* Madame D'Arusmont, who was then lecturing in America.** The Prompter, April 9th, 1831.
Prejudice. "Like all others I am most interested about myself, but as I am made up altogether of public politics, in some cases myself is the public. Here is a note to correspondents from the editor of theTimesabout which I shall have a few words to say of myself in the only space left to me in this week's issue of theGauntlet: 'To Correspondents.—As the letter of Richard Carlile would do him injury we decline to publish it. His stupidity and ignorance cannot fail to make him an object of contempt with all reasoning people, but we have too much generosity to turn the man's folly against him. He is what Mr. Coke called Mr. Joseph Hume—'a muddle-headed fellow.'"*
* The Gauntlet, London, April 21,1833.
In answer, Carlile said he had borne injuries enough of this kind, and theTimeshad shouted—"'At him, give it to him, spare him not, kill him, crucify him, away with him, he is a pestilent fellow'; but I sometimes steal a march upon the editor of theTimesby getting a friend to copy an article, and then it passes, and brings me the compliment of being a talented correspondent. No correspondent that it has had, has been more complimented for talent by this editor than I have been when unknown to him; but if he discovers the writer's name is Carlile, then he condemns, rants, swears and curses." We have abundant evidence that this was true in other cases besides that of theTimes. A most prolific writer, Carlile contributed many leading articles and editorials to the Press of the country, and was for many months a regularly paid contributor to theDurham Chronicleand other papers. Over thenom de plumeof "Theophilus Clay" or the "Hermit of Enfield", he did a vast amount of miscellaneous writing, and towards the end of his life supported his family almost entirely in this way. But it was the name—Carlile.
"The name, the name's the thing,To catch their venom and their sting."
If we may take the liberty of paraphrasing the lines of the immortal bard.
SECRET ORDERS.
Carlile, with his constitutional dislike to everything secret, exposed all secret societies and orders from Freemasonry down. The members of the various orders who had outgrown or grown tired of the ceremonies of these different associations, furnished all the information to Carlile. These books were on sale for many years and attracted widespread attention. As usual Carlile was inundated with both praise and abuse, as the feelings of his critics leaned to one side or the other.
The Rev. Richard Carlile
The fact of Carlile's adding the title of Reverend to his name came from the efforts made by the authorities to prevent him speaking to the people on Sundays in the open air, claiming that none but licensed clergymen were entitled to that privilege; Carlile met with this objection throughout England. This led him to the examination of the necessary qualifications for this privilege, and he found that a belief in God and an English half-crown (about sixty-two cents, of American money) would purchase the title of Reverend and give him the right to address the people on Sunday in the parks as well as everywhere else. This cheap honor was easily procured, and stopped all opposition on that head. So, as theReverend Richard Carlilehe could speak anywhere and at any time, and, as he said, "With the Bible in my hand I can go anywhere and preach without the slightest diminution of my former principles". The transaction was simply aruse de guerreto gain an advantage over the enemy, which he did; yet it took a long time and many explanations to make people see why this was done, and to convince them that he had not gone over to the enemy.
"PUFFENDORF."
In the course of one of his lecturing trips he tells the following story of himself:—
"My visit to Buxton was one of retirement. The only great man whom I met there, or rather took with me, was 'Puffendorf'. Having read much of the House of Commons debates in which there has been copious mentionings of Grotius, Vattel, and Puffendorf, I bought the great man for a couple of shillings in Manchester, and intended to study him in Buxton. To my surprise, I tried but could not read him; I tried again and again, but my perseverance failed me here, and I threw the book aside resolved to take no more books upon the recommendation of the House of Commons members. By reading 'Puffendorf' I thought I might qualify myself to be a member of the great council of the nation; but if nothing but Puffendorf will do I shall never get among them. I found this author, like Dugald Stewart since, deducing his theory of morals from the theory of the superstition of the age in which he lived, and exacting some most outrageous observances as moral and national law. It is but fair to say that my copy was translated by an English priest and was a professed abridgement, so that it is possible that the real original Puffendorf might still be as Macintosh, Burdett and others would have him to be."
Carlile went to Buxton at the solicitation of Miss Burnett, the writer, who was an invalid, and wished to see and converse with him. She was greatly interested in his work, and had for him personally the highest respect and esteem. Her letters to him are still preserved, in one of which she writes of his "fine, expressive face", and declared it would have been a great privilege to have been present at his trial in the Recorder's Court and listen to his noble defence.
HIS RULING PASSION.
The ruling passion was so strong in Carlile that he invariably sized-up every man or woman that he was brought into contact with to see if they had the stuff in them of which martyrs are made, or if they had a taste for philosophy, or capacity for the construction of a lecturer or an orator in the cause to which he himself was devoted. His influence on people of all classes with whom he was brought into contact was simply marvellous. His gentle affability and the genuine interest he displayed in other people's troubles and difficulties won all hearts. Privately he had not an enemy. It was wonderful too how the tradesmen he employed stood by him through thick and thin, his landlord especially never failed him through all his seizures and other troubles.
