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LIBRARY 




BOUGHT WTIH 

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UBRARY FINES 



WCCCCV PUBLISHeO." BY TiMDeNr- 
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%.oi^-Cx-,1.7, 10 







THE 

TEMPLE 

CLASSICS 



PAST 
S PRESENT 



THOMAS 
CARLYLE 



THE 

TEMPLE 

CLASSICS 



PAST 
& PRESENT 



THOMAS 
CARLYLE 



THE 

TEMPLE 

CLASSICS 



PAST 
& PRESENT 



THOMAS 
CARLYLE 



Ernir iit da Ltitn 



Firii SJitien, May 1901 




,.^^,^. ^«^^ j&'^S^...Am< 



Contents 



BsQK I-~Plll>EU 



The Sphinx . 
Mid cheater Ineurri 



Book II— The Akcii 
. Jocelin of Brakdond 

Si. Eilnwndibut^ 

Landlord Edmund 
, Abbot ilugo . 
. Twelfth Century 

Monk Sam (on 
. The Can»i»sing 
. The Election . 

Abbot Samson. 

Guvecnment . 

The Abb^fi Way! . 
. The Abbot") Troubl 

In Parlfamcnl . 

Henry of Eisex 
, Praitical-Deiotional 
, St Edmund , 

The Beginnings 



Contents 



Book I — PutoM 

1. Kndu .... 
11. The SphinK . 

Maocheater laanrrection . 
\ IV. Morriion'. PiU 

Aristocracy of Talent 
' Vr. . Hero-Worahip 



II. 



BoDi: II — Tflt Ancieht Monk 
Joceliu of BrakeloDd 
St. Edmandibuiy 



Landlord Edmnad . 

IV. Abbot Hugo . 

V. Twelfth Century . 
VL Monk Samaon 

VII. The Canvaaalng 

VIII, The Election . 
IX. Abbot Samion . 

X, GoTernment . 

XI. The Abbot'a Ways . 

XII. The Abbot'i Tronblea 
LIU. Id ParUament . 

tlV. Henry of Eaaex 

XV. Practical-DGTotlanal 

tVI. St. Edmund , 

VII. The Beginning* 



Book tIt—Tn Mqdeui Wokeu 

I. Phenomeiu 

II. Goipel of MammoDifm 

III. Gotpel of Dilectantiam 

IV. H«ppr . 
V. The EngUih . 

VL Two Centurici 

VII. Orer-Production 

Vlll, Unworking Ariicocracy 

IX. Working Ariitocracy 

X. Plugion of Undershot 

XI. Labour , 

XIL Rewiid . 

XIIL Democracy 

XIV. Sir Jabe.b Windbag 

XV. Morriioo again , 



Book IV-Ho 

I. AiiMocraciei . 

U. Bribery CammiECee . 

III. The One Inttitntlon 

IV. Ciptaini of Induitiy 
V. Permanence . 

VI. Tlie LsmJed . 
VII. The Glfled . 
VII!. The Didactic . 

SUMMART AND InDU , 



T 



past an!) present 

Book I. — Pkoem 

Cbaptec 1 



'HE conditioD of Eaghad, on which many Ene- 
pamphleta are now in the course of publica- Una's 
tion, and maoy thoughts unpublished are going on in ^""^ 
every reflective head, ia juatJy regarded as one of the ^j 
moM ominous, and withal one of the strangest, ever Por- 
aeen in this world. England ie fiill of wealth, of ert; 
moltifartouB produce, supply for human want in every 
kind; yet England is dying of inanition. With 
unabated bounty the land of England blooms and 
growfl ; waving with yellow harvests ; thick-studded 
with workshopB, industrial implements, with fifteen 
millions of workers, understood to be the strongest, 
die cunoingest and the wiltingest our Earth ever had ; 
these men are here ; the work they have done, the 
fruit they have realised is here, abundant, exuberant 
on every hand of nt : and behold, some baleful tiat 
aa of Enchantment has gone forth, saying, "Touch 
it not, ye workers, ye master -workers, ye maatcr- 
idlera ; none of yoo can touch it, no man of yon 



4 I PROEM 

Able- shall be the belter for k ; this is enchanted fruit ! " 
bodied On the poor workers such fiat &lls first, in its rudest 
Ss *'"'P* > '™' •*" '^^ ■^''^'' master- wor Iters too it falls ; 
neiUier can the rich maeter- idlers, nor any richest or 
highest man escape, but all are like to be brought 
low with it, and made 'poor ' enough, in the mooey 
sense or a far fataler one. 

Of these tuccessfiil skilful workers sonte two 
millions, it is now counted, sit in Workhouses, 
Poor-law Prisons; or have 'out-door relief flung 
over the wall to them, — the workhouse Bastille 
being filled to bursting, and the strong Poor-law 
t»vkeo asunder by a stronger.^ They sit there, 
these many months now ; their hope of deliverance 
as yet small. In workhouses, pleasantly so^named, 
because work cannot be done in them. Twelve- 
hundred-thousand workers in England alone ; their 
cunning right-hand lamed, lying idle in their sorrow- 
ful bosom; their hopes, outlooks, share of this fair 
worl^ ahut-in by narrow walls. They ait there, 
pent'jip, as in a kind of horrid enchantment; glad 
to be imprisoned and enchanted, that they may not 
perish starved. The picturesque Tourist, inasunsy 
autonm day, through this bounteous realm of Eng- 
land, descries the Union Workhouse on his path. 
* Passing by the Workhouse of St. Ives in Hundng- 
'donshire, on a bright day last autumn,' says the 
picturesque Tourist, ' I saw sitting on wooden 
' benches, in front of their Bastille and within their 
'ring-wail and its tailings, some half-hundred or 
' more of these men. Tall robust Bgures, young 
' mostly or of middle age ; of honest 



• The Retnrn of Paupers for England and Wales, a 
Ladydij 1S41, It, 'In-door 111,617, Oat-door 1,107,401 
Total i,41},qE$.' OJiiUS^trl. 



MIDAS ; 

' naoy of them thoughtful and even intelligent-look- The 
■■ ' log men. They sat there, near by one another ; Cwin- 
' but in 3 kind of torpor, especially in a ulence, ^^. 
' which was very striking. In silence ; for, alas, 
* what word was to be said ! An Earth all lying 
'round, crying. Come and till me, come and reap 
' me f — yet we here ait enchanted ! In the eyes 
'and^brows of these men hung the gloomiest ex- 
'pression, not of anger, but of grief and shame and 
' mamfbid inarticulate distress and weariness ; they 
'returned my glance with a glance that seemed to 
' say, " Do not look at us. We sit enchanted here, 
' we know not why. The Sun shines and the Earth 
' calls ; and, by the governing Powers and Impo- 
' teoces of this England, we are forbidden to oMy. 
' It is impossible, they tell us! " There was some- 
' thing that reminded me of Dante's Hell in the look 
■of all this; and I rode awiitly away.' 

So many hundred thousands sit in workhouses : 
and other hundred thousands have not yet got even 
workhouses ; and in thrifty Scotland '. itself, in 
Glasgow or Edinburgh City, in their dark lanes, 
hidden from all but the eye of God, and of rare ' 
Benevolence the minister of God, there are scenes 
of woe and destitution and desolation, such as, one 
may hope, the Sun never saw before in the most 
barbarous regions where men dwelt. Competent 
witnesses, the brave and humane Dr. Alison, who 
speaks what he knows, whose noble Healiug Art 
in his charitable hands becomes once more a truly 
sacred one, report these things for us : these things 
are not of this year, or of last year, have no refer- 
ence to our present state of commercial stagnation, 
but only to the common state. Not in sharp fever- 
fits, bat in chronic gangrene of this kind is Scotland 



Poor- auffermg. A Poor-law, any and every Poor-law, it 
•**• • may be obeeived, is but a temporary meawice ; an - ■ 
^ anodyne, not a remedy ; Rich and Poor, when once 
the naked facts of their coodition have come into 
collision, cannot long subsiEt together on a mere 
Poor-law. True enough : — and yet, humail'^ings 
cannot be left to die! Scotland too, ull aomethiag 
better come, must have a Poor-law, if Scotland is 
not to be a byword among the nations. O, what 3 
waste is there; of noble and thrice-noble national 
virtues; peajtant Stoicisms, Heroisms; valiant mao- 
ful habits, soul of a Nation's worth, — which all the 
metal of Potosi cannot purchase back ; to whicli 
the raetal of Potosi, and all you can buy with it, is 
dross and dust ! 

Why dwell on this aspect of the matter ! It ia 
too indisputable, not doubtfid now to any one. 
Descend where you will into the lower class, in 
Town or Country, by what avenue you will, by 
Factory Inquiries, Agricultural Inquiries, by Rev- 
enue Returns, by Mining- Labourer Committees, by 
opening your own eyes and looking, the same 
BorrowfiU result discloses itself: you have to admit 
that the working body of this rich English Nation 
has sunk or is fast sinking into a state, to which, all 
sides of it considered, there was literally never any 
parallel. At Stockport Assizes, — and this too has 
no reference to the present state of trade, being of 
date prior to that, — a Mother and a Father are 
arraigned and found guilty of poisoning three of 
their children, to defraud a ■ burial-society ' of some 
3/. St. due on the death of each child : they are 
arraigned, found guilty ; and the official authorities, 
it is whispered, hint that perhaps the case is not 
solitary, that perhaps you had better not probe fu- 



HIDAS J 

ther into that depaittnent of thiogs. Tbi) is in the Bnrial- 
-autumn of 1841 ; the crime iuelf ia of the [^erkrot Mob^ 
year or seaEon. " Brutal Bavaiget, degriided Irish," J^J" 
mutters the idle reader of Newspapers ; hardly 
lugering on this incident. Yet it is an incident 
worth lingering on ; the depravity, savagery a&d 
degraded IrishiEn) being nerer so well admitted. In 
the British land, a human Mother and Father, of 
white skin and profeesiag the Christian religion, had 
done this thing ; they, with Uieir Irishism and 
necessity and savagery, had been driven to do itp 
Such inBtances are like the highest mountain apex 
emerged into view ; under which lies a whole moun- 
tain region and land, not yet emerged. A human 
Mother and Father had said to themselves, Wliat 
shall we do to escape ttarvation \ We are deep 
sunk here, in our dark cellar ; aud help is far. — • 
Yei, in the Ugolino Hunger-tower stern things 
happen ; best-loved little Gaddo fallen dead on 
his Father's knees ! — The Stockport Mother and 
Father think and hint : Our poor little starveling 
Tom, who cries all day for victuals, who will see 
only evil and not good in this world; if he w^« 
out of misery at once ; he well dead, and the rest 
of us perhaps kept alive I It is thought, aud hinted ; 
at last it is done. And now Tom being killed, and 
all spent and eaten, Is it poor little starveling Jack 
that must go, or poor litde starveling Will \ — What 
a committee of ways and means ! 

In starved sieged cities, in the uttermost doomed 
ruin of old Jerusalem fallen under the wrath of Cod, 
it wa« prophesied and said, ' The hands of the ]utiful 
women have sodden their own children.' The stem 
Hebrew imaginauon could conceive no blacker gulf 
of wretchedness ; that wa« the uldmatum of degraded 



« I PROBH 

I- god-puQiBhed man. And we here, in modem 
d England, exab«VDt with Bupply of all kinds, be-'~ 
" sieged by nothing if it be not by tnTisible Encbant- 

meDts,'are we reaching that? How come these 

thing*? Wherefore are they, wherefore should 
they be? 

Nor are they of the St. Ives workhouses, of the 
Glasgow lanes, and Stockport cellars, the only un- 
blessed among us. This successfiil industry of 
England, with its plethoric wealth, has as yet made 
nobody rich ; it is an enchanted wealth, and belongs 
yet to nobody. We might aak. Which of us has it 
enriched ? We can spend thousands where we once 
spent hundreds ; but can purchase nothing good 
with them. In Poor and Rich, instead of noble 
. thrift and plenty, there is idle luxury alteroadng with 
mean scarcity and inability. We have aumptDouB 
garnitures for our Life, but have forgotten to live in 
the middle of them. It is an enchanted wealth ; 
no man of us can yet touch it The class of men 
who feel that they are truly better ofT by means of 
it, let them give as their name ! 

Many men eat finer cookery, drink dearer liqnors, 
— with what advantage they can report, and th«r 
I^octors can : but in the heart of them, if we go but 
of the dyspeptic stomach, what increase of Uessed- 
ness is there ? Are they better, beautifuler, stronger, 
braver ? Are they even what they call ' happier ' ? 
Do they look with satisfiction on more things and 
hnman faces in this God's-Earth ; do more things 
and human faces look with aatisfaction on them? 
Not BO. Human faces gloom discordantly, dis- 
loyally on one another. Things, if it be not mere 
cotton and iron diings, are growing disobedient to 



HIDAS 9 

man. The Master Worker is enchaoted, for the Indin- 
jTresCDt, Kke his Workhouse Workmaa j damoura, ^^ 

in vain hitherto, for a very simple sort of ' Liberty!* ^^«a 
the liberty ' to buy where he finds it cheapest, to sell 
where he fiodi it dearast.' With euineas jiogliog in 
every pocket, he was no whit richer i but now, the 
Tery guineas threatening to vanish, he feels that he 
IB poor indeed. Poor Master Worker ! And the 
Matter Unworker, is not he in a still lataler situa- 
tioD i Pausing amid his game-prceeTTes, with awful 
eye, — as he well may ! Coercing lifty-pound ten- 
aats ; coercing, bribing, cajoling ; ' doing what he 
likes with his own.' His mouth tiill of loud (iitil- 
^ ities, and arguments to prove the excellence of his 
Corn-law ; and in his heart the blackest misgiving, 
a desperate half-consciousness that his excellent 
Corn-taw is indefensible, that his loud arguments 
for it are of a kind to strike men too literally 

To whom, then, is this wealth of England wealth i 
Who is it that it blesses ; makes happier, wiser, 
beaudfuler, tn any way better 1 Who has got hold 
of it, to make it fetch and carry for htm, like a true 
servant, not like a false mock-servant ; to do him 
any real service whatsoever .' As yet no one. We 
have more riches than any Nation ever had before j 
we have less good of them than any Nation ever had 
before. Our successful industry is hitherto unsuc- 
cessful ; a strange success, if we stop here ! In the 
midst of plethoric plenty, the people perish ( with 
gold walls, and full bams, no man feels himself safe 
or satisfied. Workers, Master Workers, Unwork- 
ers, all men, come to a pause ; stand fixed, and can- 
not farther. Fatal paralysis spreading inwards, from 
St. Ives workhooses, m Stock- 



HidM port celkri, through all limbs, w if towards the 
""mvT ^"^ "*^'^* ^"'^ ""^ actually got cDchaDted, thcTr, 
j?*^ accursed by some god ? — 

Midaa looged &sr gold, and inaolted the Olymjnaiu. 
He got gold, so that whatsoever he touched became 
gold, — and he, with hi» loog ears, was iiltle the 
better for it. Midas had misjudged the celestial 
music-tones; Midas had insulted Apollo and the 
gods: the gods gaTe him his wish, and a pair of 
' D long ears, which also were a good appendage to it. 
What a truth in these old Fables 1 



HOW true, for example, is that othn old Fable 
of the Sphinx, who sat by the wayside, pro- 
pounding her riddle to the passengers, which if thejr 
. could not answer she destroyed ihem ! Such a 
Sphins is this Life of ours, to all men and societies of 
meo. Nature, like the Sphinx, is of womanly celestial 
lovelineas and tenderness ; the face and bosom of 3 
goddess, but ending in daws and the body of i 
ilioness. There is in her a celestial beauty, — which 
Imeans celestial order, pliancy to wlsdoin j but there 
[is also a darkness, a ferocity, fatality, which are 
'infernal. She is a goddess, but one not yet dis- 
imprisoned ; one still half-imprisoned, — the articu- i 
late, lovely still encased in the inarticulate, chaotic. 
How true I And does she not propound her 
riddles to us? Of each nian ahe ask« daily, 



THE SPHINX t( 

mild roice, yet with a terrible significance, " Know- a^iiax 
tst thou the meaning of this Day ? What thou Riddles 
canst do Today ; wisely attempt to do ? " Nature, 
Universe, Destiny, Existence, howsQe?er we name 
diis grand unnamable Fact in the midst of which 
we live and struggle, is as a heavenly bride and 
conquest to the wise and brave, to them who 
can discern her behests and do them ; a destroying 
fiend to them who cannot. Answer her riddle, it 
is well with thee. Answer it not, pss on regarding 
it not, M will answer itself; the soluticHi for thee is 
a thing of teeth and claws ; Nature is a dumb lioness, 
deaf to thy pleadings, fiercely devouring. Thou art 
. not now her victorious tx-idegroom ; thou art her 
mangled victim, scattered on the precipices, as a 
slave found treacherous, recreant, ought to be and 

With Nations it is as with individuals : Can they 
rede the riddle of Destiny i This English Nation, 
will it get to Itnow the meaning of it* strange new 
Today i Is there sense enough extant, discoverable 
anywhere or anyhow, in our united twenty-seven 
million heads to discern the same ; valour enou^ 
in our twenty-seven million hearts to dare and do 
the bidding thereof^ It will be Been ! — 

The secret of gold Midas, which he with his 
long ears never could discover, was, That he had 
ofFended the Supreme Powers ; — that he had parted! 
company with the eternal inner Facts of thin 
Universe, and followed the transient outer Appear-^ 
ances thereof; and bo was arrived hire^ Properly^ 
it is the secret of all unhappy men and unhappy 
nations. Had they known Nature's right truth. 
Nature's right truth would have made them free. 
Tb«y have become eachanted ; stagger spell-bound, 



I PROEH 

OD the blink of huge peril, because they 
lot wise enough. They have forgotten the 
■ight Inner True, and taken up with the Outer 
3ham-tnie. They answer the Sphinx's question 
virong. Foolish men caimot answer it aright ! 
Foolish men mistake tranutory semblance for eternal 
^t, and go astray more and more. 

Foolish men imagine tiiat becanse jadgm«it for 
an evil thing is delayed, there is oo jastice, but an 
accidental one, here below. Judgment for an evil 
thing is many times delayed some day or two, some 
century or two, but it is sure as life, it is sure as 
death ! In the centre of the world- whirl wind, 
verily now as in the oldest days, dwells and speaks 
a God. Th e. Rreat^ annl oJ thcjaddja jiut. O 
brother, can it be needfiil now, at this late epoch of 
experience, after eighteen centuries of ChriBtiao 
preaching for one thing, to remicd thee of such a 
fact ; which all manner of Mahometans, old Fagan 
Romans, Jews, Scythians and heathen Greeks, and 
indeed more or less all men that God made, have 
managed at one time to see into ; nay which thou 
thyself, till ' redtape ' strangled the inner life of 
thee, hadst once some inkling of: That there ii 
justice here below ; and cTen, at bottom, that there 
is nothing else but juKUce ! Forget that, thoa hast 
forgotten all. Success will never more attend thee; 
how can it now ? Thou hast the whole Uniyerse 
against thee. No more success : mere sham-success, 
for a day and days ; rising ever higher, — towards 
its Tarpeian Rock. Alas, how, in thy soft-hung 
Longacre vehicle, of polished leather to the bodily 
eye, of redtape philosophy, of expediencies, clubroom 
moralities. Parliamentary majorities to the mind's 
eye thou beautifiilly roUest: but knowest thou 



THE SPHINX 1] 

wbitiierward ! It ia towards the rea^t end. Old Con- 
up^-aod-wont ; established methods, habitudeg, mtct '?'**' 
true and wise ; man's noblest tendency, hi* pertever- ^S™i 
ance, and man's ignoblest, his inertia ; whatraerer 
of noble and ignoble Conservadsm there is in meo 
and Nations, strongest always in the strongest men 
and Nations: all this is as a road to thee, paved 
smooth through the abyss, — till all this tnd. Till 
men's bitter necessities can endure thee no more. 
Till Nature's patience with thee is done ; and there 
a no road or footing any &rther, and the abyss 
yawns sheer! — 

Parliament and the Court* of Westminster are 
.venerable to me; how venerable; gray with a 
thousand years of honourable age ! For a thousand 
years aod more. Wisdom and faithful Valour, 
struggling amid much Fo!ly and greedy Baseness, 
not without most sad distortions in tlie struggle, 
have built them up ; and they are ag we see. For 
a thousand yean, this English Nation has found 
them usefiil or supportable ; they have served this 
English Nation's want ; hem a road to it through 
the abyss of Time. They are venerable, they are 
great and strong. And yet it is good to remember 
always that they are not the venerablest, nor the 
greatest, nor the strongest ! Acts of Parliament 
are venerable ; but if they correspond not with the 
writing on the ' Adamant Tablet,' what are they ! 
Properly their one element of yenerablenesa, of 
strength or greatness, is, that they at all times 
correspond therewith as near as by human posubility 
they can. They are cherishing destruction in their 
bosom every hour that they continue otherwise. 

Aiaa, how many causes that can plead well for 
tlKmeelves in the Courts of Weitmicuter ; and yet 



Verdict in the geaenl Court of the Unnerie, »oA free Sou! j 
of tbe of Mail, have do word to otter ! HonovaUt 
Gentlemeii ma; find thk vorth coDndering, to 
tiine* like Dura. And tnil;, the din of triomphailt 
Law-logic, ud all diakii^ of bone-hair wigs and 
learited-aerjeaDt gowni having comforts^ ended, 
we ahall do well to atk ovnelTC* withal, What says 
that high and highest Court to the TCfdict ? For 
it it the Court of Courts, that aame ; where the 
nnivernl (onl of Fact and lery Tmtli aita President; 
— and thitherward, more and more swiftly, with a 
really terrible increase of swifinesi^ all caoaes do in 
these days crowd for rerisal, — for confirmation, for i 
modification, for rereraal with cost*. Dost tbov ' 
know that Court ; hast thou had any Law-[»'actice | 
there .' What, didst thou never enter ; never file 
any petition of redress, reclaimer, disclainier or 
demurrer, written as in thy heart's blood, for thy ' 
own behoof or another's ; and silendy await the 
issue ! Thou knowest not such a Court ! Hast 
merely heard of it by faint tradition as a thing that 
was or had been ! Of thee, I think, we shall get 
little benefit. 

For the gowns of leained-serjeants are good : 

firchment records, fixed forms, and poor terrestrial '. 
ustice, with or without borae-hair, what saite man 
will not revermce these i And yet, behold, the ' 
man is not saoe but insane, who considers tbeee 
alooe as veaetable. Oceana of horse-hair, coutinenu 
of parchment, and learned -Serjeant eloquence, were 
it continued till the learned tongue wore itself small 
in the indefatigable learned mouth, cannot make 
unjust just. The grand question still remains, Wat 
the judgment just ! If unjust, it will not acid cannot I 
get harbour for itself, or continue to hare footing in 

1 



THE SPHINX IS 

thia UniverK, which was made by other thui One Goienl 
Vajmt, Enforce it by never such Matuting, three C***** 
readings, royal assents ; blow it to the four wind* ^^* 
vith all inanner of quilted tnunpeten and pursuivanta, ^^^^6 
in the rear of them never so many gibbets aod 
tangmcD, it will not stand, it camiot stand. From 
all souls of men, &oni all ends of Nature, from the 
Thrime of God aboT^ there are voices bidding it ; 
Away, away ! Does it take no warning ; does it 
stand, stroDg in its three readings, in its gibbets and 
artillery-parks ? The more woe is to it, the fright- 
fuler woe. It will continue standing for its day, 
for its year, for its century, doing evil all the while ; 
,l>uC it has One enemy who is Almighty : dissolution, 
eKplosion, and the everlasting Laws of Nature 
inccBsandy advance towards it ; and the deeper its 
rooting, more obstinate its continuing, the deeper 
also and huger will its ruin and overturn be. 

In this GodVworld, with its wild-whirling eddies 
and mad foam-oceans, where men and nations perish 
as if without law, and judgment for an unjust thing 
ii sternly delayed, dost thou think that there is 
therefore no justice l It is what the fool hath said 
b his heart. It is what the wise, in all times, were 
wise because they denied, and knew forever not to 
be. I tell thee again, there is nothing else but 
justice. One strong thbg I find here below : the 
just thing, the true thing. My friend, if thou hadst 
all the artillery of Woolwich trundling at thy back 
in support of an unjust thing ; and infinite bonfires 
vinbly waiting ahead of thee, to blaze centuries long 
for thy victory on behalf of it, — I would advise 
thee to call h^t, to fling down thy baton, and say, 
" In God's name. No ! " Thy ' success ' f Poor 
devil, what will thy success amount to i If the 



i6 I PROEH 

Thei^iDg u'nnjust, thou hast not aucceeded; no, not 
Worker thoi^h bonSm blazed from North to South, aci) 
- **" bells rang, and editors wrote leading-articles, and 
the just thing lay trampled out of sight, to all 
mortal eyes an abolished and annihilated thing. 
SucceM i In few years thou wilt be de»d and 
dark, — all cold, eyeless, deaf; no blaze of bonfires, 
ding-dong of bells or leading-articles nsible or 
audible to thee again at ail Ibrever : What kind of 
raccess is that I — 

It is true, all goes by approximation in this 
world ; with any not insupportable approximation 
we must be patient. There is a noble ConservatJem 
as well as an ignoble. Would to Hearen, for the 
sake of Coneervatisra itself, the noble alone were 
left, and the ignoble, by some kind serere hand, 
were ruthlessly lopped away, forbidden evermore to 
show itself! For it is the right and noble alone 
that will have victory in this struggle j the rest is 
wholly an obetructioD, a postponement and fearful 
imperilmeat of the victory. Towards an eternal 
centre of right and noUeness, and of that only, is all 
this confuuon tending. We already know whither 
it is all tending ; what will have victory, what will 
have none ! The Heaviest will reach the centre. 
The Heaviest, sinking through complex fluctnadng 
media and vortices, has its deflexions, its obstructioDS, 
nay at times its resiliences, its reboundings ; where- 
upon some blockhead shall be heard jabilating, 
" See, your Heaviest ascends ! "~but at all momeots 
it is moving ceotreward, last as is convenient for it -, 
sinking, sinking ; and, by laws older than the World, 
old as the Maker's first Plan of the World, it has 
to airive there. 

A-.o.,slc 1 



' / THE SPHINX 17 

Await the iasue. In all battles, !f you await the Uw 
jssne, each fighter hat profpered aceotding to hit yj*"* 
right. His right and hia might, at the close of the *** 
accODtit, were one ud the same. He has fought 
with all his might, and in exact proportion to all hia 
right he has pievBiled. His very death is no victory 
orer him. He diea indeed; but his work lives, 
j very truly lives. A hwoic Wallace, c[U3rtered on 
I the scaffold, cannot hinder that his Scotland become, 
I one day, a part of England : but he does binder 
that it become, on tyrannous unfair terms, a part of 
it ; command* still, as with a god's voice, fi'om hia 
old Valhalla aitd Temple of the Brave, that there 
be a just real union ai of brother and brother, not a 
' false aitd merely semblant one as of slave and master. 
If the union with England be in fact one of 
Scotland's chief blessings, we thank Wallace withal 
ibm it was not the chief curse. Scotland is not 
Ireland : ito, because brave men rose there, and said, 
" Behold, ye must not tread us down like slaves ; 
and ye ehalt not, — and cannot ! " Fight on, thou 
brave true heart, and falter not, throngh dark fortune 
and through bright. The cause thou tightest for, 
so far at it is true, no farther, yet precisdy so far, 
is very sure of victory. The falsehood alone of it 
will be conquered, will be abolished, as it ought 10 
be : but the truth of it is part of Nature's own Laws, 
cooperates with the World's eternal Tendencies, 
and cannot be conquered. 

The titul of controversy, what is it but the 
Jaltebood flying off from all manner of conflicting 
true forces, and making such a loud dott-whirl- 
wind, — that so the truths alone may remain, and em- 
brace brotb^r-like in some tine resulting-force I It it 
ever so. Savage fighting Heptarchies : theii fighting 



il t PROEM 

Justice IB an ascertainnieot, who has the right to rule over 
^- whom ; that out of such wiste-bickerbg SaKondom- 

'***^"* 3 peacefiilly coopcraung England may arise. Seek 
throng this Univeree; if willi other than owl's 
eyes, thou wilt find nothing Dourisfaed there, nothing 
kept it) life, but what has right to aonrithment aod 
life. The rest, look at it with other than owl'a 
eyes, is not living ; is all dying, all as good aa dead ! 
Justice was ordained from the foundations of the 
world ; and will last with the world and longer. 

From which I infer that the inner sphere of Fact, 
in this [H«aei)t England as elsewhere, ditfera iaiimtely 
from the outer sphere aod spherea of Semblance. 
That the Temporary, here as elsewhere, is too apt i 
to carry it over the EtCTnaL That he who dwells ' 
in the temporary Semblances, and doei not penetrate 
into the eternal Substance, will net answer tbc- 
Sphinx-riddle of Today, or of any Day. For the 
substance alone is sabatantial ; that it the law of 
Pact ; if you discover not that. Fact, who already 
knows it, will let you also know it by and by. 

What is Justice? that, on the whole, is the 
question of the Sphinx to us. The law (^ Fact is, 
tliat Justice must and will be done. The sooner 
the better ; for the Time grows stringent frightfully ' 
pressing I " What is Justice f " ask many, to whom 
cruel Fact alone will be able to prove responsive. 
It is like jesting Pilate asking. What is Tnith? 
Juting Pilate had not the smallest chance to ascertain 
what was Truth. He conld not have known it, bad 
a god shown it to him. Tliick serene opacity, 
dticker than antaorotia, veiled iboK smiling eyes <^ 
his to Truth ; the innw relbta of them waa gone 
paralytic, dead. H« looked at Tra* j and dis- 



HANCHESl^R' INSURRECTION 19 

ceraed her nol, there where »be stood. "What is Jastice 
Jasacc i " The clothed embodied Justice that sits J^?^' 
in WcstmiiiBter Hall, with penaitiea, parchments, ''<'™*" 
tipstaves, is wry Tisible. Bnt the unembodied 
Justice, whereof that other is either an emblem, or 
dse a a fearfal indescribability, is not bo yiaible ! 
For the tmembodied Justice is of Heaven ; a Spirit, 
and Diviility of Heaven, — wvigiblc to all but the 
Doble and pare of soul. The impure ignoble gaze 
with eyea, and she is not there. They will prove 
it to you by logic, by endless Hansard Debatings, 
by bursts of Parliamentary eloquence. It is not 
consolatory to behold ! For properly, as many 
men as there are in a Nation who can withal see 
Heaven's invisible Jnstice, and know it to be on 
Eard) also omnipotent, so many men are there who 
stand between a Nation and perdition. So many, 
"and no more. Heavy-laden England, how many 
hast thon in this hour ? The Supreme Power sends 
new and ever new, all torn at least with hearts of 
flesh and not of stone ; — and heavy Misery itself, 
once heavy enough, will prove didacuc !— 



a&apter ifj 

MANCHESTER INBUKRSCnoH 

BLUSTEROWSKI.Colacorde, and odier Edi- 
torial prophets of the Continental- Democratic 
Movement, have in thrir leading- articles shown them- 
selves disposed to vilipend Chelate Manchester Insur- 
rection, as evincbg in the rioters an extreme back- 
wardoeM to battle ; nay as betokening, « the EngHah- 



Hung;er People itseU, perhaps a waac of the proper animal 
and its courage indiBpensable b these ages. AnuUion hungry. 
^"'^ operative men started up, in utmost paroxysm of 
desperate protest against their lot ; and, ask. Colacorde 
and company. How many shots were fired ? Very 
few ID compariBonl Certain hundreds of drilled 
soldiers suibced to supj^ess this million-headed 
hydra, and tread it down, without the smallest 
appeasement or hope of such, into its Eubteiraoean 
settlements again, there to reconsider itself. Com- 
pared with out rerolts in Lyons, in Warsaw and 
elsewhere, to say nothing of incomparable Paris 
City past or present, what a lamblike Insurrection ! — 
The present Editor is not here, with his readers, 
to vindicate the character of Insurrections ; nor 
does it matter to us whether Blusterowski and the 
rest may think the English a courageous people or 
Dot courageous. Id passing, however, let us mentioa 
that, to our view, this was not an unauccessful In- 
surrectiao ; that as Insurrections go, we have Dot 
hewrd lately of any that succeeded so well. 

A million of hungry operative men, as Bluster- 
owski says, rose all up, came all out into the streets, 
and — stood there. What other could they do i 
Their wrongs and griefs were bitm, iDsupportable, 
their rage against the same was just : but who are 
they that cause these wrongs, who that will honestly 
make effort to redress them .' Our enemies are we 
know not who or what j our friends are we know 
not where ! How shall we attack any one, shoot or 
be shot by any one ! Oh, if the accursed invisible 
Nightmare, that is ctushiQg out the life of us aad 
ours, would take a shape ; approach us like the 
Hyrcanian tiger, the Behemoth of Chaos, the 
Aichfiend himself; in any shape that we. could see. 



MANCHESTER INSURRECTION ii 

and bMeo on 1 — A man can have himtelf ihot with sf Dc- 
^ ciKaftHaett ; but it need* first that he see clearly ttf^i 
for what. Show him the divine face of Joctice, ^^_i_ 
then the diabolic monster which io eclipBing that : be ^^' 
will £y at the throat of such monster, never lo 
monstrous, and need no tndding to do it. WocJwich 
grapeshot will sweep clear all streets, blast into to- 
visibility so many thousand men : but if your Wool- 
wich graueshot be but eclipsing Divine JusUce, and 
ihc God s-radiance itself gleam recognisable athwart 
such grapeshot, — then, yes then is the time come 
for fighting and attacking. All aitiilery-parks have 
become weak, and ve about to dissipate : in the 
God's thundo', their poor thonder slackens, ceases; 
finding that it is, in all senses of the term, a inite 

That the Manchester Insurrection stood still, on 
the streets, with an indisposition to fire and blood- 
shed, was wisdom for it even as an Inaurrectton. 
Innirrection, never so necessary, is a most sad 
necessity ; and governors who wait for that to in- 
struct them, are surely getting into the fatalest 
cooisea, — proving themselves Sons of Nox and 
Chaos, of blind Cowardice, not of seeing Valour 1 
How can there be any remedy in insurrecUon ! It 
is a mere aimouicemeDt of the disease, — visible now 
even to Sons of Night. Insurrection usually 'gams' 
little i uni^ly wastes how much J One of its worst 
kinds of waste, to say nothing of the rest, is that of 
irritating and exasperating men agaiiut each other, 
by vicJence done ; which is always sure to be injustice 
done, for violence does even justice unjustly. 

Who shall compute the waste uid loss, the 
obstruction of every sort, that was produced in the 
Manchester region by Peterloo alone 1 Some thirteen 



Pttw- murmed men and women cut down,— the nunber of 
bx) the stain and maimed is very cotintable : bta, the 
~~'^ treuury of rage, burning hidden or visible in bH 
beaitt ever since, more of leu pnverting the effort 
and aini of all heart! ever since, is of unknown 
extent ** How ye came among us, in your cruel 
armed bKndneN, ye vmapeakable County Yecunanry, 
sabres flourishing, hoofs prancing, and slashed ua 
down at your bmte pleasure ; deaf, blind to all our 
claiina and woes and wrongs ; of quick sight and 
sense to your own claims only I There tie poor 
sallow work-worn weavers, and complain no more 
now; wcHnen themselves are slaahed and sabred, 
bowling terror fills the air ; and ye ride prosperous, 
very victorious, — ye unspeakable : give tu t^jres 
too, and then come-oa a litde I " Such are Peter- 
loot. In all hearts that witnessed Peterloo, stands 
written, as in fire- characters, or smoke-characters 
prompt to become fire again, a legible balance- 
account of grim vengeance ; very unjustly balanced, 
much exaggerated, as is the way with such accounts; 
but payable readily at nght, in full with compound 
interest ! Such things should be avoided as the very 
pestilence ! For men's hearts ought not to be set 
against one another ; but set ivit/i one another, and 
aU agaiori the Evil Thing only. Men's souls ought 
to be left to see clearly ; not jaundiced, blinded, 
twisted all awry, by revenge, mutual abhorrence, and 
the like. An Insurrection that can annoence the 
disease, and then retire with no anch balance-account 
opened anywhere, has attained the highest success 
possible for iL 

And this was what these poor Manchester opera- 
tives, with all the darkness that was in them and 
round them, did manage to perform. They put 



MANCHESTER INSURRECTION aj 

their huge- inarticulate question, "What do youLMfcof 
■mean to do wuh ns^ " in a imnner audible to every OpCiAl 
reflective soul a this kingdom ; exciting deep pity ^*''^' 
in ail good men, deep snxiety in all men whatever ; 
and DO CMiflagratioD or outburst of madness came to 

' cloiid that feeling anywhere, but everywhere it 
operate* uncloaded. All England heard the queatioii: 
it IB the first practical form of our Sphinx-riddle. 
England will answer it ; or, on the whole, England 
vill periih;— one does not yet expect the latter 
result ! 

For the rest, that the Manchester Insurrection 

, could yet discern no radiance of Heaves on any side 

t of its horizon; but feared that all lights, of the 
O'Connor or other sorts, hitheito kindled, were but 
deceptive fiah-oil transparencies, or bog will-o'-wisp 
lights, and no dayspring from on high : for this also 
we will honour the poor Manchester InBurrection, and 
augur weli of it. A deep unspoken sense lies in 
these Btroag men, — inconsiderable, almost stupid, as 
all they can articulate of it is. Amid all violent 
stupidity of q)eecb, a right noble instinct of what is 
doable and what is not doable never forsakes them : 
the nrong inarticulate men and workers, whom Faet 

. patronisea j of whom, in all difKculty and work 
whatsoever, there is good augury ! This work too 
is to be done : Governors and Governing Classes 
that cau articulate and utter, in any nteaiure, what 
the law of Fact and Justice is, may caJculate that 
here is a Governed Class who will Jisten. 

And truly this first practical form of the Sphiux- 
qnestion, inarticulately and so audibly put there, is 
one of the roost impressive ever asked in the world. 
" Behold us here, so many thousands, millions, and 
increasing at the rate of fifty every hour. We are 



14 I PROEU 

A ttix right wilUng and able to work ; and od the Planet 
i^f Earth is plenty of work and wagea for a milJioD 
**^ times as many. We ask, If you mean to lead us 
towards work ; to try to lead us, — by ways new, 
never yet heard of till this new unheard-of Time ? 
Or if you declare that you cannot lead ui ? And 
expect that we are to remain quietly unled, and in a ' 
composed manner perish of stanratioD ^ What is it 
you expect of ns ? What is it you mean to do with 
vsi" This question, I esy, has been put in the 
hearing of all Britain ; and will be again put, and 
ever again, till Bonie answer be given it. 

Unhappy Workeia, unhappier Idlers, unhappy 
men and women of this actual England, We are ^ 
yet v^y far from an answer, and there will be no I 
existence ibr ua without fiadingooe. "A&irday's- 
wages for a fair day's-work : " it is as just a deniattd 
as Governed men ever made of Governing. It ia 
the ey a'lagtine right of man. Indictable as 
Gospels, ar'arithmetical muldplication-tables : it 
must and will have itself fiUfiUed; — and yet, in theae 
times of ours, with what enormous difficulty, next- 
door to impossibility .' For the times are really 
strange ; of a complexity intricate with all the new 
width of the ever-widening world ; times here of ' 
half-frantic velocity of impetus, there of the deadest- | 
looking Btilineaa aod paratysii ; times definable as ' 
showing two qualities, Dilettantiam and Mammon- 
ism ; — most intricate obstructed times ! Nay, if 
there were not a Heaven's radiance of Justice, pro- 
phetic, clearly of Heaven, discemible behind all 
^ese confused world-wide entanglements, of Land- 
lord interests. Manufacturing interests, Tory-Whig 
interests, and who knows what other liuerests, 
expediencies, vested interests, established poasessions, 

i 



UANCHESTBR INSURRECTION 15 

Dilettantumi, Midas-eared Mammonisms, m Aifr 
•-^it would seem to ciery one a flat irapoisibiUty, ''■J'J 
which all wise men might as well at once abandon. ^"^"^ 
If yoD do not know eternal Justice from momentary 
Expediency, and understand in your heart of hearts 
how Justice, radiant, bcDeficent, as the all-rictoriDua 
Light-element, is also in essence, if need be, an all- 
victoriona Fire-tlecaent, and melts all manner of 
vested interests, and the hardest iron cannon, as if 
they were soft wax, and dOes e^er in the long-run 
rule and reign, and rUowe nothing else to rule and 
reign, — you also would talk of impossibility J But it 
is only difficult, it is not impossible. Possible^ It is, 
with whaterer difficulty, TCry clearly inevitable. 

Fair day's- wages for fairday's-work! cKclaims a 
sarcastic man : Alas, in what comer of this Planet, ^ 
since Adam first awoke on it, was that ever realised i 
The day's-wages of John Milton's day's-work, 
named Paradite Loit and MUlon'i Worit, were 
Ten Pounds paid by instalments, and a rather close 
escape from death on the gallows. Consider that : 
it is no thetorical flourish ; it is an authentic, 
altogether quiet fecc,^-emblemalie, quietly docu- 
mentary of a whole world of such, ever nnce human 
hist4X'y began. Oliver Cromwell quitted his Arm- 
ing; undertook a Hercules' Labour and lifelong 
wrestle with that Leraean Hydra-coil, wide as 
England, his^g heaven-high through its thousand 
downed, coroneted, shovel-hatted quack-heads ; 
iod he did wrestle with it, the truest and terriblest 
wrestle I have heard of; and he wrestled it, and 
mowed and cut it down a good many stages, so that 
its hilling ia ever since pitiM in comparison, and 
one can walk abroad in comparative peace from it; 



i6 I PROBH 

Vaati; — and hi» Aages, ai I lUKferstand, were burial nncler 
Ethics the gallowB-tcee near Tyburn TwDpilw, with bi: 
""^ head on the gable of wMtmimter Hall, and two 
ccntuiiet dow of mixed cursing aod ridicule from all 
manner of meo. Hia diwt lies under the Edgware 
Road, Dear Tyburn Turnpike, at this hour ; and his 
QieiDory is — Nay what matters what his meinory ia '. 
His memory, at bottom, is or yet shall be as that of 
a god : a terror and horror to all quacks and cowards 
and insincere pertona; an CTerlasting eocouragenioDt, 
new memento, batdeword, and pledge of victory to 
all the brave. It ii the natural course and history 
of the Godlike, in e^ery place, in every time. What 
god ever carried it with the Tenpound Franchisers ; 
in Open Vestry, or with any Sanhedrim of consider- 
able standing i When wat a god found < agreeable ' 
to everybody i The regular way is to bang, kill, 
enidfj your gods, and execrate and trample them 
under your stu|Ad hoofi for a century or two ; till 
you diacovNT that diey are gods, — and then take to 
braying over them, still in a very long-eared matmer ! 
— So^jf^ka the sarcaetif man ; in his wild way, 
very mournfuTtruthsr' ~~'~' 

Day's-wages for day's-work i continues he ; The 
Progre&e of Human Society consists even in this 
aame. The better and better apporuoniog Of wages 
to work. Give me this, you have given me alL 
Fay to every man accurately what he has worked 
for, what be has earned and done and deserved, — 
to this man broad lands and honours, to that man 
high gibbets and treadmills : what more have I to 
ask ? Heaven's Kingdom, which we daily pray for, 
iai come ; God's will is done on Earth eveo as it 
ia in Heaven 1 This u the radiance of cdestial 
Justice ) in tiie light or in the fire c^ which all 



MANCHESTER IHSURRECTION 17 

impedinKDts, ve«ted intereste, and iron cannoa, are H 
•■Jure and more melting like wax, and disappearing cl 
from the pathways of men. A thing ever struggling *^ 
forward ; irrepreBsible, adraocbg inevitable ; per- 
fecting itself, al! days, more and more, — never to be 
perfect till that general Doomsday, the ultimate 
Connunmation, and Lact of earthly Days. 

True, as to ' perfectitMi' and to forth, a.axva we ; 
true enough ! And yet withal we have to remark, 
tliat imperfect Human Society hdds itself together, 
aud finds place under the Sun, in Tirtoe simply of 
some approximation to perfection being actually made 
and put in practice. We remark farther, that there 
are suppCHtable approicimationa, and then likewise 
iasupport^le. With some, almost widi any, tup- 
poruide approximation men are apt, perhaps too 
apt, to rest indolehtiy patient, and say, It will do. 
Thus these poor Manchester manual workers mean 
only, by day's-wages for day'e-work, certain coins 
of money adequate to keep them living ; — in return 
ibr their work, such modicum of food, clothes aud 
iiiel as will enable them to continue their work it- 
self ! They as yet clamour for no more ; the resi^ 
still inarticulate, cannot yet shape itself into a 
demand at all, and only lies in them as a dumb 
wish : perhaps only, still more inarticulate, as a 
dumb, althongh unconscious want. Tbii is the 
supportable approximation they would reat patient 
with. That by their work they might be kept alive 
to work more \^This once grown unattainable, I think 
your approximation may consider itself to have reach-' 
ed the insupportable stage ; and may prepare, with 
whatever difficulty, reluctance and aatimishment, for 
one of two things, for changing or perishing I With 
the millions no longet able to live, how catr the unttt 



)S I PROEM 

ithto keep livbg i It it too clear the Nadon ittelf is on 

get the way to auicidal death. 
^*«* Shall we say ther^ The world baa retrograded in 
ita talent of apportiomiig wages to work, in late 
days ! The world had always a talent of that sort, 
better or worse. Time was when the mere hatiJ- 
worker needed not announce his claim to the world | 
by Manchester Insurrectiong ! — ^The world, with itt . 
. ;Wealth of Nations, Supply-and -demand and such- 



'like, bat of late days been terribly 
I question of work and wages. We will not say, the 
poor world has retrograded even here : we will say 
rather, the world has been rushing on with such . 
£ery animation to get work and ever more worlfj 
done, it has had no time to think of dividing thei 
wages ; and has merely left them to be scrambled! 
for by the Law of the Stronger, law of Supply-and- 
demand, law of Laissez-fwre, and other idle Lawi | 
end Un-laws, — saying, in its dire haste to get the 
work done, That is well enough ! i 

And now the world will have to pause a Utde, 
and take up that other ude of the problem, and ia 
right earnest strive for some solution of that. For 
it has become pressing. What is the use of your | 
spun shirts f They hang there by the million I 
unsaleable) and here, by the million, are diiigfl)t| 
bare backs that can get no hold of them. Shirtt 
are useful for covering human backs ; useless other- 
wise, an unbearable mockery otherwise. You have 
fallen terribly behind with that side of the problem ! 
Manchester Inaurrectiona, French Revolutions, and 
thousandfold phenomena great and small, announce 
loudly that you must bring it forward a little again. 
Never till now, in the history of an Earth which to 
this hour nowhere refuses to grow com if you will 



HANCHBSTBR INSURRECTION 19 

plough it, to yield ibuU if yoa will ipin and veare The 
in- it, did the mere manual two-handed worker Ciy of 
(however it might fare with other workers) cry in S^_-_ 
laia for nich * wages ' as hi means by ' fair wages,'. 
Damely food and warmth ! The Godlike could 
not and cannot be paid ; but the Earthly always 
could. Garth, a mere swineherd, born thrall of 
Cedric the Saxon, tended pigs in the wood, and did 
get some parings of the pork. Why, the four- 
lixited worker has already got al! that this two- 
lianded one ii clamouring for ! How often must I 
remind you ? There it not a horie in England, 
able and willing to work, but hat dne food and 
lodging ; and goes about sleek-coated, satisfied in. 
heart. And you say, It is impoadble. Brothers, 
I answer, if for you it be impossible, what is 
to become of you.' It i* impossible for us to 
believe it to be impossible. The human brain, , 
looking at these sleek English horses, refuses 
la believe in nicb impossibility for English 
men. Do you depart quickly ; clear the ways 
soon, lest wcHse befall. We for our share do 
porpose, with fall view of the enormous ditScutty, 
with total disbelief in the impossibility, to endearoDr 
while life is in us, and to die endeavouring, we and 
our sons, till we attain it or bate all died and 

Such a Platitude of a World, in which all 
working horses coold be well fed, and iDnameraUe 
working men should die starved, were it not best to 
nd it ; to have done with it, and restcK'e it once for 
lil to the y'atmu. Mud-giants, Frost-giants, and 
Chaotic Brute-gods of the Beginning \ Eor the 
old Anarchic Brute-gods it may be well enough ;, 
but it is a Platitude which Men should be above 



SotacJ countenancing by dieir preaence in it. We pray 
Sores you, let ihc word impeiiiile disappear from yoiir 

Tocabulary in this matter. It is of awful omen ; 

to all of us, and to yourselves first of all. 



