the one writer I most admire, whose genius I reverenced long before the public and its critics discovered it. It would gratify my vanity rather than my prudence to reveal his name.
Agreeably to the proverb that if you give some men an inch they will take an ell, I induced the Governor to let me pursue my study of Italian. First he allowed me a Grammar, then a Conversation Book, then a Dictionary, then a Prose Reading Book, and then a Poetical Anthology. These volumes, being an addition to the two ordinary ones, gave my little domicile a civilised appearance. Cleaners sometimes, when my door was opened, looked in from the corridor with an expression of awe. "Why," I heard one say, "he's got a cell like a bookshop."
With my books, my Italian, and my Colenso, I managed to kill the time; and although the snake-like days were still long, they were less venomous. Yet the remainder of my sentence was a terrible ordeal. I never lost heart, but I lost strength. My brain was miraculously clear, but it grew weaker as the body languished; and before my release I could hardly read more than an hour or two a day.
The only break in the monotony of my life was when I received a visit. Mrs. Besant, Dr. Aveling, Mr. Wheeler and my wife, saw me occasionally; either in the ordinary way, at the end of every three months, or by special order from the Home Office. I saw my visitors in the prison cages, only our faces being visible to each other through a narrow slit. We stood about six feet apart, with a warder between us to stop "improper conversation." I could not shake a friend's hand or kiss my wife. The interviews lasted only half an hour. In the middle of a sentence "Time!" was shouted, the keys rattled, and the little oasis had to be left for another journey over the desert sand.
Every three months I wrote a letter on a prison sheet. Two sides were printed on, and the others ruled wide, with a notice that nothing was to be written between the lines. No doubt the authorities were anxious to save the prisoners the pain of too much mental exertion. I foiled them by writing small, and abbreviating nearly every word. My letters were of course read before they were sent out, and the answers read before they reached me. No respect being shown for the privacies of affection, I addressed my letters to Dr. Aveling for publication in theFreethinker.
One of these documents lies before me as I write. It was the extra letter I sent to my wife before leaving, and contains directions as to clothes and other domestic matters. I venture to reproduce the advertisement, which occupies the whole front page:
"A prisoner is permitted to write and receive a Letter afterthree months of his sentence have expired, provided hisconduct and industry have been satisfactory during that time,and the same privilege will be continued afterwards on the sameconditions and at the same intervals."All Letters of an improper or idle tendency, either to orfrom Prisoners, or containing slang or other objectionableexpressions, will be suppressed. The permission to write andreceive letters is given to the Prisoners for the purpose ofenabling them to keep up a connexion with their respectablefriends, and not that they may hear the news of the day."All Letters are read by the Authorities of the Prison,and must be legibly written, and not crossed."Neither clothes, money, nor any other articles, are allowedto be received by any Officers of the Prison for the use ofPrisoners; all parcels containing such articles intended forPrisoners on discharge must bear outside the name of thePrisoner, and be sent to the Governor, or they will not bereceived. Persons attempting otherwise to introduce any articleto or for a prisoner, are liable to a fine or imprisonment, andthe Prisoner concerned may be severely punished."
The authorities are not so careful about the letter being legible by its recipient. They do not insert it in an envelope, but just fold it up and fasten it with a little gum, so that the letter is nearly sure to be torn in the opening. The address is written on the back by the prisoner himself, before the sheet is folded. Lines are provided for the purpose, and it is pretty easy to see what the letter is. Surely a little more consideration might be shown for a prisoner's friends.Theyare not criminals, and as the prison authorities incur the expense of postage, they might throw in a cheap envelope without ruining the nation.
Mr. Kemp was released on May 25 in a state of exhaustion. It is doubtful if he could have survived another three months' torture. What illness in the frightful solitude of a prison cell is I know. I once caught a bad cold, and for the first time in my life had the toothache. It came on about two o'clock in the afternoon, and as applications for the doctor are only received before breakfast, I had to wait until the next day before I could obtain relief. It arrived of itself about one o'clock. The doctor had considerately left my case till last, in order to give me proper attention.
