Tennyson, with all his genius, never quite emerged from the theologic caves of the conventicle. The sea of pure reason he took to be "the sea of Death." Doubt was a "sunless gulf." He did not know that "Doubt" is a translucent valley, where the light of Truth first reveals the deformities of error--hidden by theological mists. The line containing the words "wilder comrades" was understood to include me. Out of the "One Hundred Contributors," whose names were published in the _Athenaeum_ (February 10, 1877), there were only-six:--Professor Huxley, Professor Tyndall, Professor Clifford, George Henry Lewes, myself, and possibly Frederic Harrison, to whom the phrase could apply. If the remaining ninety-four had any insurgency of opinion in them, it was not then apparent to the public, who are p.r.o.ne to prefer a vacuum to an insurgent idea. New ideas of moment have always been on hand in the _Nineteenth_ if not of the "wilder" kind.

After issuing fifty volumes of the _Nineteenth Century Review_, the editor published a list of all his contributors, with the t.i.tles of the articles written by them, introduced by these brief but memorable words:--

"More than a quarter of a century's experience has sufficiently tested the practical efficacy of the principle upon which the _Nineteenth Century_ was founded, of free public discussion by writers invariably signing their own names.

"The success which has attended and continues to attend the faithful adherence to this principle, proves that it is not only right but acceptable, and warrants the hope that it may extend its influence over periodical literature, until unsigned contributions become quite exceptional.

"No man can make an anonymous speech with his tongue, and no brave man should desire to make one with his pen, but, having the courage of his opinions, should be ready to face personally all the consequences of all his utterances. Anonymous letters are everywhere justly discredited in private life, and the tone of public life would be raised in proportion to the disappearance of their equivalent--anonymous articles--from public controversy."

Than the foregoing, I know of no more admirable argument against anonymity in literature. There is nothing more unfair in controversy than permitting writers, wearing a mask, to attack or make replies to those who give their names--being thereby enabled to be accusative or imputative without responsibility. There is, of course another side to this question. Persons of superior and relevant information, unwilling to appear personally, are thereby excluded from a hearing--which is so far a public loss.

But this evil is small compared with the vividness and care which would be exercised if every writer felt that his reputation went with the work which bore his name. Besides, how much slovenly thinking, which is slovenly expressed--vexing the public ear and depraving the taste and understanding of the reader--would never appear if the writer had to append his signature to his production? Of course, there is good writing done anonymously, but power and originality, if present, are never rewarded by fame, and no one knows who to thank for the light and pleasure nameless writers have given. The example of the _Nineteenth Century and After_ is a public advantage.

CHAPTER V. GEORGE ELIOT AND GEORGE HENRY LEWES

[Ill.u.s.tration: Lewes]

More than acquaintances.h.i.+p, I had affectionate regard for George Henry Lewes and George Eliot. Lewes included me in the public list of writers and contributors to the _Leader_--the first recognition of the kind I received, and being accorded when I had only an outcast name, both in law and literature, I have never ceased to prize it.

George Eliot's friends.h.i.+p, on other grounds I have had reason to value, and when I found a vacant place at the head of their graves which lie side by side, I bought it, that my ashes should repose there, should I die in England.

On occasions which arose, I had vindicated both, as I knew well the personal circ.u.mstances of their lives. When in America I found statements made concerning them which no editor of honour should have published without knowledge of the facts upon which they purported to be founded, nor should he have given publicity to dishonouring statements without the signature of a known and responsible person. On the first opportunity I spoke with Lewes's eldest son, and asked authority to contradict them. He thought the calumnies beneath contempt, that they sprang up in theological soil and that they would wither of themselves, if not fertilised by disturbance. I know of no instance of purity and generosity greater than that displayed by George Eliot in her relation with Mr. Lewes. Edgar Allan Poe was subject to graver defamation, widely believed for years, which was afterwards shown to be entirely devoid of truth. George Eliot's personal reputation will hereafter be seen to be just and luminous.

For myself, I never could see what conventional opinion had to do with a personal union founded in affection, by which n.o.body was wronged, n.o.body distressed, and in which protection was accorded and generous provision made for the present and future interest of every one concerned.

Conventional opinion, not even in its ethical aspects, could establish higher relations than existed in their case. There are thousands of marriages tolerated conventionally and ecclesiastically approved, in every way less estimable and less honourable than the distinguished union, upon which society without justification affected to frown.

Interest in social and political liberty was an abiding feature in George Eliot's mind. When Garibaldi was at the Crystal Palace, she asked me to sit by her and elucidate incidents which arose.

On the publication of my first volume of the History of Co-operation, I received the following letter from Mr. Lewes:--

"The Elms, Rickmansworth,

"Aug. 15, 1875.

"My dear Holyoake,--Mrs. Lewes wishes me to thank you for sending her your book, which she is reading aloud to me every evening, much to our pleasure and profit. The light firm touch and quiet epigram would make the dullest subject readable; and this subject is _not_ dull.