WHAT is to be done, what would you have us 
do i aske many a one, with a tone of im- 
patience.almoBtofteproach; and tken, if you mention 
some one thing, some two things, twenty thmgs 
that m^hc be done, turns round with a sadrical 
tehee, and "These are your remedies!" The 
state of mind indicated by such question, and 
such rejoinder, is worth reflecting on. 

It seemi to be taken for granted, by these inter- 
rogative philosophers, tiutt there is some ' thing,' or 
handliil of 'tilings,' which could be done; some 
Act of Parliament, ' remedial meaEure ' or the like, 
which could be passed, whereby the soda! malady 
were feirly fronted, conquered, put an end toj so 
that, with your remedial measure in your pocket, 
you could then go on triumphant, and be troubled 
no farther, " You tell us the evil," cry such 
persons, as if justly aggrieved, "and do not tdl 
us how it is to be cured ! " 

How it is to be cured ! Brothers, I am sorry I 
have got no Morrison's Pill for caring the maladies 
<^ Society. It were infinitely handier if we had a 
Morrison's Pill, Act of Parliament, or remedial 
re, which men could nrallow, one good time. 



HORRISOS'S PILL ji 

and theo go on in their old couriea, cleared from mikaw 
pU.ni»eriei and muchiefs ! Ualockil^ we have to MU 
none such ; nnlnckity the Heavens themseWes, in ™^™ 
iheir rich pbarinacopixia, contain notie iuch. There 
*i!! no ' thing ' be done that will core you. There ' 
will a radical universal alteration of your regimen 
wd way of life take place; tbere will a mo« 
agoniuDg divorce between yoD and your chimeraa, 
lassriea and faleitiei, take place ; a most toilsome, 
all-hut ■impossible' return to Nature, and her 
veracities and her integrities, take place : that so 
ihe inner fountains of life may again begin, like 
eiernal Light-fountains, to irradiate and purify 
four bloaud, swollen, fool exist^ice, drawing 
Digh, as at present, to DameleiB death ! Either 
death, or else all this will take place. Judge if, 
with such diagaoais, any Morrison s Fill is like to 
be discoTerable ! 

But the Life-fountain within you once again set 
Wing, what innumerable ' thii^a,' whole srts and 
ciuses and continents of ■ things,' year after year, 
ud decade after decade, and century after century, 
vill then be doable and done ! Not Ehiigration, 
EducatioD, Corn-Law Abrogati<Mt, Sanitary Regu- 
btion, Land Property- Ta* ; not these alone, oof 
1 thoQsand times as much as these. Good Heavens, 
[here will then be light in the inner heart of hers 
and there a man, to discern what it just, what is 
<mnniaiuled by the Most High God, what mutt 
be done, were it norer so ' irapoBsible.' Vain 
jvgon in favour of the palpa^y unjust Will then 
abridge itself within limits. Vaio jargon, on 
Huntings, in Parliaments or whereier else, when 
here and dicre a man haS' vision for the esseiltial 
God's-Truth of the things jarg(»ied of, will 



31 I PROEH 

Elo- become very vain indeed. The silence of here and 
qMiBce there rach a mao, how eloquent in aniwo' to such 
^ji^f* jargon! Such jargon, frightened at its own gaunt 
echo, will unspeakably abate; nay, for a while, 
may almoEt in a manner disappear, — the wise 
answering it in silence, and even the simple taking , 
cue from them to boot it down wherever heard. | 
It will be a b]e»Md time ; and many * things ' will 
become doable, — and when the brains are out, an 
absurdity will die I Not easily again shall a Corn' 
Law argue ten years for itself ; and still tallc and 
argue, when impartial persons have to «ay with a 
sigh thai, for so long back, tliey have heard noi 
' argument ' advanced for it but such as might) 
make the angels and almost the rery jackasscH 
weep!— ] 

Wholly a blessed time: wlien jargon might I 
abate, and here and there some genuine speech I 
begin. When to die noble opened heart, as to such ' 
heart they alone do, all noble things began to grov i 
viuUe ; and the difference between just and unjust, i 
between true and false, between work and diam- 
work, between speech and jargon, was tmce more, 
what to our happier Fathers it used to be, m/CnUe, — I 
as between a Heavenly thing and an Infernal : thei 
one a thing which you were net to do, which yo^ 
were wise not to attempt doing -, which it were 
better for you to have a millstone tied round yotn 
neck, and be cast into the sea, than concern your- 
self with, doing '. — 'Brothers, it will not be i 
Morrison's Pill, or remedial measure, that will' 
bring all this about for us. 



And yet, very literally, till, in some shape o 
tthtr, it be brought alxut, we remain cureless 



MORRISON'S PILL ]3 

t^U it begin to be broaght about, the cure doec not Quadk 
it^in. For Nature and Fact, not Redtape and Gotctii. 
SemUaoce, are to this honr the basii of man's """* 
life ; and on those, through nerer such strata of 
these, man and his life and all his interests do, 
sooner or later, infallibly come to rest, — and to be 
supported or be swallowed according as they agree 
with those. The question is asked of them, not. 
How do you agree with Downing Street and 
ucredited Semblance? but, How do you agret 
with God's Universe and the actual Reality of 
things? This Universe has its Laws. If we 
walk according to the Law, the Law-Mak«' will 
befriend v* ; if not, not. Alas, by no Reform Bill, 
Ballot-box, Five-point Charter, by no boxes or 
bills or charters, can you perform this alchemy: 
' Given a world of Knarea, to produce an Hon' 
esty from their united action ! ' It is a distillatioD, 
Doye for alL not possible. Yon pass it through 
alemSic after alembic, it cornea out still a Dis- 
honesty, with a new dress on it, a new colour to it 
'While we ourselves continue valets, how irtiM any 
hero come to govern ns ? ' We are governed, very 
infallibly, by the ' sham-hero,' — whose name is 
QuacV, whose work and governance is Plauai- 
hility, and also is Falsity and Fatuity ; to which 
Nature says, aod most say when it comes to her to 
speak, eternally No ! Nations cease to be be- 
friended of the Law-Maker, when they walk not 
according W the Law. The Sphinx-questioa 
remains nnsolved by them, becomes evei more 
insoluble. 

If thou ask agaia, therefore, on the Morrison's- 
Pill hypothesis, What i« to be done I allow me to 
rejdy: By thee, for the present, almost nothing. 



Tlie TJtw thne, tbe tlmig fcH- thee to do u,iif^KWuble, 

-Wot-. to cnue to be a hollow Muodiii^theJI of heacn^ 

^^j5f (^oUini, purblind diletUDttams ; and ;becoiiK, were 

it on the tofiaital^ small acale, a fakhfol ducenung 

aoul. Thou >balt descend into thy inner man, and 

see if there be any traces of a toui thete ; till tben 

.. Miere can be nothing done ! O brother, we anist 

XyiT poisible resiucitate some bouI and conscienS^ 

uui^ exchange oar ttitectantisnis ^r' Mncerities, am 

\dead hearts of stone for livii^ hearts of £esh. 

^^lKn ah4ll we discen, not one thing, but, in claarer 

or diinmer aequenoe, a whole endless host of -things 

th»t can be done* ^othefirst of theac; doit; the 

Rocond will already have become cleaEcr, fcabl cr ; 

itbc Bccond, third and three-cheuiandth wUl OSsi 

bane begun to be possible for us. Not an; 

jmiversal Morrison's Pill shall we then, either ai 

.■wallojverB or as venders, ask after at all ; :but a 

far difTerent sort of remedies : Quacks shall no 

4aore have dominion over us, but true Heroes and . 

Hc»leEs! 

Will oat that be a thing worthy of 'doing;* i 
to deliver ourselves kom quacks, sham-heroes; to 
4elivcr the whole world more sod more from snch '. \ 
They are the one bane of the world. Once dear | 
ithe world of them, it ceaccs.lo be a Devil's- war Id, 
-» all fibresof.it wretched, accursed; and begins 
to be a God's-Horld, hlessed, and working hourly ■ 
towards blessedness. Thou for one wilt not again 
vote for any quack, do honour to any edge-gill 
vacuity in man's shape : cant shall be knowo to 
thpe &j the sound of it ; — thou wilt fly from caoi j 
with a shudder never felt before ; as from the 
opened litany of Sorcerers' Sabbath^ the .true Devil- j 



ARISTOCRACY OF TALENT 35 

woiahip of this age, more horrible than any other Qaadc 
blasphemy, profaDity or geouiDe blackguardism else- ^"w 
where audible amoQg men. It is alarmiog to witneH, ''"P' 
— in its present completed state ! And Quack and 
Dupe, as we must ever keep in mind, are iq}per-side 
and under of the selfsanie substance ; conyertiUe 
personages : turn up your dupe into the proper 
foeteriog element, and he himself can become a 
quack J there is in him the due prurient insincerity, 
open voracity for profit, and dosed sense for trutl), 
whereof quacks too, in all their kinds, are made. 

Alas, it is not to the hero, it is to the sham-hero, 
that, of right and neceesity, the valet-wocid belongs. 
' What is to be done f ' The reader sees whether 
it is like to be the seeking and swallowing of some 
' remedial 



ARIST0CR4CT OF TALEKT 

WHEN an individual is miserable, what does it 
most of all behoTe him to do ? To com- 
plain of this man or of that, of this thing or of that ! 
To £11 (he world and the street with lamentation, ^ 
objurgation ? Not so at all ; the reverse of so. '^ 
All moralists advise him not to complain of any 
person or of Miy thing, but of himself only. He 
is to kooiw of a truth tJiat being miserable he haa 
been unwise, he. Had he faithfully followed Nature 
and her Laws, Nature, ever true to her Laws, 
would have yielded fruit and increase and felicity 
to him: but he has followed other than Nature's 
Laws; and now Nature, her .patience with him 



]fi I PROEU 

The being ended, leaves him desolate ; aniw^B vith 
DiriiM very emphatic significance to him ; No. Not hy 
«r Fi^ this road, ray son ; by another road shalt thou 
attain well-being ; thia, thou perceiTest, is the road 
to ill-being; quit this! — So do all moralists advise: 
that the man penitently say to himself first of all, 
Behold I was not wise enough ; I quitted the laws ! 
of Fact, which are alio called the Laws of God, 
and mistook for them the Laws of Sham and 
Semblance, which are called the Devil's Laws; 
therefore am I here ! 

Neither with Nations that become miserable is 
it fimdamenCally otherwise. The ancient guides of 
Nations, Prophets, Priests, or whatever their name, I 
were well aware of this; and, down to a late epoch, 
impressiiely taught and inculcated it. The modern I 
guides of Nations, who also go under a great variety of 
names, Journalists, Political Economists, Politicians, 
Pamphleteers, have entirely forgotten this, and are 
ready to deny this. But it nevertheless remains I 
eternally undeniable : nor is there any doubt but i 
we shall all be taught it yet, and made again to ' 
confess it ; we shall all be striped and scourged till 
we do team it; and shall at last either get to know | 
it, or be striped to death in the process. For it is 1 
undeniable I When a Nation is unhappy, the old 
Prophet was right and not wrong in saying to it : 
Ye have forgotten God, ye have quitted the ways 
of God, or ye would not have been unhappy. It 
is not according to the laws of Fact that ye have 
lived and guided yourselves, but according to the 
laws of Delusion, Imposture, and wilful and unwilfiil 
MUlaie of Fact ; behold therefore the UnveracJty 
is worn out ; Nature's long-sufFcring with you is 
exhauited ; and ye are here I 



ASISTOCRACT OF TALENT 37 

Surdy there is aothing very iDcoacrivable in thii, The 
crea to the JoumaliBt, to the Political Economist, Folly of 
Modern Pamphleteer, or any two-legged animal ^^f" 
without feathers 1 If a country finds iudf wretched, 
sure enough that country has been rni/guided ; it 
ia with the wretched Twenty-seven Millions, fallen 
wretched, aa with the Unit fallen wretched : they, 

, ai he, have quitted the course prescribed by Natwe 
and the Supreme Powers, and so are faQen into 
Karcity, disaster, infelicity ; and pausing to con- 
sider themselves, have to lament and say : AJas, we 
were not wise enough ! We took transient super- 
ficial Semblance for everlasting central Substance; 

< we have departed fa away from the Lavit of this 
Universe, and behold now lawleia Chaos and inane 
Chimera is ready to devour us l~ — ' Nature in late 
' centuriee,' says Saueneig, ' wag universally sup- 
' posed to be dead ; an old eight-day clock, made 
' many thousand years ago, and still ticking, but 
'dead as brass, — which the Maker, at most, sat 
* looking at, in a distant, singular and indeed 
' incredible manner : but now I am happy to observe, 
' she is everywhere asserting herself to be not dead 
' and brass at all, but alive and miraculous, celesual- 
' infernal, with an emphasis that will again penetrate 
' the thickest head of this Planet by and by ! ' ' 

p Indisputable enough to all mortals now, the 
guidance of this country has not been sufGciently 

Wise ; men too foolish have been set to the guiding 

find governing of it, and have guided it hither t we 
must find wiser, — wiser, or else we perish ! To 
this length of insight all England has now advanced; 
but as yet no farther. All England stands wringing 
its hands, asking itself, nigh desperate. What farther \ 
Reform Bill proves to be a failure ; 



]{ I ^ROEM 

Aristo- Radicalism, the gospel of '^H^hteng^jS^iialis^* 
cracTofdiM out, or dwindles iftto'Five^point Chartisnr,' 
TBleat aniid the tears and hootings of men : whu next 
are we to hope or try ? Five-point Charter, Free- 
trade, Church-^xtenBion, Sliduig-scale ; whsn, ki 
Heaven's name, are we next to attempt, that- we 
sink not in inane Chimera^ and be devoured of 
Chaos ^ — The case is pressing, and one of the Most 
complicated in the world. A GodVmeseage never 
came to thicker' ekinaed people ; never had a God's- 
message to pierce through thicker integuments, into 
heavier ears. It is Fact, speakmg tmce more, in 
miraculous thimder-voice, from out of the centre 
of the world ; — how unknown its language to the 
deaf acil foolish many ; how distinct, undeniable, 
terrible and yet beneficent, to the bearing (iewi 
Behold, ye shall grow wiser, or ye shall die! 
Truer to Nature's Fact, or inane Chimera vill 
swallow you ; in whirlwind* of fire, yon and 
your Mammonisma, Dilettanti smsf your Midas- 
eared phitoBophies, double-barrelled Aristocracies, 
shall disappear ! — Such is the God'a-message to 

£, once more, in these modem days. 
We must have more WisdiMn to govern us, we 
ist be governed by the Wisest, we must have 
Aristocracy of Talent ! cry many. True, most 
true i but how to get it ? The following extract 
from our young friend of the Hoandidbcb Indkalor 
is worth perusing : ' At this time,' says he, ' while 
' there is a cry everywhere, articulate or inarticulate, 
' for an "Aristocracy of Talent," a Governing Class 
' namely which did govern, not merely which took 
' the wages of governing, ai}d could not with all our 
' industry be kept from misgoverning, com-lawing, 
' and playing the very deuce with us,— it may sot 



ARISTOCRACY C^ TALENT ]9' 

^ beaJu^nber ntelcM to remind mbw ofthe greenw- how to 
'bieaided ton what a' dreadfclly- difficult i^adr the gfHt 
'getting of such aa AritUcracy is! Do. yon 

■ expect^ my friend*, that your iaditpeiuable Ariih 
' Eocracy of Talent is to be enlisted sccaighcwxy, 
'by mme ton of recruitmeac aforethought, cmt of 
' the geocF^ populatioD ; arranged io saprenie regi- 
' mental mder; and set to rote over mi That it 
' wUI be got sifted, like wheat om of chafi^, imn 
'the Twenty-scren Million British rabjeetat thu 
'any fiailot-bi»c, Refern* Bill, or other Ptiliiicad 
' Maefaine, wkh Force of Putdic. Opinion never m 

■ active on tc, is likely tn perfbm said proceu of 
' siAii^ f Would to Heaven that we had a sieve ; 
'■that we could ao much as hmcj any kind of 
'eWveTwiad-ianwr*, or ne-plus-ulaa of nuctHnery, 
' drrieable by man, tbat wonld do h ! 

' Done- oCTerthelees, anre enough, it muK be ; k 
' dtall aid will be. We are riiilw)g awiftty on dke 
' road to dntructioni every boor bringing us neam', 
' until it be, in some measure, d(»e. The doing ai 

■ it it not donbcfiil ; only the method and the cnm 1 

■ Nay I will even mention to you an in&llible 
' rafn^ process whereby he that has ability will be 
' aifted out to ndc among us, and that same bJmsed. 
' Aristocracy of Talent be verily, in an apMvact-' 
' mate degree, vouchsafed u« by and by: an infatlibie' 
* (iftnig-proces* ; to which, however, no soul can 
' help his neighbour, but each nrast, with devont 
'prayer to Heaven, endeavour to help hinnelf. It 
' is, O friends, that all of os, that many of ua, 
' should acquire the D-ue ryf for talent, which is 
' dreadfully wanting at present ! The true eye for 
'talmt presupposes the true reverence for it, — O ■_ 
' Heavens, prew^>eees so many things ' 



40 ^ I PROEM 

The ' For example, you Bobui Higgini, Saiuage- 
Difpa^ ' mkker on the great Kale, who are railing such 
^ ' a clamour for this Atatacncj of Taleat, what is 
' it that yoo do, in that big heart of yours, chiefly 
'in TMy feet pay rererence to J Is it to talent, 
' iotriaaic manly worth of any kind, you unfortunate 
' BobuaJ The manliest, man ibat you saw goicg in 
' a ragged coat, did you ever reverence him ; did 

< yoa so much as know that he was a manly man 

• at all, till hie coat grew better > Talent ! I 
' nnderstand you to be able to worship the feme of 
' talent, the power, cash, celebrity ot other success 
' of taleot ; but the talent itself is a thing you never 
' saw with eyes. Nay what is it in yourself that 

' you are proudest of, that you take moet pleaaute | 
' in surveying meditatively in thoughtful moments ! | 
' Speak now, is it the bare Bobos sttipt of his very 
' name and shirt, and turned loose upon society, 
' that you admire and thank Heaven for ; or Bobus 
' with his cash-accounts and larders dropping fat- 
' nesB, with his respectabilities, warm garnitures, and 

< pony-chaise, admirable in some measure to certain 
' of Uie flunky species? Your own degree of worth 

' and talent, is it of inSn'Oe value to you j or only of i 
' finite, — measurable by the degree of currency, and t 
' conquest of praise or pudding, it has brought you 1 
' to i Bobus, you ace in a vicious circle, rounder ' 
' than one of your own sausages ; and will never 

* vote for or promote any talent, except what talent 

< or sham'talent has already got itself voted for ! ' 
— We here cut short the ItuBtaton all readers 
perceiving whither he now tends. 

More Wisdom ' indeed : but where to find more 
isdom f We have already a Collective Wisdom, I 



fwi 



ARISTOCRACY OF TALENT ♦■ _ 

aftef irs kind, — though ' class-legislation,' and Sau»- 
another thtog or two, alfect it Bomewhat J On Elie ^gc- 
whole, as they say, Like people like priest; so we ""^^"K 
may say, Like people like king. The man gets 
himself appointed and elected who is ablest — to be 
appointed and elected. What can the incortupt- 
ibleet Babuiu elect, if it be not some Bobiiimiu, 
should they find sach i 

Or again, perhaps there is not, in the whole 
Nation, Wisdom cnongh, 'collect' it as we may, to 
make an adequate Collective ! That too is a case 
which may befall : a mined man staggers down to 
ruin because there was not wisdom enough in him ; 
so, cleMly also, may Twenty-seven Million collec- 
tive men! — But indeed one of the infalliblest fruits ,; 
of Unwisdom in a Nation is that it catmot get the i 
tise of what Wisdom is actually io it : that it is not ' 
governed by the wisest it has, who alone have a 
divine right to govern in all Nations ; but by the 
sham-wisest, or even by the openly not-so-wise, if 
they are handiest otherwise ! This is the in&l- 
liblest result of Unwisdom ; and also the balefulest, 
immeasurablest, — not so much what we can call a 
poison^nnV, as a universal death -disease, and 
poisoning of the whole tree. For hereby are fos- 
tered, fed into gigantic bulk, alt manner of Unwis- 
doms, poison-fruits ; till, as we say, the life-tree 
everywhere is made a upas-tree, deadly Unwisdom 
overshadowing all things ; and there is done what 
lies in humaa skill to stifle all Wisdom everywhere 
in the birth, to smite our poor world barren of 
Wisdom, — and make your utmost Collective 
Wisdom, were it collected and fleeted by Rhada- 
manthus, ^acus and Mincra, not to speak of 
drunken Tenpound Franchisers with their ballot- 



4» I PRDSU 

TIw boxes, an inadeqiiue Collective ! The WtMlon- '» 
Tnwtiot BOW there : how wUl ywi 'collect' it ^ A* 
*^"* well wash Thamea mod, by improved ractbodi, to 

Tro^^ tbe lirM condttioB U iiidi»)xaHUe, Thitt 
Wiacioni be there :. but the hcokI i» like unto it, is 
properly Mte wiA it ; dMie two cottditicMM act aod 
react through every 6h'e of thenr, and go iiueparably 
together. If yov hive much Wiwiom in yoar 
NbCioh, yon wdl get it faitbluUy collected ; for the 
wi«e love Wiadon^ and will cearch for it is for l^e 
and ealvatioB. If yon have Itttk Wisdom^ you will 
get eren-that little iU-collected, trampled aoder foot, 
reduced a* aear as posttUe to anmbilatioA ; for 
fbola do not love Wixlom ; they ant fboliriv first 
of all^ beeiwe they have never loved Wisdom, 
-^ut have loved their mm appedtm^ ambitioBSf 
their cor<Mwted coaches, taikards of faeavy-wet. 
Thus is your caudle lighted » both ends, and tbe 
nogfCM towards coBsumtnatioD i« swift. Thw i» 
fiilfiUcd tltu saying in the Gospel : To htm that 
hath shall be given ; and from him thu hath not 
sfcail be taken away even that w4uch he hath. Very 
Iherally^ in ■ very &tal maaoer, that sayitM is here 
(yfiUed. 

Ov ' Ariitocracy of Talent ' aeems at a coa- 
siderable distance yet ; does ii not, O Bobus 1 



HElt6-W0ltSAlP 

Cbaptet vi 



TO the pregent Editor, not lew tharf to Aobu^, The 
a Government of the Wisest, #h«i BebmPaiw- 
calle an AriBtocracy of Talent, seerasthecne healing ^'* 
lemedy : but he is not so strngnine as fiebos with 
respect to the mtans ofrealisingiL He thinks- that w4 
hare at once missed realising it, and come to M<*d it 
fiOpressingly, by departing far from the inner et«fnat 
Laws, and takiog-up with the temporary dawt 
BcmblaDces of Laws. He thinks that 'enlightened | 
Egoism,' aever so luminous, is not the rule hf'l 
which man's Hfe can be led. That ' Laissez-ftire,' 
' Supply-and-demand,' ' Cash-payment ftw the iole 
nexus,' aDd so forth, were not, are not and wi]( 
never be, a practicable Law of Union for a Society 
of Men. That Poor and Rtrft, that GoTCmed- 
md Goreming, cannot long life together on aBf 
inch Law of Union. Alas, he think* that maii^ 
baa K add i& him, Afferent from the stomach' in any « 

sense of this word ; that if said soul be nphyxied', 
aod lie quietly forgotten, the man and his affairs aVe' 
in a bad way. He thinks that said aoul will have . ' 
to be resuscitated from its asphyxia \ that if it prove 
irresDscitable, the man is not long for this wortd^ 
In brief, that Midas-eared Mammonisni, double 
barrelled Dilettantism, and their thousand adjuncts 
Bid corollaries, aie no* the Law by which God 
Almighty has appointed this his Universe to go. 
That, once for all, these are not the Law : ddd 
then ^Iher that we shall have to return to what it . 
Ae Law,— mot by smooth flowery paths, it is Hk^, 
and with 'tremeodons cheers' in oar tlffoat; but 



44 I PROEM 

Our ottt Keep uatroddea placea, through ttormclad 
Hero chasniB, waste oceaas, and the boaom of tornadoes ; 
^"r^ thank Heaven, if not through very Chaos and the 
. Abyai ! The resuscitating of a soul that has gone 
\ to asphyxia is no momeDtary or pleaunt procen, 
j but a long and terrible on^ 

To the present Editor, ' Hero-worship,' at he 
has elsewhere named it, means much more than an 
elected Parliament, or stated Aristocracy of the 
Wisest ; for in his dialect it is the summary, ulti- 
mate essence, and supreme practical perfection of all 
manner of ' worship,' and true worthships and 
noblenesses whatsoever. Such blessed Parliament i 
and, were it once m perfection, blessed Aristocracy i 
of the Wisest, god-honoured and man-honoured, he 
does look for, more and more perfected, — as the | 
topmost blessed practical apex of a whole world 
reformed from sham-worship, informed anew with 
worship, with truth and blessedness ! He thinks 
that Hero-worship, done difTercDtly in eierv dilfer- 
ent epoch of the world, is the soul of all social 
business among men ; that the doing of it well, or 
the doing of it ill, measures accurately what degree 
of well-being or of ill-being there is in the world's 
affairs. He thinks that we, on the whole, do our | 
Hero-worship worse than any Nation in this world 
ever did it before : that the Burnsjio Exciseman, 
the Byron a Literary Lion, are intrinsically, all 
things consi3er^?7a~^aBer and falser pheoomenan 
than the Odin a God, the Mahomet a Prophet of 
God. It is this Editor's clear opinion, accord- 

Iingly, that we must learn to do our Hero-worship 
better ; that to do it better and better, means the 
awakening of the Nation's soul from its asphyxia, 



HERO-WORSHIP 45 

and tlic return of blessed life to tu, — Heaveo'e a Farce 
bl»«ed life, not Mammon's galvanic accursed one. 
To resuscitate the Asphyxied, apparently now 
moribund and in the last agony if not resuscitated : 
such and no other seems the consunimauon. 
^ ' Hero-worship, ' if you will,— yea, friends ; but, 
first of all, by being ourselves of heroic mind. A 
whole world of Heroes ; a world not of Flunkies, 
where no Hero-King can reign : that is what we 
lim at ! We, for our share, will put away all 
Flunkyism, Baseness, Unveracity from us ; we 
shall dieo hope to have Noblenesses and Veracities 
; set over us ; never till then. Let Bobus and 
i Company sneer, ** That is your Reform ! " Yes, 
■ Bobus, that is our Reform ; and except in that, and 
what will follow out of that, we have no hope at all. 
Reform, like Charity, O Bobus, must begin at 
home. Once well at home, how vrAl it radiate 
outwards, irrepressible, into aH that we touch and 
handle, E]>eak and work ; kindling ever new light, 
by incalculable contagion, spreading in geometric 
rauo, far and wide, — doing good only, wheresoever 
it spreads, and not evil. 

By Reform Bills, Anti-Com-Law Bills, and 
thousand other bills and methods, we will demand of 
our Governors, with emphasis, and for the first time 
not without effect, that they cease to be quacks, or 
else depart ; that they sec no quackeries and block- 
headisms anywhere to rule over us, that they utter 
or act no c«it to us, — it will be beUer if they do 
not. For we shall now know quacks when we see 
thc:m ; cant, when we hear it, shall be horrible to 
us i We will say, with the poor Frenchman at the 
Bar of the Convention, though in wiser style than 
he, and ' for the space ' not ' of an hovir ' but of a 



The litebme : "Je dtMomde Farrutatkn dtt capiuu et da 
Wot- Uchet" ' Arrcsuneat of the kiuTcs aad dutardc :' 
*^ ™ ah, wc know what a work that is ; how long it 

^^ wUl be before ikif aie all ur mostly got ' arrcMcd : ' 
— but \kk is one ; arrest him, in God's name ; it 
is one fewer ! We will, in all practicabJe ways, by , 
word and nlence, by act and lefuial to act, ener- i 
jetically demand that arrcaiment, — "je dtmatidc 
tttte arrettatiim~la ! " — and by degrees in&llibly 
aaaui it. lafallibly : for light sprees ; all humaa 
Mvls, never to bedarkeoed, loye light ; light once 
kiodled spreads, till all is luntbous ; — nil the cry, 
*^ Arrtit your knaves and dastards" rises in^in-a-- 
tive from millions of hearts, and rings and rvigns i 
from sea to sea. Nay how many of tbem may ' 
wc not ' arrest ' with our own hands, even now-; I 
we 1 Da not countenance them, thon there : I 
-tun away from their lacijuered snraptuomties, | 
their belauded sophistries, dieir serpent ^acios- 
itiet, their apokoi and acted cant, with a ucred i 
bwiar, with an Apage Satanai. — Bobui and Com- 
jtaoy, and all men will gradually join us. We 
demand arrestment of the knaves and dastards, and 
begin by arresting our own poor selves out of that I 
fraterwty. There is no other r^orm conceivable. | 
Thou md I, my &iend, can, in the moat flunky '. 
-world, make, each of us, aae uon-Sunky, one hero, I 
if we like : that will be two heroes to begin with : 1 
— Courage ! even that is a whole world of heroes 
to -cod with, or what we poor Two can do in 
jiirtherance thn'eof 1 

Yes, fnends i Hero-kJngs, and a whole world 
not vnheroic, — there lies the port and happy haven, 
iCowards wiiicb, through all these atormtoat seal, 
.French Revolutions, Chartisms, Manchester InBiu> i 



HESOVWORSHIP Af 

leotiaM, that make the heart Mck in these bMl J 
dajw, die St^ireme Powen are driTing dl On the # 
whole, blened be the Supreme Pomwfit «uro m 
tbe; ase ! Towuds that haoeo wiU we, O /riends t 
let all tivc j&eo, widi wjbat of Amiltj i« in them, 
bend vsiUactly, iacesuntly, with ihaound&ttil 
endeavour, thither, thither 1 There, gr cbe .in the 
Ocean-abywcH, it ii vm; clew to lae, w» ihtU 



WeU } ibere trvlj it bo Huwer to tiie S|AiBX- 
question } jiot the Anawer a duconaolstc pvUic, 
inquiriBg at the College of Heahib, vt* w hopes 
of ! A total change o£ regimejii cbanst «f eoaiti>- 
tution and exiMence from the very centre of jc i s 
new txKty to be £ot, with reiuacltated eoul, — Dot 
without conToIsive travul-throea ; as all birth and 
aew-Urtli jveaapposes travail ! This ia «ad oewi 
to a idiaconiolate diTCcrsbg Public, hoping to have 
got off by Mwne Morrbeo's Pill, aome 5atDt-John'« 
corroaire mixture and perhap* a littfe blieter y fric- 
tion -on the back ! — We were prepared to part with 
OUT Corn-Law, with Taiioua Lbwb and UnUwt: 
but tbi«, what i« this J 

Nor ha* the Editor ibrgottec how it ^u-et with 
' your ttl-boding Casstmdrae in Siegea of Troy. 
IniMiiaeiit perditioD u not usnally driven away by 
words of waraing- Didactic DeMiny has otbCT 
raetbods in atom; or these would -fell dways. 
Such wwdi ahoDld, nevertheieu, be uttered, when 
they dwell truly ia the aoul of any man. WchxIb 
are hard, are importunate ; but how much harder 
the iaipomuiate ereota they foreshadow ! Here 
and thi^ a human «oul may listen to the words,— 
who know* how jnany homan aoula ? — whereby the 



The impormnate events, if not diverted and prevented, 
Haraj will be rendered Uii hard. The present Editor't 
We* purpose is to himself fiill of hope. 

For though fierce travails, thoagh wide seas and 
roaring gulfs lie before ub, ia it not something if a 
Loadstar, in the eternal sky, do once more disclose 
itself; an everlasting light, shining through all I 
cload-tenipests and roaring billows, ever as wt | 
emerge from the trough of the sea : the bleBsed 
beacon, far off on the edge of &r horizonx, towards 
which we are to Reer incessantly for life ? Is it 
not tomething ; O Heavens, is it not all I There 
lie* the Heriuc Promised Land g under that I 
Hcaven's-light, my brethren, bloom the Happy 
Isles, — there, O there ! Thither will we ; 

' There dwelli the great Achillea whom we knew.'' 
There dwell all Heroes, and will dwell : thither, | 
all ye heroic-minded ! — The Heaven's Loadetar 
once clearly in our eye, how will each true man 
stand truly to bit work in the ship; how, with 
undying hope, will all things be Wonted, all be 
contjuered. Nay, with the ship's prow once turned 
in that direcuon, is not all, as it were, already 
well I Sick wasting misery has become noble man- \ 
fu! effort with a goal in our eye. ' The choking i 
' Nightmare chokes us no longer ; for we j/irnnder 
' it ; the Nightmare has already fled.' — I 

Certainly, could the jn-esent Editor instruct men 
bow to know Wisdom, Hercnsni, when they see it, 
that they might do reverence to it only, and loyally 
make it ruler over them, — yes, be were the living 
epitome of all Editors, Teachers, Prophets, that 
now teach and prophesy ; he were an Apelio' 



neiiQuwoRsiQP 49 

MorrisoD, a TrismegistuR and tffcctive Cassandra ! Where 
Lrt DO Able Editor hope each things. It is to be lie tlwT? 
expected the present laws of copyright, rate of 
reward per sheet, and . other consideranons, will 
Mie him from that peril. Let' iio Editor hope 
^ luch things : do ; — and yet let all Editors aim 
towards snch things, and even towards sach alone ! 
One knows not what the meaning of editing and 
writing is, if even this be not it. 

Ettough, to the present Editor it has lesmei 
poraMe some glimraering of light, for here and 
there a human soul, might tie in these confiMftt 
Paper-Masses now intnisted to him ; wberebre he' 
I deternrine* to edit the same. Out of old Books, 
' new Writings, utd much Moditation not of yester- 
day, he wUt endesTonr to select a thisg or nrt> i 
and from dia Past^ in a drcuiunis w^, ilhutrate' 
die Present and the Fotorc. The Past w a (Hin 
iodiiiicible het : the FutiU'e too is one, a^ 
dimmer ; vvf properly it is the taiu hct in new 
diess and derclopment. For the Preemi hold* it 
in botii the whole Past and the whole Futorv;— «• 
the LiTE-TRSE IcoRASiL, widc-waving, maiiy-tOM>^ 
has its roots down deep in the Death -kingdonUr 
among' the oldeM dead dnst of men, and with its 
bougha reaches ^wap beyond the stars ; and bi all' 
times aiKf placea is one and die s»ne Life-4ret)l 



II THE AHCIEMT 1!«>NK 



Book II. — The Ancient Monk 



JOCELIN OF BRAKELOHD 

e "XXT^^ "*^"' *" ^*^ Second Portion of our Work, 

i- W strive to penetrate a little, by meana of certain 

'I confused Papers, printed and other, into a some- 

^ what remote Century ; and to look> ^qc jaJaceJon, 

it, in hope of perhaps inustraUng oui. 9yfSi.^fooT i 

Centurjr thereby. It seems a circuitous way ; but 

it may prove a way neverthelesa. For man has 

ever be^ a striving, struggling, and, in spice of 

wiye-Bpread calumnies to the contrary, a veracious 

creature : tlie Centuries too are all lineal children 

of one another ; and often, in the portrait of early 

gtaodfathers, this and the other enigmatic feature of 

the newest grandson shall disclose itself, to mutual 

ehicidation. This Editor will venture on such a 

Betides, in Editors'- Books, and indeed overy- ' 
where else in the world of Today, a certain i 
latitude of movement grows more and more be- j 
coming fw the practical man. Salvation lies not 
in tight lacing, in these times ; — how far from that, 
in any province whatsoever ! Readers and men 
generally are getting into strange habits of asking 
all persons and things, from poor Editors' Books op 
to Church Bishops and State Potentates, not. By 
what designation art thou called ; in what wig and 
black triangle dost thou walk abroad i Heavens, I 



J 



JOCELIN OF BRAKELOND ji 

know thy dengoadon and black iriaiii^ well Life 
CDOu^ ! But, in God's name, whst art thou \ froiu tl 
Not NodiiDg, tayctt thou I Thm, How much and •**■ 
what \ This is the thing I would koow ; and 
even nuut booo koow, such a pass am I cone to I 

What weather-symptonia, — not for the poor 

Editor of Booka alone i The Editor of Book* 
may imderitaad withal that if, as is said, ' many 
kinds are pennissible,' there is one kind not per- 
missible, * die kind that has nothing in it, /r gtnr* 
* and go on His way accordingly. 



A certain Joceliooa de Brakelonda, a natural- 
bom Englishman, has leit us an extremely foreign 
Book,' «^ich the labours of the Camden Society 
have brought to light in these days. Jocelin'i 
Book, the ' Chtoniclr,' ot private Boawelkan 
Notebook, of Jocelin, a certain old St. Edmunds- 
bury Monk and Boswell, now seven centuries old, 
how remote is it from us \ exotic, extraneous ; to 
all ways, coming (rom far abroad I The language 
of it is not foreign only but dead : Monk-Latin 
lies across not the British Channel, but the nine- 
fold Stygian Marshes, Stream of Lethe, and one 
IcnowB not where ! Roman Latin itself, still alive 
for' us in the Elyiian Fields of Memory, it 
domestic in comparison. And then the ideas, liie- 
ivminire, whole workings and ways of this worthy 
Jocelin \ covered deeper than Pompeii with the 
Uva-aahes and inarticulate wreck of seven hundred 



' Chrmlca JwxLiNi at. Beauu>nda, dSr riJui galii Sam- 
unit Aiiatit Mfnailerii Saitd! Edmuitdi .■ maic frimum tgfu 
mtmdals, (HTufa Jt/toMiu Gagi gatrtpatJ. (Cunden Society, 
Lomlon, iS^o-) 



II TH£ AHCIENt UQkK I 

Joce!ia of Brakelond cannot be called a cob- 

KTwl apicnouB literary character ; indeed few morta1> J 
5^ that have left so visible a work, or ibotmark, | 
brfilnd them can be more rfjEcure. One other of 
those vanished Existeaces, whose work has not yet 
Taoished ; — almoBt a padietic phenomenon, were I 
not the whole world tiill of such ! The bnildera of f 
Stonehenge, for example : — or, alas, tAit say we, 
Stcmehenge and builders ? The writers of the 
Uruverial Rrainv and Hamrr'i Iftads the pavJors 
of London atreeta ; — Eooner or latCT, the enttre 
Posterity of Adam ! It is a pathetic phenomenon ; 
bat an irremediable, nay, jf w^ meiiitated', a I 
consoling one. f 

By his dialect of Monk-Latin, and indeed t^ . 
hi« name, this Jocelin leemsto have been » Noraian I 
Effgfiahman ; the surname ik Brairlaiuh indicates a 1 
native (^ St. Edmuodsbury itself, Brakeiand being I 
the known old name of a street or qoarter in that | 
veneralde Town. Then farther, sure enoogh, ow ' 
Jocelin was a Monk of St. Edmundsbory Consent ; , 
held some * obedicntia,' subaltern officiality there, or I 
rather, in succession several ; was, for one thing, 
' cfaapiain to my Lord Abbot, living beside him 
night and day for the space of six years ; ' — which J 
lastg'indeed, is the grand fact of Jocelin'scKistence, I 
and [Woperly the origin of this present Book, and 1 
of the chief meaning it has for ns now. He was, 
as we have hinted, a kind of born Barwell, Aough 
an infinitesimal ly small one ; neither did he alto- 
gether want his Johnian even there and then. 
Johnsons are rare ; yet, as has been asserted, 
Boswells perhaps still rarer, — the more is the pity 
OQ. both sides 1 This Jocelio, as we cea discern I 
well, was an ingenious and ingennou^ a <eh«ery- 

1 



JOCELIH OF KUKELOND » 

hcHted, iuxicciK, yet withal shrewd, notidDg, tocdin't 
qnidi-wittcd rnani and {torn under his monk's Chanty 
cowl has looked out mi that narrow section of the ^ 
world in a really Immtm manner ; not ia any liiMal, 
canine, oiiot, or otherwise inhuman maaoer, — 
afflictive ta all that have humanity ! The man is 
of patient, peaceable, loving, clear-smiling nature) 
open IW this and that. A wise simplicity is is 
him ; much natural sense ; a Veracity that goes 
deepw than words. Veracity : it is the baeis of 
all ; and, soiue say, means genius itself; the p-iioQ 
easence of all genius whatsoever. Our Jocelin, for 
the rest, haa read his classical manuKripta, his 
Virgiluis his Flaccua, Ovidius Naso ; of course 
still more, his Homilies and Breviaries, and if not 
the Bible, c«uaiderable extracia of the Bible. Then 
also be has a pleasaut wit ; aitd loves a timely joke, 
though in mild subdued manner ; very amiable to 
see. A learned grown man, yet with the heart as 
of a good child p whose whole life bdeed has been 
that of a child, — St. Edmundsbury Monastery a 
largH' kind of cradle for him, in which hia whole 
prescribed duty was to titep kindly, and love his 
mother well ! This is the Biography of Jocelin ) 
'a man of excellmt religion,' eays one of his con- 
temporary Brother Monks, 'eaimU reSgionit, feteiu 

FcrT one thing, he had learned to write a kind of 
Monk or Dog-Latm, still readable to mankind) 
and, by good luck for as, had bethought him of 
noting down thereby what things seemed notablest 
to him. Hence gradually resulted a Cbrtniea 
Jocdiiu ; new Manuscript in the Uier Aibta of St. 
Edmundsbury. Which Chronicle, once written in 
its childlike transparency, in its innocent goo4- 



54 II THE ANCIENT HONK 

Jocetin's humour, not withoat touches of ready fAeataat wh 
Chron- and many kinds of worth, other men liked naturally 
•"^ to read ; whereby it failed not to be copied, to be 
multiplied, to be inserted in the Liier j4liui ; and 
10 BurViving Henry the Eighth, Pntney Cromwell, 
the DisBolution of Monasteries, and all accidents of 
malice and neglect for six centnries or so, it got 
into' the Harleian Collection, — and has now there- 
ftom, by Mr. Rokewood of the Camden Society, 
been deciphered into clear print ; and lies before lu, 
a dainty thin quarto, to interest for a few minutes 
whoniBOever it can. 

Here too it will behove a jnst Historian gratefoUy 
to say that Mr. Rokewood, Jocelin's Editor, has . 
done his editorial function well. Not only has he 
deciphered his crabbed Manoscript into clear print ; 
but he has attended, what his fellow editors are not 
always in the habit of doing, to the important truth 
that* the Manuscript so deciphered ought to have a 
meaning for the reader. Standing iaithfiilly by his 
text, and printing its very errors in spelling, in 
grammar or otherwise, he has taken care by some 
note to indicate that they are errors, and what the 
correction of them ought to be, Jocelm's Monk- 
Latin is generally transparent, as shallow limpid 
water. But at any stop that may occur, of which 
there arc a few, and only a very few, we have the 
comfortable assurance that a meaning does lie in the 
passage, and may by industry be got at ; liiat a 
faithful editor's industry had already got at it before 
passing on, A compendious usefiil Glossary is 
given ; nearly adequate to help the uninitiated 
through ; sometimes one wishes it had been a tri£e 
larger '; but, with a Spelman and Ducange at yonr 
elbow, how easy to have made it far too large ! 



JOCELIN OF 6RAKELOHD $s 

NotcB are added, generally brief; oificieiitly ex- The 
pluuKvy of most point*. Lastly, a co)»oiu correct Honkaf 
Index'; which .00 nicb Book Bhould waat, md ^"^ 
which unluckily lery few poesess. And »o, in a 
word, the Chrmiclt of Jocelin is, a< it profewes to 
be, unwrapped from its thick cerement^ and fairly 
brought forth into the common daylight, »o that he 
who rona, and has a smattering of grammar, may 

We have heard to much of Monks ; everywhere, 
ia real and fictitious Histwy, from Muratori Annals 
to Radcliffe RcmiaiiceB, these singular two-legged 
animals, with their rosaries and breviaries, with their 
shaven crowns, hair-cilices, and tows of poverty, 
masquerade so strangely through our fancy ; and 
they are in fact so very strange an extinct speciN of 
the human family, — a veritable Monk of Bury St. 
Edmunds is worth attendiog to, if by chance made 
visibte and audible. Here he is ; and in his hand 
a magical speculum, mucli gone to rust indeed, yet 
in fragments still clear ; wh^ein the marvelloui 
image of his esiatence does still shadow itself, though 
fitfully, and as with an intermittent light! Will 
not the reader peep with us into this singular camera 
lucida, where an extinct species, though fitfully, can 
still be seen aliie ? Extinct species, we say ; for 
the live specimens which still go about under that 
characKT are too evidently to be classed as spurious 
b Natural History : the Gospel of Richard Ark- 
wrigbt once promulgated, no Monk of the old sort 
is any longer possible in this world. But fancy a 
deep-buried Mastodon, some fossil Megatherion, 
Ichthyosaurus, were to begin to ipeai from amid its 
rock-swathings, never so indistinctly 1 The most 



|6 CI THE AHCIEVT UOHR ' 

Tw<flli extinct fouil apecici of Men or Monkg can do, and I 
C«itai7 doct, (his miraclv, — tluuka to the Letters of the J 
^"^ Ali^abet, good for m many thing*. | 

jocdin, we aaid, was somewhat of b Boswell ; 
bnt unfbrtnnately, by Nature, he is oeae of the i 
largest, and dtnance has now dwarfed him to an | 
•xtfeme dagrec. His light is itioat feeUe, inter- ^ 
nineiit, and requiret die imensMt kbdeit iBipectieB ; 
otherwise it will disclose mere vacant haze. It 
must be owned, the good Jocetin, ainte of his 
beiutifiil child-like character, is but an altogether 
imperfect 'mirror' ^the»e (Jd-w<»Id things ! The 
^good raoa, he looks on u« so clear and cheery, and 
^ in his neighbourly soft-smiliitg cye« ^ sec so 'Well J 
ow MOD shadow, — we have a longing always to 
cnMs-qocetion htm, to force from him an explanation I 
of much. Bnt no ; Jocotin, though he ialka whh I 
such clear familiarity, like a next-door neighbour, ' 
will not answer any question : that is the peculiarity I 
of him, dead these six hundred and fifty years, and 
4)tute deaf to us, though still so audible ! The good 
man, he cannot help it, nor can we. 

But trnly it is a strange consideration this Hmple 
one, as we go OS with him, or indeed with any h»cid 
Hihpte-hcartod aoul like him ! Behold therrictre, ; 
Ais England of the Year 1200 was bo chinerical 1 
vacuity or dreamland, peopled with mere vaporous 
FantHSmi, Rymer's Feedera, and Doctrities of the 
Consutution ; but a green solid place, that grew 
corn and ceyeral other things. The Sun dmne oa 
it {' the vicissitude of seasons and human fortunes. 
Cloth was woven and worn ; ditches were dug, 
CuTOW-fields ploughed, and ihouses built. Day by 
day all -men and cattle roae to laboor, and ni^t t^ 
night relumed home weaty to «heir severdl lairst 



^KISLIH HP SRARSLONO jj 

In wondrous Dnaiiiin, tbcn u now, lived naboM of l^^ 
b^tbii^ men; akenacmg, in all my*, between JMa 
L^ht and Hark, i between joy and wtrow, beewecn 
rest aod toil, — between hope, hope rexcbiag high as 
Heaven, and iear deep ai very Hell. Not Taponr 
FaDtasms, RyoBer't Fcedera at all ! Cvor-dD- 
Lioo'waB^not a theatrical pojaajay with gream and 
iteel-cap on it, hot a man living upon Tietrala, — ml 
iinpccted by Peel'a Tariff> Coeur^de-LiDo came 
paJpflUy athwart dug Jooelin at St. GdraBD^bury ; 
and had alaooat peded the eacred gold ' fer^rm m ,' 
or St. Edmund Shrine itself to rantoB him out of 
the Danabe Jail. 