ELIZA SHARPLES CARLILE ("ISIS"). From a Crayon Copy of an Oil Painting.
Isis--crayon Copy
In the town of Bolton in Lancashire, England, early in the present century, lived a family named Sharples. It was a tradition in this family that a Richard Sharples, or Sharpie, came into England in the train of William of Normandy, and was given considerable land in the neighborhood of Bolton, in consideration of the services which he rendered to William at the time of the Conquest. However, we will leave the verification of this to those who care more about such things than does the writer. Our Richard Sharples was a manufacturer of quilts, bed-quilts, a peculiar kind of heavy white quilt with little white tufts or knots on them which were in the early days in almost universal use, and will be recollected by many of the mothers of to-day. They were called then "counterpanes", and lasted a lifetime or longer. Richard Sharples and his wife Ann were very much respected by their neighbors and lived in very comfortable, even affluent circumstances. They brought up and educated a family of four girls and two or three boys. Of the girls—Sarah, Anne, Eliza, and Maria—Sarah, the eldest, died from a decline in her young womanhood; Anne was married to a Mr. Tunnah, and Eliza became the "Isis" of our story. Maria was younger than Eliza by some seven years. Of the boys we have but little account except that one was drowned in his youth while swimming, and that another one, William, is mentioned by Carlile and Isis in some of their letters. Mrs. Ann Sharples was herself a very beautiful woman, and was described as a beauty by one who saw her at eighty years of age. Her hair then was snow-white, her eyes blue, her cheeks rosy and her complexion like a baby's. Our informant adds that she looked like "a Dresden china doll". It is possible that Eliza, who was the beauty of the family, was indebted to her mother for her good looks, but took her height and her disposition from her father. She was indeed, her father's favorite child, to whom also she was an anxiety on account of her beauty. He kept this daughter at a boarding school till she was more than twenty years of age, thinking that it was the safest place for her, and when he could keep her there no-longer she spent most of her time in the seclusion of her own room, sewing and reading. Her first sorrow was the loss of her father, to whom she was deeply attached, and it is probable that had he lived a few years longer there would not have been this story to tell. During one of the school vacations she was invited to visit a younger school-mate, who was the daughter of a banker of Liverpool. Whilst there this gentleman, whom we shall designate as Mr. A., told the young ladies that they would have to dine in their own room that day as he had a friend coming to dine with him and to discuss various matters, and wished to be alone with him for that purpose. In some way or other the name of Carlile leaked out, and this name Miss Eliza knew to belong to a very notorious man of whom she had heard dreadful things. The plans of the girls were soon laid, for their curiosity was greatly excited. So when the gentlemen had dined and the servants absented themselves, the young ladies sought positions where they could hear and see everything that was said and done. The dining room was in communication with both front and side parlors by a door in each, and kneeling down on the rug at each door, with first their eyes then their ears at the keyholes, they heard every word and gazed their fill at the awful guest, who proved to be a very mild and amiable person, apparently quite harmless, and certainly handsome. I have nothing to say as to the dignity of the proceeding on the part of the young ladies, being content with certifying it to be the truth as told by Miss Eliza in after days. About a year after this, while calling on a cousin, she was surprised to find her reading a volume of Carlile'sRepublican. She remembered him as the gentleman she had seen in Liverpool. She then conceived an immediate desire to read some of his writings. The library which contained them was pointed out to her, and she began reading them with avidity, unknown to the family. She had seen the author under peculiar circumstances. His person and his manners were before her mind as she read his writings. She read with instructive astonishment. In those writings the ignorance and the errors of her past life were told to her as by a magician. We find her after a while making regular weekly visits to the bookseller who dealt in his works, and entering into conversation with that gentleman, a Mr. Hardie. At that time it was a rare thing for a young and beautiful girl to be interested in philosophical reading, particularly where that reading tended to freethinking, and Mr. Hardie in one of his business communications to Carlile made mention of the case. By this time both Carlile and Rev. Robert Taylor were in prison, and it looked as though freedom of speech had seen its best days. On the 5th of December, 1831, Mr. Hardie wrote again to Carlile saying:—
"You are requested to address a letter to Miss Sharples, care of A. Hardie. N.B.—She is a most amiable young woman, expects to be in London shortly, and will call and explain her views to you. I can say so far, that they are in the missionary line, and herdébutwill create a sensation, as she is really a very beautiful girl. Do not, I beseech you, neglect this part of the business."