Mr. Ramsey was released on November 24. He was welcomed at the prison gates by a crowd of sympathisers, and entertained at a breakfast in the Hall of Science, where he made an interesting speech. By a whimsical calculation, I reckoned that I had still to swallow twenty-one gallons of prison tea and twelve prison sermons.
Christmas Day was the only variation in the remainder of my "term." Being regarded as a Sabbath, it was a day of idleness. The fibre was removed from my cell, my apartment was clean and tidy, a bit of dubbin gave an air of newness to my old shoes, and after a good wash and an energetic use of my three-inch comb, I was ready for the festivities of the season. After a sumptuous breakfast on dry bread, and sweet water misnamed tea, I took a walk in the yard; and on returning to my cell I sat down and wondered how my poor wife was spending the auspicious day. What a "merry Christmas" for a woman whose husband was eating his heart out in gaol! The chapel-bell roused me from phantasy. While the other half of the prison was engaged in "devotion," I did an hour's grinding at Italian, and read a chapter of Gibbon; after which I heard the "miserable sinners" return from the chapel to their cells.
My Christmas dinner consisted of the usual diet, and after eating it I went for another brief tramp in the yard. The officers seemed to relax their usual rigor, and many of the prisoners exchanged greetings. "How did yer like the figgy duff?" "Did the beef stick in yer ribs?" Such were the flowers of conversation. From the talk I overheard, I gathered that under the old management, while Holloway Gaol was the City Prison, all the inmates had a "blow-out" on Christmas Day, in the shape of beef, vegetables, plum-pudding, and a pint of beer. Some of the old hands, who remembered those happy days, bitterly bewailed the decay of prison hospitality. Their lamentations were worthy of a Conservative orator at a rural meeting. The present was a poor thing compared with the past, and they sighed for "the tender grace of a day that is dead."
After exercise I went to chapel. Parson Plaford preached a seasonable sermon, which would have been more heartily relished on a full stomach. He told us what a blessed time Christmas was, and that people did well to be joyful on the anniversary of their Savior's birth. Before dismissing us with his blessing to our "little rooms," which was his habitual euphemism for our cells, he remarked that he could not wish us a happy Christmas in our unhappy condition, but he would wish us a peaceful Christmas; and he ventured to promise us that boon if, after leaving chapel, we fell on our knees and besought pardon for our sins. Most of the prisoners received this advice with a grin, for their cell floors were black-leaded, and genuflexions in their "little rooms" gave them too much knee-cap to their trousers.
At six o'clock I had my third instalment of Christmas fare, the last mouthfuls being consumed to the accompaniment of church bells. The neighboring Bethels were announcing their evening performance, and the sound penetrated into my cell. True believers were wending their way to church, while the heretic, who had dared to deride their creed and denounce their hypocrisy, was regaling himself on dry bread in one of their dungeons. The bells rang out against each other with a wild glee as I paced my narrow floor. They seemed mad with intoxication of victory; they mocked me with a bacchanalian frenzy of triumph. Yet I smiled grimly, for their clamor was no more than the ancient fool's shout, "Great is Diana of the Ephesians." Great Christ has had his day since, but he in turn is dead; dead in man's intellect, dead in man's heart, dead in man's life; a mere phantom, flitting about the aisles of churches, where priestly mummers go through the rites of a phantom creed.
I took my prison Bible and read the story of Christ's birth in Matthew and Luke, Mark and John having never heard of it or forgotten it. What an incongruous jumble of absurdities! A poor fairy tale of the world's childhood, utterly insignificant beside the stupendous revelations of science. From the fanciful story of the Magi following a star to Shelley's "World on worlds are rolling ever," what an advance! As I retired to sleep on my plank-bed my mind was full of these reflections, and when the gas was turned out, and I was left in darkness and silence, I felt serene and almost happy.