< Thne dear eye* of «eighbav Jeoelm looked oo 
-the bodily pcnence of Kmg John ; the laj JcAn 
' Simt^Of, or Lackland, who (igned Jfi^ma Cbarta 
afterward* ia itannym^. Lackland, with « great 
retinw, boarded once^ for die matter of a fbrt&t^i, 
b St. Edmimdabiity ConveDt; daily in the very 
eycR^ht, inlpable to the very Gagen of our Jocelin : 
Jocelin, what did he lay, what did he do ; how 
looked he, lived he;— 4t die ^ery lowett, what coat 
or breecheahad be on i Jocelin is ofaetimwlyBikDt. 
Jocelin marks down what interest! iita; aitirc^ 
deaf to mr, Widi Jocelin's eyes we diaccm almon 
notlnng of John Lw^lsBd. Ai thraugh a glau 
darkly, we widi <rar own eyes and apfdiancea, 
intenaely looking, ditcem at most : A Uiutering, 
diisipated hmmn ^gure, with a kind of blockgnard 
(palily air, in cramoi^ velvet, or other oicertam 
textuR, DBcertton cut, widi much plomage and 
^ff^ S wnid niuneroiu otlwr human fgnm of the 
Itte ; ridiDg .abroad with hawJii ; talkii^ noi^ 
nonaeaaef — tearmg out the boweJi of St. Edmtmdw 
bury 'Content ^iu lasden namely and ceUara) in the 



5S JI THE ANCIENT MONK 

LaA- most ruiiioiu way, fay living at rack and manger 
l*>>d*B there. Jocelin notes only, with a slight sobaci'ilitj,) 
iSJ °^ mannw, that the King's Majesty, Domnui Rex, [ 
*^ did leave, at gift for our St. EdmuDd Shrine, a ; 
haDdsome enough silk, cloak, — or rather pretended i 
to leave, for one of his retinue borrowed it of us, | 
and ui; never got light of it again; and, on thet 
whole, that the Domiatu Rex, at departing, gave us 
'thirteen jlerSngii,' one shilling and one penny, to 
«ay' a maas for him ; and so deputed, — like a shafab; 
Lackland as he was ! ' Thirteen pence Sterling,' j 
this waa what the Convent got Irom Lackland, for I 
all' the victuals he and his had made away with, j 
We of coarse said our mass for him, having covenanted 
to do it, — but let impardal posterity judge with whai' 
■degree of fer»our ! j 

And- in this manner vanishes King Lackland;] 
traverses swiftly ow strange intermittent magic- 1 
mirrOT, jingling the shabby thirteen pence merely ; | 
and i'ides with his hawks into Egyptian night again, i 
It is Jocelia's manner with all things ; and it is 
men's manner and men's necessity. How intermit- 
tent is our good Jocelin ; marking down, withoat j 
eye to m, what /x finds interesting ! How much j 
iiiioceHn,aB in all Hiatory, and indeed in all Nature, I 
ia at once inscrutable and certain ; so dim, yet w, 
tndulntable ; exciting us to endless consideradoas. { 
For King Lackland miai there, verily he 5 and did 
leave these Iredecim iterlingii, if nothing more, and I 
did live and look in one way or the other, and a 
whole world waa living and looking along with him! 
There, we say, ia the grand peculiarity j the im- 
measurable one ; distinguishing, to a really infinite 
■degre^ the poorest historical Fact from all Fiction 
whatsoever. Fiction, * Imaginatioii»' ' Imaginative 



ST. EDHUNDSBURY 59 

Poetry,' 3tc. &&, except as the Tehide for truth, or Bnfj 
yad of some wrt, — which surely a man should first *!>•* 
try Tarioui other way« of Tehicolating, and cpuTcying '"^ 
safe,— what is iti LettheMinetvaandotKflPressei """^ 
respond ! — 

But it ia time we were in St. Edmundsbury 
Monastery and Seven good Centuriet ofTi -rlf indeed 
it be possible, by any aid of Jocdin, by any humaa 
an, to get thither, widi a reader or two still foUow- 
ingati 



ST. EDMUKDSBURV 

THE Bur^, Bury, or ' Berry ' as they call it, of 
Sl Edmund i» still a prosperous triak Town 1 
beautifully diversifying, with its clear brick homes, 
ancient clean streets, and twenty or fifteen thousand 
busy souls, the general grassy face of Suffolk ; 
looking out right pleaaandy, from its hill-dope, 
towards the rising Sun ; and on the eastern edge of 
it, suit runs, long, black and massive, a range of 
monastic ruins ; into the wide internal spaces of 
'which the stranger is admitted on payment of one 
shilling. Internal spaces laid out, at present, as a 
botanic garden. Here stranger or townsman, saunter- 
ing at his leisure amid these vast grim veon'sble 
rains, may persuade himself that an Abbey of St. 
Edmundsbury did once exist ; nay there is no doubt 
of it : see here the ancient massive Gateway, of 
architecture interesting to the eye of Dilettantism ; 
and farther on, that other uwrient Gateway, now 
about to tumble, unless Uiletuntism, in these very 



fo II THE ANCIENT UCOtK I 

Tilt Moathi, can wbacribe mooey lo cramp it and prop 
HcMMK it ! . ! 

RnbbU J^""' ""* eDOBgh, ii xa Abbey ; bemtilnl in the ' 
Heap *7* *'^ l&ilettamisin. Gi^atJ^^antry bIbo will step 
JDj with itg huge DugdgU and other eiK)r(nDnB 
Monarlicom under itT'irn, SDd ehecrfvlly apprise | 
yaufTEBt thii wib a very great Abbey, owner and I 
indetd creator of St. Edtnimd'* Town ittelf^ owner { 
0f wide Jandi and rerenoes ; oay that iti land* were 
once a county of thenuelves ; that indeed King 
Canute or Knut wai rery kind to it, and gave St. 
Edniund his own gold crown otF hia head, oo one 
occasion ; for the rest, tiitt the Monks were of such 
and lUch a genus, such and such a number ; thai 
they had so many carucate* of land in this hundred',* 
and M> many in that ; and then farther that the largel 
Tower or Belfty was built by such a one, and the 
umiller Belfry was buiit by dec. &c. — Till humao I 
aature can stand no more of it ; till human 'tiatuit 
desperately take refiige in forgetfoloeH, almost in flat ' 
disbelief of the whole bueiness. Monks, Monastery, 
fi«Hries, Caractrtes and all ! Alas, what mountain 
of dead ashes, wreck and burnt boDei, does assiduoDi 
Pedantry dig up from the Past Time, and name it 
Historyi and Philosophy of Histtuy t till, as wc i 
-•iy, the human soul sinks weari^ and bewild»'cd^ 
till die Paa Time seems all one infinite incrediblt' 
gray void, without sun, rtars, heardi-fires, or candle- 
light ; dim offensive dust- whirl winds filling universal 
Mature i and over your Historical Library, it ia as 
if all the TiUDs had written for themselves : Dry 

RvBBCm SHOT HBRG 1 

And yet these grim old walls are not a diletiantists 
BtPd dubiety; tht^y are an earnest fact. It was x 
tnon reid and vctmus purpose they were bmlt for I 



ST. BDafUHosminr «t 

Yet, amdier woiU it wm, when tbMe bUck nitas, Ww- 
wHite in theirnew mortar aod freih chifriiiog, bft (bif'iv 
saw the sua u walis, long ago. 0«uga ooi^ vttfe Stono 
thy dilettante compaMei, with A» ptacitl diUttsuWtf 
limper, die Hearen'i-Watchtowcr of our Fathei^ 
the fallen God't-Houes, the GolgotlM' o£ trao 
Souls depaited ! . 

Their architecture, belfries, ItoA-ancauat Y**, 
— and that ia but a mati item of tke matter. Ddm 
it never give ^e pause, this other siraMga item of 
i:, tliat men then had a loul, — not hf hearsay alaae, 
and as a figure of speech ; hot as a tnwh that they 
iimu, and practicmly went upon 1 Verity ii wa« 
raother world then. Their Missals have btcomc 
'mcFed3>le, a sheer platitude, sayen thou i Y«^ » 
most poM' platitude; and even, if drau wHi, an 
idolatry and blasphemy, (honld any one persmd* 
t/iee to beScre tbenir to ueceod praying by Acim. 
But yet it is pity we had lost tidings of Mt Muke — 
actually we ^all have to go in quest of them ag»R, 
cs worse ia all ways will be&ll ! A certain degrae 
of soul, SI Ben Jonson reminds u, is iadispCBSabl* 
to keep the very hody from deatructie* of tba 
frighttiileit sort; to 'save nt,' says he,'theexpMM« 
o£ jali.'- Ben has known men who had soul ^naugh 
'to keep their body and five senses from baeontag 
carrion, and save salt : — men, and also Natwas; 
You may look in Manchester Hiusger-mob* and 
Cora-law Commons House*, and various odicf 
([uarters, and say whether either soul or else salt is 
not somewhat wanted at |n'esent i— 

Another wocld, truly : and this present poet 
dJMressed ^wnrkl Jn^ht get «anie profit by looking 
wisely iBio it, kuteid of foolishly. But at loweMi 
dilettante fiiend, let us haow always tlwt it ww 



i ti II THE ANCIENT MONK 

CitHStf a world, and not a void infinite <^ graj haze witli 
Refi^^ l^mtaanw iwimming in it. Thete old St. EdmoBds-^ 
bury walls, I «ay, were not peopled with faotmni ; 
h)ii with men of Setb «h1 blood, made altogether as 
we are. Had thou aad I then been, who knowi 
but we ouTMlvei hod taken refine irom an evil , 
l^ime, and lied to dwell here, and meditate on an i 
Eternity, in nich ^hion as we coald ? Alat, how 
liLean old omeous fragment, a t»x>ken blackened 
■hinrbone of the old dead Ages, this black ruin 
looki out, not yet coTered by the soil ; still indicat- 
ine what a (wce gigantic Life lies bnrted there ! li 
is 'dead now, and dumb ; but was alive once, and 
ipake. For tweoCy generations, here was the earthly 
arena where painiiil living men worked out their*! 
life-wiestle, — looked at by Earth, by Heaven and 1 
Hell. £elJs tolled to prayers ; and men, of many I 
homoiirs, various thoughts, chanted vcBpers, mztini ; I 
— and round the little islet of thrir life rolled forever 

J as round ours still roils, though we are blind and i 
eaf) the illimitable Ocean, tinting all things with 
itr etetniU hues and reflexes ; making strange pro- 
phedc music ! How nlent now ; all departed, 
cleaii gone. The World-Dramaturgist has written: 
Exatnt. The devooring Time-Demons have made i 
awajr with it all : and in its stead, there is either .' 
nothiag ; or what is worse, offensive universal dust- 1 
clouds, and gray eclipse of Earth and Heaven, from . 
< dry tubinah shot here ! ' — ' 

Truly it is no easy matter to get across the chasm 
of Seven Centuries, filled with such material. But I 
here, of all helps, is not a Bosweil the welcomeit ; 
even a small fioiwetl l Veracity, true sira^icity c^j 
heart, how valuable are these ^ways! He that 



ST. BDHUNDSBURT 6] 

speaks what ir really in him, will find men U) litteo, Ipoetin'i 
thoiigli under never lOch iouiediinentB. Even gowip, ™*"** 
springing free and cheery from 3 human betut, this 2^5* 
too is a kind of veracity and jfieech, — much prefer- 
able to pedantry and inane |ray haze I Jaceltn is 
, weak and garrulotu, but he is ha[n4D. Through the 
thin watery gossip of our Jocelin, We do get Mme 
glimpses of that deep-buried Time ; dieceni verit- 
ably, though in a fitfiil intcnnittent manner, these 
ajtbqae figures and their life-method, ^e to face ! 
Beautifully, in our earnest loving glance, the old 
eenturicB melt from opaque to partially translucent, 
transparent here and there ; and the void black 
Night, one finds, is but the summing-up of innumet- 
"aMe peopled luminous Dayi. Not parchment Cbar- 
tulariet, Doctiines of the Consutudon, O Dryas- 
dustl not altogether, my audite friend ! — 

Readers who please to go along with us into thi* , 
poor Joedini Chronica shall wander inconveniently 
enough, as in wintry twilight, through some poor 
Gtript hazel-grove, rustling with (boliah noises, and 
perpetually hindering the eyesight ; but across which, 
here and there, some real human figure is seen mov- 
ing ! very strange ; whom we could hail if he would 
gnawer ; — and we look into a pair of eyes deep as 
our own, making our own, but all unconscious of 
us ; CO whom we, for the time, are become as spiriti 
and invisiUc 1 



II TWm ASeiSKT HffiHK 



abavtei m 

LANDLORD EDMUND 

WIio QONfE three cemnries m so^ hid ctlifMld nan 

g^^ '^ Atdiifi-nnrti ' became St. EdtmiiKl's Stem, 

1^^ St, Edmund's Tewm atxl Mi»ariery, before JocdJn 

eflt«PMl Mimrir a Kotjcc there. *'It w>e ,' cayt 

he, 'die year after the Ftemitigi were defeated « 

' Fomham St. Graeriere.' 

Much passes away into oUinon ; thia glcmou 
Tictory ova* ^ PlemiDga at Fomham has, at the 
preseDt datc^ greatly dimmed itself oat of the minds 
of meo. A victory and battle nercftheless it was, 
in its time; some ttuice-renowoed EaH of Leicester, ' 
not of the De Montfon breed (as may be read in t 
Pbiloiopbical and odier Histories, could any hMnan 1 
memory retain snch thitigt),had (joarrelled w4th his ' 
saTeretga^' Henry Second of the name ; had' been 

> Drfuduil puizlei and pokei for tome biography of 
thii Bcodric ; and repuens to conEider him a mere Eait- 
Angllaa Perion of Conditton, not Id aeed of a biography, 
— .nhow feop/B, wrlk or wtnk, thu la ta My, GmtMI, 
laer— sui or a> ve ahoHld now Dame it, Siiutt, that «|inc 
Hamlet and wood Mantioii, now Si. Edmund'i Burj, 
wiginally wa>. For, addi our erudite Friend, [he Saxon | 
[leojiSan, eqniTilent to the German vrcrdai, OieaDi to . 
nw, to iemmt; tracei of which old Tocable are itlll 
TonadlD the North-country dialectic at, 'WifU I* «r^of 
him r ' meaniDg, • What ii <r»c of him ? ' and the lite. 
Nay we in modern Eogliifa itiU lay, • Woe Toirdt the hour ' 
(Woe V'' the hour), and ipeak of the • U'nrJ SUtera ; 
not to mention the inDuinerable other names of places 
still ending in vtirii or vitrtA. And indeed, our com' 
mon noua mrti. In the sense of mlur, does not this mean 
simply, What a thing has ;mD. to, What a mui has 
gnwn to, How much ht amounts to, — by the Thread- 
needle-street standard or another I 



LANDLORD EDMUND &! 

woiRtcd, it ia like, sod maltreated, aad oUiged to The 
fly to foreign parta ; but had rallied there into new Plem- 
vigonr ; aad so, b the year 1173, retunw acroM S*^*"^ 
the German Sea with a vengefol aimj of Flemingi. y^„ ' 
Returns, to the coast of Suffolk ; to Framlioghain 
CastTe, where he ia welcomed ; westward towardi 
St. Edmundsbury and Fomham Church, where he 
IB met by the constituted authorities witb^if eomi- 
tatiu ; and iwifiJy cut in peces, he and his, or laid 
by the beels ; on the right bank of die obscure river 
Lark,-— aa traces still exining will verify. 

For the rivet Lark, though not very diacovcr- 
ably, stilt runs or stagnates in that country ; and the 
battle-ground is there ; serving at present as a plea- 
sure-groond to his Grace of Northumberland. 
Copper pennies of Henry II. are still found there j 
— rotted oat bom the pouches of poor alain soldiers, 
who had not had lime to buy liquor with them. In 
the rirfcr Lark itself was fished up, within man's 
memcKy, 10 antique gold ring ; which (bnd Dilet> 
taousm can almost believe may have been the very 
ring 'CouoteBB Lricester threw away, in her iiigh^ 
into that same Lark river or ditch.' Nay, few 
years ago, in tearing out an enormous superannuated 
ash-tree, now grown quite corpDlent, borsten, saper- 
fluous, bnt long a fixture in the soil, and not to be 
diskxlged without revolution, — there was laid bare, 
under Its roots, ' a circular mound of skeletons won-* 
derftJJy complete,' all radiating from a centre, facei 
upwards, feet inwards ; a ' radiation ' not of Light, 
but of the Nether Darkness rather ; and evidently 
the fruit of battle ; for ' many of the heads were 
cleft, or had arrow-holes in them.' The Battle of 
Fomham, therefore, ia a fact, though a forgotten 

■ Lytlelton'i Hiilu-y of Mary II. (ad edition), v. 169, fte. 



U II THE ANCIEKT HONK 

What OM t no lets obacure thsn uodeniable, — lik« to 
^>*B^ iMoy other fecti. 

Like the St Edmimd'a Monutery itself! Who 
can daiibt, >iter what we h&ve «aid, that there was 
a Monaateiy here at one time i No doubt at all 
there wa* 3 Monattery here ; no doubt, wme three 
Genturiei {O'lor to this Fomham Battle, there dwelt a 
BUD in these pans of the name of Edmund, King, 
Landlord, Duke or whateter his tide wa«, of the 
Eastern CoUDtiea ; — and a rery siaguUr man and 
landlord he mutt have been. 

For hts tenants, it would appear, did not in the 
least complain of him ; hit labourers did not think 
of biiroing hia wheautacki, brealung into hit game-^| 



preaenet ; »eiT fer the reterse of all that. Clear 
e?id^nc«, iitis&ctory e*en to my friH^QB^^agb 1 
cxitts that, CD the contrary, theSi ^rellt^ •-''^'"'^ 
admired tfaia ancient Lani^ord Co U quite astoiUBh- 
ii^ degree, — and indeed at last to an immeasurable 
and inexpreaaible degree; for, fisdiog no limitt or 
utterable words for their teose of his vorib, they 
took to beaufybg' and adoring him 1 ' Infinite 
admiratien,' we are taught, 'meant worship.' 

Very aingular,— could we discover it ! What 
Editumd's tpecilic duties were ; above all, wti^t hia 
pMthod of discharging them widi such results was, 
would sorely be interesting to know ; but are no/ 
«ry dJKOTerable now. His life has become a 
poeuc, nay a religious Mythiu ,■ though, nndeoiably 
enough, it was once a prose Fact, at our poor lives 
are ; and even a very rugged unmanageable one. 
This landlord Edmund did go about in leadiN shoes, 
w'i'At femBroTia and bodycoat of some sort on him; 
and daily had his breakfast to procure ; and daily 



LANDLORD EDMUND 6y 

had contradictorp speccbet, aod moat contiadictorj B<l- 
fafcU DOC a few, to reconcik with hinitelf. No man nuiod 
becomes % Samt m bis sleep. Edmimd, for iattanc^ ^^'^ 
instead of rteoaciling those same contradictory facts yi^A 
and speeches to himeelf, — which means lubdmng, 
and ia a manlike and godlike mamter conquering 
the^ to himself, — might have merely thrown new 
coDtention into tbcm, new unwisdom into them, 
and so bem conquered by them ; much the com- 
raooer case ! lo that way be had pro*«d no 
' Saint,' or DiniiK-laokii^ Man, but a mere Sinner, 
and mifertunate, biameabkr, more or less Diabolic- 
looking man! No landlord Edmiukl becomes 
iofinitely admirable in his sleep. 

With what degree of wholesome rigour hit rents 
were collected, we hear not. Still less by what 
. inetho^^ preserved his game, whether by ' bush- 
"'^^ had not ha'* ^^ ^ ^^ partridge-seaions were 
' excellent, v.. were indiSeient. Neither do we 
aacertain what kind of Corn-bill he passed, or 
wisety-ad justed Sliding-scale ; — but indeed there 
were few spinners in those days ; and the Duisance 
of Binming, and other dnsty labour, was not y« so 
glaring a one. 

How then, it may be asked, did this Edmund 
rise into &TOur ; become to such astoaidiing extent 
a recognised Faimer'a Friend f Really, except it 
were by doing justly and loving mercy to an unpre- 
cedcnted extent, tme doea not know. The man, 
it would seem, ' had walked,' as they say, * humUy 
with God ; ' humbly mid nliaotiy with God ; 
struggling to make the Earth heavenly as be could: 
ioitiad of walking sumptuously ssd pridefully with 
Mammon, leaving the Earth to grow hellish as it 
liked. Not sumptuously with Mammon i How 



' M U THE ANCIENT HONK 

Ed- then could he ' eocourage trade,' — caiue Howd 

mund and James, and many wine-merchaQtB, to bless him, 

Uaiftr "^ *^' tailor's heart (though in a very" Bhoit<iighted 

manDcr) to sing for joy ! Much in this Edmund's 

Life is myMerious, 

That he could, on occasioo, do what he liked 
with his owD, ii meanwhile evident enough. Cer- 
tatn Heathea Physical - Force Ultra - Chardsta, 
< Danes ' as they were then called, coming into his 
tCTTitory with their ' five points,' or rather with 
their five-and -twenty thousand /oin'j' and edges too, 
of pikes namely and battle-axes ; and [VOpoeing 
mere Heathenism, confiscation, spoliation, and fire 
and sword, — Edmund answered that he would 
oppose to the utmost such savagery. They took 
him prisoner; again required hu sanction to said 
proposals. Edmund again refiued. Cannot we 
kill you i cried they. — Cannot I die ? answered 
he. My life, I think, is my own to do what I tike 
with ! And he died, nnder barbarous tortures, re- 
fusing to the last breath ; and the Ultra-Chartist 
Danes lott their propositions ; — and went with their 
* points ' and other apparatus, as is supposed, to the 
Devil, the Father of them. Some say, indeed, 
these Danes were not Ultra-Chartists, but Ultra- 
Tories, demanding to reap where they bad not 
sown, and live in this world without working, 
though all the world should starve for it ; which 
likewise seems a possible hypothesis. Be what 
they might, they went, as we say, to the Devil ; 
and Edmund doing what he liked with his own, the 
Earth was got cleared of them. 

Another version is, that Edmund on this and the 
like occasions stood by his order ; the oldest, and 
indeed only true order of Nobility, known under 



LANDLORD EDMUND 69 

die stars, that of Jon Men and Sons of God, ia He 
oppootion to Unjust and Sons of Belial, — which '*'?7**', 
Jatter indeed are «n)ni/- oldest, bnt y« a very un- pjjr"' 
rcDcr^le order. This, truly, seems the likeliest 
hypothesis of all. Names and appearances alter so 
strangely, in some half-score centuHes ; and all 
^actuates chameleon-like, taking now this hue, now 
that. Thos much is very plain, and does not 
chabee hue: Landlord Edmund wag seen and 
felt by all men to have done verily a man's part 
in this life-pilgrimage of his ; and benedictions, 
and ODtdawing love and admiration fiom the 
universal heart, wae his meed. Well-done J 
Well-done! cried the hearts of ail men. They 
raised his slain attd martyred body ; washed its 
wo^mds with fast-flowing uaiverGal tears ; teaia of 
endless jity, and yet of a sacred joy and triumph. 
The beautifulest kind of tears, — indeed perhaps the 
beantifiilest lund of thing : like a sky all flashing 
diamondjs and prismatic radiance ; all wcejang, yet 
^one on by the everlaetitig Sun : — and tih is not 
a sky, it is a Soul and living Face 1 Nothing liker 
the TemfU of the Higbai, bright with some real 
efiiilgencc of the Highest, is seen in this world. 

Oh,' if all Yankee-land follow a small good 
' Schnuspel the disdnguished Novelist ' with blazing 
torches, dinner - ioritations, universal hep-hep- 
huirah, feeling that he, though small, it something ; 
how might all Angle-land once follow a hero- 
martyr and great true Son of Heaven ! It is the 
very joy of man's heart to admire, where he can ; 
nothing BO Hits him from all his mean impriBon- 
ments, were it but for moments, as true admiration. 
Thus it has been said, *all men, especially all 
women, are bom worshippers ; ' and will worship. 



TO 11 THE ANCIENT HONK 

Ed- if it be bnt poesible. Powible to wordiip a Some- 
■nnnd thing, eren a small one ; not ao poraible a hkr ' 
^^l kwd-blaring Nothing ! What sight is more pathetic 
than that of poor nultitiidei of pericnis met to gaze 
at Kings' Frt^resces, Lord Mayors' Shows, and 
other gilt-gingerbread pheaomena of the woribipfnl 
tort, in these times ; each so eager to worship ; 
each, wkh a dim fatal sense of disappaintnumt, 
Ending that he cannot rightly here t TlMse be tfay 
gods, O Israel ? And thon art to miffiag to 
worhip, — poor Israel ! 

In' this mantier, bowever, did tbe men of the 
Eastern Countin take vp the alain body of their 
Edmund, where it lay cast forth in the viBage of 
Hoxne ; seek oat the sevned heed, and rererottly 
reunite'the same. They embalmed him with layrrh 
and sweet ipice% with love, pity, and all high and 
awful thoughts ; coitBecratiag him with a rery storm 
of melodious adoring admiratKHi, and sun-dyed 
showers c^ tears ; -~- joy fill ly, yet with awe (as aQ 
deep joy has something of the awful in it), com- 
onemorattng his noble deeds and godlite walk and 
jcomersa^n while on Earth. Till, at length, the 
jvery Tope and Cardinals at Rome were ftwwd to 
)hear of it ; and they, summing op aa correctly as 
Ithe^ well a)uld, with jldvecatui'Diaiori pleadings 
'and their other forms of process, the geaCTal vn^lict 
of mankind, declared : That be had, in very &ct, 
led a Hero's life in this world ; and being sow 
gone, was gone, as they conceived, to God above, 
and reaping his reward tiere. Such, they said, waa 
tbe best judgmmt they could form of the case ;— 
and tmly not a bad judgment. Acquiesced in, 
zealously adopted, with full assent of * [xivate ■ 
judgment,' by all mortafi. 

Cuglc 



LANDLORD EDMUND 73 

The rest of St. Edmuod'a biatory, for Ac tt/^T The 
MM be has now becoiae a SaM, n easily conceiff * jli,. 
able. Pioiu mmuficeiKE provided hint i locu/ui, a^^ 
fintrmnt or rfiriae ; bnih for him a wooden cha}«l, -^ 

1 stone temple, ever widening and growing by new 

Eious gifts ; — such the overflowing heart feels it a 
ietaedoesa to solace itself by giving. St. EdHiund's 
Shrine glitters bow with diamond flowerages, widi 
a. plating of wroo^t gold. The wooden chapd, 
as we say, has beconie a stone temide. Stately 
masonriei, long-drawn arches, cloiiters, sounding 
aisles bumess it, begirdle it far and wide. Regi- 
mented companies of men, of «lhoiii ow Jocdia ia 
one, devote themaelTes, in every genetatior, to 
meditate here on man's Nobleness and Awfiilness, 
and celebrate and show forth the sane, as they best 
can,' — thiiflcing they will do il better here, in 
jH^scnce of God the Maker, and of the so Awiiil 
and' BO Noble made by Him. In one word, Sc 
Hdmuitd's Body hag raised a Monastery round it. 
To such length, in such manner, has the Spirit of 
the Time visibly taken body, and crystallised itself 
here. New gifts, houses, fanns, iatalla^ — come 
ever in. King Knut, whom men call Canute, whom 
the Oceaatide would not be fothidden to wet, — we 
heard already of this wise King, with his crown and 
gifts ; but of many others, Kings, Queens, wiK 
men and noble loyal women, let Dryasdust and 
divifle Silence be the record 1 Beodric's-Woith 
has become St. Edmund's Bury , — and lasts visiUe 
to this hour. All this that thou now seesi, aixl 
aamest Bury Town, is properly t^e Funeral Monu- 
ment of Saint or Landlord Edmund, llic present 

* Goods, properties ; what we now call ihiOtili, and 
(till more dngnlarl? ctutU, ta-yk mj erudite friend. 



JO II THB ANCIENT MONK 

Ed-if it-*^'^' Mayor of Bury majr be aaid, like a 
maai ri^akeer (little u he thinki of it), to have hit 

th' dwelling m the extennTe, nuoy-tcolptured Tomb- 

^ none of St. Edmoiid ; in one of the brick nichei 

thereof dwells the present respectable Mayor of 

Certain Times do cryatallise themselves in a 
nugmScect manner ; and others, perhaps, are like 
to do it in rather a shabby one ! — But Richard 
Arkwright too will have his Monument, a thouaaod 
years hence ; ail Lancasfaire and Yorkshire and 
how many other shires and countries, with their 
machineries and industries, for his monument 1 A 
tnie yt^ramtd or '_/i^inw- mountain,' flaming with 
fteam tires and usefiil labour over wide continents, 
uefiilly towards the Stars, to a certain height ; — 
how much grander than your foolish Cheaps 
Pyramids or Sakhara clay ones j Let ui withal be 
hopeful, be content or patient. 



l1 



ABBOT HUOO 

IT is true all tbiDga have two fitcei, a light one 
and a dark. It is true, in three centuries much 
imperfection accumulates ; many an Ideal, monastic 
or other, sliooting forth into practice as it can, grows 
to a strange enough Reality ; and we have to ask 
with amazement, Is this your Ideal ! For, ala«, 
the Ideal always has to grow in the Red, and to 
seek out its bed and board there, often in a very 
sorry way. No beautifuleet Poet is a Bird-of- 



ABBOT HUGO 73 

Paradiie, living od perfumes ; aleejHDg in the other The 
with DDUpread wings. The Heroic, mdepenJail of '*'?', 
bed and board, \i found m Dniry-Lane Theatre ^^ 
only ; to aroid disappointments, let us bear this in 

fiy the law of Nature, too, all manner of Ideals 
hare' thnr fatal limits and lot; their appointed 
periods, of yonth, of maturity or perfection, of 
decliiK, degradation, and Gnal death and disappear- 
ance. There is nothing born but has to die. Ideal 
monasteries, once grown real, do seek bed and 
board in this world; do find it more and more 
successfully ; do get at length too intent aa finding 
it, exclusively intent on that. They are then like 
(Cseaaed corpulent bodies fallen idiotic, which merely 
eat and sleep ; ready iot 'dissolution,' by a Henry 
the Eighth or some other, Jocelin's St. Edmunds- 
bury is still far from this last dreadfiil state : but 
here too the reader will prepare himself to see an 
Ideal not sleeping in the setber like a Inrd-of- 
paradise, bat roosting as the common wood-fowl do, 
in an imperfect, nncomfortafile, more or less con- 
temptible manner ! — 

Abbot Hugo, as Jocelin, breaking at once into 
the b^rt of the business, apprises us, had in those 
days ^wn old, grown rather blind, and bis eyes 
were somewhat darkened, ^iqaeniulum cafigaviruia 
oeuJi ^ui. He dwelt apart Tcry much, in his 
Talamui or peculiar Chamber ; got into the hands 
of flatterers, a set of mealy-mouthed persons who 
atroTC to make the passing hour easy for him, — 
for him easy, and for themselves profitable ; accu- 
mulating in the distance mere mountains of confusion. 
Old' Dominus Hugo sat inaccewible in this way, 



74 n THE ANCIENT UONK 

Mbot Tm- in the ioterior, wrapt In bw warm dtaath and 

Hneo delnncHM ; nacceuiUe to all voice of Fact ; and ' 

*''° ™ bad grew evw worie whh lu. Not that our worthy 

' old Dotmmu jiHtu wai inattmdve to the dirine 

offices, or to the maintenance of a devout spirit in tu 

or in himself t bot the Atcoant-Bat^a of the Con- 

VOK Ml i<Mo the frightfulest state, and Hi^'i 

Wiua] Budget grew yearly emptier, or filled with 

futilb expectatiani, btal deficit, wind and deba I 

His "one wortdly care was to raise ready moiKy ; 
sufficient (ot the day i« the evil thereof. And how 
he raised it : From unuioiu insatiable Jewi ; erery 
feah Jew Micking on hun like a fresh hortdeech, 
nuiking his and our life <nt ; crying contmoally, , 
Gtre, give ! Take one example instead o£ acorea. I 
Our Camera having fallen into ruin, William the 
fiacristao received charge U repair it ; strict diarge, | 
but ino money) Abbot Hugo would, and indeed 
could, give bim no fraction of money. The Camera 
to riiins, and Hugo pennilesa and inaccessiUe, Wil- 
leln^ SacriHta borrowed Forty Marca (tune Seren- 
and'twmty Pounds) of Benedi)^ the Jew, and 
patched-up our Camera again. Sut the nieanB of < 
repaying him l There were no means. Hardly 
caiAA'Saeriita, Celierariiu, (« aM public officer, get | 
eoda to meet, ofl the iodispensableit acaley with their I 
shrunk allowances ; ready mooey had vaniahcd. ! 

BAiedict's Twenty-seven pounds grew rapidly at i 
compound-imerest t and at length, when it had i 
amounted to a Hundred pounds, be, on a day Of 
settlement, presents die account to Hugo himself. 
Hugo' already owed him anothrx Hundred of his I 
own; and so here it ha* become Two Hundred! I 
Hugo, in a tine frenzy, threatens to depose the 
Sacristan, to do this and do that ; but, in the mean 



ABBOT HUGO 75 

while. How to quiet your imatiaHe Jew ? Hago, Hoar 
for "ads coajJe of hundreds, grants Ae Jew his bond ^jS^lj 
for Four huidred payaHe at the end of four years. n~j™* 
At the end of four years there is, of coutK, still no 
money ; and the Jew now geta a bond for Eight 
himctred and dghty pounds, to be paid by iaitalmemt. 
Fourscore pounds CTcry year. Here was a way of 
doisg bnnnessl 

tAidicr yet is diis insatiate Jew satisfied or 
settled with : he had papers against us of ' smalt debts 
fcnnteen years old ; ' his modest claim amounts linaliy 
to *TwelTe hundred pounds besides interest ; ' — and 
one hopes he nerer got satisfied in Uris world j one 
almost hopes he was one of Aose beleagured Jews 
who hanged themselves in York Castle shortly 
afterwards, and had his usances and quittances and 
horseleech papers summarily »et fire to ! For ap- 
proximate jnsUce will strive to accomplish itself; if 
tiat in one way, then in another. Jew*, and also 
Christiatti and Heathens, who accumulate in this 
mafiner, though furnished with never bo niany 
parchments, do, at dmea, 'get their griDden-teeth 
'sDccessivdy pulled out of their head, each day a 
■ new grrnder, till they content to disgorge again. 
A »ad fact,— worth reflecting oK. 

' Jocelin, we see, t< not without secularity ; Our 
Dtnmnut jtiku was intent enough on the divine 
offices'; but Aen his Account- Books — ?— One of 
the things that strike m most, throughout, in Joce- 
Un"'B ChramcU, and indeed in Eadmer's Aniehn, and 
other old monastic Books, written evidently by 
pious men, is this, That there is almost no mention 
whatever of 'personal religion' in them; that the 
whoI6 giet of their thinking and speculation seenu 
to be the ■ privileges of our order,' 'strict exaction 



i ** 



f6 11 THE ANCIENT MONK | 

RcltgiMi of our duM,' ' God's honour ' (meamiig the hooour | 
is c^ our Sunt), and m> forth. Is not thit siiigulai '. ■> 
j^^iP A body of men, set apart for perfecciog and purify- i 
sniicjB j^^ ^^^ ^^^^ soule, do not Bccm disturbed ab<Hit that I 
1 in any meaiure : the ' Ideal ' says nolhiag about its 
I idea I says much about finding bed and board for | 
I itaielf! How is this? 

Why, for one thing, bed and board are a nutter 1 
\ very apt to come to speech : it is much eaner to ' 
I fjitai of them than of ideas ; and they are sometimes 
I much more pressiag with some ! Nay, for another 
! thing, may not this religious reticence, in these 
; devout good souls, be perhaps a merit, and sign of 
' health in them i Jocelin, Eadmer, and such re- 
ligious men, hare as yet nothing of ' Methodism ; ' 
no Doubt or even root of Doubt. Rehgion is not 
a diseased self-introspection, an agonising inquiry; 
their duties are clear to them, the way of supreme 
good plain, iadieputable, and they are travelling en 
it. Religion lies over them like an all-embracing 
heavenly canopy, like an atmosphere and life-element, 
which is not spoken of, which in all things is pre- 
supposed without speech. Is not serene or complete 
Religion the highest aspect of human nature ; as 
serene Cant, or complete No-religion, is the lowest 
and miserablest? Between which two, all manner 
of earnest Methodiems, introspections, agonising 
bquiries, never so morbid, shall play their respective 
parts, not without approbation. 

But let any reader fancy himself one of the 
Brethren in St. Hdmundsbury Monastery under such 
circumstances ! How can a Lord Abbot, all stnck- 
over with horseleeches of this nature, front the 
world i He is fast losing his life-blood, and the 



ABBOT HUGO 77 

CoDTcnt will be as one of Pharaoh'a lean lune. Hicfaett 
Old moaki of experience draw their hood* deeper Aipecfc 
down ; careful what they tay : the monk'i tint duty 
is obedience. Our Lord the King, hearing of auch 
work, eenda down hia Almoner to make ioveitiga- 
tioQs : but what boot* it ! Abbot Hugo asBemble* 
us ID Chapter; aslct, "If theie ia any complaint^" 
Not a soul of us dare answer, " Yes, thousands 1 " 
but we all stand lilent, and the Prior eren says that 
ibings are in a very comfortable condition. Where- 
upfiii old Abbot Hugo, turning to the royal mesien- 
ger, says, " You see ! "■ — and the busineai ternunaCea 
in that way. I, as a brisk-eyed noticing yoiuh and 
nance, could not help asking of the elders, asking 
of Msgister Sanuon in particular : Why he, weil- 
instructed and a knowing-man, bad not spoken out, 
and brought inatCers to a bearing i Magister Sam- 
BQD was Teacher of the Novices, appointed to breed 
us up to the miet, and I loved him well. "fiB 
mi," answered Samson, *'the burnt child shuns the 
fife. Dost thou not know, our Lord the Abbot 
, sept me once to Acre in Norfolk, to solitary con- 
finemem and bread-and- water, already i The Hing- 
lums, Hugo and Robert, have just got home fi'ao 
banishment for apeakbg. This is the hour of dark- 
ness' : the hour when Batterers rule and are believed. 
yidaaDomimu, let the Lord see, and judge." 

In very truth, what could poor old Abbot Hugo 
do ? A frail old man, and the Philistines were upon 
hira, — that is to say, the Hebrewe. He had nothing 
for it but to shrink away from them ; get back into 
his warm flannels, into his warm delueiona again. 
Happily, before it was quite too late, he bethought 
hira of piigriming to St. Thomas of Canterbury. 
He net out, with a fit trun, in the autumn days of 



78 n THE ANCIENT UONK 

UnM the year 1180; near -Rochester City, bU male 
and tua threw him, didoeated hn poor kneepan, raiwd ' 
^^~ iocaratile inflammatoy fever ; aod the poor old man 
got hU diBmiual from the whole ctal at once. St. 
Thomas a Becket, though in a circuitous way, had 
ireugbt ddiveraDcc ! Ketther Jew obutcts, dot 
grumbling monka, nor other importunate desmcability 
ofamaot mud-elemeota afflicted Abbot Hugo any 
BKii<e ; but be dropt his rocariea, closed bis account- | 
books, closed hU old eya, and lay dawn into the ' 
long sleep. HeaTy-Jadeo hoary old Dominus Hngo, 
fare tbec well. 

One thing ve cannot mention without- a due thrill 
of bairor ; namely, that, iit the empty axdietfveT of 
DomiauB Hugo, there wu not found' one penny to 
discribuEe to the Poor that they might pray 6x bii 
wmI! By a kind of godsend. Fifty shiliioga did, in 
the very nick of time, fall due, or Been to faM duc^ , 
frooi one of his Faraers (the firmarmu At Pale- 
grava), and he paid it, and the Poor bad it ; though, 1 
alaa, this too only tecnud to &11 due, and we had it 
to pay again afterwards. Dominus Hi^o's apart- 
ments were plundered tqr his serianti, to the but 
portable stool, in a few minuteB after the breath was 
out ai his body. Forlorn old Hugo, fare thee well 



o 



,UR Abbot being dead, the Ihmimu Rex 
Henry II.,- or Ranolf de GknviU Juttici- 
of Ei^land for him, aet Inspectois or Cuno- I 



TWELFTH CBNTURV 79 

diars over ni ; — Dot in any breathless haite to The 
appMDt a new Abbot, otir rerenucB coBung into bii Uoiik>> 
owD Scaceariottt, or royal Excbequer, in the mean nt-'. 
while. They fn>ceeded with aome rigoor, thete Doiom 
Cnatodiara ; took wiittea inventoriea, clapt-on seals, 
exacted everywhere strict talc and measuTc; but 
wherefore should a UriDg monk complain i The 
living monk haa to do his derotiooal drill -ex«'ci«e { 
coQsBine hia allotted piUmtim, what we call fttUmct, 
□T ration of victnal; and possess Us toul in 
patience. 

I>im, as through a long liata ol SevoD Ceoturies, 
dim and very Miaage looks that monk-life to ua j 
the eTcr-turpriaing circurastBDce tHim, That it is a 
facf- and no dream, that we see it there, and gaze 
into the very eyes of it! Smoke rises daily from 
those cnHnary chimney-throats ; there are living 
human bongs there, who cbaat, loud-braying, their 
matins, ncaiea, vespers ; awakening tehou, not to the 
bodily ear alone. St. Kdmand'a Shrine, perpetually 
ilinniinated, glows ruddy dirongh the Night, and 
through the Night of Centuries withal ; St. 
Edmnndsbury Town paying yearly Forty potuda 
for that express kbA. Bells clang mit ; ob great 
occadons, all the bells. We have Procesaious, 
Preachinga, FestLvata, Chriatmaa Plays, Mytftriei 
ahown in the Churchyard, at which latter the 
Townsfolk somerimea quarrel. Time was. Time 
is, as Friar Bacon's Brass Head remarked ; and 
withj Time will be. There are three Teneea, 
Tttt^ora, or Times i and there is one Eternity ; 
and as for as, 

■ Weirenich gtalfai Dreams are nade off 

Indisputable, though very dim to modem vigion. 



So 11 THE ANCIENT HONK 

Twelftli tesU od its hill-slope that same Bury, Slow, or Towd 
Century of St. Edmund; already a coDsiderable place, not 
Trade i^ithout traffic, nay manufactures, would Jocelin only 
tell us what. Jocelin is totally careleu of telling: 
but, through dim fitful aperture*, we can see Pal- 
lona, ' Fullers,' see cloth-making ; looms dimly 
going, dye-rats, and old women spinning yam. 
We have Fairs too, NuaJint, in due coune ; aod 
the Londoners give us much trouble, pretending that 
they, ae a metropolitan people, are exempt from toll. 
Beaides there is Field-husbandry, with perplexed 
settlement of Convent rents : corn-ricks pile them- 
selves within burgh, in their season ; and cattle 
depart and enter ; and even the poor weaver has his 
coWj — ' dunglieaps ' lying quiet at roost doors (an/; 
forat, says the incidental Jocelin), for the Town 
has yet no improved police. Watch and ward 
nevertheless we do Leep, and have Gates, — as what 
Town must not ; thieves so abounding ; war, 
toerra, such a fi'equent thing ! Our thieves, at the 
Abbot's judgment-bar, deny ; claim wager of battle ; 
fight, are beaten, and then hanged. ' Ketcl, the 
thief,' took this coarse ; and it did nothing for him, 
—merely brought us, and indeed himself, new 
trouble! 

Everyway a most f(H«iga Time. What dUGcnlty, 
for- example, has our Cellerariat to collect the 
repsehoer, 'reaping silver,' or petuiy, which each 
householder is by law bound to pay for cutting 
down the Convent gr^n ! Richer people pretend 
that it is commuted, that it is this and the other ; 
that, in short, they will not pay it. Our CcUer- 
ariut gives up calling on the rich. In the hoosea 
of the poor, our CelUrarius finding, in like manner, 
neither penny nor good promise, snatches, without 



TWELFTH CENTURY li 

ceremoDy, what iiaJium (pledge, wad) ho can St Ed- 
coiQC at ; a joint-atool, kettle, nay the very house- "?".*''• 
door, ' bo'ttlum j ' and old women, thus exposed Pr"''" 
to the unfeeling gaze of the public, rush out after Nirtit 
him with their distaffB and the angriest ehriek*: 
* tWu/« txiiant cum colii imt,' sayi Jocelin, ' miimiUet 
'el txpriAraattt' 

What a historical picture, glowing Tisible, as Sti 
EdrooDd's Shrine by night, after Seven long Ceo- 
tories or 60 ! Velulg cum colli : My venerable 
ancient spinning grandmothers, — ah, and ve too 
have to shriek, and rush out with your diatans ; and 
become Female Chartists, and scold all evening with 
void doorway ;»-and in old Saxon, as we in modem, 
would fain demand some Five-point Charter, could 
it be fallen-ID with, the Earth being too tyrannous 1 
— Wise Lord Abbots, hearing of such phenomena, 
did io time abolish or commute the reap-penny, 
and one nuisance was abated. But the image of 
these jusUy ofTended old women, in their old wool 
costumes, witb their angry features, and spindles 
brandished, lives forever in the historical memory. 
Thanks to thee, Jocelin £o5well. Jerusalem was 
taken by the Crns^ert, and again lost by them ; 
and Richard Cceur-de-Lion 'veiled his face ' as he 
passed in sight of it: but how many other things 
went on, the while ! 

Thys, too, our trouble with the Lakenheath eels 
is very great. King Knut namely, or rather his 
Queeo who also did herself honour by honouring 
St. Edmund, decreed by anthentic deed yet extant 
on parchment, that the Holders of the Town Fields, 
OBce Beodric's, should, for one thing, go yearly and 
catch ns bur thousand eels in the marsh-pools of 
L.akcDheacb. Well, they went, they continued to 



Si II TH^ AHCtiaiT UOHK | 

Peulal gp i but, in later times, got into the way of returatng ^ 
I%olH^^ with a moat short account of eels. Not the due six- ' 

twebty, ten, — bometimee, Here are none at all ; 
heaven help tis, we eoulJ catch no fnore, they wete 
hot there ! What is a distressed CeSerarius to do .' 
We agree that each Holder of so many acres ehall 
pay brie peuhy yearly, and let-go the eels as too 
slippery. But, alas, neither is this quite eifectual : 
the Fields, in niy time, have got divided among eo 
many hands, diere Is no catching of ihem either ; I 
have known our Cellarer get aeven-and-twenty pence 
formerly, and now it is much if he get ten pence 
farthing {v!x decern dmartos el oialunt). And then 
their £heep, which they are bound to fold nightly in 
our pens, for the manure's sake ; and, I fear, do 
not always fold : and their aiiir-penniej, and dieir 
avragiumi, and their hdercorns, and mill-and- 
niarket dues ! Thus, in its undeniable but dim 
mariner, does old St. Edmundsbury spin and till, 
and laboriously keep its pot boiling, and St. 
Edmund's Shrine lighted, under such conditions and 
averages as it can. 