This aroused Carlile's curiosity, and he wrote her the following letter:—
"To Miss Sharples,
"Care of Mr. Hardie
"Madam,—I, a bachelor,* locked up in prison, and requested to write to a young lady to whom I have had no other introduction than that of having been informed that she is young, amiable, beautiful, and has a mind to become a Messiah. I will believe in this case without seeing, having more faith than St. Thomas. The Devil tempts me almost to doubt the good tidings; but I am so much interested in the first English lady who will publicly advocate those truths, which are a light needed to remove the present Cimmerian darkness, that I swear eternal fealty to her before I see her. I had much rather have answered a letter from Miss Sharples than to write comparatively in the dark; and if it be a serious request that I should write as the opening of an acquaintance, I hope to be favored with a letter by first post in return. My unabating zeal to encourage any lady that shall aim at the character of Hypatia and of Frances Wright, shall wait on every effort made. Such a lady shall be my daughter, my sister, my friend, my companion, my sweetheart, my wife, my everything. I should become a poet if my wishes on this head should become realised. Blessings will crown that head, and virtue's essence swell that bosom with noble dignity, when a woman shall be found bold and open enough to publicly instruct mankind in philosophical truths.
* By this time Carlile had been formally separated from hiswife for two or three years by mutual consent. He hadsettled an annuity of £50 a year upon her for life, and hadgiven her books enough to start her in business for herselfas well as all the furniture belonging to them mutually,leaving himself nothing but the "debts and the business".This arrangement was final and perfectly satisfactory to thefirst Mrs. Carlile, who was tired of the uncertainties of areformer's life. Had there been a possibility of legaldivorce they would eagerly have availed themselves of itsbenefits, but failing this they made as definite andsatisfactory arrangements as could be done for the honor andsatisfaction of all parties concerned.
"Richard Carlile. London, December 8th, 1831."
To this he received the following reply:—
"To Mr. R. Carlile,
"Giltspur Street Compter, London.
"Sir,—Your esteemed favor I duly received, and am extremely sorry that I have only time to acknowledge the receipt, and thank you for the ready compliance with my request In consequence of a severe indisposition under which my mother now labors, and my being her sole nurse, my time is very much restricted. I trust, in my next, that circumstances will allow me to be more communicative. In the first place I must undeceive you as to an error into which you have been led in regard to my personal appearance. I am neither young nor beautiful, merely an every-day sort of a person. My age is upwards of twenty-five, my height rather above the middle size. However, be this as it may, you in a very short time will have an opportunity of judging, it being my intention to be in London in a very few weeks on a visit. I am a strenuous advocate of your cause and will do everything in my power to support and assist the Rev. Robert Taylor and yourself. I feel exceedingly sorry for that gentleman, and sigh when I reflect upon his situation, and think of the deprivations to which he is subject. How often have I wished that it was in my power to soothe, cheer and comfort him. Do you, I pray, endeavor to stimulate him. Tell him not to let his noble courage fail, it will be such a triumph for his persecutors. If my abilities were upon an equality with my inclination, I should indeed make a shining figure in the world, or if my researches into philosophical truths had equalled my instruction in gospel errors, many years of unhappiness had been spared me; but more of this hereafter. I look anxiously forward to the time when we shall become better acquainted. Let me hear from you through the medium of A. Hardie, and with your permission
"I will reply.
"Farewell,
"E. Sharples.
"Bolton, Dec. 10, 1831.
"P.S.—Surrounded as I am by strict religionists, I have no one to whom I may impart my thoughts. If you will condescend to be my instructor, I shall feel proud in being selected by you as an object worthy your attention. You tell me that I should be everything to you. So be it. I once had the pleasure of seeing you in Liverpool and you have seen me, but you have no doubt forgotten it. Adieu."
This letter being written hurriedly, was followed by one more at length, and explanatory of her views. It was dated from Bolton, December 11th, 1831.
"Mr. Richard Carlile,
"Giltspur Street Compter, London.
"My Dear Sir,—Excuse the appellation. I have in some of your works read of your antipathy to such an expression from man to man, yet a lady may be allowed to make use of a term of endearment, when it flows spontaneously from her heart, to express in some degree her approbation, preference, or attachment, without creating sentiments of indifference in your bosom. My scrawl of yesterday would intimate my readiness to enter into a correspondence with one on whom my thoughts have for a long time been fixed, and having just now a few moments to spare, I think I cannot do better than to devote them to improvement. Your extreme penetration will easily perceive my ignorance in letter writing, but if you will only condescend to be my instructor and make allowance for my weakness and errors, you will find me anxious to learn and to make some progress in philosophy. Believe me, my dear sir, I am very much interested in the cause. Although educated in the Church, I never felt so happy as now with regard to my principles, now that I am purified by a little knowledge from some of the errors of my education. Twelve months ago I had not even read or seen a critical work on Theology. Since then I have obtained and perused them as often as opportunity would permit, but, surrounded as I am by friends who are strict adherents to the Church, and being destitute entirely of friends to whom I may impart my thoughts and whose participation in them would elevate my enjoyment, my wish to form an acquaintance with yourself over-rules every other consideration; yet still I wish to act with discretion. While at home I am under the absolute necessity of acting the hypocrite, indeed I am becoming quite an adept. Circumstances oblige me to act contrary to my wishes, consequently my situation in that respect is not very enviable. I have, however, thrown off the fetters of superstition, and begin to find it as difficult to disguise my real sentiments as to assume those I do not feel. You may form a faint idea of my character and disposition when I tell you I have thought for myself for about three years; previously I had adhered as much as possible to the doctrines of the Church. In fact, I was quite an evangelical being, sang spiritual songs and prayed myself into the grave, almost. Accident brought me into acquaintance with A. Hardie. I have since perused yourRepublican. I cannot express to you the pleasure I enjoyed in meeting in every page sentiments exactly my own, but infinitely better expressed. I am sorry to be under the necessity of addressing this letter to a prison. Do not allow his Satanic Majesty to gain an ascendency over you! It was my intention to have spent Christmas in London, but in consequence of my mother's severe indisposition I must defer it. I am anxious to see, converse, and to become better acquainted with you. Give my kind respects to the Rev. Robt. Taylor if you have an opportunity. Tell him he has one female admirer, one female friend, and although a Deist, which in this place is a most dreadful word, particularly for a lady, yet one who never encouraged a thought inimical to virtue and honor. Hoping to hear from you very soon and with best wishes for your health, happiness and prosperity,
"I subscribe myself, my dear sir,
"Yours truly,
"Eliza Sharples."