A new day dawned for me on the twenty-fifth of February. I rose as usual a few minutes before six. It was the morning of my release, or in prison language my "discharge." Yet I felt no excitement. I was as calm as my cell walls. "Strange!" the reader will say. Yet not so strange after all. Every day had been filled with expectancy, and anticipation had discounted the reality.
Instead of waiting till eight o'clock, the usual breakfast hour, superintendent Burchell brought my last prison meal at seven. I wondered at his haste, but when he came again, a few minutes later, to see if I had done, I saw through the game. The authorities wished to "discharge" me rapidly, before the hour when my friends would assemble at the prison gates, and so lessen the force of the demonstration. I slackened speed at once, drank my tea in sips, and munched my dry bread with great deliberation. "Come," said superintendent Burchell, "you're very slow this morning." "Oh," I replied, "there's no hurry; after twelve months of it a few minutes make little difference." Burchell put the words and my smile together, and gave the game up.
Down in the bathroom at the foot of the debtors' wing my clothes were set out, and some kind hand had spread a piece of bright carpet for my feet. I dressed very leisurely. With equal tardiness I went through the ceremony of receiving my effects, carefully checking every article, and counting the money coin by coin. The Governor tendered me half a sovereign, the highest sum a prisoner can earn. "Thank you," I said, "but I can't take their money." We had to go through the farce.
In the little gate-house I met Mr. Bradlaugh, Mrs. Besant, and my wife. Colonel Milman wished us good-bye, the gate opened, and a mighty shout broke from the huge crowd outside. From all parts of London they had wended in the early morning to greet me, and there they stood in their thousands. Yet I felt rather sad than elated. The world was so full of wrong, though the hearts of those men and women beat so true!
As our open carriage crawled through the dense crowd I saw men's lips twitching and women shedding tears. They crowded round us, eager for a shake of the hand, a word, a look. At length we got free, and drove towards the Hall of Science, followed by a procession of brakes and other vehicles over half a mile long.
There was a public breakfast, at which hundreds sat down. I took a cup of tea, but ate nothing. After a long imprisonment I could not trust my stomach, and I had to make a speech.
After Mr. Bradlaugh, Mrs. Besant and the Rev. W. Sharman (secretary of the Society for the Repeal of the Blasphemy Laws), had made speeches, which I should blush to transcribe, I rose to respond. It was a ticklish moment. But I found I had a voice still, and the words came readily enough. Concluding my address I said: "I thank you for your greeting. I am not played out. I am thinner. The doctor told me I had lost two stone, and I believe it. But after all I do not think the ship's timbers are much injured. The rogues ran me aground, but they never made me haul down the flag. Now I am floated again I mean to let the old flag stream out on the wind as of yore. I mean to join the rest of our fleet in fighting the pirates and slavers on the high seas of thought."
An hour afterwards my feet were on my own fender. I washomeagain. What a delicious sensation after twelve months in a prison cell!
Friends prescribed a rest at the seaside for me, but I felt that the best tonic was work. In less than three days I settled everything. I resumed the editorship of theFreethinkerat once, and began filling up my list of engagements. On meeting the Committee, who had managed our affairs in our absence, I found everything in perfect order, besides a considerable profit at the banker's. Messrs. A. Hilditch, R. O. Smith, J., Grout and G. Standring had given ungrudgingly of their time; Mr. C. Herbert, acting as treasurer, had kept the accounts with painstaking precision; and Mrs. Besant had proved how a woman could take the lead of men. Nor must I forget Mr. Robert Forder, the Secretary of the National Secular Society, who acted as shopman at our publishing office, and sustained the business by his assiduity. I had also to thank Dr. Aveling for his interim editorship of theFreethinker, and the admirable manner in which he had conductedProgress.
The first number of theFreethinkerunder my fresh editorship appeared on the following Thursday. In concluding my introductory address I said:
"I promise the readers of theFreethinkerthat they shall,so far as my powers avail, find no diminution in the vigor andvivacity of its attacks on the shams and superstitions of our age.Not only the writer's pen, but the artist's pencil, shall be busyin this good work; and the absurdities of faith shall, if possible,be slain with laughter. Priests and fools are, as Goldsmith said,the two classes who dread ridicule, and we are pledged to animplacable war with both."