( How much is still alive in England ; how much 
■<■) has not yet come into lifel A Feudal Aristocracy ' 
is still alive, in the prime of life ; superintending 
the cultivation of the land, and less consciously 
the distribution of the produce of the land-, the ad- 
justment of the quarrels of the land ; judging, 
8oldie('ing, adjusting! everywhere governing the 

Kople, — so that even a Gurth, bom thrall of Cedric, 
:ks not hia due parbgs of the pigs he tends. 
Governing ; — and, alas, also game- preserving ; so 
that a Robert Ho<)d, a William Scarlet and others 



TWELFTH tEMTURY (3 

have^ in these days, put on Lincoln coaU, and taken Social 
to tiTingt in some unifeMal-tufTrage manner, ooder Needa 
tKc greenwood-tree I ^^ 

How tilenc, on the atliel' hand, lie sll Cotton- j,,^^ 
trades and suchlike ; not a steeple-chimney yet ^ot 
ob end from sea to sea ! North of the Humher, a 
atera Willetmus Conquxslor burnt the Country, find- 
ing it onruly, into very atern repose. Wild fowl 
scream in thosie ancient silences, wild cattle roam in 
those ancient solitudes j the scanty sulky Norse-tweil 
popnlatioD all coerced into silence, — feeling that, 
undfl* these new Norman Governors, their historji 
has probably as good as nu^i/. Men and Northum- 
brian Norse populations know little what has ended, 
what is but beginning 1 The Ribble and the Air6 
roll down, as yet unpolluted by dyers' chemist)ry ; 
tenanted by merry trouts and pnscatory otters ; th6 
sunbeam and the vacant wind's-lJast alone traverung 
those moors. Side by side sleep the coal-strata and 
the iron-itrata for so many ages } no Steam- Demon 
has yet risen smolLing into being. Saint Mungo rules 
in Glasgow ; James Watt still slumbering hi the deep 
of Time. Mancunium, Manceaster, what we now 
call Manchester, spins no cotton, — if it be not wool 
'cottons,* clipped iram the backs of mountain sheep. 
The Creek af the Mersey gurgles, twice in the four- 
and-twenty hours, with eddying brine, clangorous 
with sea-fowl ; and is a Zi/A(r-Pool, a lax.y or aullefi 
Pool, no monstrous pitchy City, and Seahave'a of 
the world ! The Centuries are big j and the birth- 
hour is coming, not yet come. Temptu ferax, Umfat 



14 U THE ANCIENT MONK 

Cbaptei V] 



The TJI7ITHIN doors, dovm at ihc hili-foot, in our 
Daja V T Convent here, we are a peculiar people, — 

n^M lw<Uy conceivable in the Arkwright Corn-Law 
ageSf of mere Spinning' Mil Is and Joe-ManCoDi \ 
There ia yet no Methodism among us, and' we speak 
much of SecdariUee : no Methodism ; our Religion 
. is not yet a horrible restless Doubt, still less a. far 
horribler composed Cant ; but a great heaven-high 
Unquestionability, encompassing, interpenetrating the 
whole of Life. Imperfect as wc may be, we are here, I 
with our litaoiea, shaven crowns, vows of poverty, 
to testify incessantly and indisputably to every heart. 
That this Earthly Life and tfj riches and possessions, ' 
and good and evil hap, are not iDtrinucally a reality 
at ail, but are a shadow of realities etema!, infinite ; ' 
that this Time-world, as an air-image, fearfully 
emilemaiic, plays and flickers in the grand still mirror I 
of Eternity; and man's little Life has Duties that 
are great, that are alone great, and go up to Heaven 
and down to Hell. This, with our poor litanies, we 
testify, and struggle to testify. 

Which, testified or not, remembered by all men 
or forgotten by all men, does verily remain the fact, 
ereo in Arkwright Joe-Manton ages ! But it is in- 
calculable, when litanies have grown obsolete ; when 
/odercornj, avragiunu, and al! human dues and reci- 
procities have been fully changed into one great due 
of eaih payment; and man's duty to man reduces 
itself to handing him certain meul coins, or cove- 
nanted money-wages, and then shoving him out of 



HONK SAHSON Ss 

doors ; and roan'i duty to God becomes a cant, a Ham- 
doubt, 3 dim inanity, a * pleasure of virtue ' or such- "W — 
like; and the thing a man does bfinitely fear (the n^^f 
real Hell of a man) is, < that he do not make money 
and advance faimietf,' — I ray, it is iocak^able what 
a change has introduced itself evn^wheie into human 
affairs ! How human affairs shall now circulate 
eierywhere not healthy life-blood in them, but, as 
it were, a detestable copperas banker's ink t and all 
is grown acrid, divisiTe, threatening dissoludon ; 
and the huge tnmultuoQS Life of Society is galvanic, 
devil-ridden, too trnly possessed by a devil i For, 
in shcHt, Manmion ii not a god at ail ; but a devil, 
and even a very despicable devil. Fotlow the Devil 
faithfiilly, you are sate enough to ^o to the Devil : 
whither else can yon go J — In such siraadons, men 
look back with a kind of moomful recognition even 
on poor limited Monk-figures, with their poor 
litanies ; and reflect, with Ben Jonson, chat^ soul is 
ipriiflpenaable, Bo me-dcp-ee of «oul» even Co aave^Vii 
die expense oTsalt ! — 

For the rest, it must be owned, we Monks of St. 
Edfflundebaryarebut a limited class of creatures, and 
seem to have a 8(»iiewbat dull life of it. Much 
given to idle gossip ; having indeed no other wrak, 
when our chanting is over. Lisdess gossip, for most 
part, and a mitigated slander ; the fruit iM idleness, 
not of spleen. We are dull, insipid men, many of 
us ; easy-minded ; whom prayer and digestion of 
food will avail for a life. We have to receive all 
■traitgers in oor Convent, and lodge them gratis ; 
sQch axid such sorts go by rate to the Lord Abbot 
and his special revenues ; such and such to us and 
our poor Cellarer, however straitened. Jews them- 
selves send their wives and little ones hither in war- 



16 II THB ANGIBNT MOHK | 

T^nOt^ timt^ into <w Pitmcmai v^e\e thoj! aWde tafe, , 
CrabuT witi) 4«c fiifqnfea, — iof a coMiderariqo. We have "■ 
^^**'*^ the ftireet chances for collectiog Btwa. Seine of 
(IB ha^* a turn for reading ^opW) fc« mettit^tioii, 
^«t)ce J at ttfoss ure «»en write £ook>> St^pe of 
m eui preftc)i, in Eaglish-Saxoa, in Nerraan-French, 
vbA ey9n w Monk-Latin; ptb^ri sawot i^ any 
lippagp or jafgOB. being stupid. 

^iijiqg ati dee, what gowip <^>QUt ooe apother 1 
This ia a peremual Teeource. How ow. hooded 
liea4 awllM it«elf tQ the ear ctf aBothcf) aad whieperi 
— t9ein4a. WiUcImna Sacritta, for WKaqc«i what 
dnn he oightlyi over in that ^acriny ^ bis! , 
Frfqucnt Iribatiqne, 'frtqvtntM UttUhfW e( m^dam 
(iKMMfi'— nchflol We have '/fn^ii ainFU/KWi tfti^ 
Reaaopi of blood-letting, when we ate all let Uood 
Mgetber; and then (Mere is a general free-caQfereace, 
• aanhfidnm of cUtter< Notivithgtaoding Wf tow 
of poverty, we can by nile aaaK tg the extent of 
' two shillings ; ' but it is to be given to ouf accessit- 
ous kindred, or in charity. FoOr Monks 1 T^us 
too B certain Canterbury Monk V^a in the h^bit 
of ' slipping, cianailo, from his eleeve,' five ubilliDgs 
into the hand of hia mother, when eh^ can« to cee 
bimi at the divine offices, every two mcHdht. Q^ce, j 
slipping the money clandestinely, jtut in t}ie «Kt of 
taking leave, he slipt it not into her hand but 9b I 
the floor, and anothei had it ; whereupon th« poor 
Monk, coming to know it, looked mere despair for 
wme days; till Lanfranc the noble Archbi^op, 
questioning bis secret from him, nobly made theaun 
itven shillings,' and s»id, Never roiiid ! 

Ose Monk, of a taciturn nature diitmgmAss 

> EaAxiri IBil. p I, | 



HONK SAMSON tj 

IiimKlf amoQg these babbling ones ; the lumie of hini Tlu 
Sunsoo ; he that aoswered JoceVia, " FiU mi, a l^^'^ 
burnt chUd ihuns the fire." They caU him ' Norfolk g?J_ 
Barrator,' or litigious person ; for indeed, being of ^^' 
grave tacitom ways, be is not universally a faTouritej 
he bas been in trouble more than once. The reader 
is desired to naark this Monk. A personable inao 
of seven-and-forCy ; stout'inade, itands erect aa 4 
pillar ; with bushy eyebrows, the eyes of bim beacnt 
mg into you in a reaUy strange way} the face 
nussire, grave, with ' a very eminent noae ; ' bis 
bead almost bald, its auburn remnants of hair, and 
the copious ruddy beard, getting slightly streaked 
with gray. This is BroUier EiarowD ; a Bian worth 
looking au 

He 13 from Norfolk, as the oickname indicates; 
boat Tottington in Norfolk, as we guess ; the aof 
of poor parents there. He has told ine Jocelin, 
for I loved him much. That once in bis ninth year 
he bad an alarming dream ; — as indeed we arc all 
uHuewbai given to dreaming here. Little Samson, 
lying naeauly in his crib at TotUngton, dreamed 
that be saw the Arch Enemy in person, just aUgbted 
in firont «f some grand btfilding, with outspread bat- 
wing^ aui stretching ibrtb detestable clawed bands 
to grip him, little Samson, and lly-otF with hiqi; 
whereupon the little dreamer sbtieked desp^ate to 
St. Edmund for help, shrieked and again shrielted ; 
and St. Edmuiul, a reverend heavenly figure, did 
come, — and mdced poor little Samami's mother, 
awakened by hie shrieking, did come; and the 
Devil and the Dream both fied away fruitleM. Od 
the morrow, bis mother, pondering such aa awful 
dream, tboueht it were good to take him over ti; 
St. Edmund s own Shrtqe, and ftty W)th him t^ere. 



SS II THE ANCIENT HONK 

Hedi- See, taid little Samson at tight of the Abbey-Gate; i 

ttTii see, mother, this is the building I dreamed of! His 

'?o^J*' poor mother dedicated him to St. Edmund, — left 

*'^^J^ him there with prayers and tears : what better could 

^^^ she do ? The exposition of the dream, Brother 

SamsoD used to say, was this : Diabolui with cnit- 

ipread bat-wings shadowed forth the pleaaurcs ot 

this world, ■valupiatet htpa tanili, o^iich were abont 

to snatch and flyaway with me, had not St. Edmund \ 

flimg hi* arms round me, that is to say, made me a 

monk of his. Amonk, accordingly, firotber Samson 

is j and here to this day where his mother left him. 

A learned man, of devout grave nature; has studied 

at Paris, has taught in the Town Schools here, and 

done much else ; can preach in three languaget, and, 

like Dr. Cuus, 'has had losses' in his time. A 

dioughtfiil, firm-standing man ; much loved by 

some, not loved by all ; his clear eyes flashing into 

you, in an almost inconTCnient way 1 

Abbot Hugo, as we said, had his own diflicultiet 
with him ; Abbot Hugo had him in prison once, to 
teach him what authority was, and how to dread 
the fire in fiiinre. For Brother Samson, in the 
time of the AntipopeSj had been sect to Rome on 
business ; and, returning sticcessful, was too late, — 
the business hud all misgone in the interim I As ' 
tours to Rome are still frequent with us English, ' 
perhaps the reader will not grudge to look at the 
method of travelliog thither in those remote ages. 
We hapjaly haVe, in small compass, a personal 
narrative of it Through the clear eyes and memory 
of Brother Samson one peeps direct into die very 
bosom of that Twelfth Century, and finds it rather 
curious. The actual Pi^, Father, or universal 
President of Christendom, as yet not grown chim- 



HONK SAMSON I9 

erical, sat there ; think of that ooly ! Brother Tounto 
San^aott went to Rome as to the real Light-fbuntam Rome, 
of this lower world ;.we now — ! — But lei us hear 
Brother Samson, as to his mode of traTelling : 

• You know what trouble 1 had for that Church 
'of Woolpit ; how I was despatched to Rome in 
'the time of the Schism between Pope Alexander 
'and OctaTian; and passed through Italy at that 
'season, when all clergy carrying letters for our 

* Lord Pope Alexander were laid hold of, and some 
' were clapt in prison, some hanged j and some, with 
' nose and lips cat off, were sent forward to our 
'Lord^the Pope, for the dugrace and confusion of 
'him (m Jrdictti et confiaianem e/uj'J. I, however, 
■ pretended to be Scotch, and putting on the garb of 
' a Scotchman, and taking the gesture of one, walked 
' along ; and when anybody mocked at me, I would 
' iH'andish my stalf in the manner of that weapon 
'they call gaveloc,^ uttering comminatory words 
'after the way of the Scotch. To those that 
' met and cjnestioned me who I was, I made no 
' answer hut : Ride, ride /tomt; turne CanVwercbera? 
' Thus did I, to conceal myself and my errand, and 
'get safer to Rome imder the guise of a Scotchman. 

* Having at last obtained a Letter from our Lord 

* the Pope according to my wishes, I turned home- 
' wards again. I had to pass through a certain strong 

* town on my road j and lo, the soldiers thereof snr- 

* rounded me, seizing me, and saying ; "This vagabond 

< Javelin, mlaiile pike. Gai/che ia itill the Scotch name 
for irtuiiar. 

* Doei this mean, "Rome forever; Caaterbury no/" 
(which clalnu an nnjuit Sopmnacy over ni)l Mr. 
Rofctfwood ii lileat Dtfatdusl would perhaps eipUIn 
it, — in the courie of a week or two of talking ; did one 
dare to qaestion him I 



ft II THE ANPIBNT UONK 

Wbwt ' (u^'O^v^Ki), wbopreteDdtto beScotch, iaeither i 

BcoOier <a 8py,oi' baa Letters froifl the false Pope Alexander." ■ 

«if^t * ^^ whilst they examined every stitch and rag of 

H^f^^ ' me, my leggings (fa^jw), breeches, and even the 

' old eboes that I earned over my ehoulder in the 

' ivay of the Scotch, — I put my huui into the l^tlwc 

( scop I wore, wherein our Lord the Pope's Letter 

'lay, close by 4 little jug (cifus) I had for dnnkiiig 

'otftof; and the L,oid God to pleasbg, and St. 

' Edmund, I got out both the Letter and the jng 

' together ; in such a way that, extending my arm 

^ aloft, I held the Letter hidden between jug and 

' hand : they saw tlie jug, hut the Letter they «aw 

* not. And thus I escwed out of their haa(ls ia the 
'naiqe of the Lord. Whatever iponey I had, they 
' tooV from ,me ; wiierefore I had to beg from doDi 
*tQ dpOT, witliout any payiseilt (^ifoe aiam cxp^nta) \ 
' till I came to Eogland again. But hearing thai 

' the Woolpit Church was already given to Geoffry 
' Ridell, ray soul was struck with sorrow because I 
' had laboured in vaiii. Coming home, therefore, I 

* sat me down secretly under the Sbrioe of Si. 
> Edmund, feaiing lest out Lord Abbot should seize 
' and imprisou n^e, though I bad done no mischief; 
■nor waa there a moA who durst speak to me, 
'dot |) laic ^ho durst biisg me food exc^ by 
' stealth.' * 

;Snch jesting and welcoming found Brother 
Samson, with his worn soles, and strong heart! 
He sits silent, revolving many thoughts, at the foot 
of. St. Edmund's Shrine. In the wide Earth, if it 
be, not Saint Edmund, what friend or refiige has he^ 
Otir Lord Abbot, hearing of him, sent the proper 
officer to lead hiin down to prison, and clap 'fpot- 

* Jiialiiti Ckrmia, p j6. 



HOlfK SAMSOff 91 

gyvef on him ' th^e. Amther poof official tiKtivdy 
bfQught hi^ a cup of v^op ; bo^c luin -' be cam- 
^npi ip tbe Lord." Sudboh uttert do complaip^ ) 
obeys in silence. * Oi)t Lord AUM>t, taking cquqKl 
of it, baitifbe4 Pie to -^fe, and thefc I had to aay 
long.' 

Oof^ Lar4 Abbot next trie4 Sanfioa with pro- 
motiosa; loade hiip SuUacrist^q, made bin) 
Liitxati^, which he liked bpn of ali, being paision- 
atdy fifl^l of Qooka : Samaoq, with many dlQ^ghtf 
in hin)t ^(gaia obeyed in N{ei;ce; diKharged hi* 
officet (o perfection, but never thanked o«r Lord 
Attbpt,— «ecmed rathei ^» if looking bto him, with 
those clear eyes of his. Wheieupon Ahbot Hugo 
laid, St tmitquam mJffte, He had neier ko^ such ^ 
inan ( wliom po severity would brea^ to pompiab, 
and 1)9 tuqd^^ soften into smiles oi thanks ;— r-a 
questionable kind of man! 

In this way, not without trouble*, but atill in an 
erect clear-atanding manner, baa Brother Samson 
reached bis forty-seventh year ; and his luddy 
beard is getting slightly grizzled. He is endeav- 
onriog, in these dqys, to have vafious broken things 
thatched in ; nay perhaps to have the Choir itself 
completed, for he caa bear nothiag ruinoas. He 
has gathered * heaps of lime and sand ; ' has masons, 
slaters wtn'king, he and Wariaut nonachut nailer, 
who are joint keepers of the Shrine ; paying out 
the money dnly, — furnished by charitable borgheri 
of St. Edmundsbmy, they say. Charitable burghers 
of St. Edmnndibury i To me Jocelin it seems 
rathsr, Samson, and Warinus whom he leads, have 
privily hoarded the oblations at the Shrine itself, in 
these late years of indolent dila^dation, while' Abbot 
Hugo sat wrapt foapqcwiMlC! ; and are stmggliog, in 



9* II THE ANCIENT MONK 

Wis- thii {ffudcDt way, to hare the ram kept ont ! ' J 
<^)m — UodcT what conditioni, sometiines, has Wisdom 
J"^™ to ttniggle with Folly ; get Folly perroaded to so ' 
Qlulj. much as thatch out the rain from itself ! For, in- 
reo deed, if the Icifaiit goTcra the Nurse, what dextrooi 
practice ou the Nurse's part will not be necessary ! 
It is a new regret to us that, in these circum- 
ttaoces, our Lord the KiDg'i CuBtodiars, interfrrit^ 
prohibited all building or thatchitig from wbateTCt | 
source ; aod do Choir shall be completed, and 
Ram and Time, for the present, ehall haTe thai . 
way. Willelmus Sacrista, he of ' the frequent 
bibations sod Bome things not to be spoken of;' 
he, with his red nose, I am of opinion, had made 
compl^t to the Cnstodiara ; wishing U> do SamsMi 
an ill tnni; — Samson hia Jui- sacristan, with those 
clear eyes, could not be a prime faTourite of hit! 
/f. Samson again obeys in silence. 



OAaptet vfl 

TRB CAMrAlttKO 

Now, however, come great news to 
Edmondsbtiry : That there is to be an 
Abbot elected ; that our interlunar obscuration it 
to cease ; St. Edmund's Convent no more to be s 
doleful widow, but joyous and once again a bride ! 
Often in our widowed state had we prayed to the 
Lord and St. Edmund, singing weekly a matter of 
' one-and-twenty penitential Psalms, on our knees in 

S JtttSni' Ckrtnica, p. j. 



THE CAHVA6SIHG 93 

the Choir,' that a fit Pastor might be Toochsafed Wlut 
u«. And, says Jocelin, had some known what YS^J" 
Abbot we were to get, they had not been to defont, ^^^' 
I believe ! — Bozzy Jocelin opens to mankind the 
'gates of authentic Convent gosup ; we listen, 
a Dionyiiiu' Ear, to the inanen hubbub, like 
tbe voices at Virgil's Horn-Gate of Dreams. Even 
goBsip, Beven centuries oS, has signilicance. List, 
list, how like men are to one another in all 
ceQturieB : 

'Dixit guuiam lii quodam, A certain person said 
of a certain person, " He, that Fralcr, is a good 
monk, proiaiiRr pertona ; knows much of the 
Qrder and customs of the chofch ; and, though 
not so perfect a philoiopher as locne others, would 
make a veiy good Abbot. Old Abbot Ording, 
still famed among us, knew little of letters. 
Besides, as we read in Fables, it is better to 
choose a log for king, than a serpent never so 
vise, that will venomously hiss and bite his 
" — " Impossible ! ' answered the other : 
can such a man make a sermon in the 
Chapter, or to the people on festival- days, when 
he is without letters I How can he have the skill 
tQ bind and to loose, he who does not understand 
the Scriptures ? How — ? " ' 
And then ' another said of another, aiiui de aSo, 
" That Frafer is a home lijerahu, eloquent, saga- 
cious ; vigorous in discipline ; loves the Convent 
much, has suffered much for its sake." To wliich 
a third party aBswers, " From all your great 
'clerks, good Lord deliver us! From Norfolk 
and surly persons. That it would please 
thee to preserve ua. We beseech thee to hear us, 
good Lord j " Then another quiJam said of 



'S 



^ II ffig j^iet^tf HbNK 

TM ' lootber qtaJain, " That Fratir is a. good managtr 
Kctoe i /AufSondbf } ; " but wai swiftly antfvered, " God ' 
^^ ' fotbid Uwt a man who can urither read not Cbant, 
"'"^' 'nor celebrate the divine offices, an unjuit person 
* witliali and grinder of the facn of the ^^aat, riutuld 
■ ever be Abbot ! " ' Oile nni^ it appears, ia nice 
\a Ua rictoali. Anotiier ii indeed «iM, but apt to 
riight ioleriort ; hanUy at the pains to answer, ^ 
ihey argne with hUn too foolishly. And so each 
oRqioi concerning his aSgue, — tbiough whole pages 
of electioneering babUe. ■ For,' says Jocelin, 'So 
ntany tnen, ai many minds.' Our Monks *at time 
of btood-letting, tenure minationb,' holding tiieir 
tanhedrim of babble, would talk in diis manner : 
brother Samson, I remarked, never said anydutag : | 
sat sihnt, some t i m es nailing ; but he took good 
note of what otlteri sahj, nrrd Would bring it up, on 
occasion, t*enty years after. As for me Jocelin, 
I was of opinion that \ some skill in DiMecdca, to 
distinguish tibe from false,' would be good in an ' 
AbboL I spake, as a rash Novice 'it thoae days, | 
some conscientious words of a certain bene&ctor of I 
mine; 'and behold, One of those soQi of Belial' 
ran and hp6rted then! to him, so that he nevn I 
after looked at me vith the same fact agaila 1 Poor 

Such is tfie buzz and frothy simniering ferment I 
of Uie general mind and no-rtiind ; stroggHng to ' 
' make itsdf up,' as the phrase is, or ascertaid what 
it does really want : no easy matter, in most cases. ' 
St Edmundsbury, in that Candlemas sesBon of tbe 
year 1 1 82, is a busily fermenting ptace. The very 
clothmakers sit meditative at their looms ; asking, \ 
Who shall be Abbot? The /ociWwimm Speak oT , 
it, Arrring thnr ox-teams alield ; the otd women j 



THE dANTASSiNO ^i 

with their apindle* : and none yet know* what tht t>otHiUr 
'diye will bring fblth. Sec- 

The Prior, however, as our interim cHief, mnrt 
proceed to work ; get ready ' Twelve Monkg,' add 
set off with them to his Majesty at Walthain, thert 
shall the election be made. An election, whether 
managed directly by ballot-box on public bastings, 
or indirectly by force of fa\Me opinion, or were it 
even by open alehouses, landlords coercion, popular 
club-law, or whatever electoral methods, ig always 
an interesting phenomenon. A mountain tumbling 
in great Unvail, Growing up duscclouds and abscrd 
noises, is visibly there i uncertmn yet what moDsb 
or monster it will gire birth to. 

Besides, it is a most important social act ; nay, 
at bottom, the one important scJcial act ■ Givtn Iht 
men a People choose, the People itseMi in tts exaA 
worth aod Worth leseness, is given. A heroic peopfel 
chooses heroes, and is happy i a va!et or fhrnky ' 
people chooses sham-heroes, what are called quacks, 
thinking them heroes, and is not happy. The 
grand summary of a man's spiritual tfoodition, whst 
brings out all his herohood and insight, or all Ms 
flunkyhood and hora-eyed dimness, is this questimi 
put to him, What man dost thoo honour ? Which 
is thy ideal of a man ; or nearest that i JSo too <tf 
a People : for a People too, every Peoplci ipiah 
its choice, — were it only by silently obeying, and 
not revolting, — in the course of a century or SO. 
Nor are electoral methods. Reform BiHs and such- 
like, unimportant. A People's' elector^ niethods 
are, in the long-run, the express image of its rfec- 
toral ta/int ; tending and gravitating perpetually, 
irresistiUy, (o a conformity with that : and ^, at 



96 II THE AHCIBNT HONK 

' The lU ttaget, very uguiCcaat ot the People. Judiciooi 

Monks readers, of these times, are not duiaclined to see. 

•^"^ how Monki elect their Abbot in the Twelfth 

Century : how the St. Edmundsbnry mountain 

muiagea iu inidwifery ; and what niouM or man the 



ACCORDINGLY our Prior assembles tu in 
Chapter ; and we adjuring him before God to 
do jujdy, cominatcB, aot by our selection, yet with 
our assent. Twelve Monks, moderately satisfactory. I 
Of whom are Hugo Third-Prior, Brother Denuis 
a venerable man, Walter the Mtdiciu, Saniaon ■S'li^ ' 
lacruta, and other esteemed characters, — though 
Willelmus Sacrula, of the red nose, too is one. 
Thesp shall proceed straightway to Walthain j and 
there elect the Abbot as they may and can. Monks 
are sworn to obedience ; must not speak too loud, 
ander penalty of fbot-gyfes, limbo, and bread-aod- I 
water : yet monks too would know what it is they 
aif obeying. The St. Edmundsbury Community i 
has no hnstiogs, ballot-boic, indeed no open voting : : 
yet by various vague manipnlations, pulse-feeliDgs, . 
we struggle to ascertain what its virtual aim is, and 
aucce^ better or worse. 

Thj« question, however, rises ; alas, a quite pre* 
liffliiiary question : Will the Dominui Rex allow us 
to choose freely t It is to be hoped I Well, if so, ' 
we agree to choose one of our own Coavent. If 
not, if the Daminut Rex will force a stranger on us, 



THE ELECTION 97 

we decide on demurring, the Prior and hia Twelve TUr- 
aball demur : we can a[^>eal, plead, remoaBtrate ; ^en M 
appeal even to the Pope, but trust it will not be ^^ 
necessary.' Then there isthia other question, r««ed 
by Brother Samson': What if the Thirteen should 
DOC themselves tie aUe to agree t Brother Samson 
SuiiVeritia, one remarks, is ready oftenest with some 
qoesticn], aome suggestion, that has wisdom in it. 
"ThoDgh a servaot of servants, and saying little, his 
words all tell, having sense in them; it seems by 
his light mainly that we steer ourselves in this great 
dinmeu. 

Wliat if the Thirteen should not themselves be 
able to agree ? Speak, Samson, and advise. — 
Could Doti hints Samson, Six of our venerablest 
elders be cliosen by as, a kind of electoral com- 
mitue, here and now : of theee, ' with their hand 
OD the GoHpdi, wkh their eye on the. S/urotaacIa,' 
we take oatb that they will do faithfully ; let these, 
in secret and as before God, agree on Tlu'ee whom 
the^reckon£tteit j write, their names in a'Paper, 
and deliver the same sealed, forthwith, to the Thir- 
teen : one of those Three the Thirteen shall fix on, 
if pemulted. If not permitted, that is to uy, if the 
Doittmut Sat force us to demur, — the paper shall be 
brought back noopcbed, and publicly burned, that 
no man's secret bring him into trouble. 

So Sanson advises, so we act ; wisely, in this 
and in other crises of the business. Our electoral 
crnnmittee, its eye on the Sacrosancta, is. soon 
named, soon swoTn ; and we, striking-np the Fifth 
Pialm, 'f^triaiaai. 



^ II TBB AHCIXNT HONK 

An Bd- march out channogt aad Icare the Six to tbtk work 
muul'- ia the Chapter here. Tfadr vsrk, before long, they- 
j^^ amwuiice u BoUked : they, with tUoir eye on tli | 
SscTtMuicta, ii^irecatiiig the Lard to weigh aod 
witDCM thdr medkatioo, have fixed on Thrte 
Namei, hhI vritttai them in thit Sealed Paper. . 
Lftt SavsoK Subtacrista, general aervaDt of the 
party, uke charge of it. On the momMr xaonnsig, \ 
OUT rrior and bis Twelve will be leady to get nndtr | 
way. ' 

Thiif then, it ..the hall«t-4iox md electoral 
winnowiDg-niachine they have at St. Edninndabury: 
a raiod fixed on the Thrace Holy, ao appeal to Cod 
on high to witneai tbdr moditatioa ,- 1^ br the best, 
and indeed the only good eleooral iramowing- 
nachine, — tf mm hare unit in them. TotaU; 
wonhleia, it i« troe, and even hideoui and poiMUMus, 
if men iiave no aonla. Bnt witfaont uto), elaa, wh« 
wiimowtiig-niachiDe in huoian electSonB can. he of | 
I arail i We cannot g^ along without son] ; me \ 
atick fatt, the nwnnifUest tpectade ; and uh itself | 
wiUnotaave us f ^ | 

On the morrow momiag, accordingly, our Tbir- ' 
teen set forth ; or radter our Prior and Eleacn ; for ' 
Samson, as general acrrant of the party, has to lingCT, | 
settling many thii^a. At length he too gets upoo | 
the road; and, 'carryii^ the sealed I'aper m a leather < 
'pouch hung round bis neck ; saAjroeeum bt^uiau 
< la u/nif' ^thanks to thee,' fiozzy Jocelin ), 'his frock- 
. .' skirts looped omr his elbow^' showing substantiai 
stern-worke, tramps stoutly along. Away acrou 
the Heath, not yet of Newmatketand horse-jockey' 
ing ; across your Fleanv-dike and Devil's-aike, do 
longer useful as a MeFciao East-Anglian boundary 



THfi ELECTION 9P 

or bulwark ; coaiiaaaUy tpwarda Walthw^ uid the Destkir 
Biihopof Wiochecter'B Housethere, Cv hisMajeuy or 
u in that. Brother Samson, as pnrse-bevvr, has lix ^^^ 
reckoning slwajFt, when there U one, to pay ; * deUye ^■"•son 
ve aomerous,' progreM nooe of the swifteiL 

But, in ^te solUude of the Coavent, Deetiof thus 
big and io her Ixrthtinie, what fossipiog, what 
habUv^wbat dreamijig of dfcamsJ The secret 
t^ tbe Three onr «leaoral elders alone ijiow : 
■oipe Abbot we shall have ta go>eca lu ; but which 
Abbot, oh, which! One Mosk discerns in a 
risio^ of the nigbt-wauhes, that we riiall get an 
Abt)M of our own body, without needing to demur : 
a i^o^het ap)>earEd to him clad all in white, and 
said, *' Ye shall bare one of yours, and he will rage 
amoaj you like a wolft t^vin ul lutiu." Verily ! 
— ttneo which of ours ? Anrouier Moak now 
dreams : he has seen cleaily which ; a certain 
Fi^ire taJler t^ head and .sbouldei's than the wher 
two^ «keased in alb and pdlium, and with tbeattiuide 
of ooe about to fight ; — wbich tall Figure a wise 
E^ti^r would rather not name at this stage of the 
bHsinest! , Enough tjiat the Tision is tr»e: that 
Saint Edmund himself, pale and awfiil, seemed to 
ris^ froK Ihs Shrine, with naked leet, and aj 
audibly, " He, Hit, shall veil my ieet ; " which pan 
of the vision also, proves true. Such guessing, 
viBiaoing, dim perscrutation of tbe momentouB 
future: the very clothmakers, old women, all 
townsfolk speak of it, ■ sad more than once it is 
' rejKtrt^ ia St. Edmundsbury, This one is elected ; 
'and thn, Thia one, and That other.' Who 
koowaf 

But ROW, sure enough, at Waltham 'm the 



too II THE ANCIENT MONK 

Domi- second Sunday of Quadragerima,' which Dryasdust ^ 
una Rex declares to mean the iid day of February, year' 
*°T^ 1 1 81, Thirteen St. Edmundsbury Monks are, at 
(g^ last, seen processioning towards the Winchester 
Manorhouse ; and, in some high Presence-chamber 
and Hall of State, get access to Henry II. in all 
his glory. What a Hall, — not imaginary in the 
least, but entirely real and iitdtsputaUe, tboogh so 1 
extremely dim to us ; sunk in the deep distuicet 
of Night! The Winchester Manorhouse has fled ' 
bodily, like a Dream of the old Night g not 
Dryasdust himself can show a wreck of II House 
and people, royal and episcopal, lords and Tarlets, 
where arc they f Why there, I say, Seren Cen- 
turies rff ; sunk 10 far in the Night, there they I 
are; peep through the blankets of the a4d Night, 
and thou wilt see ! King Henry himself is visibly 
there; a vivid, noble-looking man, with grizzled 
beard, IQ glittering uncertain costume ; with earls 
round him, and bishops, and dignitaries, in the like. 
The Hall is large, and has for one thing an altar 
near it, — chapel and altar adjoining it ; but what 
gilt seats, carved tatJes, carpeting of rush-cloth, 
what arras-hangings, and huge fire of logs; — alas, it 
has Human Life in it; and is not that the gruid 
miracle, in what hangings or costume soever J — 

The Domtnut Rex, benignantly receiving oor , 
Thirteen with their obeisance, and gradoudy de- 
claring that he will strive to act for God's honour 
and the Church's good, commands, ' by the Bishop 
of Winchester and Geoffrey the Chancellor,' — ' 
Gtdfridut Cancellarm, Henry's and the Pair Rosa- 
mond's authenuc Son present here ! — commands, 
" That they, the said Thirteen, do now withdraw, 
and fix upon Three from their own Monastery." 



THE ELECTION loi 

A work soon done ; the Three haagiag ready Who 
Touiid Samson's neck, in that leather pouch of hii. were the 
Breaking the seal, we find the names, — what think T*"'**' 
ye of it, ye higher dignitaries, thou indolent Prior, 
tboa Willehnus Saeriita with the ted bottle-nose i 
— the names, in this order : of Samson Suhaeritta, 
of Roger the diatressed Cellarer, of Hugo Ttrtiiu- 
Prior. 

"Thp higher dignitaries, all omitted here, ' flush 
suddenly red in the face ; ' but hafc nothing to 
say. One curious fact aod question certainly is, 
How Hugo Third-Prior, who was of the electoral 
committee^ came to nominate bimtelf as one of the 
Three J A curious fact, which Hugo Third-Prior 
has never yet entirely explained, that I know of ! — 
However, «e return, and report to the King our 
Three names ; merely altering the order ; putting 
Samson last, as lowest of alL The King, at recita- 
tion of our Three, asks t»: "Who are they? 
Were they born in my domun i Totally unknown 
to itie ! You must nominate three others, Where- 
opon 'Willelraos Sacrista says, " Oar Prior must be 
oained, qiaa caput natlnim at, being already our 
head." And the Prior responds, " Willelmas 
Sacrista is a fit man, beniir vir etl," — for all his red 
nose. Tickle me, Toby, and I'll tickle thee! 
Venerable Deonia too is named ; none in his con- 
science can say n^. There are now Six on our 
Liat.' "Well," said the King, "they have done 
it swiftly, they I Deiu ett turn m." The Monks 
withiJraw again ; and Majesty revolves, for a little, 
with hit Farti tsA Epiie^, Lords or ' Law- 
viardt^ and Soul-Oveneers, the thoughts of the 
royal breast. The Monks wait silent in an outer 



loi 11 THE ANCIENT MONK 

Prior «. la ahon while, they sre next ordered. To add 
St ibtwo - yet anoiher three g but not fmm tbeir owd Cor- 
'*'*" ve« ) from odxr ConveDta, " for die htnaur of 
my kkigdom." Here, — what is to be done bcrti^ 
We wii) demv, if nrad be 1 We do name thret^ 
however, for the nonce ; the Prior of St. Fmth'i, 
a geoA Monk of St. Neot'i, a good Monk <^ 
St. Alban's ; good neD nil ; all nude abbote ami 
digoitarie* lioce, at this hour. Thert ate now 
Nine opoo obt Lim. What the thooghta of the 
DomiODB Rex may be farther i The Dominua 
Rex, thanking graciously, tends out word that we 
gh^ now itrike off three; The tiiree Rrmgera are 
instantly struck off. Willehnus Sacriiti adds^ that 
he will vf his owa accord decHne^— a tooch of 
grace and respect for the Samuaneta, ctcb in 
Wittdmna ! The King then orders u ta Mrike off 
a couple more ; then yet one nxMV : Hugo Third- . 
Prior g0Fa, and Roger CtSirariiu, and venerable 
Monk Dennis;-~3nd now diere remaiit on oar List 
two on!y, Samaon Snbaacrnta and the Prior. i 

Which of these two ^ It were hat^ to tay, — by . 
Monks who may get themsehea foot-gyred and 
'thrown into limbo for speaking 1 ' We hombly I 
requeat that the Bishop of Wiacherter and Geoffrey i 
the Chanceiior may again enter, and help os to 
decide. ■' Which <k) you wauf" askathe BMiopL I 
Veoerabfo Dennis made a spevch, * commotdii^ | 

< the persons of the Prior and Samson ; bat alwayi 

< in the corner of hit discourse, ht angwla na termomu, \ 
' brought Samaon in.' '* I aee 1 " taid the Bithop : 
" We are to uoderttand that yonr Prior ia aoine- 
viat remiss; that you want to have him yoa call I 
Samaon for Abbot." " Ehlier of then it good," 
said venerable Dennis, almost trembling ; *< bat j 



THE ELECTIOn nj 

we wouM fane the better, if it plcaaed Gcpd." 

'"Wbkh of the two do yoa wanti" tnqnim the AMot 
Bishop poiatedljr. **€untoii!" niwered Dcmii^ 
" SamMtt ! " echoed att of die rest that dunt ipealL 
or edbo anytUng : and Sanson ii reported to the 
King tccordingly. Hit Majeaty, adriwig of it 
for a RKMDca^ mders that Samaon be brought ini 
with d>e oOmi TwcItc. . 

Tli« KtD^a Majcs^, looking at oa aonewhat 
sMnilytthao aajra: *'Yoa preaeiu to me S|innm; 
I do riot know him: had it been jam Vnutf 
whom I do know, I ahonld have accepted him: 
however, i will now do as you wish. B«t have i 
a caK of younelvM. By the ttue eye* of God, ' 
per •oervt Kidoi Dei, if yon manage badly, I will j 
be upon you L " Samion, therefore, step* forwardT 
kiaseaithe King'i fectt but iwiftly rises erect >gai«, ' 
swiftly turas towards the akat, uplifting with the ' 
otlicf Twelve, in clear teoar-note, the Fifty-firat 
Psalm, * Miiefire mri Dtai, 



with firm voice, fiira itcp and head, no cbaage in 
his coimteKUisc whatever. *' By God'a eyeay" aaid 
the King, "that one, I think, will govern the 
Abbey well." By the saroa oath (charged to your 
MajeW.y'a aocount), I too am precisely of that 
opioioBl It ia aQme while tinee I fcU id with a 
likelicE imu anywhere than this. new Ahbot Samson. 
I.DBg life to him, aad may the Lord iave mercy 
on him .att Abbot ! 

Thus, then, have the Su Edmuiidafaury Monki, 
without o&preu ballot-box or other good winnow- 



I04 II THE ANCIENT HONK 

Hero or ing-machine, cootriTed to accoinpliBh tbe most 
Qwude intportant social feat a body of men can do, to 
wioDow-out tbe man that u to gofero them : and 
truly one sees not that, bj any iiriiaiowiDg-niachine 
whatever, they could have done it better. O ye 
kind Heavens, there is b CTBry Nation and Com- 
munity a.Jitletl, a wisest, bravest, best ; whom coold 

' we find and make King over os, all were in very 

tnith wetl; — the best diat God and Nature hail 
permitied tu to make it! By what art discover 
him i Will the Heavens in their pity teach us no 

(art ; for our need of him is great ! 
Balkit-boxes, Reform Bills, winno wing-machines: 
all these are good, or are not so good; — alas, 
Irethrei), how cam thes^ I say, be other than 
inade<]uate, be other than failures, melancholy to 
behold i Dim all souls of men to the divine, the 
high and awiiil meaning of Human Worth and 
Truth, we shall never, by all the machinery b 
Birmingham, discover the True and Worthy. It 
is written, ' if we are ourselves valets, there shall 
' exist no hero for us ; we shall not know the hero 
' when we see him ; '—we shall take the quack for 
a hero ; and cry, audibly through all ballot-boxes 
and machinery whatsoever, Thou art he; be thou 
King over us ! 

What boots it? Seek adj deceitfiil Speciosity, j 
money with gilt carriages, ' fame ' with newspaper- 
paragraphs, whatevN name it bear, you will find only 
deceichil Speciosity ; godlike Reality wiD be for- ! 
ever far from you. The Quack shall be legitiniate 
inevitable King of you ; no earthly machinery able 
to exclude the Quack. Ye ahatl be bom thraUs of 
the Quack, and suffer under him, till ywv hearts 
arc near broken, and ao French RevolotiMi or 



ABBOT SAUSON io$ 

Manchester InBarrectiou, or partial or oniverul toI- The 
came combiutioni ind eXploBioni, iKTer to many, Qwick 
can do more than ' change the jiptn of joor S^™" 
Qnack ;' the CBKiice of him remaining, for a time ^^ 
and time». — " How long, O Prophet f " tay Mnile, 
with a rather inelaDcholy eneer. Alat, ye Mipro- 
phedtf, ever till thii come about: Till deep mitery, 
if nothing loAer will, h>*e driren yoD oat of yoar ' 

Specioaities into your Sincerities; aiid you find that 
there either i« ■ Godlike in the world, or elie ye 
ve an unintelligible madiwH ; that there is a God, 
ai well BB a Mammon and a De*il, and a Genioa 
of Lnxnriei and ctntiog DilettantiEms and Vain 
Shows ! How long that will be, compote for 
yonrtetvM. My unhappy brother*! — 



Hbaptet f x 

ABBOT aAMSON 

SO, then, die belli of St. EdmuDdBbnry clang 
out one and all, and in church and chapel 
the orgaoa go : Convent and Town, and all the 
west (ide of SofTolk, are in gala; knights, Tiscounii, 
weavefR, spiooers, the entire population, male and 
female, yoang aod old, the 'very tockmen widi their 
chubby infants, — out to have a holiday, and see 
the Lord Abbot irrivc 1 And there is ' stripping 
barefoot* of the Lord Abbot at the Gate, and 
■olemn leading of him in to the High Altar and 
Shrine; 'with siiildeo 'silence of all the bells 
and organs,' a* we kneel in deep prayer there ; and 
again with outbont of all the Mis and organs, aod 



lofr II THE. ANCIEHT HONK 

Aladdto- 'oud TV Damn &om the geqeral humaD wiiKl{Hpe t j 
Utoaml *peec!ie* by the leading rucoiut, aod giving of~' 
*^**"' the kiM of brothetheod j Use whole wound-up with 
*"" p^ular gamea, and dtoDcc wUiin inon of more than 
a-^ouusd BtroDg, ^ut quam miie mmtdeiuHmt in 
ggu£o magat. 

la Nch aatmet a the selfianfrSanuonoiice agam 
ret«nivgU>u«,wdcoined Mt/iUf oceaaion. He that 1 
we» away widi hi»frock-<kiiltB looped over hia arni, 
comM back lidii^ high ; muidnily jnade one of the 
digiutafiet of thu world. RcfleetiTC leadiBn wUl 
admit that here waa a trial for a man. Yert«rday 
a |>oor sKDdtcaDt, altowed to potsesa not above two I 
■htlliDg* of mooay. and without autbonty to Ud a 
dog run for hin(--thii man today finda fcimaelf 
a Demimu jiihtu, mitred Peer of Parliament, Lord 
of manorhouKS, farms, manora, and wide lands ; a I 
man with ' Fifty Knigbu under him,' and dependent, , 
swiftly obedient miJtitadea o(, men. It is a change 
greater than Napoleon's ; bo sudden withal. As if i 
one of the Charcot da3i-dradgea had, on awakening 
some morning, found that ie overnight was become 
Doke i Let Samson with hia clear-beaming eyet 
te« into that, and discern it if he caiiL We shall 
now get Ae measure of him by a new teak of 
inriiet, amaiderBhly more rigorous than the fomer 
tni. For if a noble sonl is rendered tenfold beanti' J 



ignoble one ii icndaed tenfold and hundredfold 
ngHer, {ritifoki. Wbatsorer -vicei, whaCaoever weak- 
neisea were in the man, tfce parvenu will show na I 
them etJaTgtd, as in the solar microacop^ into | 
inghtfiil diatortran. Nay, how many mere aeniinal I 
priacijglcs of vice, bitherto all iriioiewwely k^ I 



ABBOT SAHSOH 107 

Jatent, may «« sow «ee unff^cd, at ia tfac sdar hot- Tke 
Iwubc, into growCh, into m^ unlTertoDy-coBajncuow ^'*' 
huariaiice and deftriopmcDt ! nor"'" 

B«t ia not thi», at any rate, a lingulat aspect i>£ 
what political and racial capabilities, nay^Iet tw ssy, 
what depth and opufence of tree aocul vitality, la; 
ID thOK old barbaroBB ages, That the fit Govimar 
coald be met nith under luch dugmstty could be 
lecosnised sad laid hold of taider such i Here he 
it diacorered vdih annximiiaoftwA ihilfings in bit 
pocket, and a leatber tciip lound his Kelt ; trudg- 
ing aloag the highway, bis^ock-akim looped ovec 
hii arm. They think thia is he nevertheleM, the 
trae GoTCTDoe ; and he proves to be to. Brethren, 
have vte bo need of discovning true Goveraeri^ bM 
wiH ohitii met fbcerer do for uaf These Were 
absurd aoperatitioua blockheads of Mooka ; add we 
are enb^teml TettpouDd FranchJaer^ witbouc taxea 
on koowledgc I Where, I aay, are our supeiioiv arc 
our Gimilar or at all comparable diacoveriet? We 
also hare eyes, or oi^t to have ; we hare huKiogs, 
lelescopea; we have lights, fink^ghts and rush* 
lighu of an enlightened free Presa^ bunoDg and 
dancmg eterywbctie, aa in a u>i*er«d torcfa-dance ; 
singeing ^ou wbiskeT* as ym trarerse the public 
, tborougfalares in town and coantry- Great souh« 
une GOTcnioes, go aboot uoder all manner of di»- 
gimeaDowastheB. Soch telescopes, such enlighUD- 
tnest,— and such diBcOYery ! How cornea it, I say; 
how CORKS it ? Is it not laaKncaUe ; is it not creii, 
hi aome sense, amazing i 

Alaa, the defect, as we must often argff and agaiti 
urge, ia fess a deEcct of telescopes than of kmB 
eyesight. Those aupersutious Uockheads of the 



loS II THE ANCIENT UONK 

Tbe Twelfth Century bad do teletcopM, but they had , 
PMf a s^\ an eye ; not ballot-boxes ; oolj Temciice fbr^ 
*•*** Worth, abhorrence of Uoworth. It i* the way 
with all barbarians. Thus Mr. Sale informs me, the 
old Arab Tribes would gather ialireiiaitgaaJeamu, 
and sing, and kindle bonfires, and wreathe crowns 
of honour, and solemnly thank the gods that, in 
their Tribe too, a Poet had shown himself. As 
indeed they well might; ibr what useAJer, I ny 
not nobler and heavenltn thing could the gods, 
doing their very kindest, send to any- Tribe or 
Nadon, in any time or cicmnnstances f I declare 
to thee, my afflicted (^uack^rjdden brother, in apite 
of thy astonishmnt, it is very lamentable ! We 
English find a Poet, u brave a man as has been I 
made fot a bnndnni years or so anywhere uodet 
the Sun; and do we kindle bonfires, or thank the 
godsf Not at all. We, takbg due counsel of it, 
set the man to gauge ale-barrela in the Btu^ of 
Duminei'; and {nque ourselfea on our * patixKiage 
of genius.' 