Many other letters passed between Carlile and this lady, who became fired with the enthusiasm to become a volunteer in the good cause, and devote herself and whatever talent she might possess to the work under the direction of Carlile. The last, or the last but one of these Bolton letters was written on the last Christmas Day she was ever with her mother and her sisters, and we must pause for a moment in sympathy for that poor mother who was so soon to lose her brightest and best daughter. The time was close at hand when she would mourn this beloved daughter as one lost to her for ever. For, sad to say, she was one of those marble-hearted Christians who could forgive anything but unbelief; and though our sympathy goes out to her for her sorrow at that time, it is restricted by the fact that she never forgave Isis for the step taken. No, not even to death itself nor to the children of Isis after their mother's death. Here is the letter written on old-fashioned foolscap paper that feels like parchment, and is to-day in most excellent preservation, though all these letters (of which only the preceding ones have been before printed) have travelled many thousand miles and been exposed to many vicissitudes for more than sixty years. This next letter was written to Carlile on Christmas Day, and we can see how quickly the idea of helping in the work of reform had taken root and was carrying her on to the new and unknown life, and how her quiet and peaceful past was falling away from her, like loosened garments from her shoulders, to be left behind her as she steps into the new life.
"Bolton, December 25th, 1831.
"ISIS POSTOPHORI—MY POSTOPHORI OMNIA,—
"My dear sister having just left me to attend her devotions at church, reminded me of my obedience to you. Under this impression my thoughts are committed to paper and transmitted to London; her thoughts are wandering—God knows where? Words are inadequate to express my feelings in being allowed to correspond with one who possesses such an exalted, noble, and generous mind. Would that our acquaintance had taken place years ago. I should not have been the ignorant girl I am. My aim in future will be to make up for time lost by strict application to study. Do you think I can be of any service when I come to town? You may depend upon my perseverance and attention. Nevertheless, I am fearful of being found dull and stupid, because deficiency and imperfection are natural, at least constant attendants upon all my undertakings. Oh! that my humble endeavors may be crowned with success. Every exertion shall be called forth, every effort, every attempt made to enlighten myself first, and then to diffuse that knowledge and instruction to mankind which is so universally wanted. I am an enemy to every kind of subordination and persecution. I am an enemy to 'kings and priests and lords'. I am a female reformer; but a consistent one. I am also a philanthropist, in an eminent degree an admirer of Carlile's and Taylor's characters. The opportunities that have been offered me in making my enquiries into theological truths were exceedingly limited. Those opportunities were not lost; I am convinced that all religion is vice; experience has taught me to believe so, and it is not in the power of even the Archbishop himself to convince me to the contrary. I feel proud in being called an Infidel, and wish that all mankind felt as I do. What a reformation, what a glorious reform we should have! If I remember rightly it was I that retired from the room into which you were shown at Mr. A———'s? Had our introduction taken place at that time, what years of happiness had been mine; my desire to be introduced was very great, and I particularly requested the favor, but all in vain. I am greatly indebted for the interest you are making in my behalf; assure those friends that their kindness and attention will not be bestowed upon an ungrateful object-The inducement to my conduct in this correspondence proceeds from an unquestionable nature, an inducement to render myself useful to society generally. My pretensions to knowledge are at present very few indeed, but under such a master I am sure to improve rapidly. Mother and sister are quite ignorant of the particulars of my journey to town. I have an antipathy to everything connected with intrigue, but under the present circumstances am obliged to act cautiously in consideration for my mother's feelings, for which I have a very great regard. I am quite at your service, so you may appoint any time you think proper for my departure. Everything relative to my family and friends shall be made known to you verbally; they are respectable. My dependence is entirely upon my mother, but she being very feeling and considerate, gives no reason for dissatisfaction. My anxiety to commence my new career grows stronger every day. My wishes to prove the sincerity of my assertions are equally so-Will you add to your kindness by pointing out the best method of conveyance? My travelling has been rather confined, so the least information will be very gladly received. This letter is quite unconnected. I think if I have been called off once, I have been called off twenty times. Sunday is generally a gossiping day, and more particularly being Christmas Day. I must conclude by wishing you the compliments of the season. My kind wishes to Mr. Taylor. Grant me the indulgence of a letter very soon. I quite expected sending you a very long letter very closely written, but am disappointed. Ere your next arrives you will have come to a decision, perhaps, as to the time of my leaving here. I went up to Hardie's yesterday to meet my letter, which came safe to hand, and took opportunity of sending you a few lines (which have been or will be received ere you receive this) from there. May you be blessed with health, happiness and prosperity, and continue to increase in knowledge, and may you have every succeeding day an opportunity of defeating your oppressors and of imparting your sentiments to mankind, and be able to induce them to turn their thoughts on that which conduces to their happiness, their honor, and their prosperity.
