His defence on the second day was momentarily interrupted, and on the third day was completely suppressed. In this connection may be mentioned the case of a man who had been summoned on this jury, and who had left a sick bed to sit with them at the trial. This man was of the same belief as Carlile, and had said to friends that he had no doubt at all of the sincerity of heart of the defendant, and that he, the juror, knew that Carlile would go to the scaffold if need be in defence of those opinions as he would. This man had left a sick bed to do what he could for Carlile on the jury, yet at last, and for some unknown reason, he allowed the verdict to be given without a dissenting word on his part.
At the close of each day's proceedings, Carlile issued a full report and sold it in twopenny sheets. These sheets were headed, "A Full Account of Richard Carlile's Mock Trials", and were sold with marvellous rapidity. They were immediately condemned by the authorities as indictable, and Mrs. Carlile was threatened with prosecution for selling them in the shop; but the sale kept on, and the trade at the Fleet Street shop exceeded anything that was so far known in the annals of the bookselling business.6 Besides this, Carlile addressed open letters to his judge and jury, arraigning them for the illegality of their conduct, and spread them broadcast. He also continued a series of articles in the Republican– called the "Crisis" – of the most daring character. They show the indomitable spirit and fearlessness of Carlile even while under heavy bail and, later, under conviction. Even while in prison he never faltered, no matter what the consequences to himself. Feeling that he was right in the position he had taken, he threw caution and diplomacy to the winds, and dared and defied the enemy to do their worst! One parallel only can I recall, and one which comes up in memory often as the daring deeds of this unconquerable spirit are recounted. It occurs in a little book called "The Bridge of the Gods". It is an Indian story, and the epoch is also far distant, in William Penn's time, I think. A scout, a white man, has fallen into the hands of his enemies, the Indians, and they prepare to torture him to death in their extremely horrible fashion, but he laughs at their devices, and even as they heap coals of fire upon his breast, he laughs at and derides them, and taunts his murderers by reminding them of all he has done against them, some of which acts they had seemed to forget, and while the coals of fire are (literally) burning their way to his heart he laughs and jeers them on to fresh horrors, never flinching, but daring and defying them till the last moment. Carlile's case was a civilised counterpart of this Indian story, yet with a happier result. The reader will realise the force of this comparison better as he reads further of Carlile's many encounters with his enemies and the enemies of intellectual freedom.
What would be thought in America of a President, who occupies about the same relative position as a Prime Minister of England, who would instruct a judge on the Bench as to his conduct of a case to be brought before him? The sun would not set before an impeachment committee would be organised for active work. That is, if a judge could be found base enough to be dictated to, and we do not think a judge could be found in either country to-day who would lend himself to such a thing. But in former days in England things were in such a servile state, that place and power were freely, almost openly, given for services, menial and degrading. It was only necessary for an aspiring barrister to relieve himself of his conscience and place it in a hermetically sealed vault, and he was ready for any amount of official climbing (by the backstairs) and the forthcoming reward of promotion.
The second day's proceedings were very interesting, and make excellent reading, even in this busy age. They will be found in the appendix, and are copied verbatim from a leading daily paper of the time. Having copies of all the papers of that date, I choose the British Press for its more general fairness in its report, although its editorial at the conclusion of the trial was bitter and severe on the defendant. In those days it was something gained, as even now, when one could get a fair report. The other papers were too palpably influenced by fear or discretion to give anything approaching to an unbiassed report.
Scores, nay hundreds of letters poured in upon Carlile before and after the sentence. The verdict of guilty shocked many of his friends for the moment, and made everyone feel unsafe and uneasy, none knowing what would be the outcome or where these prosecutions might end. But this state of feeling did not last, and the rebound came, and with it such an awakening and mental uprising as was never before known in any country. And though Carlile felt, as he says in his letter to Mr. Morrison, deserted by some who had been officious enough before the sentence, yet he was in no way deserted, it was merely that his friends were suffering from the shock. The circulation soon started, letters and encouragements and money poured in upon him with the highest encomiums upon his bravery and fearlessness, and admiration of his wonderful defence, wonderful indeed when his youth (still in his twenties) and former condition of life are taken into consideration, and the very short time – only two years – he had been before the public. It must have taken an immense amount of nerve and backbone to stand up alone and confront that array of clever but unscrupulous men! He was entirely unassisted except by what Mr. Hone prepared for the third day. He had to defend his own case, for it is doubtful whether any lawyer could have been obtained, or, if obtained, whether he could have been relied upon to be proof against all the temptations that would have been thrown in his way to betray his client. And so great was the amount of prejudice and fear of offending the powers that were, at that time, that it would have had to be a very strong lawyer that would dare to risk doing so, and where was such to be found? The following extract from a letter will show to what an extent prejudice had been created against Carlile, and how it had separated even members of the same family from each other, so that many who had espoused his cause, and were anxious to prove their sympathy, had to do so in secret from their own nearest relatives: —
"Compassion and justice have been refused to you without the precincts of the Royal Tribunal; you cannot therefore expect either within the verge of the modern star chamber, and are no doubt prepared for the worst, for I am sorry to observe that the hue and cry of Atheism, though founded on the most malignant calumny and falsehood, has become so prevalent as to oblige me to write this address to you in stealth from every individual member of my family and fireside, lest one and all might tear me to pieces for heaving one generous sigh on your behalf, or for the ghost of freedom's sake, now vanished from her wonted haunts in your infidel train which has frightened many foolish reformers into fits.
"All the papers of the Empire groaned under the load of his humane Anti-Christian, if not Atheistical principles, at an expense to Mr. Robert Owen of a thousand pounds including profits to this very Government, and the whole identical band of editors who are this season employed in hunting you, a poor plain, upright Deist, to perdition! If this be fair play, I know not what can be stigmatised as foul, base, and infamous from every point of view, and if the notice of it in your pleading does not tend to mollify the oracles of the law into a very lenient sentence for you, the public will estimate their integrity and legitimate equity accordingly. You must excuse this long communication, which as a work of intended mercy has engrossed so completely the Lord's Day that I have been able to think of nothing else. The truth is, since it must be out, I have been dreaming about you and your forlorn wife and children all night, and awoke very early this morning under a species of impulse which forced me from my bed to take pen and ink in this unequal contest against the powers and principalities of the darkest ages, arrayed to annihilate the man with whom they are afraid to argue in the face of the people. Yesterday, the news of the resurrection and transmission of the bones of the persecuted Thomas Paine7 to their native soil struck me very forcibly as an extraordinary, almost a miraculous coincidence with the decree that, in the same