Genius, Poet : do we know what these words ' 
mean ! An insured Soul once more vouchsaled . 
Ds, diicct from Nature's own great fiie-heart, to aec I 
the Truth, and speak it, and do it t Nature's own 
aacred Trace heard once more athwaR the dreary 
boundless dement of bearaaying and canting, of | 
twaddle and poltroonery, in which the bewildered i 
Garth, nigh perishing, has htt itt way. Hear oace 
more, ye bewildered benighted mortals ; ^listen once 
again to a voice irom the inner Light-sea and 
Flame-sea, Nature's and Truth's own heart ; know i 
the Fact of your Existence what it is, put away tbe | 
Cant of it which it is no/; and knowing, do, and let 
it be well with you ! — 



H,Sle 



1 



ABBOT SAMSOH 109 

George the Third ii Defenderof eonivtbbg we intiw 
^all ' the Faith ' in tboee yeara ; George the Third Ale- 
is head charioteer of ^e Destinies of Eagland, to S^'V' - 
guide them through the gulf of French Rerolutions, _J|, 
AmericaD Independeaces ; and Robert Bums is 
Gauger of ate in DuinlHes. It is an Iliad ia a 
Dutshelt. The physiogDomjr of a world now 
TergJDg towards dissoktioD, reduced now to spasms 
and death-throes, lies jHctured in that ooe fact, — • 
which astonishes nobody, except at me for being 
astonished at it. TWe fruit of long ages of con- 
firmed Valetbood, entirely confirmed as into a Law 
of Nature ; cloth-worship and quack -worship ; 
entirely amfirmtd Valethood, — which will have to 
uBcon^rm itself again ; God knows, with difficulty 



Abbot Samson had found a Content all in dilapi- 
dation ; run beating through it, material rain and 
metaphorical, from all qnarters of the compass. 
Willelmua Sacrista sits drinking nightly, and doing 
mere taetnda. Our larders are reduced to lean- 
ness, Jew harpies and unclean creatures our 
purreycM^ ; ' in our basket i* no bread, OM 
women with their dietatFa nub out on a distressed 
Cellarer in shrill Chartism. ' Von cannot (tir 
' abroad but Jews and Christians pounce upon you 
' mth unsettled bonds ; ' debts boundless seemingly 
3s the National Debt of England. For four yean 
our new Lord Abbot never went abroad but Jew 
creditors and Christian, and all manner of creditors, 
were about 'him ; driving him to very despair. 
Onr Prior is remiss; our Cellarers, officials are 
remiss ; our mcmks are remise : what man is not 
remiss \ Front this, Samson, thou alone art there 



Mc II THE ANCIENT MONK 

Horn ft (i«M it I it ta thy t3*k td front aikd Ught tliu, aad to 
AUkA die cr i.tll ix. May tJae L.«Ed h»e mtrc^on tbeeV 
" To our.awiquariaH interest in poor ioceiin and 
hii CoDveta^ whuie the whole aipect of fuueteoc^ 
tbe whole dialect, of thought, of ipeechj t^ activuy, 
ia (o obsolete, atrange, Iw^Tanitbed, there dow 
tuneradds itself a rnild glow of huniaii interest ibt 
ALbot Sftnwop ; a reai pleasure, a« at «ight of mao'i 
work, etpedallf of go»<rnbg, which it mao't 
bighcat work, {bne iiieU. Abbot Samwo hjtd oa 
experiepce ig governing ; had vrved no appveatice- 
abip to the tratk of gOTerning, — bJemi on^ tUc 
hanktt i4]pTBBticepfaip to that of obeying. He had 
cevef in any court given ifudhim on piigiuatf aayi 
JooeKn ; hardly ever aeeo a court, whcB be wat I 
set to preside in one. But it ia astoniabing, con- 
tinues Jocelin, how soon he learned the ways of 
hoaiBeai j uid, is all sons of adairs, became ncpert < 
Itfyoad othera. Of the many peraooa offering him 
their tecvice, 'he retwned one, K«ight akilled ia 
taking vt^iia and pi^iaj' and witbia die. year ms 
hioMelf wdl skilled. Nay, by a»d by, tb* Pope 
appoiDU btB) Jusuciajy in oertain cauaes ; the Einj 
one of his new Cijciit Judges : olScial Oebert it i 
hettd uyiaj^ " Tihaf Abbot is ooe of jmt «hrewd 
ones, tbjmtalH- f* ; if be go on as he begtss, he 
will cut out every lawytr of u^ ! " > I 

W% not i What it to hinder this Samson &om . 
goveraing? There ia in him what far traaaoends 1 
al] apprenticeshipa ; in the naa himaelf there exim I 
A model of governing, sunething to geveni. by 1 ' 
Then extsU in him a heart-aUtorrtffce of whatevtf I 
is incoherent, puttltaium9ua, unveiacious, — that is to | 
■ay, chaotic, tmgoverfied ; of the Devil, not of 

> Jaitlim Chrmca, p. IJ- 



ABBOT SAUSON ii> 

God. A nuu of this kiml ca^uit help govemiog i li 
-He hu dw living ideal of a governor in him ; mJ *> 
the inceEsant neceuity of atniggling to nkfold the ^ 
same oiR «f him. Not the DerW tx Chaos, for 
any wages, wilt he serve ; do, this maftis the bocn 
■ersast of Another than them. Alai, bow little 
avail all apprenticeships, vAta there is in yMV 
governor himself what we mi^ .weU call Moiiing to 
govcm by : nethjag ;— 4 general pay twilight,'loaiMr 
ing with shapea of expediencies, paHiancatary 
CradkioiM, divin^lista, dcctian-iiuidi, kading- 
lUttdes ; thli, with vhat of vulpine alectnen and 
adxoiiiiecB soever, is not much 1 

Bvt indeed what say we, af^enticeship I Had 
not thii Saniioa aerred, is his way, a fight good 
apprenttmhip to ^v^ning ; nanidy, the haisheat 
alane-af^raibceah^ to obeying:! Wdk tfaiaiKirliL 
with no friendin it b« God aod St. Edmund, you 
will ekhef ^1 into the ditch, or learn a good many 

tbil^S. To leant o tn-y^ " '*" ft-Ja-u-ntat gnf n( 

eoveminp. How nmch wosdd many a Senae 
HighoesB have kamediltadhe travelled throagfa tke 
world with wat^-jug and em[My wallet, me aami 
cxprruafnadt M his victoriaus cetuEn, aat damn aat 
to DewflpapBr-paTagraphs- and city-ilkminatioiig, bnt 
at the loot of St. Hdnumd''« Shiine to shackles and 
bread-and-water ! He that cannot be servant of 
many, will never be master, true gtdde and deliverer 
of many ; — that is rhe meaning of true mastership. 
Had not the Monk-life extraordinary * political 
capabilities ' in it ; if not imitable by us, yet 
envi^e? Heavens, had a Duke of Logwood, 
now rolling luinptuously to bis place in the Collec- 
tive WisdoBO, but himself happened to {dough daily, 
at one time, ob seven-and-aispeDce a week, with 



lit II THE ANCIENT HONK 

The DO out-door reliaf, — what ■ light, untpenchable by 
■scs of logic and itatigtic and aritbinetict would it haFO. 
™^ thrown on Boveral things for him I 

In all cues, therefore, we will agree with the 
judicious Mn. Glan : ■ First catch your hare ! ' 
Firat get your man ; all ia got : he can learn to do 
all things, from making boots, to decreeing jndg- 
menta, governing conuDunities ; and wilt do them 
like a man. Catch your no-man, — alas, have you 
DoC caught the terriblest Tartar in the world \ 
Ferfaapa all the terrier, the quieter and gentler he 
looks. Foi the miichief that one blockhead, that 
every blockhead does, in a world so feracious, 
teeming mth endless results as ours, do ciphering 
will sum up. The quack bootmaker is consideraUe ; 
as e(»D-cutters can testify, and desperate men 
reduced to buckskin and liit-shoea. But the qnack 
priest, quack high-priest, the quack king ! - Why 
do not all just citizens rush, half-frantic, to stop 
** him, as they would a conflagration i Surely a just 
citizen u admonished by God and his own Soul, by 
•U silent and articulate voices of this Univette, to do 
what in iim lies towards relief of this poor block- 
bead-quack, and of a world that groans under him. 
Run swiftly ; relieve him, — were it even by 
extinguishing him ! Fw all things have grown so 
old, uoder-diy, combustible ; and he is more 
rainous than conflagration. Sweep him Jvain, at 
least ; keep him strictly within the hearth : he will 
then cease to be conflagration ; he will then become 
Dsefid, more at less, as culinary fire. Fire is the 
best of servants ; but what a oiaster ! This poor 
blockhead too is born for uses : why, elevating 
him to mastership, will you make a cdoflagratirai, i 
parish-curse or world-curse of himf 



GOVERNMENT 



HOW Abbot Samson^ givbg hi* mw MibJDcU Abbot 
seriatim the kiu of fatherhood in thrfit. Ed- Suo- 
mimdibury chapterhoiue, proceeded with cs^out^^* 
energy to set about reforming their ditjoiUed ^g^^ 
dinracied way of life ; how he managed with hit 
Fitly rough MiUtit (Feudal Kiiigiit«), with hia 
luy Farmers, remiss refractory Monks, witbPope't 
Legates, Viscounts, Bishops, Kings ; bow on all 
tides be laid about him like a man, and puttiDg coib- 
sequence on premiss, and everywhere the saddle 00 
the right Wae, struggled incesMntly to «d«ee 
organic method out of lazily fermenting- wreck ,— 
the careful reader will discern, not withow true 
iaterest, in these pages of Jocelin Boswdl. lo 
most antiquarian quaint costume, not of gunieau 
alone, but of thought, word, action, outlook vid 
position, the substantial figure of a man with enipeM 
nose, bushy brows and clear-fiashing eyes, his 
niaaet beard growing daily grayer, is visible, en- 
gaged in true governing of men. It is beautiful how 
the chrysalis goreming-soul, shaking off its dui^ 
slough and prison, starts forth winged, a true royll 
Boul 1 Our new Abbot has a right honest UMCoft- 
Kious feeling, without insolence as without fear or 
flutter, of what he is and what others are. A 
course to quell the proudest, an honest pity to 
encourage tlK humblesL Withal there is a noble 
reticence in this Lord Abbot : much vain uoreasoa 
h{ hears ; lays up without response. He is not 
there to expect reason and nobleness of others ; be 



«M n THE ANCIENT HONK 

A Re- is there to give them of his own reason and noble- , 
forming neBB. Is he not their tenrant, at we said, who can*^ 
suffer from them, and for them ; bear the burden 
their poor Bpind!e4imlM totter and stagger under ; 
and, in virtue of beii^ their servant, govern them, 
. lead them out of weakness into strength, out of 
defeat kits victory 1 

One of the firn Herculean Labours Abbot 1 
Sanisea uadertooV, ot tie very first, was to insutute 
■ sttciMOiu review tnd radical reform of his 
ecoBoinks. It Is the first labour of erny govern- 
ing mail, from Paterfaimtiai to Dominui Rex. To 
get the rain thatched «m from you is the preliminary 
of whateva fbrthtr, in the way of speculatioo or of 
actioB, yon may mean to do. CHd Abbot Hugo's 
budget, as we «aw, had become empty, fflled with 
deficit and wind. To see his accoum-books clear, 
be delhwed from 'Anxe ravening flights of Jew and 
Chfistian creditors, pouncing on htm like obscene 
harpies wherever he showed face, was a necessity 
for Ai&ot Samson; 

On the loorrow after his instalment he brings in 
a 4oad (rf money-bonds, all duly stamped, sealed with 
this or the other Convent Seal : Jnghtfiil, un- 
maiMgeable, a bottomless confusion of Convem 
finance. There diey are ; — but there at least they 
all are ; all that shaH be of them. Our Lord 
Abbot -demands that all the official' seals in nse 
among us be now produced and delivered to him. 
"Three-and-thirty seals turn up } ate straightway 
br«k^, and shall seal no more : ihe Abbot only, 
tmd ^se duly authorised by hhn shall seal any 
'bond. There are but two ways of paying debt : 
increase of industry in raising income, increase of 



1 



COVHtHHEHT nj 

thrift ia taying it out With Iroii energy, in dow 
but neady uadeyiatiag pvKTcraaoe, Abbot Sanaoa ' 
seu to woHt in botb directiont. Hi* troublef are ' 
maDifbld : cumiiag nulUct, unjust bailiffs, lazy sock' 
Aeo, bx am iMxpefinced Abbot; reJaxod l«zy 
moukg, joot disincJuied to mutiny in maas : but 
coHtiaued vigiJaace, rigorous method, what we ctU 
'th« eye of the master,' work voodcTB. The 
cku-beaming eyesight of Abbot Saraaon, stcad&H, 
Ktere, R]l-penetratiog,< — it is lilce Fiat la* ia that 
LDoFganic waue v^irlpoot ; penetraus gradually to 
ail DoolcB, sad of the chaos makes a luumos ai 
ordered world! 

He arrangee erMywhere, stnigglea mweariedly to 
orange, wd ]Jace on some inteUigiUe feotjog, the 
•affairs, aad daes, rtt ac reii£lur,' of his domioioa. 
The Lakeoheath eels cease to breed squabbleB 
betweeq bamaa beiaga ; the pecmy of rraprtilver to 
explode iato the streets the Female Charlisca of St. 
Edmundsbury. Thetie and iDButnerahle greater 
thills. Wheresoever Disorder may stand or lic^ 
In it hape s care ; here is the man that has declared 
war wilji k, that never will make |>eace with it. 
Man is the Miasioaary of Ordor ; he is the Krvant 
not of the Devil aad Chaos, but of God and die 
Universe ! Let all sluggards and cowards, renusi, 
^Ise-^ioken, tnjutt, and otherwise diahtJic peraona 
have a care ; this ia a d^g^rous vian for then. He 
has a naild grave face^ a thoughtful stemneas, a 
sorrowful pity i but there is a terriUe flash of anger 
in hiai too; laZT monks often have to rourraur, 
"Stvk'ut hput. He. rages like a wolf ; was not our 
Dream true ! " 'To repress and bold-ii) such 
iudden Miger be waa contiaually careful,' and suc- 
ceeded well : — right, Samson ; that it may bocome 



ii6 II THE ANCIENT UONK 

The in thee as noble cential heat, fiuitful, strong,' bene* , 

Incnboa fjcent ; not blaze oat, or the tcldomeit possible Uaze'^ 

^5* out, as wasteful volcanoitm to scorch tad o 



"We 

ttarung. In four years he haa become a great 
walker ) Ufkling proaperouEly along ; driving much 
before him. In lew thui four ycnrs, taya Jocelin, 
the Convent Debts were all liquidated : the harpy 
Jews not only settled with, but banished, bag and 
baggage, out of the Bamalttaa (Liberties, Banlieut) 
of St. Edmund sbury, — so has the Ring's Majesty 
been persuaded to permit. Farewell to -yen, at any 
rate } let us, in no extremity, apply again to you I 
Armed men inarch them over the bordtrs^ diimiaa 
them under stem penalties, — sentence of excommuni- 
cation on all that shall again harbour tbem here: 
there were many dry eyes at their departure. 

New life enters everywhere, springs up beneficent, 
the Incubus of Debt once rolled away. Samson 
bastes not ; but neither does he paose to rest. This 
of the Finance is a lifelong business with him ; — 
Jocelin's anecdotes are tilled to wearinest with it. 
Aa indeed to Jocelin it was of wry primary 
interest. 

fiat we hate to record also, with a lively satia&c- 
tion, that spiritual rublnsb is as litde tolerated in 
Samson's Monastery as material. With due rigour, 
Willelmus Saciista, and his bibationa and tocenda 
are, at the earliest opportunity, softly yet irrevocably 
put an end to. The bibadons, namely, had to end ; 
even the building where they used to be carried on 
was razed from the soil of St. Edmnndsbury, and 
■on its place grow rows of beans:' Willelmus 



THE ABBOTS WAYS 117 

himself, deposed from the Sacristy tad all otEccH, Referm 
retire* into obscurity, into absolute taciturnity R»'lic«l 
unbroken tbeocefortli to this hour. Whether the 
poor WiilelrauB did not etill, by secret channeli, 
occanonally get aome slight wetting of vinous or 
alcoholic Uquor, — now grown, in a manner, indis- 
pensable to the poor man ? Jocetin hints not ; one 
knows aot how to hope, what to hope !. But if he 
did, it was in silence aiid darkness ; with an erer- 
l^esent feeling that teetotalism was his only true 
course. Drunken dissolute Monk* are a class of 
pcTMHii who had better keep oat of Abbot SaiuKui'e 



way. Stvit ut hipuii was not the Dream true! 
■nntmured many a Monk. Nay Ranulf de Glanvill, 
Justiciary in Chief, took umbrage at him, seeing 
these strict ways; and watched farther with sas- 
picion: but diacerned gradually that there was 
nothing wrong, that there wa« much the opposite of 

abaptcr ti 

THE abbot's WATS 

ABBOT SamtOO showed no extraordinary favour 
to the Monks who had been his familiars, of 
old; did not promote them to oHices, — aiti ctteni 
idonti, unless they chanced to be fit men ! Whence 
great discontent among certain of these, who had 
contributed to make him Abbot : reproaches, open 
and secret, of his being ' ungrateful, hard-tempered, 
unsocial, a Norfolk barrator and 6tillauriiu.' 

Indeed, except it were for iJeaei, ' fit men,' in 
all kinds, it was hard to say for whom Abbot 
Samson had much favour. He loved his kindred 



■ IS 11 THB ANCIENT HONK 

The well, and tencferiy enoDgb acknowledgeil the poor 
Abbof a part of them ; with the rich part, who in old'daya 
P'*'"=T had never acknoiHedged him, he totaHy refilled to | 
hne any txiMnest. Boi eren the former he did '. 
not promote into offices ; frocGng none of thent 
Umiti. 'Some irtiam be thought taitable he put 
' into situationa in hia own household, or made 

* keepers of hia country placea ; if they faehared 

* ill, he diimissed them without hope of rrtnm.' 
Id his ]n'omotioni, nay almost in his benefits, yoa 
would have tdd there waa a c^rtaiti impartiality. 
' The official person who had, by Abbot Hngo'i 
' order, pot the fetters on bim at his return ftom 

* Itaty, was DOW supported with food and clothes to 

* the end of his days at Abbot Samson's expenae.' 

Yet he did not forget bencfita ; fei the rereree, ] 
when an opportunity occwted of paying them at hit j 
own cost. How pay them at the pubKc cost ; — 
how, above all, by melting _firc to the public; as we 
said ; clapping ' conflagrations ' on the public, 
which the servioet of blockheads, aon-ickna, 
intrinsically arel He was right willing to remember 
friends, when it could be done. Take these 
instances : ■ A certain cha^ain who had maintained 
' him at the Schools of Parrs by the Bale of holy 
'water, qtitstu aquM lentdiett ,■ — to this good 
'cbap^iti he did give a vicarage, adequate to the 

* comfortable sustenance of him.' ' The Son of i 
' Elias too, that is, 6f old Abbot Hugo's Cup- 

* bearer, coming to do homage for his Father's lairi, 
•our Lord Abbot aaid to hrm in fiill Court: "I 
' have, for these seven years, put off taking thy 

' homage for the land which Abbot Hugdi gave ihy 1 
' Father, because that gift was to the damage of 

* Ebnswell, and a questionable one : but now I 



THE ABBOTS WATS 119 

'must proiesa myself overcome j mindiiil of the TbeRe- 
' kiodnesi thy Father did me when I ww m ••■rf"' 
< bonds ; beouie be aent me a cop of the Tcrjr ^^^?^ 
' wine hb matter had beea drnkiag, and bade me 
'be comforted in God." ' 

'To Magister Wdier, sod of M)^;iner William 
' de Dice, who wanted the vicarage of Cherii^ton,' 
'he answered : *' Thy Father waa Master of the 
'Schools; and whea I was an indigent elerkm, 
' be granted me f re ely and lu charity an enuaDce to 
'hit School, aaA opportunity of Icarnii^ ; where- 
' fore I now, ibr the nke of God, graxt to thee 
' vhat thou asltesL" ' Or tastly, take tUs good 
instance, — and a ^impae, along Wkh it, into loi^- 
obwlete dim: 'Two Mibit of Riaby, Wtllelm 
'and Norman, being adjudged in Court to come 
'under bis meter, in nutruvrdim rjut,' fbr a certain 
vcrj considcraye fine of twenty ibillhigs, 'he 
'tinitaddressedthempublicly OQthespot: "When 
' I was a Cloister-monk, I was onoe seat to Durham 
'on buainesB of mir Chm'ch ; and coming hotne 
'igain, the dark night caagbt me at Risfay, and I 
' had to beg » lodgii^ there. I went to Domdhibs 
'Norman's, and lie gave me a flat t«fwal. Going 
'tfaen lo Domiiraa WiUebnX and beg^ng hoipi- 
'taKty, I was by him honourably received. The 
'twen^ shillings therefore of vrcj, I, whhont 
'iDcrcy, will exact from Domimis NoriBan; 1» 
'Dominns WilldiBr on the other hand, I, with 
'thanks, will wholly remit the raid •am." ' Men 
bow not always to whom they refiiK lodgings ( 
DKn have lodged Angds onawares 1 — 

It is dear Abbot Samson had a talent ; he h>d 
leatned to judge better tbm Lawyers^ ta manage 



lao II THE ANCIENT HONK 

Abbot better than bred BailiiF* : — a talent Bhtnmg out ^ 

Samoa ia^tpatMe, on wtHterer ride you took him. - 

* Jo^{e I j^ eloquent man he wa»,' says Jocelin, ' both in 

■ French and Latin; bnt intent more on the sub- 

' stance and method of what was to be uidi^tban 

' on the ornamental way cf saying it. He could 

* lead English Manuscripts Tery elegantly, ekgaa- 
*lujiine: be was wont to preach to the people in 

* tbe English tongue, though according to the 

* dialect of Norfolk, where he had been brought 
'up; wherefore indeed he bad caused a Pulpit to 

* be erected in our Cbnrch both for ornament of 
' the tame, and for the use of his audiences.' 
There preached he, according to the dialect of 
Mmfoik i a man worth going to bear. 

That be was a just clear-hearted man, this, as 
the basis of all true talent, is presupposed. How 
CHI a mao, without clear vision in hia heart firat of 
all, have any clear visioD in the head ? It is im- 
poBsible 1 Abbot Samson was one of the justeK of 
judges ; insisted on nnderstaodii^ the case to the 
bottom, and then swiftly decided withoat feud or 
bwvat. For which reason, indeed, the Dominus 
Rex, searching for such nien, as for hidden treasure 
and healing to his distressed realm, had made him 
one of the new Itinerant Judges, — such as continue 
to this day. " My curie on that Abbot's court," 
a suitor was heard imprecating, " Maic£iita jil 
curia ittiui jibbaiii, where iKither gold nor alv« 
can help me to confound my enemy ! " And old 
friendships and all connexions forgotten, when you 
go to seek an <^ce fitnu-him ! " A kinleas loon," 
at the Scotch said of Cromwell's new jodges.T— 
latent on mere indiJFerent fair-play ! 

Eioqoence in three languages is good ; but it it 

1 



THE ABBOT'S WAYS m 

not the bat. To tu, as already hJDted, the Lord El»- 
Abbot's eloquence is less admirable than his in- 9"^* 
eloquence, bis great invaluable ' talent of silence ' ! Zf^'^ 
'"lyau, Dcttj," said the Lord Abbot to me gji^gg 
'once, when' he heard the Convent were murmuring 
' at eome act of his, " I have much need to remember 
' that Dream they bad of me, that I was to rage 
' among them like a wolf. Above all earthly things 
' I dread their driving me to do it. How much 
'do I hold in, and wink at ; raging and shudderbg 
' in my own eecret mind) and not outwardly at all ! " 
'He would boast to me at other times: "This 
' and that I have seen, this and that I have heard ; 
';et patiently . stood it." He had this way, too, 
'which I have never seen in any other man, that he 
'affectiouately loved many persons to whom he 
'never or hardly ever showed a countenance of 
'love. Once on my venturing to expostulate with 
' hiffl on the subject, he reminded me of- Solomon : 
' " Muiy sons I have ; it is not fit that I should 
'smile on them." He would suffer faults, damage 
' from his servants, and know what he suffered, and 
' not speak of it ; but I think the reason was, he 
' waited a good time for speaking of it, and in ■ 
'vise way amending it. He intimated, openly in 
'chapter to us all, that he would have no eaves- 
' dropping: "Let none," said he, '*come to me 
' Kcretly accusing another, unless he will publicly 
' nand to the same ; if he come otherwise, I will 
' openly proclaim the name of him. I wish, too, 
'that every Monk of you have free access to me, 
'to speak of your needs or . grievances when you 
'will" ' 

The kinds of people Abbot Samson liked worst 
Were these three! ' Mendacet,ebrioii,vtrboji, Liars, 



i» II THE ANCIENT HONK 

The dronkarrf* and wordy or wftidy perBone ; '— 
AMpo^b good khidB, any of them ! He dao much coo-~ 
^^ demned * persons given to murmur at their meal or 
drink, especrally Monks of that disposition.' We 
reftiarl, rtom the rery first, his strict anxious order 
' to his servants to pronde handsomely for hospital- 
ity, to guard ' aboTe all things that there be im 

* (habbiness ia the matter of meat and drink j no 
•look of mean paraftnony, h namtate med, at the 
'begiiraing of my Abbotship ; ' and to the jast he 
maintains a due opulence of table and eqtupment 
fat others ; but he is himself in the highest degree 
imfrf^ent to alT snch diings. 

•Sweet milk, honey and other natttrally sweet 
*kinds of food, were what he preferred to eat ; bui 
•he had tftis tirtne,' says Jortlin, 'he never 
•changed the dhh' [ftraduin) you set befbri him, 
•be what it might. Once when I, still a novice, 
' happened to be w ai t ing table in the refectory, it 
•came into my head ' (rogue that I was !) *to try 

* if this were true j and' I thought I would place 
•before him a firculum that 'wodd have displeased 
' any other wrson, the very platter being black and 
' broken. But he, seeing it, was as cme that saw 

* it not : and now some little delay taking place, my 
' heart smote me that I had done this ; aitd so, 
' enatching up the platter (duciu), I changed both 
'it and its contents tor a better, and put down that 
' instead ; which emeadauon he was angry at, and 
' rebuked me for,' — the stoical monastic man ! * For 
'the first seven years' he had commonly four sorts 
*of dishes on his table; afterwards only three, 

* except it might be presents, or venison from his 
'own parlis, or fishes from his poods. And if, at 

* any time, iie had guests Irving in his house at the 



THE ABBOTS WAYS 113 

'reqHMt of Mine great peraoa, ir of some friendt The 
''or had public meBsengers, or had harpcra [citiara- Abbot's 
•ihi),or any one of that sort, he took the fim^*"**" 
'opportwiity of ghiititig to another of hit Manor- 
' houses and go got rid of such raperflnocn mdf- 
'iidnal»,'i— Tcry prudently, I think. 

Ai to Ml parkt, of these, in die general repair of 
buildiaga, general improvetnent and adornment 0) 
the 5c Ednnrad Domaini, < he had laid out tereral, 
'and stocked them with animals, retainiiig a proper 
" '"■ ■ ' ' ■'■ „t of „, 



I *ith honndt : and, if ainr guest of great 

'ijuaKly were there, our Lord Abbot with his 
' Monks would rit in aomc opening of the woods, 
' nid see the dogs run i but he himself oenT 
'meddled with hunting, that I saw.'' 

' In an opening of the woods t ' — for the country 
vai stilJ dark, with wood in those days ; and Scot-. 
land itself etill rustled ih^gy and leafy, like a damp 
black American Forest, with cleared spots and 
ipaces here aaJ there. IJryasdust advance* several 
absurd hypotheses as to the insensible but almost 
total ifisappearance of these woods ; the thick 
week of which now Kes as feM, sbmetimes with 
hoge hean-of-oak timber-Ibgs imbedded in it, on 
many a h^ght and hottow. The simplest reason 
doubtless w, that bv increaBC of husbandry, there 
Ku increase of cattR ; increase of hunger for green 
■pring food; and so, more and more, the netv 
seedlings got yearly eaten out in April \ and the 
old tree^ having only a certain length of life in 
them, died gradually, no man heeding it, and dis- 
appeared hito peal, 

A Sorrowful waste of noble wood and umb-age ! 

' Jtdiiu CMnmiia, p. ]l. * Ibid. p. SI, 



114 11 THE ANCIENT HONK 

Peat- Ves, — but a taj conuiHU one ; the coutk of . 
motui' nuwt thiiigi in this world. MoiuchiMn itself, eo' 
f^""" rich ^nd fruitful once, ii now all rotted into fiat ; • 
liei ileek and buried, — and a most feeble bo£-gras8 of 
PilettaDtism all the crop we reap from it 1 That 
also wa« iiightfiil waste ; perhaps among the saddest 
our England ever uw. Why will men destro; 
noble Forests, even when in part a auiaance, in . 
•Dch reckless manner ; turning loose fbur-footed 
cattle and Henry-the-Eighth* into them ! THe 
£fth part of our English soil, Dryasdust computes, 
lay consecrated to ' spiritual uses,' better or worse ; 
solemnly set apart to foster spiritual gt:owth and 
culture of the soul, by the methods then koowti : 
and now — it too, like the four-fifths, fosters what \ i 
Gentle shepherd, tell me what I 



abaptet t\\: 

THE abbot's TaOUBLU 

THE troubles of Abbot Samson, as he weut 
along in this abstemious, reticent, rigorous 
way, were more than tongue can tell. The Abbot'i 
mitre once set op his head, he knew rest no more. 
Double, double toil and trouble ; that is the life of : 
all governors that really govern : not the spoil of- 
victory, only the glorious toil of battle can be theirs. 
Abbot Samson found all men more or less bead- 
strong, irrational, prone to disorder ; continually 
threatening to prove HRgovemable. 

His lazy Monks gave him most trouble. ' My 
< heart is tortured,' said he, ' till we get out of debt, 
' cor meum enicialum at' Your heart, indeed ; 



THE> ABBOTS TROUBLES i>l 

—bat Dot altogether ours ! B^ no devinbte A Wo»- 
itwthod, or none of three or four that he deriaed, tn^ 
could Abbot Sanuon get the*e Moaks of his to ^'^'x** 
icep their accouDts straight ; bat always, do is he 
might, the Cellerarius at the end of Uie term is in 
a coil, in a flat defi city— verging again towards debt 
and Jewi. The Lord Abbot at last declare* 
stenily he will keep onr accoonti too himself; will 
appoiot an officer of his own to see our Cellerariu 
ketp them. Murmurs tbereapoti among o* ; Wu 
the like erer heard i Our Ccilerariti* a cipher j 
the very Towotfolk know it ; laiitmnalh tt deruio 
mmi, we have become a laughingstock to maii- 
kitkd. The Norfolk barrator and paltener 1 

And consider, if the Abbot found such difficulty 
in the mere ecomonic department, how much in 
more complex ones, in s|Hritual ones perhaps ! He 
(rears a slam calm ftce ; raging and gnawing teeth, 
frfmeiu and frtitJem, many times, in thC' Mcret of 
hij mind. Withal, however, there is a noble slow 
persererance in him ; a strength of * subdued rage ' 
calculated to subdue most ^iogs ; always, in the 
long-run, he contrives to gain his pcnnt. 

Murmurs from tlie Monks, meanwhile, cannot 
f^ ; ever de^r murmurs, new grudges accumu- 
latiog. At one time, on slight cause, some drop 
'makbg the cup run over, they burst fUta open 
mutiny : the Cellarer will not obey, prefers arrest 
on bread-and-water to obeying ; the Monks there- 
Dpott strike work ; refiiM to do the regular chanting 
o{ the day, at least the younger part of them with 
loud clamour and uproar refuse: — Abbot SamMn 
bu withdrawn to another residence, acting only by 
meiaengers ; the awful report circulates through St. 



f*« II THE ANC3BHT MONK 

HfiwttiM EdmmdihoTj that the Abbot is in danger of bnog ^ 
AbW murdeml by the Monlu witi their luuvn ! How" 
•^ will tliou ippease diia, Atfcot Samsoa ! Rettini ; 
dilBciil- ^ ^ Monastery seans near catching fire I 

ties Abbot Samson rttuiaa ; lits ia hie T^inniif, or 
uaer room, hufis otx a belt ec two of excantnuni- 
ckUon : lo, one disobedient Monk lits .in limbo, 
exeoronunicttBd, wiA fbot-ihaeklet at him, all 
day ; and tfaree nore our Abbot hai gyred ■ witb 
the lewec Hstence, to strike feu into the otbers ' ! 
Let the otben thhik with wboin they hare to da 
The others think ; and iear enters inU them. ' On 

• the raottttw morning we decide. on hiunUiDg our- 
' selves before the Abbot, by word and gesture, in 
■order ta nuiigau hii miad. And so accordingly 
f wai dcoie, . . He, <m the other side, replying with 

* much buDultty, y«t always aliegiog his own juKice 
1 and turniDg the blaow on ua, when be sow that we 
' were conquered, became htmsetf conquered. And 
'bursting into tears, ftrfimu lacirjrmt, he awore 
' that he had.neTer gnered so much for anything in 
' the world as for this, firu on his own account, 
■and then secondly and cfiiefly 6a the public 
' scandal which had gone abroad, that St. Edmund's 
■Monks were gtmig to kill their Abbot. And 
' when he had nairated how . he went away on 
'putpoK till his anger ebould cool, repeating this 
<¥rard of the philmopher,. '■! would have taken 
' mageaace on thee, 1^ not 1 been angry," he 
■ arose weeping, and emlH^ced each and all of na 
' with the kise of peace. He wept ; we all wept: ' 
— what a ^ctare ! Behave better, ye reniist 
Monks, and thank Heavm for soch as Abbot; 
or know at least that ye must and shall obey him. 

' Jacelini Cirailra, p. gj. 



THE kEBOTS "ntOUBLBS tt? 

Worn down b this maDiier, mtk kceiuBt toil A Hum- 
'and tribulation, Abbot Samaon had a sore time of Ue Tfi- 
it ; his grizded hair and beard grew daily Vytx- ^'^ 
Tlioae Jews, in the firat fbor^wn, had fYiMy 
emaciated him : ' Time^ Jews, md the talk of 
Goveraing, wifl. make a dud'i heard venr ffmfi 
'In twehe yeaa,' saya Jocelii^ 'oiir Lord Ahbot 
'had grcnvn wholly white aa snow, tehu ^ribm 
^alka AcBl aix.' White atop, Jike the granite 
muptaba: — hot hia ckar-beaming eyea oiU look 
out, m their Sern dearneti, m their somiw 
lod pi^; the heart wi^ia hhn Kmaim ub- 

Nay aovetinwt there ue gleama of h^arity too ; 
little notches of MconcagEment granted wren to a 
GocemcH'. ' Once my Lord Abbot and I, coming 
'down from Londoa through the Forest, I inmiired 
'of an old wooaan whom we come up to, WfaoM 
' wood tttia wasi and. of what manor ; who the 
' matter, who the keeper i ' — All tkaa I knew wry 
veil befoEciiand, and my Lord Abbot too, Boezy 
tkt I wae J But 'the old woman anaweced, The 
'woodbeloQgedtodienew Abbotof St. Edmund's, 
'vit of the manor of Harlow, and the kce^ of 
'it waa one Arnald. How did he behave to tkt 
' people of fbt manor i I asked &rther> She 
'answered that he used to 'be a denl iocaiauK, 
"tUmea tMvut, an enemy of God, and flayer Of the 
'peasants' skins,'— skinning them like l»e eels, a* 
the. manner of.sdme i»: ■' bat dut now htb dreadk 
'the new Abbot, koqwing him to be'ft'wiae and 
'sharp m^, and' so treata Ae people rwaonahiy, 
'tractaS hm^t fxxfte.' Whereat the Lwd Abbot 
factat ett iiiarii,-''^iMi'i not hut take a mumpham 
laugh for himself; and determines to leave 



tit II THE ANCIENT HONK 

A that Harlow taaaor yet luutieddlcd with, for ft 
Roland whik.* i 

^'^ A brave man, (trcDiioady fightingi fails not of a 
little triumpb oow -and then, to keep him in heart 
Everywhere we try at least to give the adveriarj ax 
good as be brings ; and, with awift force or ilow 
watchful maniEUvre, extinguish this and the other 
■oleciun, leave one soleciun lees in God's Crcaticm ; I 
and ao proead with our battle, not slacken or 
surrender in it ! The Fifty fieudal Knighta, for 
example, were of unjust greedy temper, and cheated 
ua, in the Installauon-day, of ten luiights'-fiKa ; — 
but they know now wheUier that has profited them 
aught, and I JoceHn know. Our Lord Abbot 
for the nHMnent had to endure it, and say nothing ; 
but be watched his time. I 

Look also how .my Lord of Clare, coming to | 
dum his undue 'debt' in the Court of Witham, 
with barons and apparatus, geti a Roland for his 
Oliver! Jocelin •ball repon : ' The Earl, crowded 
'ronod Icoiu^atut) with many barons and men-at- 
'armt, Earl Alberic -and others standing by him, 
' said, <* That his bailiffs had given him to under- . 

* stand they were wont annually to receive tor his i 
' behoof^ from the Hundred of Riaebridgc and the 
'bailiffs thereof, a sum of five shillings, which sum 

■ was now unjustly held back ; " and he alleged 

* farther that his predecessors had been infeft, at the- 1 
■Conquest, in the lands of Alfric son of Wisgar, ' 
' who was Lord of that Hundred, ai may be read 

< in Doomsday Book by all persons, — The Abbot, ! 
' reflecting for a moment, without sUriisg from his 

* place, made answer : " A wondNfiil deficit, mj 
'Lord Earl, this that thou meotioneat! King 

■ JtaBmi CImmca, p. 14. 

I 



THE ABBO-rS TROUBLES 119 

' EdwU'd gave to St. Edmund that entire Hundred, S 
'and confirmed the Eame with hia Chanec ; d<x u Q 

* there any mention tbeie of those fire (hillings. . It 
' will behove thee to say, for what lervice, or on 

* what ground, thou exacteit those five shillings." 
' Whereupcm the Earl, consulting with tia followers, 
'replied. That he hsd to carry the Baaoer of Sl 
' Edmund in war-tisie, and' for this duty the five 
' shillings were Ina. To which the AUmk i 
' " Certain^, it leeroi uglorioos, if bo great a nui^ 

* Earl of Clare no kn, receive so small a gift for 
'such a eernce. To the Ablutof St. Edmund's 
'it is no unbearable burden to give five ahilliog*. 
' But Roger Earl Bigot holds himself duly seiied, 
' and aSKTts that he by such seisin has the office of 
' carrying Sl Edmund's Banner ; and he did carry 
'it when the Earl of Leicester and his Flemings- 

* were beaten at Fortiham. Then again fhoniai 
'de Meodham sayi that the right ia his. When 
'yon have made out with one another, that this 
■right is thine, come then and claim the five 
'shillings, «nd X will ptotnftly pay th«B! '*' 
'Whereupon the Earl said. He would ^ak vitb 
' Earl Roger his relative ; and so the matter ccpil 
' Slationem,' aoi lies undecided to the end of ike 
world. Abbot Samson answers by word or act} 
in this or the like pregnant maufier, having, jintice 
on his tide, innumerable persons: Pope's Legates,. 
King's Viscounts, Canterbury Archbishops, Cellarers, 
Sochaaanm ; — and leaves many a solecism .ex» 
tinguished. 

On the whole, however, it. ia and remains soie 
work. ' One time, during my chaplaincy, I *en- 
' tured to say to.him: "ZWr'iw, Iheard thee, this 

* night after matins, wakeful, and sighing deeply, 



ijo II .THE AHCIEHT HONK 

J ' v^dt nu^raattm, contrary to thy omul worn." s 

im < He ■Dswered : " No wonder. Thou, mo Jocelin, 

*(bareat in my good thingi, in food and drink, in 

< riding and luchHke ; but thov little thtokett con- 

< carniiig the managemcBt of HouM tnd Family, 
' the varioua and arduoua bnnnessc* of Ae Pastora! 

* Care, wbidi haraM me, and make my «oul to sigfa 
■and be anxiow." Whereto I, lifung up my 
■JiHida to Heaven: "From sacb anxiety, Omni- 

< potent mercifiil Lord deliver me ! " — I have 
<beard tbe Abbot ny, If be bad been as he vas 

< befixe he became a Monk, and couid have any- 

< where got 6Te or ax marcs of income,' aome 
three-ponnd ten of yearly revenne, * whereby to 
'support himself in the schools, fae would never 
■ have been Monk nor Abbot. Anotba time he 
<8atd with an oath. If he had known whaCabudnesB 
'it wai to govern the Abbey, he wo<dd rather have 
' been Almtmer, bow much rather Keeper of the 
' Books, than Abbot and Lord. That latter office 
*he said ke had always longed for, beyond any 
'odier. Qtiit taUa credtret?' conclndes Jocelin, 

• Who can believe such tfainga f ' 

Three-pound ten, and a life of Litcratnre, 
especially of qiuet Literature, without copyright, 
or wtvld-celebrity (^ (itarxry-gazettes, — yes, thou 
brave Abbot Samson, for thyself it had been better, 
easier, perhapc also nobler ! fint then, for tliy dis- 
obedient Monks, unjust Viscounts g for a Domain 
of St. Edmund overgrown with Solecisms, human 
and other, it had not been ao well. Nay neither 
could thy Literature, never so quiet, have lieen easy. 
Literature, whei^ treble, is not easy \ but only when 
ignoble. Literature too ia a quarrel, and int 
cine duel, with the whde World of Darknc 



- tn PARUAHENT ijt 

^licB without Doe and withia one; — railur a hard i| 
fight at tiraes, tvea witfa the three-pound Een kcuk. £ 
Thou, there where tbeu art, wiestle and duel along, J 
cheerfiiUy lo the end ; and make no reioM-ks ! " 



IK FAKLtAMEMT 

OF Abbot rSaoaBoo's p^lic busiaeM we my 
Stde, though that also wat greaL He had 
to judge tbe people w Justice Erraot, to decide b 
weighty arbltrationa and public concrovcrBes ; to 
equip bia miRta, Bend them duly in war-time to the 
King; — Mrive every way that die Commoawed, in 
hi* quarter of it, take no damage. 

Once, ia the coniiised days of L^cklaiid'«.-anir|>< 
ation, whila ' Cow- de- Lion was away, our brsre 
Abbot took helmet bimtelf, having 6r9t.excot(unuiu- 
cated aJl that &hoLld favour Lackland; and led his 
men in person to the siege of WinJkthora, what we 
now call Windsor ; where Lackland had en- 
trenched himself, .the centre of infinite conAisiont ; 
some Refonn Bill, then aa now, being greatly 
needed. Then; did Abbot Samson ' fight the battle 
of reform,' — with other ammunition, cwc hopes, 
than * iremeEidous cheering' and suchlike! For 
these things he was called ' 'the magtianimous 
Abbot.' 

He. also attended dulyin his place in Parliament 
Jc ardiiit regni ; attended especially, as in arduiiiimo, 
when ' the news reached London that King Ricfaard 
' was a captive in Gwmany.' Here ' while all the 
' barons sat to consult,' and many of them looked 



tl* II THE ANCIENT HONK 

An Im- blank enough, ■ tbe Abbot started fanh, pnu^ < 
0Dni < coram tnrniut, in bis place in Parliament, aod sud, ' 
^^^<That be wu ready to go and aeek hti Lord the 
*^^^ ' Kingi rither ciaiKlestiiiely by iobterfiige (in tafi- 
' luigio) , or by any other method ; and search till he 

* founcl him, and got cert^n notice of him ; he for 

* one 1 By which word,' aay> Jocelin, ' he acqwreJ 

* great praise for himself,' — unfeigned conunendattDa 
from the Able Editon of that age. , 

By which word ; — and alio by which dreiit for 
tbe AitboC actnally went •with rich gifts to tbe 
King in Germany ; ' ^ Usurper Lackland being 
first rooted out from Windsor, and tbe King's 
peace aomewhat settled. 

A* to these *nch gifts,* howerer, we hare to { 
note one thiog : Id all England, as speared to the 
Collec^e Wisdom, there was not like to be treasnre 
enough Sot ransoming King ilichard | in which 
extremity certain Lords of the Treasury, Jutikuvi 
ad Scaecarium, snggeated that Si. Edm^uvl's Shrine, 
covered with thick gold, was still untouched. Could 
not it, in this extremity, be peded x>S, at ]ea«t in 
part; under condition, of eourte, of its being re- 
placed when time* mended ^ The Abbot, starting ' 
plumb up, ic rrigenif answered : " Know ye Air 
certain, diat I will in nowise do thia thing ; nor is 
there any man who could force me to consent 
thereto. But I will open the doon of the Church : 
Let him that likes enter ; let bim that dares come 
forward!" Emphatic words, whidi created a 
sensation round the woolsack. For the Justiciarie) 
of the Scaccarium answered, ' with oaths, each for 
•ItinMelf: "I won't come forward, for my ihare; 

' Jpalini Chmnia, pp. JJ, 40 



HENRY OR ESSB3E ijj 

-'nor will I, nor I! Tbe diuant and abtentwho How 
'offended biro. Saint Ednuud has been luio#n 
' punish fearfully ; much more will he ihcMe close TT 
' by, who lay violeiit hasds ,on b» coat, and would 
'strip it off!" TheK thing* being wid, the 
■Shrine was noc meddled with, nor any ransom 
'levied for iu'^ 

Fw Lqrdi of the Treasury faaye inall timet 
thtii impassable limits, be it by * force <^ poUic 
ojHnion' or otherwl^; and in tbose days a heavenly 
Awe oTcrsbadowed and- .encooapuwd, as it still 
ought aad fflu«t,'all earthly Bosinen whattoerer. 



OF St. Edmund's fearful avengements have they 
not the remarkablest instance still before 
their eyes v' He thu will go to Reading Monastery 
may 6nd there, now toosured into a mournrul . peni- 
tent Monk, the oDce proud Henry Earl of Essex ; 
and discern how St. Edmund punishes tei:ibly, yet 
with mercy ! This Narrative is too eignificant to 
be omitted ae a document of the Time. Our Lord 
Abbot, oote on a visit at Reading, heard the 
particulars from Henry's own mouth ; and ihercj 
upon charged one of his monks to write it down ; — 
as accordingly the Monk has done, in ambitious 
rhetorical Latin; inserting the'same, as episode, 
among Jocelin's garrulous leaves. Read it here ; 
with ancient yet with modern eyes. 
> Jxctim C/irmia, p. 71. 

.Google 



IJ4 II THE ANCIENT HONK | 

gats Hmry Earl of E«sex, tuad aid-bearer of England, ^ 
^had b^h places and Moelunienu; had a haughty j 

"" high Bwl, yet widi' various flaw«, OF rathN with ooe ' 
mai^tffBDcbed flsw md crack, nmoiTig through the 
tEKtwe of it. For example, did he not treat 
Giilbtn de Cereville ia the most shocking manner '. 
He cast Gilbert into prison ; and, with chains and i 
■knr tormenu, war* the life out of fatih tb'ere. I 
And Gilbert's crnlic was understood to be only 
that of innooest Joseph : the Lady Essex was a 
Potitdiar's Wife, and had accused poor- Gilbert! 
Other 'Cracks, and branches of that widespread 
flaw in the Standard-bearer's soul we could point 
out ; but indeed the main stem and trunk of all 
is too visible in this. That he had no right reverence . 
for the Heavenly in Man,-^ — that far ftcmi showing 
due reverence to St. Edmund, he did not even show 
him common justice. While others in the Eastern | 
Ccnuities were adorning and enlarging with nch gifts 
Sl Edmund's reeting-ptace, which had become a 
city of refuge for many things, this Earl of Essex 
flatly defrauded him, by violence or (juirk .of law, of 
dye shillings yearly, and converted said sum to his 
own poor uces ! Nay, in another caee of litigation, 
the unjoGt Standard-bearer, for his owp pro£t, I 
asserting that the cause belonged not to St. - 
Edmund's Court, but to Ut in Lailand Hundred, 
* involved us in travellings and innumerable expenses, I 
'vexing the servants of St. Edmund for a long 
' tract of time.' In short, he is without reverence , 
ibr the Heavenly, this Standard-bearer ; reveres 
only the Earthly, Gold-coined ; and has a most 
mortud lamentable flaw in the texture of him. It 
cannot come to good. 

Accordingly, the same flaw, or St.-Vitus' lie. 