"Eliza or Isis."
The summons she awaited was not long in reaching her, and so we find her on the 11th January, 1832, starting for London, which she reached safely, and lost no time in getting into active service. She called on Carlile in the Giltspur Street prison, and after a lengthy consultation with him, set about opening up the Rotunda again. It is needless to say that Carlile was more than pleased with the beauty and intelligence as well as the courage displayed by the young lady, and he accepted her as a veritable Joan of Arc for the cause to which he was devoted. Almost her first act was to go to Lord Melbourne and procure his permission to reopen the Rotunda on her promise that while she was in charge of it, there should be nothing but philosophic lecturers and discussions take place there. To Lord Melbourne she made known her name and family connections, as also her object, viz., to assist as much as possible to support both Carlile and Taylor while they were in prison. It is fair to say that the gentleman treated her kindly and granted her request. Isis delivered her first lecture at the Rotunda on the 29th of January, a little over two weeks after her arrival from Lancashire. From consideration for the feelings of her family, her mother most particularly, her name and connections were carefully concealed from the public, and she became known as the "Lady of the Rotunda". Isis, the name Carlile had given her in his letters, was adopted as the name of a weekly publication which was started in February and kept up for about two years. Naturally, the novelty of the proceeding, combined with the beauty and talent of the lady, and the mystery surrounding her, drew many hearers. She was the first woman to take the platform as an independent thinker and public speaker in England. Almost, as a matter of course, she was inundated by letters of adoration, curiosity, approbation and so on, and proposals of all kinds. Any of these that seemed to carry a double purpose in it were answered publicly in the columns of theIsis. She preserved herincognitacompletely so far as the public was concerned, and also kept herself free from all private calumny. On Sunday and two or three times a week she lectured at the Rotunda and various other places by invitation. The study necessarily incident to these frequent lectures occupied the whole of her time, and except for her visits to Carlile in prison in Giltspur Street, and the Rev. Robt. Taylor in Horsemonger Lane Gaol, she had no diversion of any kind. There is no doubt at all but that Carlile outlined all her lectures for her, for it would have been impossible for an inexperienced country girl with the ordinarily narrow education of her time and class to have been able to have pleased a metropolitan audience of reading and thinking men and women. As it was, she delivered the lectures in a very quiet and dignified manner, and at their close quietly left the platform, leaving to others the task of discussing or defending the arguments used or the merit or demerit of the discourse itself. Frequently her exit had to be made through a long double-lined passage of admirers. Flowers were offered in profusion. She would sometimes accept a few simple ones with an inclination of the head or a "Thank you", but never stayed her steps for an instant. She busied herself in procuring for Mr. Taylor a modification of his sentence, or at least some mitigation of the severities practiced upon him. Writing to Carlile from Horsemonger Lane Gaol, January 12, 1832, the Rev. Robt. Taylor says:—
"I am much delighted with your 'new born hope'. 'Isis' is the very name. The Goddess, I am already an idolator. My eager adoration anticipates her ephiphany! She is indeed Isis Omnia to our cause. If she should realise your description and my fancies, the path of immortality is open before her."
He adds a postscript:—
"I have just seen Isis, who beyond all I had dreamed makes me happy. She will, she must succeed. I have seen her star in the East, and am her worshipper."
A little later she addressed a petition to Lord Melbourne in Taylor's behalf, wherein she makes mention of his "proneness to jest" on what are considered sacred subjects, and that his best friends regretted that tendency of the rev. gentleman, who was really the finest orator and deepest student in the country, and a man of wonderful genius, ect., ect. But the prisoner took great umbrage at this, and would have no pardon of this getting. The petition itself was innocent enough and was really of Carlile's framing, and Taylor had no better friend than Carlile. But the rev. gentleman was very much of a spoilt child, and it was always difficult to keep him in good humor. It was two or three of Taylor's jokes which gained him the two years' imprisonment he received on the last trial. A little note in Mr. Taylor's handwriting, but without date, showed how keenly he felt the reflection on his good sense.