We only regret that you did not enter more fully into working details. Perhaps they will come in the next volume.

"Ever yours truly,

"G. H. Lewes."

The second volume of the work mentioned supplied to her the details she wished.

In 1877 I visited New Lanark and saw the stately rooms built by Robert Owen, of which I sent an account to the Times. The most complete appliances of instruction known in Europe down to 1820 are all there, as in Mr. Owen's days. A description of them may be read in the second volume of the "History of Co-operation" referred to. When George Eliot saw the letter she said, "the thought of the Ruins of Education there described filled her with sadness." I made an offer to buy the neglected and decaying relics, which was declined. I wrote to Lord Playfair, whose influence might procure the purchase. I endeavoured to induce the South Kensington Museum authorities to secure them for the benefit of educationists, but they had no funds to use for that purpose.

Some women, not distinguished for personal beauty when young, become handsome and queenly later in life. This was so with Harriet Martineau.

George Eliot did not come up to Herbert Spencer's conception of personal charm. One day when she was living at G.o.dstone, she drove to the station to meet Mr. Lewes. He and I were travelling together at the time, and he caused the train to be delayed a few minutes that I might go down into the valley to meet his wife. I had not seen George Eliot for some years, and was astonished at the stately grace she had acquired.

One who knew how to state a principle describes the characteristic conviction of George Eliot, from which she never departed, and which had abiding interest for me.

"She held as a solemn conviction--the result of a lifetime of observation--that in proportion as the thoughts of men and women are removed from the earth on which they live, are diverted from their own mutual relations and responsibilities, of which they alone know anything, to an invisible world, which can alone be apprehended by belief, they are led to neglect their duty to each other, to squander their strength in vain speculations, which can result in no profit to themselves or their fellow-creatures, which diminish their capacity for strenuous and worthy action during a span of life, brief, indeed, but whose consequences will extend to remote posterity."*

* _Congregationalist_ April, 1881, p. 297.

Bray's Autobiography.

CHAPTER VI. WHEN BIRMINGHAM WAS A TOWN

When Birmingham was a town it had a national reputation for Liberalism.

At present I prefer to call myself a "townsman" rather than a "citizen."

The old pride of owning to being a Birmingham man is merged into the admission of being born in Warwicks.h.i.+re. Some of the political scenes in its town days may be instructive to its present-day citizens.

The famous Birmingham Political Union of 1832 was "hung up like a clean gun" on G. F. Muntz's suggestion and never taken down. Many years later a new Union was projected. Mr. Joseph Chamberlain was in the chair. I was on the platform, and the only person present who was a member of the former Union. I had no opportunity of speaking--nor indeed had anybody, save movers and seconders of motions. There was nothing radical about the proceedings. n.o.body's opinion was asked. No opportunity of discussion was given. The meeting was a mere instrument for registering the business of the chair. The impression that afternoon made upon me has never left me. Nothing afterwards surprised me in the performances of the "quick-change artiste" of the Parliamentary music-hall.

Mr. John Morley wrote an article in the _Fortnightly_ on Mr.

Chamberlain, which first gave him a position before the public. Not even in Birmingham could any one see adequate justification for it. But Mr.

Morley proved right, and had discerned a capacity which had not then unfolded itself.

About that time Mr. Chamberlain made some remark on Mr. Disraeli in the Birmingham Town Council, which did not amount to much. Mr. Disraeli did the munic.i.p.al speaker the honour to call him to account. Had any one in like case called Mr. Disraeli to account he would have said in his airy and evasive way: "Every public speaker is liable to the misconstruction of unheeding and ill-hearing reporters, and he could not be expected to answer for them." Mr. Chamberlain gave no sign of any such adroitness which was ready to his hand, but wrote what read like an abject apology.

He did not dare to say to Mr. Disraeli "What I have said I have said."

Mr. Jesse Collings was one of the minor merchants of Birmingham. He came originally from Exeter, and was held in great respect for his earnest Liberalism, and for promoting the education of the people--though he was himself a sectarian pure and simple, with little, if any, secularity in him. When he came to be Mayor, the Tories of Birmingham--who had not then and never had any man of mark or genius among them--were capable of outrage. It was the only art they knew. When Mr. Collings presided one day at a public meeting in the town hall, they drew an a.s.s's head on a large sheet of pasteboard, and hung it over the clock in front of the chair labelled--the "Portrait of the Mayor." For two hours they made all business impossible by shouting "Mr. Mayor, look at your portrait." At length the Mayor took courage and ordered the Chief Constable--Major Bond--to remove the picture placard and the ringleader of the disturbance. This was construed as an insult, which Mr. Kynersley, the princ.i.p.al Tory magistrate, supported. I was one who urged Mr. Collings to apply to the bench for a case, that it might be determined in the higher courts whether a mayor had legal power to preserve order at a public meeting. The case was refused by Mr. Kynersley. This was the treatment of the Right Honourable Jesse Collings for being a Liberal. Is there a stranger sight in England than seeing this Liberal mayor dressed in Tory livery, fetching and carrying in Parliament for the intolerant party which treated him with such ostentatious indignity? What must be his sense of humiliation under his new convictions? Equally tragic and unforeseen must be the humiliation of the Tory party in Parliament who used to boast of their pride, their dignity, and self-respect at having to accept as a leader the great "caucus-monger," as they called Mr.