HENRY Om ESSEK 

manifeKa. iuelf ere kiog in another way. 
year 11$;. be weat vith hu Sundud to attend af^- 
King Heory, our bleased Sovereagn (whoni «w raw ^Jo? 
BfterwardB at Waltham), m his War with the J^^" 
Welsh. A someVhat dtsastroBi War ; in which 
while King Heory a&d his fiwce were straggling to 
retreat Par^iio^like, eodleu clauda of exaiperited 
Welthmeo hemming then ia^ and now wc had 
come to the 'difficult pass of Coleshill,' and as it 
were to tbp nick of deatniotiofV — Heory Earl of 
EsMK sbneks witOD a sodden (tjinded doobtlegaby 
bis imier daw, or. 'evil gedus' aa some name ity, 
Tliat King Heory ia killed. That all is lott,-~«Bd 
Singa dovfo hit Scaadard to skift for itself there ! 
And, cenaiidy eoou^, all iad been loit, had aH 
men been as he i-r-lMd not brave men, wittmut nich 
miserable jerki^ lic-AuhureuK in the soula of theai, 
cone daabiag up, .with blazing sworda and loak^ 
aod asKTted, That DOthiDg wia loit yet, that all 
raoBt be regaitted yet. In tbia manner King Henry 
and hJB force got s^ely retreated, Parthiim-like, 
from the pase of Coleshill and the Welsh War.> 
But, once home again, Earl Robert de Montftut, a 
kimmui- of this Staadard-bearer'a, risea a|> in the 
King's Ajwembly to declare openly that such i 
man ii ugfit for bearing English StandanlB, being 
in fact either a special traitor, or lomechiiq almost 
worse, a coward namely, or uniiersal tiaitoT. Wager 
of Battle in consequence ; nienni Ddel, by the 
King's appointnieat, 'in a certain Island of the 
' Tlunes-streao) at Reading, .'oftw^ RaiSngai, short 
'way trom the Abbey there.' King, Peers, and 
SD iflunense mnltitttde of people, on Bn<^ scatFold* 
ings and heights as they can come at, are gathered 

> See LTtulton's ifory //. ii. 384. 

Cugle 



tj« II THE AHCIEHT UONK 

w round, to tee what unt die bniiiKN will take. "^ 

K The busiiieM tikea tins bad inue, m ogr Monk't | 

" own woedi iaitbfblly rendo'ed : 1 

I'l * And it came to paw, while Robert de Mcmtfbrt 

'tbnndeml on him manAilly (•viriSter inloitdttel) 

' with hard and frettneiit nrakcs, and a vaJiam be- 

'giimii^ promiied the ihiit of lictcHy, Heivy of 

'Essex, rather giving way, glanced ronnd on lU 

*aide«; and lo, at the rim of the horizon, on the 

< confines of the River and land, he disceraed the 
*glarion* King and Mattyr Ednmnd, in sbining 

* annonr, rod a* if hovering in the air ; looking 

* towaids.htm with severe coonteoaDce, nodding his 

■ bead widi a miea and motion of auMcre aoger. 
*At St. Edmnnd's hand there stood also another 

* Knight, Gilbert de CcreviHe, whose armoor was ' 

< not so splendid, whose stature was less gigantic ; 

* casting vengeful looks at him. This he seeing 

■ with hb eyes, remembered that old crime bringi 
*new shame. And now wholly desperate, and 
' changing reason into violence, he took the part 

* of one blindly attacking, not skilftdly defending. 
'Who while he struck fiercely was more fiercely 
' struck [ and so, in short,- fell down vanquished, 

< and- it was tbooght slain. As he lay there for 
' dead, his kinsmen. Magnates of England, beaooght 
■the King, that the Monks of Reading might have 

* leave to bury him. However, he [m>ved not to 

< be dead, bat got well again among them ; and now, 
' with recovered health, assuming the Regular 

* Habit, he strove to wipe out the stain of his 

* former life, to cleanse the long week of his dissolute 
' history by at least * purifying sabbath, and cultivate 
' the studies of Virtue into fruits of eternal Felicity.' * 

* Jialimi Cirmla, p. 5> 



HENRY OF ESSEX 137 

Thus does the CoDscieace of tnad {H'oject itself Trides 
athwart whatsoerw of knowledge or BurmiM, ofofCoti- 
imaginatiDti, underatauding, faculty, acqutrement, or •™*'^ 
natural diEpoaition, he ha* in h!m ) aod, like light 
throt^h coloured gioM, paint scraBge pictareg ' od ' 
the tini of the horizon' and elsewbere! Truly, this 
same ' seose of the Infimte nalure of Duty ' is the 
central part of all with us ; a ray as of Eternity 
and Immortality, immured in dusky many- coloured 
Time, and its deaths and birtha. Your ' coloured 
glass ' varies so msch from ceotnry<to century ;— 
and, in cetuun moDey-makiDg, game-preserving 
it gets so terribly opaque ! Not a Heaveo 



with cherubim surrounds you then, but a kind of 
vacant leaden-coloured Hell. One day it will 
again cease to be ofmpie, this * coloured glass.' Nay, 
may it not become at once translucent and uncolour- 
ed f Fainting no Pictures rbore for us, but only the 
everlasting Azure itself f That will be a right glorious 
consummation ! — 

Saint Edmund from the horizon's ei^e, in shining 
armour, threatening the misdoCr in his hour of 
extrerne need : it is beantifid, it is great and true. 
So old, yet so modem, actual; true yet for every 
one of us, as for Henry the Earl and Monk I A 
glimpse OS of the Deepest in Man's Destiiiy, which 
is the BiUne for all limes and ages. Yes, Henry my 
brother, there in' thy extreme n6ed, thy soni is lamedf 
and behold thou canst not so much as £ght j For 
Justice and Reverence are the everlasting central 
Law of this Universe; and to forget them, and 
have all the Universe agunst one, God and one's 
own Self for enemiee, and only the Devil and the 
Dragons for friends, is not tl»t a < lameness ' tike 
tew.' Thqt some shinmg armed St. Edmund hang 



>3i II THB ANcienr monk 

H«wriimtory OD thy liarizon,^at ialSoilB ndphnt-lakes % 

St Ed- hfug nuoatory, or do not Dow hang, — this alters no 

s!^ie ^^'^ ^ eternal bet of the thing. I Bay, thy bodI 

^g^g u lamed, and (hf God aiuLall Godlike in it marred : 

S«Ted lanwd, paralytic, tending towards baleful eternal 

death, whether thou know it or not( — nay hadst 

thou nner kDown it, tbat surety had been worm of 

all!-. 

T1)U(| at any rate, by the heavenly Awe that 
(trerdiadowi earthly fiuaioBs^ does Samson, readily 
in these days 'fsve St. Edtouad't Shrioe, and 
innumerable «(ill pkoice pfecioiu things. 



nuencu^MTontwAL 

HERE indeed, by rule of aatagonisiDs, may be 
the place to mention that, *hvc King 
Ricl^ard't return, there was ^ liberty of bourneyiDg 
^ven to the lighune^nen of England i that -, 
Tournament was prodair 



It was prooaimed in the Abbot's dottuin, 
* between Thetford and St. Edmutidsbury,' — perhaps 
in the Eustoa regioq, on Fakeaham freights, mid- 
way between these tv{0 locatitiea : that it was 
publidy pcghibited by our Lord A[f)>>>t ; and Qcrer- 
thetes* >vae held iQ«pit^of him, — and by theparties, 
as would leem, considered ' a gentle md free passage 
of-rmB.' 

Nay, next year, there came to the same spoC 
f(Hir-:uid -twenty young men, sons of Noblea, for 
another passage of arms ; - who, having ccMspleted 
the same, all rode into St. Edmundsbury to lodge 



PRACTICAt DSVOTIONAL 13) 

for the nigbt. Here is modesty J OvLord Abbot, The ^ 

being instructed of it, ordered the Gates to be Abbot 

closed; the wbdc party ifaot in. The morrow Sl^ 

was the VigU of the Apostles Peter aad Pad ; no '*'•**" 

outgate oa the morroWt Giring ihetr promiw rot 

to depart without permimoii, those lour- and •twenty 

young blood* dieted bJ( that day (mandueavinwt) 

with the Lond Abbot, watting for tiia on the 

morrow. 'But aftn dinner,*'— mark it, pcwterity ! 

— ' the Lord Abbot retiring into his Ti^amiu, diey 

'all nvted 1^,' and began carollii^ atid sifiging 

' {canJart et contort); sending into the Town for 

' wine; drinking and afterwards howKng (u/uJ^M^)! 

' — totally defviving the Abbot and ConvcDt of their 

' afternoon's nap ) doing all this in derision of the 

'Lord Abbot, and spending in such fashion the 

< whole day till avenii^, nor would they deost .at 

'the Lord Abbot's order ! Ni^t coKdng ott, they 

' brake the bolts tii the Town-Gates, and went 

'irf by Tioleace I ' * Was the Hke ecer heard of* 

The roysterous young dogs ; carolling, howling, 

breaking the Lord Abbot's sleep, — after that rinful 

chiralry cockfight of theirs 1 They too are a foatme 

of diaunt centuries, as of near ones. St. fidmuod 

on the edge of your horizon, or whate^ else there, 

yOQDg scamps, in the dandy state, whedier cased in 

iron or in whalebone, begin to caper and carol on 

the green Earth I Our Loid Abbot esoommnoi* 

cated moat of them} and they gradually came ift for 

Exconvnunication is a great recipe with our Lord 
Abbot ; the pcevmling purifier in dioseages. ' Thus 
when the Townsfolk and Monka' menials <]uan«Ued 
eoce at the Christmas Mysteries in St. Edmund'l 

' Jtalim Cimdea, p. 40. 



■40 II THE AHCIBNT MONK 

The Cfanrcbyard, and ' from words it came to cuffs, and . 

Abbot from cwt to cnttiDg and the efFusion of blood,' — 

„^™ our Lord Abbot excommunicatet sixty of the 

*"^ riole^^ with be!), book and candle (aaeiuis camdt/u), 

at one itroke.' Whereupon they all come auppliant, 

indeed nearly naked, 'nothing on bat their breeches, 

< omBBio midifrtler/arioralia,aa<i prtxtrate thetiUclTei 

* at the Church-door.' Figure that i 

In Act, by eKCommimicatioa or perBuasion, by 
impetuosity of drivii^ or adroitaeaa in Isadii^ this 
Abbot, it is now becoming plain Kvajvhtn, ia a 
man that generally remaina maner at laat. - He 
tempera hia medicine to the malady, now bot,- now 
cool; jH^ent thoagh' fiery, an eminently pnctical 
man. Nay aometinKS in his adroit practice there . 
are swift tumi almoat of a aur]Hiaing nature I Once, I 
for example, it chanced that Geoffrey Rtddelt 
Biahop of Ely, a Prelate rather troubleaome ia our 
Abbot, made a request of him fx timber from his 
woods tovacds certain edilicea going on at Glems- 
ferd. The Abbot, a great builder himself, dis- 
liked the request; could not, howerer, give it a 
negatire. While he lay, therefore, at hia Manor- 
house of Melford not long after, there comes to ' 
faim one of the Lord fitihop's men or nxinks, with I 
a mesaage from- his Lordship, *' That he now I 
fagged permission to cut down the requisite trees in i 
Elmswwl Wood," — so said the mouk : Elmsica^ : 
where there ire so; trees' but scrubs and shroba, 
instead of Elmjrf, our true nemtii and higlKOFWcriog 
oak-wood, here on Melford Maitorl Elmawein 
The Lord Abbot, in surprise, inquires privily of 
Richard his Foreater; Richard answeta that my 
Lord of Ely haa already had hig earfaitara in Elm- 



. PRACTICAL-DEVOTIOMAL 141 

'sei, aod marked out for his own use all the best trees and A 
in the coropMs of it. Abbot Samion therenpoa ?*,■■'■''' 
iDswers the monk ; " Elmcwell X Ye» gurely, be ^^ 
it 3B my Lord Bishop wishei." The nicceisfid 
moak, on the morrow monang, haateoi home to 
Ely; but, OD the morrow moraing, 'directly after 
mass,' Abbot Samson too was busy 1 Tbe sac- 
cesflfi)! monk, arrniiig at Ely, is rated for a goose 
and an owl ; is M'dcred back to say that Ehnset was 
the place meant. Alas, on arririag at Elmiet, he 
Ends the Bishop's trees, they ' and a hundred more,' 
all felled and piled, and ^e stamp of St. Edmund's 
Mooastcry tHunt into them, — for roofing of the 
great tower we are building tliere ( Your imp<»tu- 
nate Bishop mu^ secit wood fac Giemafbrd edifices 
in some other nnuu than this. A practical Abbot 1 
We said withal there was a terrible flash of anger 
in him ; witness his address to old Herbert the 
Deant who in a too thrifty manner has erected a 
windiniil for himself on his glebe-lands at Haberdon- 
On the mUTOw, after mass, oar Lwd Abbot orders 
the CeUerariuB to send off bis carpenters to demolisb 
the said structure Jncvi manu, and lay up the wood 
in safe keeping. Old Dean Herbert, hearing what 
was toward, comes tottering along hither, to plead 
humbly for himself and his mill. The Abbot 
answers: "X am obliged to thee asif thonhadst cut 
oif both my ieet ! ^'^ God's face, per et Dti, I 
will not eat bread till that fabric be torn in pieces. 
Thou art an old man, and shouldst have kaown that 
nnther. the King nor his Justiciary, dare change 
aught withm the Liberties without coiksent of 
Abbot wd ConTCBt: and thou iiaat presumed on 
such a thing i I tell thee, it will net be without 
damage to my mills ; for the Townsfolk will go to 



t4* 11 THB AHCIBNT UONR ■ 

5 thy mi}l, and grind thcu* corn (iladum iuimi) at' • 
their own good pleasure; nor can I hinder them, since ' 
* they are free men. I will allow no new ihiIIb od 
anch principle. Away, away ; before thou getteA 
borne ^Mt, dioa shaJt tee what thy mill has grown 
tO'!"^ — The very rerereiid the old Dean toilers i 
home again, in all hatte ; tears the mill in pieces by , 
hii own carptntarii, to save at kait the timber ; and 
Abbot Samaon'jf workmen, coming up, find the 
ground aheady clear of it. 

Easy to bulIyKlown poor tAi rural Deans, and 
blow'their windmilEa away: bm who it ttaentan 
that dare abide King Richard's anger; CTOU the 
Lion in his po^h^ and laki hbn by tlie whiilcen! 
Abbot Sanisoi) too; he ia that rwq, with jutdce oa ' 
his side. The case was this, Adam dc Cokelield, 
one of the cbief fieodatoriea of St. Edmund, and a 
principal man in the Eastern Counties, died, leaving 
large possessions, and for heiress a daughter of three 
months;, who by clear law, as all men know, 
became thai Abbot Samson's wardt whom accord- 
bgly be proceeded to dispose of to snch person as 
(cefDed fittest. But now King Richard has another 
person in view, to whom the little ward and her 
great poaseesioDS were a suitable thing. He, by 
letter, requests that Abbot Samscm wiR ha?e the 
goodness to give her to this person. Abbot Samson, 
with deep humility, replies that she is already 
given. New letters from Richard, of sevei^r tenor ^ 
answered with new deep humilities, with gifts aod 
entreaties, with no promise of obedi?nc«. King 
Richard's ire is kindled ; messengers airive at St. 
Edmundsbury, with emphatic message to obey or 



niACTICAL-DBVOTTONAL 143 

'tremble ! Abbot SaitMon, wi*el; tilent m to the Two 
King'* ihieatSr malcet aiuwer : " The King can BrM« 
send if he will, and seize the ward ; force and '*•'' 
^wer he has to do his )ileasure, and aboNth the 
whole Abbey. But I, for my part, .never can be 
bent to viA this thac he tetk», nor shall it by me 
be erer done. For there is danger le«t tuch 
things be nude a precedent of, to the prejndice 
of my Miccessors. FiJait jtJtuthmu, Let the 
Mo«t High look on it. Wbmnerer thing ahall 
l>efaH I will patiently endure." 

Such was Abbot Samson's deliberate decision. 
Why not ? Conir-de-Lion is xery dreadiiil, bat 
□ot tbe dreadfiilest. Fi^at JUtittimiu. I rercpcnce 
CoenTHje-Lioivto the marrow of my bones, and will 
kt all right things be tone Juui; but it is notv 
properly speaking, with iietior, with any fear at all. 
On the wkc^, have I not looked on the face of 
' Satan with outspread wings ; ' steadily iata Hell- 
Gre these sevetr-and-fbrty years ; — and wss not 
melted, into terror even at that, such the Lord's 
goodtieu to me? Coeur-de^Lion ! 

Richard swcs'e tornado oaths, wone than oar 
armies in FUncters) To be revenged on that proud 
Priest. But m the end be discovered that the 
Priest'was right ; and forgave him, and even loved 
him. ' King Richard wrote, soon a&er, to Abbot 
'.Samson, That he wanted one or twa of the St. 
' Edmundsbury dogs, which ke heard were good.' 
Abbot Samson sent him dogs of the best ; Richard 
replied by the present of a ring, which Pope 
Innocent the Third had givoi him. Tbou bnre 
Richard, thou brave Samson! Ricbard too, I 
suppose, 'loved a man,' and knew one when he 
■aw him. 



» II THE ANCIENT UONK 

No one will accnu our Lord Abbot. of wamu^'^ 

the worldly wisdom, due innrect in worldly thingi. 

^f^ A akiifii] mm ; Ml of eutomg insight, lively 

interects ; always disceroing the r<»d to Hit object, 

be it circuit, be it short-cut, and victoriously 

travelling forward thereon. Nay rather it might 

teem, botn Jocelin's NarraUTC, a* if he had his eye 

tU W excluiivcly directed on terrestnal inattera, 

and was much too secular for a devout man. But 

this 100^ if we examine it, una right. For it is in 

the world that a man, devotit or other, has his life 

to lead, his work waiting to be done. The basis 

of' Abbot Samson'a, we shall discover, was truly 

relifpco, after alL Returning fcoia hia dusty 

plgrimage, with such welcome as 'we taw, < he sat 

down at the foot of St. Ednumd's Shrine.' Not a 

talking theory, that; so, a lUent practice; Thou, 

St. Edniund, with what lies m thee, thou now must 

^ help me^ or none will i 

^-^"^ This^so is a significsntfact.-' the zealous interest 

our Abbot took in the Crusades. To all noble 

Christian hearts of thatera, what earthly enterprise 

>o noble ? * When Henry li., having taken the 

. * cross, "came to St. Edmund's, to pay his devotions 

I ' before' setting out, the Abbot secretly made for 

; ' himself a cross of linen cloth : and, holding Uiis in 

<; * one hand and a threaded needle in the other, asked 

, 'leave ofthe King to assume.ib' ..The King could 

not spare Saoiaon out. of England; — the King 

himself indeed never went But the Abbot's eye 

was set on the Holy Sepulchre, as on the spot of 

this Earth where the true cause of Heaven was 

deciding itself. ' At the retaking of Jerusalem by 

*the Pagans, Abbot SamEon put on a cilice and 

'hair-shirt, and wore under-garments of hair-cloth 



PKACTICAL-OBVOTIONAL MS 

' ' aver after ; he abttunecl dso from fle«h and flcBh- Sam- - 
' meat* (carne el canuii) thenceforth » the end of ""'' 
'htaltfe.' Like a ilatk cloud cclipmng the bopct.pi.f, 
of^ittM^j^gnaW cast th«r ahadouMMiwl, ' 
■'1^ ^<imiiM'iBiT~^n^l^_j'^''*^1 SimsoD Abba3''taks 
piMiure w hile CbfwtVToinb is K tRe "RandB'^f ti;s- 
InSdel j SSSbod, iji pain of body, iliJl daily hfi 
Fenmded of it, daily be admonnhed to grieve for it. ^^__ 

The great antique heart : how like a child's- in 
it( ompljctty, like a man's in its earnest solemnity 
and depth 1 Heaven lies over him wheresoever h« 
goes or stands ob the Earth ; making all the Earth 
a m^Btic Temple to him, the Earth's buuness all a 
kind of wonfaipi Glimpses of Mght cieatores flash 
ia the commtMi tnnligtit ; angels yet ho«9f doing 
Gut's messages xaong men i (hat rainbow was set 
ia the cknids by the hand of God ! Wonder, 
miracle encontpass the man ; he lives in an element 
of niirade ; Heaven's splendour over his bead. 
Hell's darkjKBs under his feet. A ^eat Law of 
Doty, high as .these two Infinitudes, dwarfing alt 
tlie, annihiladog all else, — making royal Richard 
ai small as peaswu Samatm, smaller if need he !— 
The * imaginative faculties \ ' ' Rvde poetic ages l ' 
The ^primeval poetic dement J' Oh, for God'* 
take, good reader, tallt no more of all that I It 
was not a I^letiaotism this. of Abbot Samson. It 
was a Reality, aiid it is one. The garment only of 
it. is dead; die essence of it lives through all Time 
and all Eternity ! — 

And truly, as we said above, is not this com- | 

paratire silence of Abbot ilanisoQ as to his religion 1 

piecisely the healthiest sign of him and of it J j 

'The Unconscious is the alone Complete.* Abbot / 



■4$ II THE ANCIENT HONK 

Twelfth SanuoD all along a bnffr working man, a« all men i 
Ceatui7 ate boimd to be, his n^ion, tiia vorahip was like i 
Meth- his daily biead to him ; — ^which h« did not take ' 
^'^"'^the trouUe-to talk raoch about; which he merely 
ate at nated imetvais, and lived and did hia work 
upon ! This is Abbot Sunson's Catholidim of the 
Twelfth Century ; — eomethipg like die Iim of all 
true men in all tnie centories, I fancy 1 Alaa, com- 
pared with any of the //*» current in these poor day^ 
what a thing ! Compared with the .reapecBblnt, 
morbid, struggling Methodism, never eo earnest ; 
with the re^ctablett, ghastly, dead or galvanised 
DilettantiKD, never M ipasmodic I 

Methodiim with its eye forever toned on iu 
own ndvel { asking itself with tortariag anxiety of 
Hope aad Fear, "Am I righi^ am I wrong? I 
Shall I be Hved? ehaU I not be damned?"— 
what is this, at bott(»n, but a new phww of fjttnn, 
•tretched out into the Infinite; not always the 
heavenKer for its infinitude ! Brother, bo bood as 
pOBubte, endeavour to rise above all that. "Thou 
ari wrong ; thou art like M be damned : " consider 
that u the fact, reconcile thyself even to that, if thou 
be ' a man ; — dien first is the devouring Universe 
subdued nnder thee, and from the black mark of 
midnight andnoise of greedy Acheron, dawct as of an 
everlasting morning, how nr above aU Hope and 
all Fear, springs for thee, enlighuning thy ste^ 
path) awakening in thy beatt celestial Memnon s 
music 1 

But ot our Dilettantisms, and galvanised Dilet- 
tantiaina ; of Pnteyism — O Heavens, what shall we 
say of Puseyism, in comparison to Twelfth-Century 
Catholicism k -Little or nodiing ; for indeed it is a 
matter to strike one dumb. 



H,Sle 



ST. EDMUND . 147 

The Bailtfer of thii UniTerie wu wise, £|«n- 

He plana'd all wall, all lyitemt, planets, particles ; AHUsm 
The Plan He ihap'd alt Worlds and Mom by, a™ 

VTaa — Heavenil — War thy amall N)n»4od-tliIrmPllKy' 
Article*? . . ^ 

That certain hnman soule, living on this practical 
Earth, ehoiild think, to save themselveB and a ruioed 
world by noi»y theoretic demoouiatioas and lauda- 
tiona of tie Church, instead of some unnoisy, 
uacofiacioua, but fnUtical, total, heart-and-Boul 
demoastiacioD of « Church : this, in the circle of 
reToJTiog ages, this also was a thing we were to 
see. A kind of penultimate thing, precursor of very 
strange consuniinatioiis ; last thing but one? If 
theie ia no atmosphere, what will it serve a .man to 
demonelrate the excellence of longs ? How much 
proiitablec, when you can, like Ahbot .Samson, 
breathe ; and. go along your way I. 



Chapter sv( ■ 

■T. EDMUND 

ABBOT SAMSON built many useful, many 
. pious edilicee ; human dwellings, churcfies, 
church-steeples, barns ; — all fallen now and vaoisbed, 
but useful while they itood. He built and endowed 
•the Hoqxtal of Babwell^ ' built 'lit bouses for 
the St. Edmundsbury Schools.' Many are the 
roofs once ' thatched with reeda ' which he < caused 
to be coveccd with tiles ; ' or if they were churches. 



f4> II THE ANCIENT UONK | 

Aprobably 'with lead.' For dl ratnous mcoinpleie . 
Dreud things, bnildiogB or other, were an eye-sorrow to the > 
°^^ roan. We saw hi» ' great tower of St. Edmund's ; ' 
pfg(! or at least the roof-timbers of it, lying cut and 
*lam stamped in Elmset Wood. To change combustible 
decaying reed-thatch into tite or lead ; and material, 
■liU OKxe, moral wreck into rain-ti^t wder, what 
a comfort to SanMoa! 

One of the things he cootd not in any Wmc bat 
rebuild was the great Altar, alt^ on whiah stead 
the Shrine itself; the great Altar, which had been 
damaged by fire, by the carriess robbish and careless 
candle of two somnolent Monks, one night, — the 
Shrine escaping almon as if by minck ) Abbot 
Samson read his Motikff a severe kcture; **A | 
Dream one of us had, that he saw St. Edmund 
naked and in laiUeittable plight, KnOW jc the 
interpretation of that Dream ! St Edmund pro- 
claims himself naked, because ye defraud the naked 
Poor of your old clothes, and give with reluctance 
what ye are bound to give them of meat and 
drink ; the idleness moreover and negligence of the 
Sacristan and his people is too erident from the late 
misfortune by fire. Well might oni Holy Martyr 
seem to lie cast out from his ^rine, and say with 
groans that he was stript of his garments, and wasted 
with hunger and thirst ! " 

This is Abbot Samson's interptvtAli<Hi of the 
DreaiH;— diameiricaily the reverse of that given by 
the Monks themselves, who scruple not to say 

[irivily, ■■ It is wf that are the naked and famiahed 
imbfl of the Martyr; we whom the Abbot curtails 
of all our privileges, setting his own oi&cial to 
control our very Cellarer! " Abbot Samson adds, 



ST. EDMUND 149 

'tjiat thu judgoKBt l^ fira hai iallea upoQ them for 
■aarniHriDg about tbcir meat and drink. 

Geariy enoogbt nw^iwhil^ the Altar, whatmer S 
the bunuDg or it meaa or foreshadow, rauRt iwed« be 
reedilied. Abbot Samaon rec'diHea it, all of polished 
marble ; w!th the highest stretch of vt aod Run^ta- 
waiy, reembelliibeB the Shrine tor wtuch it is to 
Ktve u pedimeot. Nay farther, as had ever b«aD 
anxng hu prayer*, he enjojrs, be sioiwc, a glimpse 
of the glorious Martyr's very Body in ttte procea ; 
luviiig colemaly opened the Locuius, Chest or sacred 
CofBn, for that pumue. It !■ the cujininating 
mon^t ef. Aiibot SaniBon's life. Bozzy Jpcelra 
huoself rieM ifito a lund of PBalmiat solemnity on 
this iKCAsit™ > tiie laiiett inoQk < weeps ' wwja 
Kara, as 'ff Detm is sung. 

Very straoge; — bow far vanished from ns in 
these unwor«hippiiig ages of our« 1 The Pstriot 
Hampden, bfst beatified man wp h^ve, had lain ia 
like maDBer Rome two centuries in his oarrow hotne, 
when ceftain dignitaries of us, ' and twelve graJfe- 
diggers with pulleys,' raised him also up, uoder 
cloud of night, cut, off hisarsi with peitkniTes, pulled 
the scalp off his head, — afld otherwise worshipped 
our H«'o Saint in the most amazing raaBner I ' 
Let the moderD eye look esrcestiy tm that old 
midnight hour in St. Edmundsbury Churc-h, shining 
yet 00 u^ ruddy-bright, through the depthe of seven 
hundred years { aod cqnsider mournfiiUy what our 
Hero- worship, once was, and what it now isl We 
translate w'th all the fidelity we can : 

'The Festival of St, Edmund now approaching, 
'the marble blocks are polished, and all things are 
ide, p. 93), Gfntlf 



■Jo II THE ANCIBNT UONK 

TwdfU) 'in readinesa for lifting of the Shrine to its new i 
Centnij ' place. A fert of three dayo waa held by all the 






licly Kt forth to them. The Abbot a 
the Convent that all muBt prepare themselves fw 
' traoBferring of the Shrine, and appoict* time and 
'way for the work. Comicg therefore that ni^t 

* to matine, we found the great Shrine {Jrrelrum 
•iiw^rtum)ratsedupontheAltar,batempty; corered 
'all over with white doeskin leather, ■fixed ta the 
■wood with silver naiU; but one panoel of the 
' Shrine was left down below, and resting thnvon, 
' beside its old column of the Church, the Loculns 
' with the Sacred Body yet lay where it waai wont. 

* Praises being sung, we all proceeded to cominence 

* our disciplines (ad discipRnat lUscMendaty. These 
'finished, the Abbot and certain with him are 
•^ clothed in their albs ; and, ip[«t>aching reverently, 

* Ret aboQt uncovering the Loculus. 'There was an 

* outer cloth of linen, enwr'apping the Locnlns and 
' all ; this we found tied on the upper ode with 
'■Htringa of its own ; within thia was a cloth of nik, 

< and then another linen cloth, and then a third ; 
' and ao at last the Loculua was nncoveied, and 

< seen resting on a Kttle tray of wood, that' the bot- 
' torn of it might not be injured by the atone. Over 

< the' breaet of the Martyr, there lay, li:ted to the 
' surface of the Loculus, a Golden Angel about the 
'length of a human foot; holding In one hand a 
' golden sword, and in the other a binner : under 

* this there was a hole in the lid of the Loculua; on 
•which the ancient servanla of the Martyr had been 
' wont to lay Uieir hands for touching the Sacred 
■ Body. And over the figure of the Aogel waa this 

* verse inscribed j 



ST. EDHUND 151 

Centnrf 
'At the head and foot of the Loculiw were iron S*™ 
' ringi whereby it could be lifted. ^d^' 

' Lifting the Loculus and Body, therefore, they 
'carried it to the Altar; and I put-to my sinfiil 
'hand to help in carrying, though the Abbot had 
' coromanded that none should approach except 
' called. And the Loculus was placed in the 
' Shrine ; and the pannel it had stood on vas put in 
'iu place, and the Shrine (or the preeeiit closed. 
'We all thought that the Abbot would show the 
'Loculus to the people ; and bring out the Sacred 
'Body again, at a certain period of the Festival. 
' But in this we were wofully mistaken, as the sequel 

' For in the fourth holiday of the Festival, while 
' the Convent were all singing Comflctenum, om 
' Lord Abbot spoke privily with the Sacristan attd 
'Walter the Mcdicus ; an4 order was taken that 
'twelve of the Brethren should be appointed against 
midnight, who were strong for carrying the pannel- 
ptanke of the Shrine, and skilful in uoGxing them, 
and putting them together again. . The Abbot then 
said that it was among his prayers to look once 
' upon the Body of his Patron ; and that he wished 

■ the Sacristan and Walter the Medicus to be with 
' him. The Twelve appointed Brethren were these : 

■ The Abbot's two Chaplains, the two Keepers of 

■ the Shrine, the two Masters of the Vestry ; and 
six more, namely, the Sacristan Hugo, Walter the . 
Medicus, Augustin, William of Dice, Robert and 
Richard. I, alas, was not of the number. 



tS* II THB ANCIENT UONK 

Jwclftb ' The Convent therefore beisg aU asleep, these '' 
e^iuj ' Twelve, clothed in their albs, with the Abbot, 
Hbio I asBembled at the Altar ; and opening a pannel of 
^p ' the Shrine, they look put the LocuIub j laid it on 
' a table, near where the Shrine used to be f and 
' made ready for unfastening the lid, whicli was 
'joined aod fixed to the Loculus with sijitecn very 
•long nails. Which when, with difficulty, they had 
' done, all except the two fore-named associates are 
'ordered to draw back. The Abbot and they two 
'were alone privileged to look in. The Locnlus 
' was BO filled with the Sacred Body that you could 
'scarcely put a needle between the head and the 
' wood, or Detween the feet and the wood : the head 
' lay united to the body, a little raised with a small 
' pillow. But the Abbot, looking close, found now 
' a silk cloth veiling the whole Body, and then a 
'linen cloth of wondrous whiteness; and upon the 
'head was snread a small linen cloth, and then 
' another small and most fine silk cloth, as if it were 
' ihe veil of a nun. These coverings l>MDg Iffied 
•off, they found now the Sacred Body all wrapt in 
' linen ( and so at length the lineaments of the same 
'appeared. But here the Abbot "stopped ; saying 
' he dorst not proceed fanher, or look at the sacred 
' flesh naked. Taking the head between his hands, 
' he thus spake, groaning : " Glorious Martyr, holy 
' Edmund, blessed be the hour when thou wert 
' born. GWious Martyr, turn it not to my perdition 
'dial I hajre so dared to touch ,thee, I miserable and 
' sinful ; thou knowest my devout love, and the 
'Intention of my mind." And proceeding, be 
' touched the eyes ; and the nose, which was very 
'massive and prominent (vaUe gnuium ei vaide 
* eminenlem) ; and then he touched the bcea«t aui 



ST. EDMUND 153 

" aniH ; and raiskig the left »m he touched tha N«w 
' fingers, aai ^acnl hu own Sngfiit hetwets the StMjM 
■ni^ed fingers. And proceoding he fowd die iitei Sm™** 
'ftanding stiff up, like tJic feet of a iqan dt»d ,1,;^" . 
'yesterday; and be tauehed the toes and ewnted 
'then {tangaido tumurant). 

'And now it was. agreed tiiat the other Brethrea 
■ thouid be called forward te Me the mincles t and 
' aecDrdiflgly diote tern sow adTaaoed. aad alwig 
■with them nx otheia whs had stolen '■» witkout 
>the Abbot's assent, nandy, Walter of St, AUm's, 
'ijngh the Infirmjfariiw, Gilbert brotW of the 
'Prior, Ridianl of Henham, Joi^lut our Celiifer, 
'and Tuntan the Little; and aU these saw the 
< Sacred Body, but Tunttaa alone of tbero put fixth 
' his ikand, and touched the Saint'* knee« and feet. 
' And that there might \>t abuadance of witnesses, 
' one of our Bcethren, John of Dice, aittiog on the 
'roof of the Church, with the- eerrants of the VesUy, 
'and looking through, clearly taw aU these thioga.' 

What a scene ) shining loniinMiB effulgent, as tfcc 
lamp of fit. .Edmund da, through the dark Night; 
Jotm of Dice, with yftitrymen, .dambedog on (he 
roof ta look throt^b ; the Convent all luiLeep, and 
the Earth all aaleey^ — and since thea, ScTen Cenr 
turiea of Time iinMtly gone to sleep J Yes, ihccei 
sore enough, is the martyred Body of Edniund, 
landlord of the Eastern Counties, who, nobly doing 
what he liked with his own, was slain three hundred 
years sgo ; and a ikihle awe surround th? memory 
of him, aynbol and {HMnioter of ntay oth^ ri^ 
' noUe things. 

But faave ntK we now advamjed ta strange new 
stages of Hemr-twship, now in the tittle Cburcb of 



1S4 II THE ANCIENT HONK | 

Neces- Hampden, with our penfcnlve* out, and twelve graye-' , 
latja^A diggers with pulleys? The maaner of inai's Hcro- 
''•^'' wwship, Terily it is-the tDDermoet fact of thrir 
' exinence, and determines all the rett, — st public 
huBUngs, in private drawing-tooms, in chorcb, in 
market, and wherever else. Have true 
and what indeed is inseparable therefrom, 
the right nun, all ia well ; have tham- 
sad what alto foilovn, greet with it the wrmg nun, 
then all is ill, and there^ is nothing well. Alas, il 
Hero-worship become Dilettactiem, and all except 
ManMnonism be a vain grimace, how much, in this 
most earnest Earth, has gone and is evermore going 
to fatal destruc^oD, and lies wasbng in quiet lazy 
ruin, no man regarding it ! Till at lengtji m 
beaVMitjr /rm any longer coming down upon us, 
Iimi from the other quarter have to mount up. For 
the Earth, I say, is 'an earnest "pkce ; Life is no 
grimace^ but a most serious &ct. And so, nitder 
universal Dilettantism much having been atript bare, 
not the eouls of men only, but their very bodies and 
bread- cnpboards having been stript bar^ and life 
now no longer po8eibJe,-i-all' is reduced to despera- 
tion, to tbe' iron law of Neeeidty and- -very Fact 
again ; and to temper Dilettantism, and astoBBh it, 
and bnm it i^ with infemal fire, arises Chartism, 
Bare-haci-Sam, Sansculottism so-called ! May the 
gods, and what of nnworgbipped' heroes still renuiD 
among os, avert' the omen ! — ■ 

But however this maybe, St. Edmund's Loculus, 
we lind, baa the veils of silk and linen reveiratly 
replaced, the lid fastened down again with its sixteen 
ancient nails ; is wrapt in a new muly covering of 
silk, the gift of Hubm Archbishop flf Canterbwy : 



ST. EDHUND 155 

and through the aky-window John of Dice sect it Heftven 
lifted to its place in the Shrine, the panncl* of this in Hu- 
Ittter duly refixed, fit parchment docnmentB being ""^^ 
ifltroduced withal ;— ^nd now John and his vestry- 
men can slide down from 'the roof, for !i]I it over, 
and the Convent wholly awakens to matins. < When 
'we assembled to sing matins,' saya Jocdin, 'nnd 
' undemood what had been done, grief toOk hold of 
' ail that had not aeen these things, each saying to 
' himself, " Alas, I was deceived." Matins over, 
' ibK Abbot called die Convent to the great Altar j 
'and briefly recounting the matter, alleged that it 
'had not been in bis power, nor was it pernncBible 
' or fit, to invite osall to the sight of such diings. 
'At hearing of which, we'all w«pt, and wid) tears 
' sane TV Drum laudamui ; and hastened to toll the 
' bells in the Ctajir.' 

Stufud blockheads, to reverence their 9u Ed- 
mund's dead Body in this manner i Yes, brother j 
— and yet, on the whole, who kflows how to 
reverence the Body of a Man ? It is the moaf 
reverend fjhenomenon under this Sun. For the 
Highest God dwells visible in that mystic unfathom- 
able Visibility, which calls itself " I " on the Earth, 
' Bending before men,' saya Novalis, ' is a reverence 
'done to this Revelation in the Flesh.' We touch 
' Heaven when we lay our hand on a human Body,' 
And the Body of one Dead ; — a temple where die 
Hero-soul onc^' was and now is not : Oh, all 
mystery, all pity, all mute awe inA wotider ; Super- 
naturdism brought home to the very dullest; Eter- 
nity laid openy and the nether Darkness and tlv^ 
upper Light- Kiogdcms, do conjoin there, or exiit 
nowhere I Sauerteig used to say to me, in his 
peculiar way: ?'A Chancery Lawsuit; josdce, 



ijS 11 THS ANCIENT HONK 

Abbot Day justice in meie raoaey, demed a man, for all , 

Ova- bit ;Jea<ling, till twenty, till forty years of his Life 

^?,' sM gone seekiog it t add a Coakney Funera], Death 

nr am. reiovncect by hatcbmeot^ horse-hair, brats-lacquer, 

ends tad uacopcenied biped* cvrymg loag fokt and bagi 

sf i^ck tilk : — aie not these two reveieace*, this 

reverence ht Peath and that reyerence for Life, a 

pottUe pair of rerercoces among you Eaglisb i " 

Abbot Sanson, at thii culminating point of bis 
existence, may, apd indeed must, be left to vanish 
with his Life-tcegery from the eyet of modern men. 
He had to run into Fxance, to settle with King 
Richard £ot the military Kivice there of his St. 
J^dmnndsbury Knights ; and with ^eat labour got 
it done. He lud to decide on the dilapidated 
Covetitry ^(onks t aid with gnat labour, and aiuch ' 
pleading and journeying, got them reinttaKd; dined 
with t^ein all, and with the * Masters of the Schools 
of Oxseford,' — the veritable Oxford C^ia sitting 
^re at dinner, in a dim but undeniaUe manner, tn 
the City of Peeping Tom ! He had, ttot without 
Ubour, to cacUToyen the intrusive Bishop of Ely, 
the iniruuve Abbot of Cluny. Magn^imoos Sam- 
ton, his life it but * labour and a journey; a bustlii^ 
and a justling, till the itill Nigbt come. He it sent ' 
for again, over sea, to advite Kug Richard touching 
certain Peers of ^gland, who had taken the Cross, 
but never followed it to Palestine t whom the Pope 
it inqpring after.. The magDaoimoos Ahhot maket 

preparation for departure ; departs, and And 

jQcelin's Boswellean Narrative, suddenly tborn- ' 
through by the scissors of Deninyi nx/i. There 
are no wordi more ; but a black line,; and leaves of 
blank paper. Irremediable: the mir^uloua hand, 
that held a^ tliit ^eatricraachitiay, suddenly ^niti : 



THE BBGINNIMC8 . if7 

'^hold ; inweoetrible Time-^^uttaiiu raab down ; in Ths 
the mind « eye aJI is again dwk, void ; with loud Rninaof 
dinaing ia the mind'i ear, ow real-phantaanugory *'"'* 
of St. EdrhuDdsbury plui^e* into xbe bcMom of the 
TweHth CcDtucy again, and all i» over. Moaks, 
Abbotf Hcio-worship, Government, Obedience, 
Coenr-de-LMm and St. Edmmd'i Shrine, vanish 
like Mitza'a Vision ; and thece i« nothing left but a 
mutilated black Ruin amid green botanic expanses, 
and oxen, sheep and dilettami pastutiqg in their 



Obxptet IVft 

THE BGOlMNIHOa 

WHAT a singular shape of a Man, shape of a 
Timflt hwe we in this Abbot Sanwon and 
hta history ; how strangely do modes, creeds, for- 
mularies, and the- date and place of a man's birth, 
jnodiiy the figure ot the man ) 

Forranlaa too, as we ^all them, have a rea/ily in 
tiunuB Life.' They are real as the very siin and 
mtuct^ tistue ofi4 Man's Life; and a mout blessed 
iadi*peasaUe thing, so Ifog as. they have vitally 
witbal, and ar6 a S-ving skin and tissue to him .' 
Mo nun, or man's life, can ,go abroad actd do 
boaiaesa in the world without akin and tissues. No; 
first of all, these have to fashion themselves, — as 
indeed they ipoDtaneously and inevicably do. Poajn 
itaelf, and this is worth diinkiog of, can harden into 
oyster- shel 1 ; all living objects do by necessity form 
to themselves a akin. 



ift II THE ANCIENT HONK 

Halnt And yet, again, when a mRo'i Formul»4 become ' 

^K dead ; aa all Forranlas, in the progreM of liring 

deepest gi^^h, are very sure to do 1 When the poor 

Human- "^^"'^ integuments, no longer nourished irom wjthio, 

itj become dead skin, mere adtcititioiu Jmtber and 

caltostty, wearing thicker and thicker, nglier and 

uglier ; till no imirt any longer can be felt beating 

through them, lo thick, cailooa, calcified are they ; 

and all over it has now grown mere calcified oyster- 

shell, or were it polished mother-Kif-pearl, inwards 

almost to the very heart of the poor man; — yes 

then, you may say, his usefulness once more is quite 

obstructed; once more, he cannot go abroad and do 

business in the world; it is time that ii« take to bed, 

and prepare for departure, which cannot now be 

distant! 

Ua bonmet ttmt motS timU Habit i« the deepest 
law of human nature. It is our supreme strength ; 
if also, \Q certain circumstances, our miieralilesc 
weakness. — From Stoke to Stowe ta as yet a field, 
all pathless, untrodden: from Stoke where I live, to 
-Stotte where I have to make my merchandiseB, per- 
form roy businesses, consult my heavenly oracles, 
there is as yet no path or human footprim; and I, 
impelled by such necessities, must neveFtheless under- , 
take the journey. Let' me go once, scanoing my 
Way with any earnestness of outlook, and succen- j 
fiilly arriving, my fixt^nts are an invitation to me 1 
a second ume to go by the same way. It is easier I 
than any other way: the industry of 'laanniog'! 
ties already invested in it for me; I can go thii 
time with less of scanning, or without scanning m 
all. Nay the yety sight of my footprintt, what ii 
comfort for me; and in a degree, for all my brethrnj 
of mankind! The footprints are trodden Bod retrodJ 



TBB BBGIHHINGS 159 

'dcD; the path wean ever broadcf, tmoother, into ■ The 
' broid bighwfty, where eren wheels can run ; and Sw>7of 
many traTel it;— till — till the Town of Stowe di»- Fo™»>- 
appear from that locality (a« towoa have been known 
10 do) , or no mfrdiandising, heavenly oracle, or leal 
buiiiKM any longer exkt foe me tliere: then why 
should anybody tiavel the way i — Halnt is our 
ptioBli fimdanental law t Habit and Imitation> there 
is nothing more pnennial in ub than theif; two> 
They are the aonrce of all Working and all 
Apprenticeship^ of all Practice and all Learning 
in thia wcaid. 

Yes, the wiae man too apeaka, and acta, in 
Formiilaa; all men do to. And ia general, the 
, more completely caaed with Formulaa a man may 
be, die saier, happier ia it for him. TboU who, in 
an All of rotten Formulas, aeemeat to stand nigh 
bare, having indignantly shaken off the .super* 
uinuated rags and unsound callositiea of FormulaB, 
—consider how thou too art still dothedJ This 
English Nationality, whataoerer from UBcoimted 
ages is genoine and a iact among thy lutivc Peo^, 
ia their 'Words and ways :- all this, has it not made 
for thee a skin of secood-akm, adhesive actually as 
thy natural skin? This thoti hast not stript otT, 
this tho« wilt acv« strip otf: the humour that thy 
niother gaye thee has to show itself through this. 
A common, or it may be an uncommon En^ish- 
rain thou art: but, good Heavens, what sort of 
Arab, Chinaman, Jew-Clotbesman, Turk* Hindoo, 
African Mandingo, wouldst thou have bera, ibok 
with those mother-qualities of thine I 

It strikes me diunb to look over the long series 
of faces, such as any full Church, Courthouse) 
London-Tavern Meeting, 01 miscellany of men wiU 



tte II TBB ANaBnT ITONK 

the (how Uinii. SoDK tcore or two of yeara ago, all , 

Bvohi- tbMe were little nd*colonred {lolpy iafuts ; otch 

^^'^^ of tbem capable of being kneaded, baked into anjr 

Woiker *oc<^ ^"x y"" cboae ; ycc see now how they are 

feud and lu(rdetie(V--iiito artnana, ardita, clergy, 

{entry, learned eerjemu, utileanied dandifit, and can 

Uid shall now be nothing else henceforth ! 

Mavk OB diat nose die colonr left by too copaiu 
port and viands; to whicb tfae profiisc cravat witEi 
exorbitant breastpin, and tbe fixed, forward, and 
M it were tneaacmg glance of the eyet correspond. 
That i« a ' Man of Business ; ' proqieronB manu- 
lacwreF, house- contractor, engineer, law-manager ; 
hit eye, nose, cravat have, in such work and fbrtime, 
got eilch a- character : deny him not thy praise, thy 
pity. Pity him too, the Hard-handed, with bony j 
brow, rudely-combed hair, eyes looking oid as in | 
laboar, in difficulty and uncertainty; rode mouth, 
the lipa coarse, loose, as in hard tail and lilclong 
iatigue tbey have got the. habit of bafigiag: — bast ' 
thoD aeea angbt more tooching than the rude intel- 
ligence, >o cramped, yn energetic, onmibthiBble, true, 
which l(»kc out of diat marred visage i Alas, and 
bis poor wife, with her own bands, washed that . 
cotton neckcloth for hiii^ battened that coane shirt, | 
sent bun forth creditably trimmed as she could. In i 
such imprisonment lives he, for his part; man can- 
not now deliver hira: the red pulpy infant has-been 
baked and fashioned.ro. 