"Mr. Taylor begs to be spared the superfluous pain of seeing a person who has injured him so grievously, and has made the pretence of presenting a petition on his behalf a means of insulting him more than his bitterest enemy could have done. Mr. Taylor would have rather terminated his existence, with his own hand, than have accepted his deliverance upon that degrading and atrociously insulting promise and condition with which Miss Sharples has taken upon herself to implore it. Mr. Taylor has written to Lord Melbourne to counteract as much as possible the mischievous and scandalous falsehood of which Miss Sharples has been the instrument. Mr. T.'s only hopes of a lessening of his term of imprisonment rested in the doubt that existed in Lord M.'s mind as to the nature of the alleged offence. Miss S. has removed that doubt and justified the imprisonment to any extent.
"To Miss Sharples,
"Editress of theIsis."
Following this, in a few days, after Carlile had written to Taylor telling him that "he ought to apologise to Isis on his knees for grieving her thus, when she was turning every stone to do him good ". Taylor replied:—
"Ah, Lord! you talk of romance and recommend wisdom and reason. Nobody loves wisdom and reason more than I do; but my knees are now too stiff to undergo the operation you recommend. I would rather and better support the consciousness of being altogether in the wrong, than to rescue even my life itself by kneeling. If you should find me as I intend you shall, on good terms with Miss Sharples, they will not have been achieved by kneeling. Mark! I will achieve my peace without you. Humiliations never yet healed grievances,
"Yours affectionately,
"R. Taylor."
Later still we find him lamenting from the bottom of his heart that he should ever have been the cause of bringing tears to those lovely violet eyes, and asks forgiveness for whatever has seemed excessive in the expression of his grief, which has indeed been intense, and "assure Miss Sharples that I am sorry in my soul for the weight which my mental anguish has thrown upon her".
Several months passed away and the further acquaintance and constant daily interviews of Miss Sharples with Richard Carlile, which were necessary to the business and the cause in which they were both so earnestly engaged, developed a very strong attachment between them. It would seem, almost, as though Miss Sharples had been reserved for this union, it being more than singular that she should have arrived at the age of twenty-six without having met anyone who had made any impression upon her heart. Yet she had many admirers, and indeed, one would think that so beautiful a girl had been formed for love alone. We cannot find, however, a single instance in her history which would show that her heart had ever been touched before she met Carlile. It seemed as though she was waiting for the summons to take her part in the allotted task, and when he wrote to her in his delight at hearing of a young and beautiful woman who wanted to wield a sword in the battle of free thought, saying that such a woman should be everything to him, she was not surprised, but expressed her complete willingness in her simple "so be it". But when she was brought into close relationship with Carlile and had the opportunity of seeing the genuine superiority of his character, the generosity, the unselfishness, the amiability of his temper, his kindness to everybody in his employ, his great love and patience with his children, and his unfailing sense of justice in all the relations of life, she found one who was worthy of all the love and appreciation she had to bestow, and he received it: a love that filled the measure to overflowing. Unfortunately, Carlile had been and was still paying the penalty of the mistake of his early manhood, his unhappy marriage, although after twenty years of unhappiness he was as free as he could be when no divorce was possible. So, in this state of affairs, Carlile did all that was left to him to do, and that was to explain every particular of his situation to her, for her consideration and reflection.
The first shock to the happiness of Carlile and Isis was caused by the receipt of a letter from her brother which induced the following:—
"Health and Tranquillity! A letter from Bolton has at length found its way to London, and my bosom is bursting with indignation and sorrow, with indignation for the contemptible and satirical style and manner in which the letter is written; and sorrow for a parent's suffering. My God! what shall I do? Leave you, my dear Richard, I cannot, it would be death to me and your hopes, and your and my cause. My own hopes are that mother is not so ill as represented, and that they have written in such a strain to induce me to give up my purpose. What must I do? Oh! how I wish that you were at liberty to advise and comfort me. I am quite alone in this large place. David wished to go out with Thomas, and I could not refuse, 'tis the first time the request was made. Mrs. Hudson merely gave me the letter and then went out again; all is shut up and I feel to want your presence so much. Oh! Richard, I think my heart will burst, that cruel, taunting, unkind, insulting letter. I could have forgiven him if it had not contained the distressing intelligence of my mother's illness (inconsiderate, unfeeling wretch, you have not written in haste, but must have sat and premeditated every word, so-that you might doubly wound, doubly wring my over-whelmed heart). My dear Richard, what must I do? You are all the world to me, yet I cannot divest myself of those feelings which are now almost too much for me to bear. Were I to return home to-morrow it would perhaps avail nothing, and the idea is madness itself to me. You must forgive me, Richard, for troubling you with my grief and sorrow; but methinks my brain will turn if I do not give you a little of them. Remember you are my friend, my husband, and never did I require your love, your care so much as now. My brother has probed to my heart's core, by heaven, I think I shall never forgive him. I will never again write to him. He shall never hear from me. I will write to my sister to-morrow; how I feel for her, poor Maria. My heart is torn with contending emotion. I long to go home for mother's sake and Maria's, but for my own sake I wish to remain with you. I feel quite assured that if I return home that I shall never see you again, and what say you to that? Are you willing to relinquish your Isis, your bride? Oh Richard, do endeavor for my sake to obtain your liberty. I will endeavor to be all that you can wish. I will strive to equal Miss F. Wright. My eyes are quite swollen with tears, the first I have shed since I came to town. I wish much to breakfast with you this morning, but really I am afraid the Governor will think my visits too frequent. I, however, hope to see you some part of the day and to hear from you early in the morning. I am afraid, my dear Richard, you will think me very weak, very unlike a philosopher. It was only to-day I was boasting of courage and firmness. I cannot but think that empty vessels make the greatest sound.