Chamberlain, who was the object of their epithets and hatred during so many sessions. The tragedy of political convictions can no further go.

Far be it from me to deny that Mr. Collings and Mr. Chamberlain have not honest reasons for their strange professions, though I do not understand them. Like gravitation, I admit the fact, though its cause is inscrutable. In politics motives are as though they were not. They cannot be taken into account. If alleged, they admit of no proof.

Resentment rages among the partisans of the accused and the tendency of their principles, which it is alone instructive to discuss, is lost sight of. It is common for partisans to disparage those who have left their ranks--forgetting that conviction depends upon evidence. Those who leave a party may be as honest as those who remain. Whoever has rendered aid to liberty and gone over to the other side should be honoured for what he has done. He who has once stood upon the side of humanity deserves more respectful treatment than he who never took the part of the right. Mr. Collings and Mr. Chamberlain rendered important service to the cause of public progress, and their abandonment of it was a loss.

For the rest, the career of Joseph Chamberlain, like that of Joseph Cowen, has its explanation in the pa.s.sion for paramountcy.

CHAPTER VII. THE TENTH OF APRIL, 1848--ITS INCREDIBILITIES

It is not easy to determine which of many historic incidents of interest should take precedence. The 10th of April, known as the day of Chartist Terror--still spoken of in hysterical accents--will do, as it shows the wild way with which sober, staid men can write history. I was out that day with the Chartists, and well know how different the facts were from what is believed to be the peril of the metropolis on that day. I have long regarded it as one of the "bygones" having instruction in them.

The French have their 9th Thermidor (July 27, 1794), when the Reign of Terror ended, and their 18th Brumaire (November 9, 1799), when the Napoleonic Terror began, and the English have their 10th of April, 1848, when a million special constables were out staff in hand, to prevent a National Pet.i.tion of the people being presented to the House of Commons.

Yet no conspiracy existed--nor even had the police fabricated a plot (as they often did in those days)--no disorder had been threatened, not a man was armed; the only imaginable enemy was the Chartist Convention of less than two hundred persons. The most distinguished of the Special Constables was Louis Napoleon, who four years later became known as the a.s.sa.s.sin of French liberty, and whose career is one of the infamies of Imperialism.

The 10th of April, 1848, has for more than half a century held a place in public memory. The extraordinary hallucination concerning it has become historic, and pa.s.ses as authentic. Canon Charles Kingsley was the chief illusionist in this matter. He wrote: "On the 10th of April, the Government _had_ to fill London with troops, and put the Duke of Wellington in command, who barricaded the bridges and Downing Street, and other public buildings."* n.o.body "had" to do what Kings-ley relates.

Nine years had elapsed since any one had taken the field against the Government, and that was in a Welsh town 147 miles away. John Frost and his tiny band of followers were the insurgents. All were put down in twenty minutes by a few soldiers. Frost came to London in 1839 to consult James Watson, Henry Hetherington, Richard Moore, William Lovett, and other responsible Chartists, whom he most trusted. They besought Frost to abandon his idea of an attack upon Newport, as no one would support him. There were no arms in London on April, 1848, no persons were drilled, no war organisation existed, and no intention of rising anywhere. The Government knew it, for they had spies everywhere. They knew it as well or better in 1848 than in 1839. For nine years John Frost had then been in penal servitude, and no one had attempted to imitate him. Nor had he any followers in London in 1848. At his trial no n.o.blemen, no aristocratic ladies, crowded the court to cheer him by their sympathy, or mitigate his sentence by their influence--as they did when Dr. Jameson and others were on trial for their wanton and murderous raid on the Government of South Africa. Such is the difference between the insurgency of poverty seeking redress, and the insurgency of wealthy insolence seeking its further aggrandis.e.m.e.nt There was absolutely nothing in the field against the Duke of Wellington in London but a waggon, on which a monster pet.i.tion was piled.

* Introduction to "Alton Locke," by Thomas Hughes.

Politically speaking, London has seen no tamer day than the 10th of April, 1848. There was less ground for alarm than when a Lord Mayor s procession pa.s.ses through the city. The procession of actual Chartists, able to leave their work to join it, could never have amounted to four thousand. There was not a single weapon among them, nor any intention of using it had they possessed it. There was only one weapon known to be in London, in the hands of the Chartists, and that was a Colonel Macerone's spear, fabricated in 1830, to a.s.sist in carrying the first Reform Bill.

That was hidden up a chimney in 3, Queen's Head Pa.s.sage, Paternoster Row. It came into my possession, and I have often shown it to members of the Government to convince them what risks Society ran in Wellington's days--and are exposed to still.