Or what kind of baking was it that this other 
k««ther mortal got, which has baked him into tbe 
genus Dandy? Elegant Vacunm; serenely loakiog 
down upon alt Plenums and Entities as low and 
poor to his serene Chimeroship and A'eiietitity 
laboriously attained 1 Hernc Vacniim) iaexpngn- 



THE BEGINNINGS >fi) 

able, while parse and present conditioB of society Wluit 
hold out; curable by no hellebore. The doom of tl>«PHt 
Fate was. Be thou a Dandy 1 Have thy eye-glasses, gSj 
opera-glaises, thy Long-Acre cabs with white- lo,^ 
breeched tiger, thy yawning impassivitiet, pococu- up 
Tantisms; fie Uiyself in Bandyhood, ondeliverable ) 
it is thy doom. 

And all these, we say, were red-coloured infants; 
of the same pulp and aluif, few years ago; now irre- 
trievably shaped and kneaded as we see ! Formulas? 
There is no mortal extant, out of the depths of 
Bedlam, but lives all skinned, thatched, covered over 
with Fwmulas ; and is, as it were, held in frora 
delirium and the Inane by his Formulas ! They 
are withal the moat beneficent, indispensable of 
human equipments: blessed he who has a skin and 
tissues, so it be a living one, and the heart-pulse 
everywhere discernible through it. Monachism, 
Feudalism, with a real King Plantageaet, with real 
Abbota Samson, and their other living realities, how 

Not without a mournful interest have we sur- 
veyed that authentic image of a Time now wholly 
swallowed. Mournful reflections crowd on us; — - 
and yet consolatory. How many brave men have 
lived before Agamemnonl Here is a brave governor 
Samson, a man fearing God, and fearing nothing 
else; of whom as First Lord of the Treasury, as 
King, Chief Editor, High Priest, we could be so 
glad and proud; of whom nevertheless Fame has 
altogether forgotten to make mention ! The faint 
image of him, revived in this hour, is found in the 
gouip of one poor Monk, and in Nature nowhere 
else. Oblivion had so nigh swallowed him alto- 



i«i II THE ANCIBNT MONK 

The gsthcr, even to the echo of bit erer hafing existed. 

Evohi- What regiments and hosts aod generations of snch 

^^ has Oblivion already swallowed ! Their cnanWed 

^^^ dost makes op the scnl our life-fruit grows on. Said 

I Dot, ai my old Norse Fathers taught me, The 

Life-tree Igdrasil, which waves round thee in this 

bour, whereof thou in this bow art portioii, has its 

roots down deep in the oldest Death- K id gd ons ; 

and grows ; the Three Nomas, or Timet, Fast, 

Present, Future, watering it from the Sacred 

Well! 

For example, who taught thee to tpeak ? From 
the day when two hairy-naked or fig-leaved Human 
Figures began, as uncomfortable dummies, anxious 
DO longer to be dumb, bat to impart themselves 
to one another; and endeatoured, with gaspisgis 
gestoriogs, with unsyllabled cries, with painfuT pan- 
tomime and interjections, in a very onBuccessfiJ 
manner, — up to the writing of this present copy- 
right Boob, which also is not very succesamlt 
Between that day and this, I say, there has been 
a pretty space of time; a pretty spell of work, 
which lomeMj has done ! Thinkeat thou there 
were no poets till Dan Chaucer ? No heart burn- 
ing with a thought, which it could not hold, and 
had DO word for ; and needed to shape and coin 
a word for, — what thou callest a metaphor, trope, 
or die like ? For every word we have, there was 
wch a man and poet. The coldest word was once 
a glowing new metaphor, and bold questionable 
originality. * Thy very attentiom, does it not 
mean an attentio, a sTRETCHtNC-TO ^ ' Fancy that 
act of the mind, which all nere conscious of, which 
none had yet named,-~when this new 'poet' first 
felt bound and driven to name it 1 His questitm- 



THE BEGINNINGS iSj 

able ori^Dalitr, and new glowing metaphor, was The 
found adoptable, intelligible ; and remains our name Origin- 
for it to thi» day. J^ "f 

Literature!— and look at Paul's Cathedral, and pj^gt 
the MasonrieB and Worships and Quasi-Worships Poet 
tbat are there; not to speak of Westminster Hall 
and its wigs! Men had not a hammo; to begin 
with, not a (yllabled articulatioD: they had it all to 
make; — and they have made it. What thousand 
thoasand articulaie, semi -articulate, earnest-stam- 
mering Prayen ascending up to Heaven, from hut 
and cell, in many lands, in many centuries, from 
the fervent kindled souls of innumerable men, each 
struggling to pour itself forth incompletely, as it 
might, before the incompletest Liturgy could be 
compiled J The Liturgy, or adoptable and generally 
adopted Set of Prayers and Prayer-Method, was 
what we can call the Select Adoptabilities, 'Select 
Beauties' well edited (by CEcumenic Councils and 
other Usefiil- Knowledge Societies) from that wide 
waste imbroglio of Prayers already extant and 
accumulated, good and bad. The good were found 
adoptable by men; were gradually got together, well- 
edited, accredited : the bad, found inap|>ropriate, 
uoadoptable, were gradually forgotten, disused and 
burnt. It is the way with human things. The 
first man who, looking with opened soul on this 
august Heaven and Earth, this Beautifiil and Awfril, 
which we name Nature, Universe and suchhke, 
the essence of which remains for ever Unhameable ; 
he who first, gazing into this, fell on his knees 
awestruck, in silence as is likeliest, — he, driven 
by inner necessity, the 'audacious original' that he 
was, bad done a thing, too, which all thoughtful 
hearts saw straightway to be an expresuve, alto- 



164 II THE ANCIBHT MONK 

Tke gether adoptable thing ! To bow the knee was 
Hune- ever since the altitude of supplication. Earlier than 
" **•■ any ipoken Prayers, Lllaniai, or Letlourgtai ; the 
beginning of all Worship, — which needed but a 
beginning, so rational wag it. What a poet he! 
Yes, this bold original was a luccessful one withal. 
The wellhead this one, hidden in the primeral 
duski and distances, from whom as from a Nile- 
•ource all Fermi of Worship flow; — soch a Nile- 
river (somewhat muddy and malarious now I ) of 
Forma of Worship sprang there, and flowed, and 
flows, down toPnseyism, Rotatory Calabash, Arch- 
bishop Laud at St. Catherine Creed's, and perhaps 

Things rise, I say, in that way. The IViad 
Poem, and indeed most other poetic, especially 
epic things, ha»e risen as the Liturgy did. The 
great IFiad in Greece, and the smaJl Rdan Hood't 
Garland in England, are each, as I understand, the 
well-edited ' Select Beauties ' of an immeasurable 
waste imbroglio of Heroic Ballads in their respective 
centuries and countries. Think what strumming of 
the seven-stringed heroic lyre, torturing of the lees 
heroic fiddle-catgut, in Hellenic Kings' Courts, and 
English wayside Public HouBes; and beating of 
the studious Poetic brain, and gasping here too in the 
semi-articulate windpipe of Poetic men, before the 
Wrath of a Divine Achilles, the Prowess of a Will 
Scarlet or Wakelield Pindar, could be adequately 
sung ! Honour to you, ye nameless great and greatest 
ones, ye long-forgotten brave ! 

Nor was the Statute De Tallagio aon tonccdendo, 
nor any Statute, Law-method, Lawyer's-wig, much 
less wn^ the Statute-Book and Four Courts, with 
Coke upon Lyttelton and Three Estates of Parlia- 



THE BEGINNINGS 165 

meat to the rear of them, got together without Vfb*t 
iiuiitaD labour, — mostly forgotten now ! From the we Owe 
time of Cain's slaying Abel by awift head-breakage, "•™ 
to this time of killing your man in Chancery by 
inches, and slow heart-break for forty years, — there 
too is an internal! Venerable Justice herself began 
by Wild- Justice ; all Law is as 3 tamed fiirrow- 
field, slowly worked out, and rendered arable, from 
the waste jungle of Club-Lawi Valiant Wisdom 
tiljbg and draining ; escorted by owl-eyed Pedantry, 
by owlish and vulturiBh and many other forms of 
Folly ;— the valiant husbandman assiduously tilling ; 
the blind greedy enemy too assiduously sowing t^es ! 
It is because there is yet in venerable wigged Justice 
some wisdom, amid such mountains of wiggeries and 
folly, that men have not cast her into the River ; 
that she still sits there, like Dryden's Head iu the 
Batik of the Books, — a huge helmet, a huge moun- 
tain of greased parchment, of uncJean horse-hair, 
first striking the eye; and then in the innermost 
corner, visible at last, in e^ze.jS'bvluu^ut, a real 
fraction of God's Justice, perhaps not yet unattain- 
able to some, surely still indispensable to all; — and 
men know not what to do with her ! Lawyers 
were not all pedants, voluminous voracious persons ; 
Lawyers too were poets, were heroes, — or thdr 
Law had been past the Nore long before this time. 
Their Owlisms, Vultorisms, to an incredible ex- 
tent, will disappear by and by, their Heroisms only 
remaining, and the helmet be reduced to some^ing 
like the size of the head, we hope! — 

It is all work and forgotten work, ^is peopled, 
clothed, articnlate-speaking, high-towered, wide- 
acred World. The bands of fwgotten brave men 
have made it a World for us; — they,— honoor to 



iG6 II THE ANCIENT HONK 

B*ery them ; they, m ifiu of the idle sod the dasuid. 
Hmi t, This English Land, here and nov, is the summary 
Maker ^f ^^^^ ^35 found of wise, and noble, and accordant 
with God's Truth, in all the generations of English 
Men. Our Engli^ Speech ie apeakable becauM 
there were Hero-Poets of our blood and lineage; 
speakable in proportion to the number of these. 
This Land of England has its conquerors, possessors, 
which change from epoch to epoch, from day to 
day ; but its real conquerorB, creators, and eternal 
proprietors are these following, and their representa- 
tives if yon can find them: All the Heroic Souls 
that ever were in England, each in their degree ; 
alt the men that ever cut a thistle, drained a puddle 
out of England, contnTed a wise scheme in England, 
did or said a true and valiant thing in England. 
I tell thee, they had not a hammer to begin with ; 
and yet Wren bnilt St Paul's ; not an articulated 
syllable; and yet there have come English Liter- 
atures, Elizabethan Literatures, Satanic- School, 
Cockney- School, and other Literatures ; — once 
more, ae in the old ^me of the Liitrmr^, a most 
waste imbroglio, and world-wide jungle and jumble; 
waiting terribly tobe*well>edited' and < well-burnt*! 
Arachne started with forefinger and thumb, and had 
not even 3 distaff; yet thou seest Manchester, and 
Cotton Cloth, which will shelter naked backs, at 
twopence an ell. 

Work ? The quantity of done and forgotten 
work that lies silent under my feet in this world, 
and escorts and attends me, and supports and keeps 
me alive, wheresoever I walk or stand, whatsoever 
I think or do, gives rise to reflections ! Is it not 
enough, at any rate, to strike the thing called 
'Fame' into total silence for a wise man J For 



THE BEGINNINGS 167 

fools and UDre£ecttve pertons, she U aad will be Wlio 
Tcry noisy, this ' Fame,' and talks of her ' im- •'■ Uw 
mortals ' and so forth s but if you will coDsider it, iljuj?'' 
what is she ? Abbot Samson was not oothitig 
because nobody /(hV anything of him. Or thinkett 
thoo, the Right Honourable Sir Jabez Windbag 
can be made somethiqg by FarJiamentary Majorities 
and Leading Articles ? Her 'immortds 1 Scarcriy 
two hundred years back can Fame recollect articu- 
lately at all ; and there she but maunders and 
mumbles. She manages to recollect a Shakspeare 
or so ; and prates, considerably like a goose, about 
him ; — and in the rear of that, onwards to the birth 
of Theuth, to Hnigst's Invasion, and the bosom of 
Eternity, it waa all blank ; and the respectable 
Teutonic Languages, Teutonic Practices, Exist- 
ences, all came of their own accord, as the grass 
springs, as the trees grow ; no Poet, no work from 
the inspired heart of a Man needed there ; and 
Fame has not an articulate word to say about it ! 
Or ask her. What, with all conceivable appliancei 
and mnemonics, including apotheosis and humaif 
sacrifices among the number, she carries in her 
head with regard to a Wodan, even a Moses, or 
other such ? She begins to be uncertain as to what 
they were, whether spirits or men of mould, — 
gods, charlatans ; begins sometimes to have a mis- 
giving that they were mere symbols, ideas of the 
miod ; perhaM nonentities and Letters of the 
Alphabet ! She is the noisiest, inarticulately 
babbling, hissing, screaming, fbolishest, unmusicalest 
of fowls that fly ; and needs no ' trumpet,' I think, 
but her own enormous goose-throat, — measuring 
several degrees of celestial latitude, so to speak. 
Her ' wings,' in these days, have grown far swifter 



lU II THE ANCIENT HONK 

The tliim c^er ; but her gooae-throat hitberUD seems oaly 
Comfort larger, louder and foolisher than ever. She u 
(rt pi>- traniitory, fiitUe, a goote-goddess : — if ehe were 
not tianaitory, what would become of ue ! It U 
a chief comfort that «he forgeta us all ; all, even to 
the very Wodana ; aod growa to conaider us, at 
last, ae probably nonentities and Letleta of the 
Alphabet. 

Vet, a noble Abbot Sameon reaigna hiraaelf to 
Oblirion too; feeU U no hardship, but a comfort; 
connta it as s atill reniag-place, from much sick fret 
and ferer and stupidity, which in the night- watches 
oiten made his strong heart sigh. Your most sweet 
TCHcea, making one enormoas goosC'Voice, O Bobus 
and Company, how can they be a guidance for any 
Son of Adam i In lUencc of you and the like of 
you, the 'small etill voices' will apeak to bim 
better ; in which does lie guidance. 

My friend, all speech and rumour is short-lived, 
.foolish, untrue. Genuine Work alone, what thou 
Iworkest faithfiilly, that is eternal, as the Almighty 
iFounder and World-Builder himself. Stand thou 
by that ; and let ' Fame ' and the rest of it go 
prating. 

■Heard are cbe Voices, 
Heard are the Sages, 
The World) and the Ages : 
"Chooae well) yoor choice ii 
Brief and jet endleis. 

Here eyes do regard you, 

In Eteroity'i xiTlnest ' 

Here !• all fnlneH, 

Ye brave, to reward you ; 

Work, and deapair not."' Gtoht, 



PHENOMENA 



Book III — The Modern Work( 



BUT, it is Baid, our religion ie gone : we no The 
longer believe io St Edmund, no longer Uiii»er- 
Bce the &gure of him ' on the rim of the aky,' tf-T"' 
minat^if or conlirmatory 1 God's absolate Law*, 
sanctioned by an eternal Heaven and an eternal 
Hell, have become Moral Philosophies, sanctioned 
by aUe computations of Profit and Lobs, by weak 
coDBideratioDs of Pleaaures of Virtue and the 
Moral Soblime. 

It is even so. To speak in the ancient dialect, 
wc 'have forgotten Godi' — in the most modern ' 
dialect and very truth of ithe matter, wc have taken 
up the Fact of this Universe as it ii not. We 
have quietly closed our eyes to the eternal Substance 
of things, and opened them only to the Shows and 
Shams of things. We quietly believe this Universe 
to be intrinsically a great unintelligible Pekhapi ; 
extrinsioJly, clear eoougb, it is a great, most 
extensive Cattlefold and Workhouse, with most 
extensive Kitchen-ranges, Dining-tables, — whereat 
he is wise who can find a place ! All the Truth of . 
this Universe is uncertain ; only the prolit and loss 



of it, the pudding and praise of it, are and r 
very visible to the practical man. 

There is no longer any God for ua! God's I 
Laws are become a Greateet-Happioess Principle,' 



t7t> III THE MODERN WORKER 

ASodal a; Parliamentary Expediency: the Heavent over- 
Gaa- arch ns only as an Astronomical Time-keeper ; a 
P*"" butt fiff Herschel-lekacopeB to shoot science at, to 
shoot BcntimcDtAlitieB at : — id our aod old Jonsoo'c 
dialect, man haa lost t he tool out of him ; and now, 
after the due period,— begins to lind the want of itl 
This IB verily the plague-spot; centre of the luii- 
veraal Social Gaagrene, threatening all modem . 
things with frightfol death. To him that wil/ 
consider it, here is the etem, with its roote and ' 
taproot, with its world-wide upas-boughs and 
accursed poison- exudations, under which the world 
lies writhing ia atrophy and agony. You (ouch the 
.'focal-centre of all our disease, of our frightAil 
I nosology of diseaspe, when you lay your hand on 
Ithis. ' piere is no relifiion ; thejeJs HP God ; man 
has lost his soul, ^vainly seelts antiseptJc salt. 
V^nly : in killing Kings, in passing Reform Bills, 
in French Revolutions, Manchester Insurrections, 
ie found no remedy. The foul elephantine leptoay, 
alleviated for an hour, reappears in new force and 
desperateness next hour. 

For actually this is not the real iact of the world ; 
the world is not made so, but otherwise ! — Truly, 
any Society setting out from this No-God hypothesis 
will arrive at a result or two. The I/nveracities, 
escOTted, each Unveracity of thera by its cwre- 
sponding Misery and Penalty ; the Phantasms, and 
Fatuities, and ten-year» Corn-Law Debatings, that 
shall walk the Earth at ooonday, — must needs be 
numerous ! The Universe btiiig intrinsically a 
Perhaps, being too {vobably an 'infinite Humbug,' 
why should any minor Humbug astonish ua \ It is 
J all according to the order of Nature ; and Phan- 
tasms riding with huge clatter along the streets, from 



PHBHOHBHA 171 

ead to end of our exieteoce, utoniih nobody. An 
£achaote(l St. Ivei' WorkhouKs and Joe-Muitim Auto* 
AriMocraciei ; giant Working Manunonuoi near pff?" 
Mnmgled b the partridge-n«» of grant-looking Idle ^^ 
Dilettantism, — thig, in all its branches, in its thon- 
aand-thoaiand modes and figures, is a sight famiJiar 



The Popish Religion, we are told, flourishes 
extremely in these years ; and is the most Tivacioos- 
looking religion to be met with at [»«eent. "EUi 
atreit eenit am dam U vcMri," counts M. Joulftoyt 
" c'tti pourqum Je la rctpecic f " — The old Pope of 
Rome, findiog it laborious to kneel so long while 
they cart him through the atieets to blew the people 
on Corptii-Cliritli Day, complains of rheumausra ; 
whereupon his Cardinals consult; — construct him, 
after some study, a stuffed cloaked figure, of iron 
and wood, with wool or baked hair ; and place it in 
a kneeling posture. Stuffed figure, or rump of a 
figure ; to Uiis stuffed rump he. Bitting at hu ease 
on a lower leTel, joins, by the aid of cloaks and 
drapery, his living bead and outspread hands : the 
rump with its cloaks kneels, the Pope looks, umI 
holds his hands spread ; and so the two in concert 
ble6B the Roman population on Corpiu-ChritH Day, 
as .well as they can. 

I have considered this amphilnous Pope, with the 
wool-and-iron back, with the flesh head and hands ; 
and endeaTDured to calculate his horoscope. I 
reckon him the remarkabiest Pontiff that has 
darkened God's daylight, or painted himself in 
th^ human retina, for these sevCTal thousand yearsi 
N j >y , wBCe Chaos first shivered, and 'sneezed,' as 
the Arabs say, with the first shaft of^ sunlight shot 



IT* III THE BCOOratN WORKER 

Tb* through it, what atrasger product was there of . 
Elort of Nature and Art working together J Here i« a J 
^^*^ Si^eme Fried who believes God to be — What, b ' 
the Dame of God) daet he believe God to be? — 

and discerne that a!l worship of God ia a Bcenic 
phantasmagory of wax-candlea, organ- blasts, Gre- 
gorian chants, mass- bray ingg, purple monsignori, i 
wool-and-iron rumps, artistically spread ou^ — to ,1 
save the ignorant from wocse, { 

O reader, I say not who are Belial's elect. This ^ 
poor amphibious Pope too ^ves loaves to the Poor ; 
has in him more good latent than he is himself 
aware of. Hia poor Jesuits, ia the late Italian 
Chobra, were, with a few German Doctors, the 
only creatures whom dastard terror had not driven j 
mad : tliey descended fearless into all gulfs and 
bedlams ; watched over the pillow of the dying, J 
with help, with counael and hope ; shone as 
luminous fixed atars, when all else had gooe out 
iq chaotic night : honour to them ! This poor < 
Pope, — who knows what good ia in him ? In a 
Time otherwise too prone to forget, he keeps up 
the moumfiileat ghaatly memorial of the Highest, 
£lessedest, which once was ; which, in new £t ' 
forms, «ill again partly have to be. Ia he not as a I 
perpetual death's-head and cross-bones, with their ' 
Rtturgam, on the grave of a Universal Heroism, — 
grave of a Christianity? Such Noblenesses, pur- 
chased by the world's best heart' s-blood, must nol 
be lost } we cannot afFoid to lose them, in what 
confuaioOB soever. To all of ue the day will ' 
come, to a few of ua it has already come, when I 
no mortal, with his heart yearning for a ' Divine ' 
Humility,' or other 'Highest form of Valour,' i 
will need to look for it in death's-heads, but wll 



PHENOMENA 173 

ee^ it round him in here and there a beautiiul Itting Pnijtt 
-head, M*- 

BesiacB, there ia in this poor Pope, and his™™* 
practice of the Scenic Theory of Worship,a frank- 
ness which I rather honour. Not half and half, 
but with undivided heart does ie set about wor- 
shipping by Bt^e-machioo'y ; as if there were itow, 
and could agun be, in Nature no. other. He will 
ask you. What other i Under this my Gregorian 
Chant, and beautiful wax-light Phantasraagory, 
kindly hidden horn you is an Abyss, of Black 
DouM, Sceptkism, nay Sansculottic Jacotsnism ; 
an. Orcus that has no bottom. Think of that. 
' Groby Pool ii thatched with pancakes,' — as 
Jeaimie Deans's Innkeeper defied it to be ! The 
Bottomleu of Scepticism, Atheiam, Jacobiniim, 
behold, it is thatched over, hidden from your 
despair, by stage-properties judiciously atj-anged. 
This stuffed rump of mine eaves not me only &om 1 ' 
rheumatism, but you also from what other iirai ! 
In this your Life-pilgrimage Nowhither, a iioe 
Squallacci marchiog-music, and Gregorian Cham, 
accompanies you, and the hollow Night of Orcus 
ia well hid ! 

Yea truly, few men that worship by the rotatory 
Calabash of the Calmucks do it in half so great, 
frank or effectual a way. Drury-Lane, it is said, 
and that is saying much, might learn from him in 
the dressbg of parts, in the arrangement of lights 
and shadows. He is the greatest Play-actor that 
at present draws salary in this world. Poor Pope ; 
and I am told he is fast growing bankrupt too ; and 
wiii, in a measurable term of years (a great way 
tvitiiin the 'three hundred'), not have a peraiy to 
make his pot boil! His old rheumatic lack wlU 



174 III THB HODBBH WORKER 

Bwlish tbeit get U> rett ; and himself aod his sUge-[tfopenJes 
Life a aleep well in Chaos fbreTcrmore, 
Might- ^ 
'"*'* Or, alas, why go to Rome for PbanUisini walking 
the Btreeta ? Phantasms, ghosts, in this midniglic 
hour, bold jebilee, and acteech and jabber ; and die 
qnesdon radier were, What high Reality anywhere 
is yet awake? Aristocracy has become Phantasm- - 
Aristocracy, no longer able to □!» its work, not in 
^ \ the least conscious that it has any work longer to do. 
Unable, totally careless to Jo its work ; careful only 
to clamoiu' tor ihe •magii ai doing its work, — nay 
for higher, and palpably nndue wages, and Com- 
Lswi and ina-iate of rents j the old rate of wages 
not being adequate now ! In hydra- wrestle, giant 
* MiBociicy' so-called, areal giant, though as yet 
a blind one and but half-awake, wrestles and wrings • 
in choking nightmare, 'like to be strangled in the 
partridge* nets of Phantasm- Ariatocracy,' as we 
said, which fancies itself still to be a giant < 
Wrestles, as under nightmare, till it do awaken ; 
and gasps and struggles thousandfold, we may say, 
in a traly painfiil manner, through all &htea of our 
English Existence, in these hours and yean I Is 
our poor English Existence wholly becoming a 
Nightmare ; fhll of mere PhanlaBms i— 

The Champion of England, cased in iron or tin, 
rides into Westminster Hall, ' being lifted into bis 
saddle with little assistance,' and there asks. If in 
the four quarters of the world, under the cope of 
Heaven, is any man or demon that dare question 
the right of this King i Under the cope of Heaven 
no man makes intelligible answer, — as several men 
ought already to have done. Does not this 
Champion too know the world ; that it ia a huge 



PHBNOHEMA iTJ 

Impottiirc:, ind bottomleu loaoity, thatched over Tlw 
- widi bright cloth and other ingeniotu dsiucB ! Him Graw^ 
let us leave there, quegtioniiig all men and demoD*. a^^J'^ 

Him we have left to big dettiny j but whom cIm ^Zt^ 
have we fbond? From this the highen apex, of 
things, downwards through all strau and breadths, 
how many fiilly awakened Realities have we &Uen 
in with : — alas, mi the contrary, what troops and 
population* of Phantasms, not God-Veracities but 
Denl-Pakities, down to the tmj lowest stratum,-- 
which now, by such iuperincumbent weight rf Un- 
reracities, lies enchanted in St. Itcb' WorlchouKs, 
Ivoad enough, helpless enough ! You will walk in 
no public thoroughfare or remotest byway of Eng- 
lish Existence but you will meet a man, an interest 
of men, that has given up hope in the ETcrtasting, 
True, and placed its hope in the Temporary, half 
or wholly False. The Honourable Member com- 

? tains uamueically that there is * devil' s-dust ' in 
'orlcshire cloth. Yorkshire cloth, — why, the very 
Paper I now write on is made, it seems, partly of 
pluter-lime well smoothed, and obstructs my writing t 
You are lucky if you can fiud now any good Paper,—, 
acy work realty dont ; search where yon will, irom 
highest Phantasm apex to lowest Enchanted basis. 

Consider, for example, that great Hat seven-feet 
high, which now perambulates London Streets) 
which my Frteod Sanerteig regarded jusdy as one 
oS oar English notatnlities i " the topmost point as 
yet," said he, "would it were your culmin^ng and 
returning point, to which English Puffery has been 
observed to reach 1 " — The Hatter in the Strand of 
London, instead of making better felt-hats than 
anothu', mounts a huge lath-and -planter Hat, seven* 
feet high, upon wheels; sends a man to drire it 



t7$ III THE MODERN WORKER { 

B««i7 through the stieeu ; hoping to be saved iheredy 
BCanhu He has not attempted to maie better hata, a« be was- 
"^ appointed by the Uiuverae to do, and as with this 
ingenuity of hia he could very probably have done ; 
, ybut his whole industry is turned to periKade ns that 
'i he has made nich ! He too knows that the Quack 
has become God. Laugh not at himj O reader ; < 
(v do not laugh only. He has ceased to be comic ; ' 
he is fast becoming tragic. To me this all-deafen- , 
tng blast of PalFery, oF poor Falsehood grown 
necesdtoua, of poor Heart-Atheism fallen now into 
Enchanted Workhouses, sounds too surely like a 
Doom's-blast ! I ha»e to say to myself in old 
didect : ** God's blessing is not written on all this ; ^ 
His curse is written on alt this ! " Unless perhapa I 
the Univerae bt a chimera; — some old totally ' 
deranged eightday clock, dead as braas ; which the ' 
Maker, if there erer was any Maker, hat long 
ceaeed to meddle with ? — To my Friend Sauerteig 
this poor seten-ftet Hat-manuiacturer, as the top- ' 
stone of English PulTery, was very notable. 

Alas, that we natives note him litde, that we vie^ 
him as a thing of course, is the very burden of xkit 
misery. We lake it for granted, the most rigorous 
of us, that all men who have made anything are 
expected and entitled to make the loudest possible ' 
proclamation of it, and call on a discerning public 
to reward them for it. Every man his own trum- 
peter; that is, to a really alarming extent, the 
accepted rule. Make loudeat poanble proclamation , 
of your Hat : troe proclamation if that will do j it 
that will not do, then false proclamation, — to such 
extent of ^sity as will serve your purpose ; as will 
not seem too h\« to be credible ! — 1 answer, once 
for all, that the fact is not so. Nature requires no 



PflEHOHBNA in 

man to make proclainau<m Of hU doings a&d hat- Nature's 
_ jnakingi; Nature ferbids all men to make nich. Laws 
There is not a man or hat-maker bora into the ^t*!* 
world but feels, or has felt, that he is degrading ^uxuid 
hims^ if he speak of his excellencies and prowesses, 
and Bupremacj in his craft : his ininoet heart says to 
him, " LeaTe thy friends to speak of these ; if 
possible, thy eaeraieB to speak of these ; b«u at all 
events, thy friends 1 " He feels that he is already 
a poor braggart ; fast haeteoing to be a falsity and 
epeakerof the Untruth. 

Nature's Laws, I must repeat, are eternal : her \ 
small still voice, speaking from the inmost heart of 
UB, shall not, under terriUe penalties, be disregarded. 
No one man can depart from the truth without 
damage to himself; no one millioa of men ; no 
Twenty-seven Millions of men. Show me a Nation 
faltenefNywbereiDtothiscourse,so that each expects 
it, permks it to others and hinwelf, I will show you a 
Nation travelliag with one assent on the broad way. 
The broad way, however many Banks of England, 
Cotum-Mills and Duke's Palaces it may have. 
Nat at happy Elysian fields, and everlasting crowns 
of victory, earned by lilent V^our, will this Nation 
arrive ; but at precipices, devouring gulfs, if it pause 
not. Nature has appointed happy fields, victorious 
laurel-crowne ; but only to die brave and true : 
f/nnature, what we call Chaos, holds nothing in it 
but vacuities, devouring gulfs. What are Twenty- 
seven Millions, and their unanimity ? Believe them 
not : the Worlds and the Ages, God and Nature 
and All Men say otherwise. 

' Rhetoric all this i ' No, my brother, very 
singular to say, it is Fact all this. Cocker's Aritli- 
metic is not truer. Forgotten in these days, it is old 



i7l III THE UODBRN WORKER 

The ai the foundatiotu of the UninrM, aad will endure 
Un i- till the Univerae cense. It is forgotten now ; and 
'*''jjthe firat mention of it puckers thy sweet conntenence 
p^^_ into a sneer : bat it will be brought to nund again, 
tion — unless indeed the Law of Gravitation chance to 
cease, and men find that they can walk on vacancy. 
Unanimity of the Twenty-seven Millions will do 
noting ; walk not thou with them ; Hy from them 
as for thy life. Twency-seven Millions travelling 
on BDch courses, with gold jingling in every pockett 
with vivats heaven-high, are incessantly advancing, 
let nie again remind thee, towards the Jlrm-lattit 
end, — towards the end and extinction of what Faith- 
fblness. Veracity, real Worth, was in their way of 
life. Their noble ancestors have fashioned for them 
a ' iife-road ; ' — in how many thousand senses, this ! 
There is not an old wise Proverb on their tongue, ■ 
an honest Principle articulated in their hearts into 
utterance, a wise true method of doing and despatch- 
ing any work or commerce of men, but helps yet to • 
carry them forward. Life is still possible to them, 
because all is not yet Puffery, Falsity, Mammon- 
worship and Unnanire ; because somewhat is yet 
Faithfulness, Veracity and Valour. With a certain 
very considerable finite quantity of Unveracity and 
Phantasm, social life is still possible ; not with an ■ 
infinite quantity ! Exceed your certain quantity, 
the seven-feet Hat, and all things upwards to the 
very Champion cased in tin, begin to reel and 
flounder, — in Manchester Insurrenions, Chartisms, 
Sliding-scales ; the Law of Gravitation not forget- ' 
ting to act. You advance incessaatly towards the | 
land's end; you are, literally enough, 'consuming 
the way.' Step after step. Twenty-seven Million 
UQCtmscions men ; — till you are ai the land's end ; | 



GOSPEL OF MAMMONISH 179 

till there 'k not FaithfulncM enough among you any Moral 
more ; and the next step now is tilted Ml over land, Main- 
but into air, over ocean-de^ and roaring abyues : '''0'u*>» 
— tudcM perhapi the Law erf Gravitation have for- 
gotten to act i 

Oh, it is trighiAil when a whole Nation, as our 
Fathers used to say, has ' foigonen God ; ' has 
remembered only Mammon, and what Mammon 
leads to J When your self- trumpeting Hatmaker 
is the emblem of almost all makers, and workers, 
and men, that make anything, — from soul-overBcer- 
abip«, body-overseerships, epic poems, acts of par- 
liament, to hats and shoe-blacking ! Not one false 
man but does uncountable niechief : how much, in 
a genoatiao or two, will Twenty-seven Millions, 
mostly false, manage to accumulate i The sum of 
it, visible in every street, market-place, senate-house, 
circulaung -library, cathedral, cotton-roill, and union- 
workhouee, fills one mi with a comic feeling 1 



abapter fj 

GOSrEL OF MAHMONISM 

READER, even Christian Reader as thy title 
goes, hast thou any notion of Heaven and 
Heli; I rather apprehend, not. Often as the 
words are on our tongue, they have got a fabulous 
or semi-fabulous character for roost of us, and pass 
on like a kind of transient similitude, like a sound 
signifying little. 

Yet it is well worth white for us to know, once 
and always, that they ace not a similitude, nor a 



iSo III THE MODERN WORKER 

The fMe not Kmi-hhU ; that tbey are an ererlasting 
Certun- highest fact! "No Lake of Sicilian or other 
^ *i "^ BuTphur burns now anywhere in these ages,*' sayest 
^"^^^timai Weli, and if there did not! Believe that 
there does not ; believe it if thou wilt, nay hold by 
it as a real increase, a rise to higher stages, to wider 
horizons and empires. All this has vanished, or 
has not vanished ; believe as thoa wilt as to all this. 
Bat that an Infinite of Practical Importance, speak- 
ing with strict arithmedca) exactness, an Infiute, 
has vanished or can vanish from the Life of any 
Man : this thoushalt not believe J O brother, tlK 
Infinite of Terror, ofHope, ofPity,did it not at any 
mcHnent disclose itself to thee, indubitable, unname- 
able \ Came it never, like the gleam of /rr/froatoral 
eternal Oceana, like the voice of old EtemiticE, far- 
sounding through thy heart of hearts ? Never ? 
Alas, it was not thy Liberalism, then ; it was thy 
Animalism ! The Infinite is more sure than any 
other fact. But only men can discern it ; mere 
building beavers, spuming arachnes, much more the 
predatory vulturous and vulpine species, do not 
discern it well !— 

'The word Hell,' says Sauerteig, 'is still fre- 
' queotly in use among the English people : but I 
< could not without difficulty ascertain what tbey 
' meant by it. Hell generally signifies the Infinite 
'Terror, the thing a man is infinitely afraid of, and 
' shudders and shrinks from, struggling with his 
'whole soul to escape from it. There is a Hdl 

* liierefore, if yon will consider, which accompaoies 
' man, in all stages of his history,and religions or other 
' development : but the Hells of men and Peoples 
' differ notably. With Christians it is the iDfinite 

* terror of being found guilty before the Just Judge, 



GOSPBL OP UAMMONISM iSt 

' With old Romaag, I conjecture, it was the terror The 
'aat of Pluto, for whom probably they cared little, Goqid 
' but of doing uowortbily, doing unvirtuou»ly, which ™-^ 
'waa their word for luuTumfiilly. And now what 
'ia it, if yon pierce through his Cants, his oft-re- 
'pexted HearMys, what he calls his Worships and 
'so forth, — what is it that the modem English soul 
'does, in very truth, dread infinitely, and contem- 
' plate with entire despair ! What it his Hell, 
'after all these reputable, oft-repeated Heanaya, 
* what ia it ? With hesitation, with astonishment, 
'I 'pronounce it to be: The terror of "Not sue- | 
' ceeding; " of not malting money, fame, or some 
'other figure in the world, — chiefly of not making ! 
' money ! Is not that a somewhat singular Hell I ' 

Yes, O Sanerteig, it is very singular. If we da 
not ' succeed,' where is the use of us ^ We had 
better never have been bom, " Tremble intensely," 
is our friend the Emperor of China aaya : there is 
the black BotcomlesB of Terror; what Sauerteig 
callfl the ' Hell of the English ' ! — But indeed this 
Hell belongs naturally to the Gospel of Mammon- 
ismp which also has its corresponding Heaven. 
For there ii one Reality among go many Phantasms ; 
about one thing we are entirety in earnest: The 
making of money. Working Mammonism does 
diTide the world with idle game-preserving Dilet- 
taoosni : — thank Heaven that there is even a Mam- 
monism, anything we are in earnest about ! Idleness 
is worst, Idleness alone ia without hope: work 
earneatly at anything, you will by degrees learn to 
work at almost all things. There is endless hopet 
in work, were it even work at making money. 

True, it must be owned, we for the present, with 
our Mammon-Goapel, have ciKne to strange con- 



tS» III THE MODERN WORKER 

Idolatry clmicms. We call it a Society ; and go about 
of professing openly the totaleit Beparation, isolatioD. 
Sense Qut life is not a mutual helpfulness ; but rather, 
cloaked under due lawa-of-war, named ' fair coni~ 
petitioa ' and bo forth, it ia a mutual hostility. We 
ihave profoundly forgotten e»erywliere that Caib- 
'■' Ifaymenl ie not the sole relation of human b«Dgs ; 
we think, nothing doubting, that it absolves and 
liquidates all engagements of roan. "My starving 
workers ? " answers the rich mill-owner ; " Did 
not I hire them fairly in the market i Did I not 
pay them, to the last sixpence, the sum corenanted 
for f What have I to do with them more ? " — 
Verily Mammon- worship ia a melancholy creed. 
When Cain, f^r his own behoof, had killed Abel, 
and was questioned, "Where is thy brother? " he 
too made answer, " Am I my brother's keeper ? " 
Did I not pay my brother hit wages, the thing he 
had merited from me? 

O sumptuous Merchant-Prince, illustrious game- 
preservmg Duke, ia there no way of ' killing ' thy' 
tH'other but Cain's rude way ! 'A good man by 
'the very look of him, by his very presence with 
'us as a fellow wayfarer in this Life-pilgrimage, 
'premuet so much : woe to him if he fcxget all 
such promises, if he never know that they were 
given ! 'T'o-^-^'-^ifjfr'fl smili {r"'H '^^ ihf *^'" 
Idolatrj^ of Senee.t o wtt funpoing to Hell is equiva- 
lent to not, making mooeyTall ' promisea^'anSTfiSral 
duties, -that-cannot- be p leaded t o"r~"TF CaJnTT^of 
Requests,. addjesa themselves in v^n^ MoBEy'he 
I can be ordered to pay, but nothing more. I have 
not heard in all Past History, and expect not to 
hear in all Future History, of any Society anywhere 
under God's Heaven supporting itself on such 



GOSPEL OF MAMMONISH iSj 

Philoaopky. The UniverBc it not raadc to; it is TheAd- 
made otherwise than k>. The man or natioa ofvwKSto 
men that thinks it ii made »o, marches forward p^a 
oothiDg donbtiog, step after step ; bat marches — Edw 
whither we know ! In theie last two centtffiea ot 
Atheistic Gofernment (near two centuries now, 
since the bleMed restoration of hia Sacred Majesty, 
and Defender of the Faith, Charles Second), I 
reckon that we have pretty well exhatuted what 
of ' firm earth ' there was for as to march on ; — and 
are now, very omiaooily, shuddering, reeling, and 
let ui hope tiding to recoil, on the clitf's edge [ — 

For out of this that we call Atheism come so 
many other unu and falsities, each ^sity wtth its 
misery at its heels! — A sool is not like wind 
{t^ritut, or breath) contained within a capsale; 
Uie Almightt Maker is not like a Clockmaker 
that once, in old immemorial ages, having maJe hit 
Horologe of a Universe, sitt ever since and sees it 
gol Not at all. Hence comes Atheism ; come, 
as we say, many other itmt; and as the sum of all, 
comes Valetisni, the reverie of Heroism ; sad root 
of \ili woea whatsoever. For indeed, as no man 
eVer saw the above-said wind-element enclosed 
within its capsule, aild finds it at bottom more 
deniable than conceivable ; so too be finds, in spite 
of Bmgwater Beqcests, your Clockmaker Almighty 
an entirely questionable affair, a deniable affair ; — 
and accordingly denies it, and along with it so much 
else. Alas, one knows not what and how much 
else ! For the faith in an Invisible, Unnameable, 
Godlike, present everywhere in all that we see and 
work and suffer, is the essence of all faith whatso- 
ever ; and that once denied, or still worse, asserted 
with lips only, and out of bound prayerbooka only. 



1(4 III THE MODERN WORKER 

TIic what other thing remains believable i That Cxtt 
Prer of weli-ordered ia marketable Cant; that Hermsm 
Q^^ mmw gaa-ltghted Hiitrioiiiim ; that seen with 
'^"^''^ I clear cyei ' (as they call Valet-eyes), no man is a 
Hero, or ercr was a Hero, but all men are ValeD 
and Varlcts. The accursed practical (juinteaaeDce 
of all sorts of Unbeiiefl For if there be now do 
Hero, and the Hiitria himself begin to be seen into, 
what hi^ is there for the seed of Adam here 
below ? We are the doomed everlasting prey of the 
Quack ; who, now in this guise, now in that, ia to 
filch' ui, to pluck aad eat ns, by such modes as are 
convenient for him. For the modes and guises I 
care little. The Quack once beviuble, let him 
come Ewiitly, let him |Juck and eat me ; — swiftly, 
that I may at least have done with him ; for in his 
Quack-world I can have no wish to linger. Though . 
he day me, yet will I not trust in him. Though he 
conquer nations, aod hare all the Flunkies of the 
Universe shoubog at bis heels, yet will I know well 
that ie is an Inanity ; that for him and his there is 
DO continuance appointed, save only in Gehenna and 
the Pool. Alas, the Atheist world, from its utmost 
summits of Heaven and WesunioBter-Hall, down- 
wards through poor seven-feet Hats and ' Unveraci- 
ties fallen hungry,' down to the lowest cellars and 
neglected hunger-dens of it, is very wretched. 

One of Dr. Alison'i Scotch facta atruck us 
much,' A poor Irish Widow, her husband having 
died, in one of the Lanes of Edinburgh, went fwth 
with her three children, bare of all resource, to 
solicit help from the Charitable Estal^ishments of 
that City. At this Charitable Esubliahment aod 

■ Oinrmliln HI lAe Mtamganatl if ikc Pit in SatUmd: 
by Willlim FviftBftj Alison, M.D. (Edinbmgb, i>4o.) 



GOSPEL OP HAHMONISH 1(5 

then at that she wa« refiued ; referred from one to Ho 
the other, helped by none ; — dll she had exhautted Hmnai 
diem all ; dll her etrength and heart tailed her s ^^ 
tbc sank dows in typbua-teier ; died, and infected i,god 
her Lane with fever, 10 that 'Bcrenteen odier 
peiEODs' died of fever there in consequence. The 
bimuDe Phyncian aaVa thereupon, as with a heart 
too fnll for ipeaking, Would it iwt have been 
cceaovty to help this poor Widow \ She took 
typhni-fever, and killed seTcoteen of you ! — Very 
corioui. The forlorn Irish Widow applies to her 
fellow-creatures, as if saying, " Behold I am sinking, 
bare of help : ye must help me ! I am your sister, 
bcMte of your bone ; one God made us ; ye must 
help me ! " They anawer, " No, impossiUe ; ihon 
art no sister of ours." But ahe proves her aigter- 
houd ; her typhus-fever kills ihtm : they actually 
were her brothers, though denying it ! Had human 
creature ever to go lower for a proof? 

For, as indeed was very natural in auch case, 
all government of the Poor by the Rich has long 
ago been given over to Suj^ly-and-demand, Laissez- 
faire and suchlike, and universally declared to be 
' irnpossiUc^' "You are no sister of ours; what 
shadow of poof is there i Here are our parch- 
roeats, oar padlocks, proving iodisputaUy our moitey- 
safea to be Mtrr, aod you to have no business with 
them. Depart 1 It is impossible ! " — Nay, what 
wonldst thou thyself have ua do } cry indignant 
readers. Nothing, my fi-iends, — till you have got a 
■oul for yourselves again. Till then all things are 
' impossible.' Till then I cannot even bid you buy, 
as tJie old Spartans would have done, two-pence 
worth of powder and lead, and compendioualy shoot 
to death this poor Iri«h Widow : even that is ' tm- 



Its III THE MODERN WORKER 

Gospd poMible ' for you. NothJag ift left but that she 

ot pro4e her sisterhood by dymg, and JofectiDg you 

Mi^w with tyi^n*. Seventeen of you lying dead will not 

* deny mch |iroof that she wat Oesb of your flesh ; 

and perhaps lome of the living may lay it to bean. 

' ImposaiUe : ' of a certain two-legged animal 
with feathers it is said, if you draw a distinct chalk- 
drde nmnd him, he sits imprisoned, as if girt with 
the iron ring of Fatej and will die there, thoDgh 
witbin sight of victuals, — or sit in sick misery 
there, and be fatted to death. The name of this 
poor two-legged animal ia — Goose ; aixl they make 
of him, when well &tteoed, Pate defiue grai, much 
prized by sgnle ! 



: NLETTAHTiaM 



B" 



docing a Governing Class who do not goivrn, 
DOT understand in the least that th^ are bound or 
expected to govern, is still moumfiuer than that of 
Mammonism. Mammonism, as we said, at lean 
works ; this goes idle, Mammonism has seized 
some portion of the message of Nature to mao ; and 
seizing that, and following it, will £«ze and appro- 

giate more and more of Nature's message: but 
ilettantism has missed it wholly. ' Make money :' 
that will mean withal, ' Do work in order to make 
money.' But, ' Go gracetiilly idle in Mayfair,' 
what does or can that mean \ An idle, game- 



GOSPEL OF DILETTANTISM xtj 

prcserriag and even corn-lawbg Arinocracy, in Dono- 
Buch an England as ours : haa the world, if we take tlmv- 
thought of it, ever seen such a pheooraeDOD till Tery '•"* 
lately i Can it long continue to see such i 7^ 

Accordingly the impotent, insolent DoDOthiagiBm Gospel 
In Practice and Saynothingisni in Speech, which of 
we ha^e to witness on that side of our affairi, is Work 
altogether amazing. A Corn-Law demonstrating 
itself openly, for ten years or more, with < argu- • 
ments ' to make the angels, and some other clauea 
of creatures, weep ! Fur men are oot ashamed to 
rise in Parliament and elsewhere, and speak the 
things they do aal think. ' Expediency,' ' Neces- 
sities of Party,' &c. &c. ! It b not known that the 
Tongue of Man is a sacred organ ; that Man himself 
is definable in Philosophy as an ' Incarnate fVerii ; ' 
the Word not there, you have no Man there either, 
but a Phantasm instead ! In this way it is that 
Absurdities may live long enough, — still walking, 
and talking for themsdves, years and decades after 
the brains are quite out! How are 'the knaves 
and dastards ' ever to be got ' arrested ' at that 
rate ? — 

" No man in this fashionable London of yours," 
friei(d Sauerteig would say, " speaks a plain word 
to me. Every man feels bound to be something 
more than plain ; to be pungent withal, witty, urna- 
menul. Hia poor fraction of sense has to be 
perked into s(»ne e^Hgrammatic shape, that it may 
prick«nto me ; — perhaps (this is th^ commonest) to 
be topsyturvied, left standing on its head, that I may 
remember it the better ! Such grinning inanity is 
very sad to the soul of man. Human feces should 
not grin on one like masks; they should- look on 
one like feces 1 I love honest laughtn, as I do 



fU m THE MODERR WCMOEER 



Tteflialicta; tm aot JJAawM : antLMfcofd 

V^^^rfe vk,aih Himmd ! if ;a« Mdk, Whkh. he or a 
j^fU,^ Dmii'i'jieaii, win he-tfae ch wria' coip»wy for me^ 
|m ami ai^ him 1 " 

fwiimn Speech, tnily, n the pcime matcrid of 
inHnccrc Actioii. Acdoo haigi, uitweK,i£cn/Da/ 
in Speech, in Thooght vhonof Speech ii the 
Shadow ; and preapMMcs itielf therefrim. The 
kind of Speech in a man bttokcna the kind ii( 
Aebaa yon will get btxa him. Our Speech, in 
dme modein davi, hai b e c ome amazti^. Johnioa 
coniJaiaed, " Nobody ipeaka in earneit. Sir ; tiiere 
ia no Mnont coovemiiaii." Tana all aenona^Kcch 
of men, as that of SercmeciAh-CenbiTy Pnntana, 
Twdfth-CeDtmy Catholic*, Gennan Poets of thii 
Century, hai become jvgoa, more or leas inaane. , 
Cromimi wa* mad and a qoack ; Anaelm, Becke^ 
Goetibe, JEmd Jfte. 