"Good Night."
After this it was agreed between Carlile and Isis that she should return home for a short visit and satisfy herself as to her mother's condition, and to ease her mother's mind as to her own well-being, which certainly was the wisest thing to do. In the following letter she takes leave of Carlile for a time:—
"Of all men the most intelligent and the most beloved! When you receive this note I shall be in person many miles distant, but united in heart, in thought, in corresponding sentiment, in mind, in soul, in mutual love and affection. These are the two first days that we have been separated, that we have been taken away from each other; and although I am writing this before my departure, because there will be no opportunity of sending during my absence, I can very easily anticipate what my feeling and disposition will be on. Sunday morning. I shall be surrounded by friends anxious to make me comfortable, and they will wear a smile upon their faces; but my bosom will pant for him whom it has-been accustomed to meet, and whom it adores. It will pant for its accustomed embrace from him on whom my eyes gaze with pleasure and delight, him whose features shine with perfect integrity, with confidential affection, with intelligence, with candor, with conscious dignity, with friendship, with reciprocal love, and with manly beauty. My attachment becomes stronger every day. The more I see and know of you the more I admire, love, and esteem you, and the more reluctant I am to be absent one moment from you. Oh! may it be always thus. In twenty years may we embrace each other in tried affection, and again renew our engagement of everlasting fidelity, honesty, and truth. I sincerely love you, and flatter myself that my absence will be a little regretted to-day, the day on which I shall request David to convey this note. Let us be happy in the kind assurance of each other's love; let us bless each other with a free, affable, and corresponding deportment towards each other. Let us strengthen each other so as to be able to contend with existing evils, but let us never deviate one moment from our principles. Let not the presence of the Misses Laws on Sunday make you to forget me. Remember, my love, that now I have a double claim to your protection, to your assistance, to your kind protection, to your solicitude, to your love. Oh! do be faithful, be constant, do not encourage a thought to arise that will, in the least, stem the torrent of affection with which my bosom is overflowing.
"I hope ere this your cold is better. Do, my dear Richard, take care of yourself. The name of Richard is doubly dear to me; my father, my beloved father's name was Richard, and now my husband's, my lover's name is Richard. I love to dwell upon it. Adieu, most valued, most beloved of men. God bless you, my philosopher!"
This little visit to Bolton relieved the mind of Isis of some anxiety in regard to the mother she had so abruptly left, and convinced also the mother that the determination to follow the course she had mapped out for herself was no idle purpose, but one of principle and duty. Besides, she was wholly linked to Carlile in spirit, in principle, in the object to be attained, in business, and in the strongest bond of all—that of love. As she said herself, "Her spirit was wedded to the spirit of her husband before she had spoken to him". With him was life, without him was death. Probably never before had a prison witnessed such an exhibition of awakening love and almost perfect happiness. To Isis it was not only the opening up of the fountain of knowledge, but that of love also, and seldom have those two all-powerful streams been more beautifully and more fittingly blended. Their agreement was that they should make the best marriage contract that could be made at that time, that she should unite her name with his and be known as Mrs. Sharples Carlile, her private signature to be Elizabeth Sharples Carlile, and the public announcement of their moral marriage to be made immediately upon his liberation from the Giltspur Street Compter, which was then in early prospect. But the action of the authorities in refusing her admission to the gaol caused an earlier explanation of the facts of the association to be made, and was understood by all their private friends. It was not, however, till May 29th, 1834, that it was publicly announced in the dedication of the first volume of theIsis. An outbreak of cholera in the city of London gave to the authorities of the gaol an excuse to keep out all visitors. This was truly an unexpected blow to both, but to poor Isis it was almost a killing blow. Carlile had to find courage and fortitude for them both. The letters that passed daily between them were of the most affectionate character, and Isis poured out her soul in love and adoration through them. Unfortunately for the better sequence of this correspondence, many of Carlile's letters have been lost, but enough remains to show the character of it. It is very difficult to arrange these letters in proper order, owing to the fact that they were not dated, being exchanged by bearers or messengers making regular trips once or twice a day. It is only by a searching out of dates and of facts, otherwise known, that it is possible to place them with any degree of accuracy or fitness.