The artist's pencil! Yes, I had resolved to repeat what I was punished for. I left written instructions against the publication of Comic Bible Sketches in theFreethinkerduring my imprisonment; but although I would not impose the risk on others, I was determined to face it myself. A fortnight after my release the Sketches were resumed, and they have been continued ever since. My reasons for this decision were expressed at a public banquet in the Hall of Science on March 12. I then said:
"Mr. Bradlaugh has said that the Freethought party—which noone will dispute his right to speak for—looks to me, amongothers, after my imprisonment, to maintain with dignity whateverposition I have won. I hope I shall not disappoint the expectation.But I should like it to be clearly understood that I considerthe most dignified attitude for a man who has just left gaolafter suffering a cruel and unjust sentence, for no crime exceptthat of thinking and speaking freely, is to stand again for thesame right he exercised before, to pursue the very policy forwhich he was attacked, precisely because hewasattacked,and to flinch no hair's breadth from the line he pursued before,at least until the opposition resorts to suasion instead offorce, and tries to win by criticism what it will never winby the gaol. It is my intention to-morrow morning to driveto the West of London, and to leave the first copy of this week'sFreethinkerpulled from the press at Judge North's house withmy compliments and my card."
Prolonged applause greeted this announcement, and I kept my word. Judge North had the first copy of the re-illustratedFreethinkerand I hope he relished. At any rate, it showed him, as John Bright says, that "force is no remedy."
At the banquet I refer to I was presented with a purse of gold, in common with Mr. Ramsey, and an Illuminated Address, which ran as follows:
"To GEORGE WILLIAM FOOTE, Vice-President of the National SecularSociety, who suffered for twelve months in Holloway Gaol for theso-called offence of Blasphemy."In offering you on your release this illuminated address, andthe accompanying purse of gold, we do not seek to give yourecompense for the sufferings and insults which have beenheaped upon you. We bring them only as a symbol of our thanksto you—thanks, because, on your trial, you spoke nobly forthe right of free speech on religious questions; thanks,because you bore, without a sign of flinching, a sentenceat once cruel and unjust; thanks, because you have carriedon our days the traditions of a Freethought faithful in theprison as on the platform."Signed on behalf of the National Secular SocietyC. BRADLAUGH, President.R. FORDER, Secretary."
Greatly also did I value the greeting I received, with my two fellow prisoners, from the working men of East London. At a crowded meeting in the large hall of the Haggerston Road Club, attended by representatives of other associations, I was presented with the following address:
"The Political Council of the Borough of Hackney Workmen's Clubpresent this testimonial to George William Foote as a token ofadmiration of the courage displayed by him in the advocacy offree speech, and in sympathy for the sufferings endured duringtwelve months' imprisonment for the same under barbarous lawsunfitted for the spirit of a free people."Signed on behalf of the CouncilALFRED PIKE, President.CHAS. KNIGHT, Secretary."
The largest audience that ever assembled at the Hall of Science listened to my first lecture, at which Mr. Bradlaugh presided, two days after my release. Seventeen hundred people crowded into a room that seats nine hundred, and as many were unable to gain admission. Similar welcomes awaited me in the provinces; and ever since my audiences, as well as the sale of my journal and writings, have been far larger than before my imprisonment. Hundreds of people, as they have told me, have been converted to Freethought by my sufferings, my lectures, and my pamphlets. I hope Judge North is satisfied.
To prevent a break-down in case of another prosecution, Mr. Ramsey and I clubbed our resources, and purchased printing plant and machinery, so that the production of theFreethinkerand other "blasphemous" literature might be done under our own root. The bigots had proved themselves unable to intimidate us, and as we were no longer at the mercy of printers they gave up the idea of molesting us. May Freethinkers ever act in this spirit, and be true to the great traditions of our cause!
F I N I S