This love which Isis poured out so lavishly was of the old-fashioned kind, of happily an old-fashioned time: the time when women had no other avenue for their pent-up feelings or ambitions, the only avenue which opened up for them except their church, their sewing, or their household cares, their dresses or their gossips; when they were wholly dependent upon their relatives for their support; when no diplomas awaited their eager studies; when the luxury of self-earned money was unknown to them; when the curse of Puritan propriety was laid on them, when a skip or a jump was a crime against young ladyhood; when all the possibilities of the present age were undreamed of, and women were bound by the iron rule of precedent and respectability. Even our poor Isis was only in a transitional state, and had much to unlearn and overcome.
Here are some extracts from her letters of that time:—
"Your letter to me of to-day is really a most delightful one. I have read it over and over again, pressed it as frequently to my lips and blessed its author. I feel the value of your friendship most fervently, and feel myself happy in your choice. How kind, how very kind and considerate is your behaviour toward me. Believe me, your acquaintance is duly appreciated, and expect and hope that twenty years hence our feelings and affection will be still the same. I feel that mine will never change, whatever fortune may allot me. I am very much in arrears with you in letter writing. I believe a bankruptcy will have to take place, at least a compromise. I send you anObserver, loaf sugar, and a little tea, as much as can be afforded this evening. Heaven bless you, my love, anchor of my affection and my hope, solace and comfort of my life, inferior to none and without an equal."
"The light-fingered goddess to her friend and beloved companion. You desire me to be happy; and you, my friend, a prisoner. Be really happy, you say. Think of my situation for a moment, and then you will be led to exclaim, 'No, poor girl, I must make her happy, her happiness will depend upon me '. I am waiting, oh! how anxiously, for your liberation, and then, and not till then shall I be able to say, 'I am happy'."
"Happiness!
"There was only one object wanting to render Mr. Owen's institution a perfect paradise. The company was very numerous, being, I suppose, about 2,000 individuals in attendance, upon whose countenances joy, health and happiness seemed to beam. Oh! what folly to look beyond this world for heaven, I thought, as I gazed upon the happy throng. Oh! that man would become rational, make, for it is in his power, a heaven upon the earth; instead of which, like the dog in the fable, he is grasping at a shadow and losing the substance. Oh! that man would cease to be inconsistent, that he would cease to act so contrary to reason and common sense by soaring above his comprehension and understanding in search of that which is in his immediate possession. My evening's amusement was greatly enhanced by the introductions which took place between myself and several of the delegates, particularly those who came from Lancashire. I was introduced as the 'Lady Isis', and was indeed warmly, and I may say affectionately, received. My fame, they were pleased to say, had spread abroad in Lancashire, and the co-operators were anxiously awaiting the time when you and I could pay them a visit. Your name being introduced, and with so much ardor and respect, afforded me additional pleasure. Two or three were requested by the society to see you, if possible, and are calling to-day at Fleet Street in order to be taken by me to prison. What think you, love, must I attend them or send Mullins? You must decide. Do say yes, because remember I did not see you yesterday. I promise not to stay a moment with you; and I really have a great deal to say, for I have seen a gentleman from Bolton who heard a sermon preached in our church on the Farce day, and all about me. Now must not I come just while I tell you the news? The hour appointed for the two gent.'s to call here is one o'clock. Now, love, if you think it will be more prudent to remain at my post, I will submit cheerfully, although to-morrow I may not see you. My visit to the amiable Misses Laws must be deferred to-morrow, I cannot go and lecture too. Mr. Smith is going, he told me. I saw Mr. Prout last evening, and had a nice chat with him. I have sent you a number of theCo-operative Society. I thought of filling up this bit of paper, but Thomas is waiting. Adieu."
"Now, love, I have just a moment to spare. I assure you that with the exception of the short time it took to prepare your little dinner, my absence from the shop has not amounted to more than half-an-hour. The dinner was rather late, in consequence of my being detained in the shop. I did not fidget about it, because I felt desirous that you should have time to enjoy it. Oh, my dearest Richard, excuse me, but really I must mention the subject that lays nearest and dearest to my heart first, my separation from you; everything else sinks into nothingness in comparison of that greatest of all evils and troubles and trials—my separation; overcome this point, and I will be happy and cheerful and gay. On the contrary, I am sure, I shall not survive a month. It is nonsense to preach patience and philosophy, I'll not hear it, my patience is exhausted and all my philosophy falls to the ground. All my thoughts, all my hopes tend towards seeing you on Sunday. If I am disappointed, I shall bid farewell to all hope. You must insist upon seeing me just once to explain matters of business, etc., etc. Oh, dear, I will see you. Indeed, I must! Now, love, the second trouble. I have sent to Standige's, and they very politely said £15 would satisfy them until next week. I have sent the £15, so let your mind be at ease on that point. Do, do, Richard, if you love me, obtain me an interview; it will reward me for a world of pain and suffering. You know not how this separation presses upon my heart, and to-morrow—But I will not anticipate anything unfavorable, you, I know dear, you will do your best. I wish I was Miss Newell* for a day or two. Copeland is waiting, love. I send you aCrisisand two oranges, in haste. Bless you. Good night, my beloved, my honored Richard. I hope we shall yet be happy."