Pcrhapa few narradres in Hiftory or Hythtdogy 
are mM« dgnificant than that Moalem ooe, of Moaea 
and the Dwellen by the Dead Sea. A tribe of 
men dwelt on the shorei of that aame Aiphaltic 
Lake ; and having &tgottai,a« we are all too |»oDe 
to db, the inner &cta of Nature, and taken np with 
the blnties and onter temUancei of it, were Mien 
into fad conditions, — verging indeed towards a cer- 
tain hr deeper Lake. Whereupon it pleased kind 
Heaven to send them the Prophet Moses, with an 
tnstmctiTe wwd of warning, out of which m^ht 
have Eprong ' remedial roeamres ' not a few. But 
no : the men of the Dead Sea discovered, aa the 
valet-ipecies always does in heroes or projdieta, no 
comeliness in Moses ; listened with real tediom to 
Mows, with light grinning, or with splenetic anifis 



GOSPEL OF DI1£TTAHTI3H 1S9 

and. aoeen, affecting even to yawn ; and signified, The 
in short, that they found him a humbug, and even a Di*- 
bore. Such was the candid theory theee men of ^?^^ 
tlie Asphalt Lake formed to themselTn of Mosea, Hani. 
That probably he was a humbug, that certainly he Inig 
wat A bore. . 

Moaea withdrew ; but Nature and her rigwoul 
veracities did not withdraw. The men of the Dead 
Sea, when we next went to visit them, were all 
' changed into Apes ; ' ^ situng on the trees there, 
grinning now io the most unt^ected manner t 
gibbering and chattering very genuine nonsense ; 
{jnding the whole Universe now a most indisputable 
Humbng ! The Universe has become a Hiunbug 
to thefae Apes who thought it one. There they 
sit and chatter, to this hour : only, I believe, every 
Sabbath there returns to them a bewildered hal^ 
consciousneBS, hdf-reminiscence ; and they tit, with 
tTieii wizened smoke-dried visages, and such an 
air of supreme tragicality as Apes may ; looking 
out throt^h dtaote Uinkmg smoke-bleared eyes of 
theirs, into the wonderfulest universal smoky Twi- 
light and undecipherable disordered Dusk of Things ; 
wholly an Uncertainty, UninteUigibility, they and 
it ; and for commentary thereon, here and there an 
unmoaical chatter or mew ; — truest, tragicalest 
Hombug conceivable by the mind of man or ape ! 
They made no use of their sools ; and so have lost 
them. Their worship on the Sabbath now is to 
roott there, with unmusical screeches, and half- 
remember that they had souls. 

Didst thou never, O Traveller, fall-in with parties 
of this tribe I Meseems they are grown somewhat 
our day. 
Sale's KarBn (Introductloa), 

.Google 



i»o tit THE MODBRH WORKER 



abapter Iv 

HAPrr 

'.yea cotton-Gptimmg, ia noble ; woik 
is aloDC noble : be that here said and asierted 
k once more. And in like manner too, all dignity 
it painful ; a life of eaie is not for any man, dot bx 
any god. The lite of all gods figures itself to at as 
a Sublime Sadness, — earneBtneBB of Infinite Battle 
ag^nst Infinite Labour. Our highest religion ia 
named the ' Worship of Sorrow.' For the eon of 
man there ia no oobte crown, well worn or even ill 
worn, but is a crown of thorns ! — These things, in 
spoken words, or still better, in felt instincts alive in 
eT«7 heart, were once weU known. < 

Does not the whole wretchedness, the whole 
Albcitm as I call it, of man's ways, in these 
generauons, shadow itself for us in that unspeakable ' 
Life-philosophy of his ; The pretension to be what 
he calls ' happy ' i Every pitilulest whipster that 
walka within a akin has his head filled with the 
notion that he is, shall be, or by all hunian and 
diviiie laws ought to be ' happy.' His wishes, the 
pitifulest whipster's, are to be fiilltlled for him ; 
his days, the pitifulest whipster's, are to flow on in 
erer-gentle current of enjoyment, impossible even 
for the gods. The prophets preach to us, Thou 
shaltbe happy ; thou shalt We pleasant things, and 
find them. Thepeople clamour, Why have we not 
found pleasant things i 

We construct our theory of Human Duties, not - 
on any Greatest- Nobleness Principle, never ao 
mistaken ; no, but on s Greatect-Happioeu Prin- 



HAPPY 191 

ciple. 'The word £<Mi/ with u>,M in tome Slavonic Ms Sonl 
< dialects, seems to be synoaymous with ftentacii.'*Tiiooj- 
We plead and speak, in our Parliameota and else- "'^^ 
where, not aa from the Sonl, but from the Stomach ; stom. 
— wherefore indeed our pleadings ace so slow to achf 
profit. We plead not for God's Justice j we are 
not ashamed to stand clamouring and pleading for 
OUT own ' interests,' our own rents and trade- 
poliU ; we say, They are the ' interests ' of ao 
many; there ii such an intense desire in ns for 
them ' We demand Free-Trade, with much juM 
vociferation and benevolence. That the poorer 
classes, who are terribly ill-ofF at present, may have 
cheaper New-Orleana bacon. Men aik on Free- 
trade platforms. How can the indomitable spirit of 
Englishmen be kept up without plenty of bacon ! 
We shall become a ruined Nation !■— Surely, my 
friends, plenty of bacon is good and indispensable : 
but, I doubt, you will never get even bacon by 
aiming, only at that. You are men, not animals 
of prey, well-used or ill-used ! Your Greatest- 1 , 
Happiness Principle seems to me fast becoming a I 
rather unhappy one. — What if we should cease 
babbling abont ' happiness,' and leave it resting on 
its own basis, aa it used to do ! 

A gifted Byron rises in his wrath ; and feeling 
too surely that he for his part is not 'happy,' 
declares the same in very violent language, as a piece 
of news that may be interesting. It evidently hat 
surj^'iBed htm much. One dislikes to see a man 
and poet reduced to proclaim on the streets such 
tidings : but on the whole, aa matters go, that is 
not the most dislikable. Byron speaks the truti 
in this matter. Byron's large aodience indicate* 
how true it ta felt to be. 






191 III THE UODERH WORKER 

Whit k * Happy,' my btodier i First of all, what dtfcr- 
f^^- cDce is It whether thou art luppy or not ! Today 
"**" ' becomct YeMerday eo fast, all Tomorrows become 
Yesterdays ; and then there is no question wbitev^ 
of the ' happiness,' but qoite aaoth«' questioiii 
Nay, thou hast such a sacred pity left at least for 
thyself, thy very pains, once gone over into Yerter- 
djiy, become joys to thee. Besides, thou koowest - 
not what faearaily blessedness and indispensabje 
sanative virtue was in them ; thou shalt only know 
it after many days, when thou art wiser !— A bene- 
Tolent old Surgeon sat once in our company, with a 
Patient fallen sick by gourmandisiag, whom he had 
just, too brbfly in the Patient's judgment, been 
examining. The foolish Patient still at intervals 
continued to break in on our discourse, which rather 
promised to take a philosophic turn : " £nt I have , 
lost my appetite," said he, objurgatively, with a 
tone of irritated pathos ; " I have no aj^Ktite ; I 
can't eat ! " — " My dear fellow," answered the • 
Doctor in mildest tone, " it isn't of the slightest 
consequence ; " — and coadnued his philosophical 
discoursings with ae ! 

Oc does the reader not know the history of that 
Scottish iron Misanthrope ! The inmates of aome 
town-mansion, io those Northon parts, were thrown < 
into the fearfulest alarm by indubitable symptoms 
of a ghost inhabiting the next house, or perhaps even 
the partition- wall ! Ever at a certain hour, with pre- 
ternatural gnarring, growling and screeching, which 
attended as running bass, there began, in a horrid, ' 
semi-articulate, unearthly voice, this song : " Once 
I was hap-hap-happy, but now I'm nuvjerable ! - 
Clack-clack-chck, gnarr-r-r, whuz-z : Once I 
was hap-hap-happy, but now I'm majerable I '' — 



ReK, rert, perturbed aprit; — or indeed, as the The - 
good old Doctor snd : My dear fellow, it isn't <rf '^!^^ 
the dighteat consequence ! But no ; the pertarbed ^^f" 
spirit could not rest ; and to the neighbours, fretted, ^^J 
aifrighted, or at least imofierably bored by him, it 
tuat of Bich consequence that they had to go and 
exanuQC in his haunted chamber. In his haunted 
chamber, they find that the perturbed sfarit is an 
uofcKtunate — ^Imitator of Byron i No, is an onfor- 
tunate rusty Meat-jack, gnarring and creaking with 
rust and work ; and this, in Scottidi dialect, is iti 
BJTooian musical Life-pbilosofJiy, ning according 
toalMlity! 

Truly, I think the man who foes about pothering 
and upraaring for hia <hap[nnen,' — pothering, and 
were it ballot-boxing, poem-making, or in what 
way soever fussing and exwtiog himself, — he is not 
theinan that will help us to 'get our knaves and 
dastards arrested ' ! No ; he rather is on the way 
to increase the number, — by at least one unit and 
his tail ! Observe, too, that this is all a modern 
affair'; belongs not to die old heroic tiifles, but to 
these dastard new times. ' Happiness our being's 
end and aim,' all that very paltry speculation is at 
bottom, if we will count well, not yet two centuries 
oltf in the world. 

The only happincHs a brave man ever troubled*! 
himsel£ with asking much about was, happiness'l 
enough to get his work done. Not " I can't eat I " 
but " I can't work ! " that was the burden of all 
wise complaining among men. It is, after all, the . 
one unhappiness of a man. That he cannot work ; 
that he cannot get his destiny as a man fulfilled. 
Behold, the day is passing swiftly over, our life is 



iH 111 THE MODERN WORKER 

RemiltB puMDg swiftly over ; and the night cometh, whnrin 
of no taaa can work. The night once come, our 

_**^*, happiness, our unbappiness, — it ia all abolidted ; 

Rtenutl ,g„j,(,ed, clean gone ^ a thing that has been : ' oot 
of the slightest consequence' whether we were 
happy as eupeptic Curtja, a» the fattest pig of 
Ejucurus, or imhappy as Job with potsherds, as 
musical Byron with Giaours and sensibilitiea of the 
heart ; as the unmusical Meat- jack with hard labour 
and rust! But our work, — behold that is not 
abolished, that has not vanished ; our work, behold, 
it remuns, or the want of it remains j — for endless 
Times and Eternities, remains ; and that is now 
the sole question with us forevermore ! Brief 
brawling Day, with its noisy phanUBms, its poor 

Kper-crowns tinsel-g^t, is gone ; and divine ever- 
iting Night, with her star-diadems, with her 
sil«ices and her y eracities, is come ! What hast 
thou done, and how i HapfnnesB, imhappinesa : 
all that was bat the wagei thou hadst ; thou hast 
spent all that, in sustaining thyself hitberward ; not 
a coin of it remains with thee, it is alt ^nt, eaten : 
and now thy work, w4>ere is thy work i Swift, out 
with'it ; let us see thy work 1 

Of a truth, if man were not a poor hungry dastard, 
aiul even much of a blockhead withal, he would 
|Cease criticising his victuals to such extent ; and 
{criticise himself rather, what he does iwith his 



THE ENGLISH 



AND yet, with all thy theoretic {Jatitudea, whuiEnr- 
a depth of practical aense io thee, great/luidaii 
EaglaaA ! A depth of seiwe, of juitice, and*^^ 
courage; id which, under all emergenciet and 
world-bewildernicDtB, and under this moat complex 
of cmergeDcicB we now live ia, there is adil hope, 
there is still aaaurance 1 

The English are a dumh people. They can do t 
gre,at acts, but not describe them. Like the old 
Romans, and some few others, i/kif Epic Poem u 
written on the Earth's surface : England her Mark. ! 
It is com}Jained that they have no artists : one 
Shakspeare indeed ; but for Raphael only a 
Reynolds ; for Mojart nothing but a Mr. Bishop ; 
not a picture, not a song. And yet they did 
produce one Shakspeare : consider how the element 
of Shakspearean melody does lie imprisoned in 
their nature ; reduced to unfold it«elf in mere 
Cotton-mills, Consdtutional Governments, and 
suchlike ; — all the more interesting when it docs 
become visible, as even in such unexpected shapes it 
succeeds in doing 1 Goethe spoke of the Horse, 
how impressive, almost affecting it was that an 
animal of such qualities should stand obstructed so ; 
its speech nothing but an inarticulate neighing, its 
handiness mere ioo/intiM, the fingers all constricted, 
tied together, the nnger-nails coagulated into a mere 
hoof, shod with iron. The more significant, thinks 
he, are those eye-Haahings of the generous noble 



I9K III THE MODERN WORKER 

The quadruped ; those prancings, cuTTrngs of the neck 
Golden clothed with thunder. 

1^^ A Dog of Knowledge has free utterance ; bwt 
^^"^^ the War-horse i« almost mute, Tcry hi from free ! 
It is even eo. Tndy, your freest utterances are 
not by any means always the best : they are the 
worst rathN ; the feeblest, triTiakn ; tbeii meaniog 
prompt, but small, ephemeral. Commend me to 
the silent English, to the silent Romans. Nay tbe 
rilent RuBsians, too, I believe to be worth some- 
thing : are they not even now drilling, under much 
obloquy, an immense semi- barbarous half-world 
from Finland to Kamtschatka, into role, subordi- 
nation, ciTilisation, — really in an old Roman 
fashion ; speakmg no word about it ; quiedy 
hearing all manner of vituperative Able Editors 
apeak ! While your cver-tatking, ever-gesticnladng 
French, for example, what are they at this moment 
drilling i — Nay of all aoimals, the freest of utter- 
ance, I should judge, is the genus Sitnia : go into 
the Indian woods, say all Travellers, and look what 
a brisk, adroit, unresting Ape-population it is ! 

The spoken Word, the written Poem, is said to 
be an epitome of the man ; how much more the 
done work. Whatsoever of morality and of intclli- - 
gence ; what of patience, perseverance, ^thfiilness, 
of method, insight, ingenuity, energy; in a word, 
^ whatsoever of Strength the man had in him will 
' I lie written in the Work he does. To work : why, 
it is to try himself against Nature, and her everlast- 
ing unerring Laws ; these will tell a true verdict 
as to the man. So much of virtue and of &culty 
did 'cae find in him ; so much and no more ! He 
hod such capacity of harmonising himself with me 



THE ENGLISH 197 

aod ray unalterable eVer-veracious Lawi ; of co- Tte 
operating and working at I bade him ; — and bas SfMk- 
^twpered, and has not profpcred, ai yoa see! — jjjjj 
Working as ^at Natore bade him : doei not that fheDo- 
mean virtue oif a kind ; nay t& all kinda \ Cotton able 
can be spun and wld, Lancavhire operatiTeB can be 
got to spin it, and at length one tuu the wovni 
webs and sells them, Iwf foUowing Nature's regula- 
tions in that matter : by not following Nature's regula- 
Uons, you have them not. You have them not ;~~ 
there is no Cotton-web to sell : Nature finds a I»I1 
against you ; your < Strength ' is not Strength, bat 
Futility ! Let faculty be honoured, so far as it is 
facnJty. A man that can succeed in working is to 
me always a man. 

How one loves to see the burly figure of him, 
this thick-skinned, seemingly opaque, perhaps sulky, 
almost stupd Man of Practice, pitted against some 
light adroit Man of Theory, all equipt with clear 
logic, and able anywhere to give you Why for 
Wherefore 1 The adroit Man of Theory, w light ' 
of movement, clear of utterance, with his bow full- 
bent and quiver Aill of arrow-argumaits,^ — surely he 
will strike down the game, traufix everywhere the 
heart of the nutter; triumph everywhere, as he 
proves that he shall and muse do J To your aston- 
ishment, it turns out oftenest No. The cloudy- 
browed, thick-Boled, opaque Practicality, with no 
logic utterance, in silence mainly, with here and 
there a low grunt or growl, has in him what trans- • 
cends all logic- utterance ; a Congruity with the' 
Unuttered. The SpeakaUe, which lies atop, as a 
superficial film, or oider skin, it his or is not his ; 
but the Doable, which reaches down to the World's 
centre, you find him there \ 

■ -C;°nSl= 



)9> III THE UODBRN WORKER 

Pacta The ragged firiiidl«y hw litde to say for 

M^aiut hbneeli'; the rugiged firindley. When diflicuhies 

*°^ accnmulote on him, retirea nlent, ' generally to his 

' bed ; ' redrea ' BometiiiieR for three days together 

* to his bed, ^at he may be in perfect privacy 

* there,' and ascertam b his rough head how the 
difticulties can be orercome. The ineloqu«)t 
firmdiey, behold he iai chained seas togetfa^i 
his ships do visibly Boat over valleys, invisiUy 
through the hearts of mountains ; the Mersey and 
the Thames, the Humber and the Severn have 
shaken hands : Nature most audiUy answers, Yea ' 
The Man of Theory twangs bis full-bent bow 
Nature's Fact onght to fall stridten, but does not 
his logic-arrow glances from it as from a scaly 
dragon, and the obstinate Fact keeps walking its 
way. How singular ! At bottom, you will have 
to grapple closer with the dragon ; take it home 
to you, by real facolty, not by seeming fkcidty; 
try whether you arc stronger, or it is stronger. 
Close with it, wrestle it : sheer obstinate toughmss 
of muscle ; but much more, what we call toaghttess 
of hesrt, which will mean persistence hopeful and 
even desperate, onsubduable patience, composed 
candid openness, clearncsG of mind ; all this ^all 
be * strength ' in wrestling your dragon i the whole 
man's real strength is in this work, we shall get the 
measure of him here. 

Of all the Nations in the world at present the 
I English OK the stuindest in mech, the wisest in 
I action. As good as a * dumb Nation, I say, who 
candot speak, and have never yet spoken, — spite of 
the Shakspeares and Miltons who show us what 
possibilities there are ! — O Mr. Bull, I look in that 
surly face of thine with a miKture of pitjr and 



THE ENGLISH 199 

Ixaghjei, yet tSao with wonder and TeoeratioD. Joliii 
Thon coraplainest not, my illiutrious friend j aitd ^^'s 
yet I bdiere the heart of thee is full of sorrow, of 5'™' <* 
uiupokeD udnesa, lerionsnen, — profoood melan- tmnt 
chdy (as some have said) the basis of thy being. 
Unconsciously, for ^on vpeakett of nothing, this 
great Univerae is great to theo. Not by leyity of 
floadng, hot by stubborn force of swinuning, ehalt 
thou make thy way. The Fate* ting of thee that 
thou shall many times be thought an ass and a dull 
ax, and shalt with a godlike indifference believe it. 
My friend, — and it is all mitrue, noting ever 
^ilser in point of fict ! Thou art of those great 
ones wbose greMneai the small patser-by does not 
discern. Thy very stupidity is wiser than their 
wiadqm. A grand vU iaertu u in thee; how 
many grand qualities unknown to small men I 
Nature alone knows thee, acknowledges the bulk 
and strength of thee : thy Ejmc, trnsung in words, 
is written in huge characters on the ^e of this 
Ph^qet, — sea-moles, cotton-trades, railways, fleets 
and cities, Indian Empires, Americas, New Hol- 
lands ; legible throughout the Solar System J 

But the dumb Rusnans too, as I said, they, 
drilling all wild Ana and wild Europe into military 
rank and Hie, a UTrible yet hitherto a prospering 
enterprise, are sdll dumber. The old Romans also 
cotiid not ipfai, for muiy ceatories : — not till the 
world was theirs ; and so many speaking Greek- 
doms, their logic -arrows all ipent, had been 
absorbed and abolished. The logic - arrows, how 
they ^anced futile from obdurate thick-skinned 
Facts ( Facts to be wrestled down only by the 
real vigour of Roman thews ! — As for me, I honouTt 
in these bnd-babUing days, all die Silent ruher. 



rioo III THE HOOERM WORKER 

Alaobfi Agcand Silence that of Romans; — nay the grandcR 
Bfiicot of all, u it not that of the godi 1 Eien Trivialky, 
^"V^ Imbecility, that can sit nlent, how respectable ii it 
in coniparisoD ! The ' talent of nlnice ' is our 
Jundamental one. Gieat hoDonr to him whose 
E|ric is a melodioa* hexaoieter Iliad ; not a jingl- 
ing Sham Iliad, nothing true in it but the hexame- 
ters and forms merely. But still greater faooour, if 
hii Epic be a mighty Empire slowly bmit together, 
a mighty Series of Heroic Decd»,| — a might; 
Contjueat over Chao* ; 'atiiei EfHC the ' Eternal 
Melodies ' have, aod must have, informed aitd 
dwelt in, as it sung itself! There is no mistaking 
that latter Epic. Deeds ale greater than Words. 
Deeds have such a life, mute but undeniable, and 
grow as living trees and fruit-trees do ; they people 
the vacuity^of Time, and make it green and worthy. 
Why should the oak prove logically that it ought to 
grow, and will grow i Plant it, try it ; wUkt gifts 
of diligent judicious assimilattoa and setzetion it has, 
of [cogresa and resistance, of force U> grow, will 
then declare themselves. My mnch- honoured, 
illustrious, extremely iiorticnlate Mr. Bull I — 

Ask Bull his spoken opinion of any matter, — 
oftentimes the force of dulness ^aa do farther go. 
You stand sttent, mcreduluis, u over a ^autude 
that borders on the Infinite. The man's Cfaorch- 
isms, Dissenterisms, Puseyisms, BeDtbaroisms, 
College Philosophies, Fa^ionahle Literatures^ ate 
une5«mpled in thia world. Fai^s j^ophecy if 
fulfilled ; you call the man an ox and an ass. But 
vet.him onoe to work, ^-respectable man! His 
spoken sense is next to nothing, nine-tenths of it 
palpable nensense : but his unspoken scdk, his inner 
riletit feeling of what is true, what does agree with 



THE BHGLl^ aoi 

6ct, what is dcwbJe and what is bM doable^ — ^tbh The 
Geeks its fellow in thewOTld. A tefribte worker ; Piiee of 
irreBJBtible against marshes, nonDuins, impediments, gj*^^ 
disorder, incivilisation ; everywltcre vanquisht^ bnniii' 
disorder, leaving it beEiind him as roedMHl aod 
order. . He ' retire* to his bed three day^' and 
considers ! 

Nay withal, stupid as he is, our dear John, — 
ever, after inGoite tumblings, and spoken platitudes 
innumerable from barrel-heads and parliament- 
bencbes, he does settle down somewhere about the 
just conclusion ; you are cn'tain that his jumblinga 
and tumtJings will end, after years or centuries, in 
the stable equilibrium. Stable equilibrium, I say ; 
centre'of-gravity lowestf — not tbe unstable, with 
ccntre-of-gravity highest, as I have known it done 
by quicker people ! For indeed, do bnt jumble 
and tumble sufSciently, you avoid that worst fault, 
at settling with your centre- of-gtavity highest ; 
your centre- of-grarity is certain to come lowest, 
ami to stay there. If stowneBs, what we in our 
impatieiKe call 'stupidity' be. the price of stable 
equilibrium ores unstaUe, shall we grudge a little 
slowness i Not the least admirable quality of Bull 
is, after all, that of remaiiiiiig insensiUe to logic i 
holding out for considerate periods, ten years or 
more, as in this of the Cora-Laws, after all argu- 
ments and shadow of argoments have faded away 
from him, till the very urchins on the street titter 
at the arguments he In'ings. Logic, — Aoyudi, the 
'Art of Speech,' — does indeed speak so and so; 
clear enoDgh : nevertheless Bull still shakes his 
bead; will see whether nothing dae iHagkal, not yet 
' spoken,' not yet able to be ' spoken,' do not lie 
in tbe buBoess, as there so often does 1 — My firm 



*oi HI THE MODERN WORKER 

Sacnd- belief 'a, that, finding himself now enchaoted, hasd- 
" ^^trf shackled, fbot-shackled, in Poor-Law BastiUes and 

Cuatoai elsewhere, he will retire three days to his bed, and 
arrive at a coDclusion or two ! His three-yeari 
* total stagnation of trade,' alas, is not that a painful 
enough 'lying in bed to consider himself i Foot 
Bull! 
J Bull is a bom ConservatiTe j foe this too I in- 
J lexpressibly hononr him. All great Peoples are 
*■ conserrative ; slow to believe in novelties ; patient 
' of much error in actualities ; deeply aiid torerer 
'certain of the greatness that is in Law, in Custmn 
once Botemoly eitablished, and now long recognised 
as JDst and final. — True, O Radical Reformer, there 
is no Custom that can, properly speaking, be final ; 
none. And yet tbon seest Cutlomi which, in all 
civilised countries, are accounted final ; nay, under 
the Old- Roman name of Morei, are accounted 
Mordity, Virtue, Laws of God Himself. Soch, I 
aaaitfe thee, not a few of them are ; aoch almost i 
all of them once were. And greatly do I respect 
the solid character, — a blockhead, thou wih layj 
yes, but a well-conditioned blockhead, and the best- 
conditioned, — who esteems all 'Customs once 
stdemnly acknowledged ' to be ulttittate, divine, sod 
the rule for a man to walk by, nothing donbtiiig, 
not inqutnng farther. What a time of it bad we, 
were all men's lifo and trade still, in all ports of it, 
a problem, a hypothetic seeking, to be settled by 
painfol Logics and Baconian Inductions ! Tbe 
Clerk in Eastcheap cannot spend the day in verify- ' 
ing his Ready- Reckoner ; he must take it as verified, . 
true and mdiapntable ; or his Book-kee{Mng by 
Double Entry will stand still. *' Where is your 
Posted Ledger \ " asks the Master at Di^K. — 



THE SHGLISH loj 

'* Sic," UMwers the other, ■* I was nrifjvig my TIm 
Ready- Reckoner, iixl fiwl aome enori. The Conaer- 
Ledger u — ! " — Fancy such a thing! l^"iuh 

True, ail turns on your Ready- Reckoner being ^^^ 
moderately correct, tieing not insupportably inctx'- their 
rect ! A Ready- Reck oner which baa led to pcliticBl 
distinct entrie« in your Ledger such aa these : Ledger 
' Cra£ior an English People by lifteeo hundred 
'years of good L^Mur; aiid Deitor to lodging in 
'enchanted Poor- Law Baitillea: Credilor by con- 
* quiring the largest Empire the Sun ever aaw ; 
■^ Debtor to DoftoLhingiun and " Impostibte " 
' written on all departments of the government 
'thereof: Cn£tar by mountuns of gold ingots 
' earned ; and Dtbtar to No Bread purchasable by 
' them : ' — inch Ready- Reckoner, methtnks, is 
beginning to be suspect ; nay is ceasing, and has 
ceased, to be suspect ! Snch Ready- Reck oner is 
a Solecism in Eastcheap ; and must, whatever be 
the press of business, and will and shall be rectified / 
a liule. Business can go on no longer with It. 
The most Conservative English People, thickest- 
skinned, most patient of Peoples, is dnven alike by 
its Logic and its Unlogic, t^ things * spoken,' and 
by* things not yet spoken or very apeakaWe, but 
only felt and very unendurable, to be wholly a 
Reforming People. Thnr Life, as it is, has 
ceased to be longer possible for them. 

Urge not this ndile silent People; rouse not the 
Berserkir rage that lies in them ! Do you know 
their Cromwells, Hampdens, their Pyms and Brad- 
shawB i Men very peaceable, but men that can be 
made yery terrible ! Men who, like their old 
Teutsch Fathers in Agrippa's days, ' have a soul 
diat despises death ; ' to whom ' death^' compared 



to4 III THE UODBRR WORKER 

ConMf^ with fd«ehoods and injustices, is light ;— ' ia whom 

nttkMof thne is a rage nncooquerable by die imtnorlal 

jMticc g(^ ! • T^ote this, the English People haTC 

taken very jKetematm^I'looluDg Spectres bj the 

beard ; saying vtrtoally : " And if thou «>cr< 

* preternatural ' { Thoo with thy * divine-rights ' 

■ ■ grown diabohc- wrongs? Thoo, — not ereo' natural j' 

decapitable ; totally extinguishable ! " Yea, just 

so EodliLe as Uib People's patience was, even to 
godlike mil and mutt its impatience be. Away, 
ye Bcandalons Practical S<Jecitm8, children actually 
of the Prince of Darkneis ; ye have near broken 
our hearts ; we can and will raidure you no longer. 
Begone, we say ; depart, while the play is good ! 
By the Most High God, whose sons and bora 
missionaries true men are, ye shall not continue 
here ! You and we have become incompatiUe ; can .' 
inhabit one house no Itmger. Either you must go, 
we. Are ys. amlntious to try iiritieh it shall be } 
O my Conservative friends, who still specially • 
name and struggle to approve yourselves 'Conterv- 
ative,' would to Heaven I could persuade yon of 
this world-old fact, than which Fate is not snrer, 
tThat Truth and Justice alone are capable of bnng 
K conserved ' and preserved ! The thing which is 
unjust, which is not accotdbg to God's Law, will 
voQ, in a God's Universe, try to conserve diat^ 
It is BO old, cay you i Yes, and the hotter haate 
ought jou, of all others, to be in, to let it grow no 
older ! If but the faintest whisper in your hearts 
intimate to yon that it ia not fair, — hasten, for the 
sake of Conswvaiism itself, to probe it rigorously, 
to cast it f<Mth at once and forever if guilty. How 
will or can you preserve il, the thing that is itot 
fair ? < Impossibility ' a thousandfold is marked oo 



{ 



THE ENGLISH 105 

that. And ye call yourgelyea Conservativea, Aria- Cbni- 
locraciM ; — ought not honour and nobtenest erf' mind, Law 
if they had departed from all the Earth elsewhere, ^fronB* 
to find their last refuge with you ? Ye unfortunate ! 

The bough that is dead shall be cut away, for the 
Bake of the tree itself. Old i Yes, it is too old. 
Many a weary winter has it swung and creaked 
there, and-gnawed and fretted, with its dead wood, 
the organic substance and still living tibre of this 
good tree ; many a long aununer has its ugly naked 
bfown defaced the fair green umbrage ; every day 
it lias done mischief, and that only : otf with it, for 
tlie tree's sake, if for nothing more ; let the Con- 
servatism that would preserve cut U away. Did no 
wood-forester apprise you that a dead bough with 
its dead root left sticking there is extraneous, poison- 
ous ; is as a dead iron spike, some horrid rusty 
plougheharc driven into the living substance ; — nay is 
far worae j for in every wind-storm ('commercial 
crisis' or the like), it fi'ets and creaks, jolts itself 
to and fro, and canitut lie quiet aa your dead iron 
spike would. 

If I were the Conservative Party of England [ 
(which is another bold figure of speech), I would I 
not for a hundred thousand pounds an hour allow 
tliose Corn-Laws to continue I Potosi and Gol- * ' 
conda put together would not purchase ray assent 
to them. Do you count what treasuries of bitter 
indignadon they are laying up for you in every just 
English heart? Do yon know what questions, not 
as to Corn-prices and Sliding -scales alone, they are 
Jbrciag every reflective Englishman to ask himself? 
Questions insoluble, or hitherto unsolved ; deeper 
than any of our Logic -plummets hitherto will 
sound : questions deep enough, — which it were 



ia& III THE HODEKN WORKER 

ASct-bcttcr that we did not iMBK Claim tfaoi^ht! Yoa 
t^^ are ford^ oc to tfamk of than, m heffa nttmag. 
Jz^ them. Tbe ntteram of ifann w begm ; and where 
will it be ended, tfabik yoo? When two miUioiu 
of 006*1 bratber-iDen Mt in WorkboiMca, and five 
miUioni^ ai ii iiMalcmlf taid, ■ lejoice io potatoes,' 
dierc arc lariiwi thii^i dut mtut be begun, let 
tbcm Old where they can. 



THE Settlenmtt effected by our * Healing 
Parlianient ' m the Year of Grace 1660, ' 
thoagh accomplished imder universal acclamations 
from the four comers of tbe British Dominions, 
turns out to have been odc of the mour&fulest thai , 
ever took place in this land of ours, Ic called and 
thought itself a Settlement of brightest hope and 
fulGlrocDt, bright as the bkze of universal tar- 
barrels acul bonfires could make it : and we find it 
iKtw, on looking back on it with the insight which 
trial has yielded, a Settlement as of despair. Con- 
sidered welt, it was a Settlemeat to govern hence- 
forth without God, with only some decent Pretence 
of God. 

Governing by the Christian Law of God h*l 
been found a thing of battle, convulsion, confiisioo, ' 
an inliDitely difficult thing : wherefore let us now 
abandon it, and govern only by so much of God's ' 
Christian Law as — as may prove quiet and con- 
venient for us. What is the end of Government .' 



TWO CENTURIES »o7 

To guide men in the way wherein diey ahonld go ; Tax- 
£oward« their true good in this life, the p<»tal of ■t'O'i . 
intinite good in a liS to come ? To guide men in ^j^^ 
such way, aad ouTBelfes in nich way, aa the Maker Gorera- 
of men, whole eye it upon ub, will sanction at the menti 
Great Day? — Or alai, perhaps at bottom ii there 
no Great Uay, no lure outlook of any life to come; 
but only this poor ]i(e, and what of taxes, fehcitics, 
Ne]l-Gwyns and entertaimnentB we can manage to 
mugter here ! In that case, the end of Garem- 
ment will be. To Bup|«'esa all noise and dinarbance, 
whether of Puritan ^^aching, Cameronian psalm- 
singipg, thiera'Tiot, morder, arson, or what noise 
H)e¥^,'and — be carefitl that sapplies do not fail! 
A very notable conclusion, if we will think of it, and 
not without an abundance of fruits for us. Olifcr 
Cromwell's body hung on the Tyburn gallows, as 
the type of Puritanism found futile, inexecutable, 
execr^e,— yea, that gallows-tree has been a finger- 
post into very strange country indeed. Let earnest 
Puritanism die ; let decent Formalism, whatsoever 
cant it be or grow to, live ! We have had a 
pleasant journey in that direction ; and are — 
arriving at our inn ? 

To support the Four Pleas of the Crown, and 
keep Taxes coming in i in very sad seriousness, has 
not this been, ever since, even in the beat times, 
almost the one admitted end and aim of Govern- 
ment i Religion, Christian Church, Moral Dnty ; > 
the fact that man had a soul at all ; that in raan'i \ 
life there was any eternal truth or justice at all,— 
has been aa good as left quietly out of sight, i 
Church indeed) — alas, the endless talk and struggle , 
we have bad of High -Church, Low-Church, i 
Church-Extensbn, Church-in- Danger : we invite j 



Ml 111 THE IIODEKN WORKER 

Clum^ the Cbriatian reada to thkik whether it has not 
oimI been a too miBcrablc scieech-owl jthantasm of tallr>. ^ 

-_*°^ and Btniggle, aa fbr a ' Church,' — which one had 
rather not define at prctentl 

But DOW in theae godleu two centuries, hraking 
at England and her elForts and doings, if we ask, 
What of England's doings the Law of Nature had 
accepted, Nature's King had actually furthered and 
{Kfxiounced to have tnnh in them, — where is our 
answer ! Ndther the * Church ' of Hurd and 
Warburton, nor the Anti-Church of Hnnw and 
Paine ; not in any shape the S[Mritualism of England : 
all this it already Men, or beginning to be seen, for 
what it is ; a thing that Nature docs net own. On 
the one side is dreary Cant, with a remmtetHce of 
things noble and divine ; on the othn is but acrid 
Candour, with a ^o^ieey of things brutal, infernal. ■ 
Hurd and Wartmrton are sunk into the sere and 
yellow Jeafi no conaideraUe body of tcoe-seeing 
men looks thitherward for healing : thePM^-and- ' 
Hume Atheistic theory of 'things welTIetalS^' 
with Liberty,~"^uairt'y and the like, is also in theae 
days declaring itself noi^bt, mable to keep the 
world from taking fire. 

The theories and speculauons of bodi these 
parties, and, we may say, of all intermediate parties 
and persons, prove to be things which the Eternal 
Veracity did not accept; things superficial, ephe- 
meral, which already a near Posterity, finding tbem 
already dead and brown-leafed, is abont to suppress 
and rarget. The Spiritualism of England, for 
those godless years, is, as it were, all forgettable. 
Much has been written : but the perennial Scriptures 
of Mankind have had small accession : bom all 
English Books, in rhyme or prose, in leather bind- 



TWO CENTURIES 109 

ing or to papec wrappase, bow many vcrws have WoAs 
been added to these ! Our moat melodioiu Singeri ^^ 
have sung as from the throat outwards ; from the "'•'•™* 
inner Heart of Man, from the great Heart of 
Nature, through no Pope or Philips, has there come 
any tone. The Oraclea hare been dumb. In 
brief, thf Rpp l^pn Wftri j of England haa not been 
gas. The 'S^ken Word of Enghmd tums out to 
have been trivial ; of short endurance ; itot valuable, 
not available a« a Word, except for the passing day. 
It has been accordant with transitory Semblance ; 
discOT^nt with eternal Fact. It has been un- 
fbrtonately not a Word, but a Cant ; a helpless 
mvoluntary Cant, nay too often a cunning voluntary 
one ; either way, a very mournful Cant ; the Voice 
not of Nature and Fact, but of aometbing other 
than these. 

Wi^ all its miserable shortcomings, with its 
wajB, controveraies, with its trades-unions, famine- 
i nsurrections, — i t ia her Practical Material Work 
alone that Engl^ has to abow tor herself 1 Thia, 
aiKl tiitherto almost nothmg more ; yet actually this. 
The grim inarticulate reracity of the English 
People, unable Co apeak iu meaning in words, haa 
turned itself silently on things ; and the dark 
powers of Material Nature have answered, " Yea, 
this at least is true, tbia js not false J " So answers 
Nature. "Waste deaert-ahruba of the Tropical 
swampB have become Cotton-treea ; and here, under 
ray furtherance, are verily woven ahirta, — hanging 
unaold, undistributed, but capable to be distributed, 
capable to cover the bare backs of my children of 
men. Mountains, old aa the Creation, I have per- 
mined to be bored through ; bituminous fuel-atores, 
the wreck of forests that were green a million years 



ttb 111 TH^ilODERH WORKER 

A God ago, — I have opened than from my eecret rock- 
'^ charobera, and they are ^ours, ye Englieh. Your 

*•"■"" huge fleets, tteamshipg, do sail the sea ; hnge Indtas 
do obey you ; from huge iV«u Eng^nds and Anti- 
podal Anttralias comeR profit and traffic to this Old 
England of mine ! " So idrnwers Nature. The 
Ptactical La hinr gf ^"g'*1»l '"> ""' " ■-him^riral 
I "I VmalttT : itis_a^ Ffl'-', a'-ynnwlpi^gpH hy all thf 
Worldgj which noman and no dnnon will contra- 
dict. It i«, very andMy, thoogh very inarticulately 
as yet, the one God't Voice we have heard in iliese 
two atheistic centuriet. 

And now to observe with what bewildering 
obscorationB and impediments all this as yet stands 
entangled, and is yet intelligible to no man ! How, 
with our gross Atheism, we hear it nof to be the 
Voice of God to us, but regard it merely aa a 
Voice of earriily Pro fit- and- Loss, And J wTe . a 
' HeUjn.EnglMd,— the Hell-«f not.ma^n?inopey. 
And coldl^lee the all-conquering v^iant Sons of 
Toil sit enchanted, by the million, in their Poor- 
Law Bastille, as If diis were Nature's Law ; — 
mumbling to ourselveB some vague Janglement of 
Laissez-faire, Supplj^-and-demand, Cash-payment 
the' one nexus of man to man : Free-trade, 
Competition, and Devil take the hindmost,, our 
latest Gospel yet preached ! 

As If, in tnith, there were no God of Labour; 
as if godlike Labour and brutal Msmmonism 
were convertible terms. A serious, most earnest 
MammontSm grown Midas-eared ; an unserious> 
DifetlantiBifi, eameat about nothing, grinning -with 
inarticulate incredulous mcredible jargon about all 
tbingi, as the ncbmltd Dilettanti do by the Dead 



OVER PRODUCTIOH iii 

Sea ! It is mouniti)] enoagh, for the pretent hour ; The 
were there not an endtesB hope in it withal. Giant Ctmeof 
Labour, truest emblem there is of God the World- ^^^^^^ 
Worker, DeniiurgUB, and Eternal Maker ; noUe ^^n 
LABotn, which it yet to be the King of this Earth, 
and eit on the highest throcte, — staggering hitherto 
like a blind irrational giant, hardly allowed to have 
hie common dace on the street-pavemems ; idle 
Dilettantism, Dead-Sea Apism crying out, " Down 
with him ; he is dangerous I " 
• L abonr muat become a seeing rational EJant. y ith 
.' a JvBf'^ the body of him, an d take his place on tt^e 
\ throne of tiiinga, — leavrnR his Mammonism. an d ■ 
is everat other adjunctt. on the lower steps of said 
I t hrone . 



BUT what will reflective readers say of a 
Govcraing Class, such as ours, addressing 
its Workers with an tndictment of ' Over-pro- 
duction ' ! Over-produetioa : runs it not so i 
" Ye raiscellaneous, ignoble manufacturing indi- 
viduals, ye hare produced too much ! We accuae 
you of making above two-hundred thousand ^trts 
for the bare backs of mankind. Your trousers too, 
which yon have made, of fustian, of cassimere, of 
Scotch'jJaid, of jane, nankeen and woollen broad- 
cloth, are they not manifald i Of hats fitr the 
human head, of shoes for the human foot, of (toots 
to sit on, spoons to eat witb— Nay, what aay we 



»> III THE HOOBRN WORKBR | 

I hati or ahoes ? You prcxluce gold-watches, jewdrieB, | 
d uWer-forks, and epefgnes, cominodes, chifibnieiB, ' 
itutFcd sof^B — Heaf eiu, the CcNnmercial Bazaar and ' 
mnltitiuUnona Hawd-aod-JanteKa cannot contaia 
you. You hate produced, prodoced ; — be that 
seekt yow bdictment, let him look- around. 
Millions of shirts, and empty pairs of tweechea, 
hang thne in judgment against you. We accuse 
you of over-producing : you are criminally guilty 
of producing shirts, breeches, hats, shoes and com> 
modities, ID a frightful over-abuodance. And now 
there is a glut, and your operatives cannot be 
fed ! " 

Never surely, against an earnest Working Mam- 
monism was there brought, by Game-presMring 
aristocratic DilettaDtiBin, a stranger accusation, since 
this world began. My lords and gentlemen, — I 
why, it was jg* that were appointed, by the fact | 
and by the theory of your position on the Earth, to 
'make and administer Laws,' — that is to say, m ' 
a world such as ours, to guard against ■ gluts ' ; 
against honest operatives, who had done their work, 
remaining unfed I I say, you were appointed to 
|>reside over the Distribution and ApporOooment of 
the Wage* of Work done ; and to see well that , 
there went no labourer without his hire, were it of 
money-coins, were it of hemp gallows-ropes : that 
function was yours, and from immemorial time hac 
been ; yours, and as yet no other's. These poor 
shirt-s[Hniiera have forgotten much, which b^r the. 
vittual unwritten law of their position they should 
have remembered : but by any written recognised 
law of their podtion, what have they f^gotten ! , 
They were set to make shirts. The Comnnioity 
with all its voices commanded them, saying, ** Make 



OVER-PRODUCTION .ij 

shiru ; " — and there the shirU are 1 Too many HtUt ' 

Bhirta ? Well, that ie a Dovelty, in this intemperate remMljr 

Earth, with its nine-hundred milliona of bare becka \ 

But the Community commande d t[Q"i saying, " See 

that the shirts are well apportioned, that our Humui 

Laws be emblem of God's Lawa ; " — and where 

is the apportionment ? Two million ahirtless or ill- 

shirted workers sit enchanted in Workhouae BastilleB, 

five million more (according to some) in Ugolino 

Hunger-cellars ; and fot remedy, you say, — what 

say you \ — " Raise our rents 1 " I have not in my 

tiine heard any stranger speech, not even on the 

Shores of the Dead Sea. You continoe addreseiog 

those poor Bhirt-spinoera and over-ptoducers in really 

3 too triumphant manner ! 

" Will you bandy accusations, will you accuse m 
of over-production \ We take the Heavens and 
the Earth to witness that we have produced nothing 
at all. Not from us proceeds this frightiiil overplus 
of shins. In the wide domains of created Nature 
circulates no ehirt or thing of our producing. 
Certain fox-brushes nailed upon out stable-door, the 
fruit of fair audacity at Melton Mowbray ; these 
we have produced, and they are openly nailed up 
there. He that accuses us of producing, let bim 
show himaelf, let him name what and when. We 
of producing \ — ye imgrateful, what 
of things have we not, on the contrary, 
had to ' consiune ' and make away with 1 Moun- 
caioa of those your heaped manufactures, wheresoever 
edible or wearable, have they not disappeared before 
us, as if we had the talent of ostriches, of cormor- 
ants, and a kind of divine faculty to eat \ Ye 
ungratehil ! — and did you not grow under 'Cok 
shadow of our winga \ Are not your filthy mills 



>i4 III THE BtoDERN WORKER 

TIm buik on tfaew fieldi of otm ; on this acH of England, 
E^W et which belong* to — whom think you ? And we 
Supply gj^i ^jj( gfpgj y(^ pyj ^^^ wheat at the price that , 
[JeascB UB) but that partly pleaKS you i A precious 
notion ! What would become of you, if we chose, 
at aay time, to decide oa growing no wheat more ? ' ' 
Yet, truly, ieir is die ultimate rock-bam of ali 
Corn-Laws; whereon, at the bottom of mucfi 
arguing, they rest, aa securely aa they can ; What 
would become of you, if we decided, some day, on ' 
growing no more wheat at all i If we chose to 
grow only partridges heticefcHtb, aod a modicum of 
wheat for our own uies i Cannot we do what we 
like with our own ? — Yes, indeed ! For my share, 
if I could melt Gneiss Rock, and create Law of 
Gravitation ; if I could stride out to the Dogger- 
bank, some morning, and striking down my trident 
there into the mud-waves, say, " Be land, be fields, 
meadows, mountains and fresh-rolling streams ! " 
by Heaven, I should incline to have the letting of , 
Ibat land in perpetuity, and sell the wheat of it, or 
bum the wheat of it, according to my own good 
judgment ! My Corn-Lawing friends, you affright 

To the ' Millo-cracy ' so-called, to the Working 
Aristocracy, steeped too deep in mere ignoble 
Mammonism, and as yet all unconscious of its noble 
destinies, as yet but an irrational or semi-rational 
giant, struggling to awake some soul in itself, — the 
world will have much to say, reproachfully, re- 
provingly, admonish ingly. But to die Idle Aristo- 
cracy, what will the world have to say i Things 
painful, and not pleasant ! 

To the man who ivarit, who attempts, in never 
so ungracious barbarous a way, to get forward with 



OVERPRODUCTION >i5 

lome work, you will batten out with fnrUKraiicM, IIm . 
with encouragenienta, corrcctiont ; you will say to Wan- 
him : " Welcome ; thou art ours ; our care sball be ^?*' 
of thee." To the Idler, again, ^vn.ao^Rcefitlly p^^ 
goiog idle, coming forward with never so maoy 
parchments, you will not hasten out; you will sit 
still, and be disinclined to rise. You will say to 
him; " Not welcome, O complex Anomaly ; wo«ld 
thou hadet stayed out of doore : for who of mortals 
Imows what to do with thee i Thy parchments : 
yes, they are old, of venerable yellowness ; and we 
too honour parchment, old-established settlements, 
and venerable usc-and-wont. Old parchments in 
very truth : — yet on the whole, if thou wilt remark, 
they are young to the Granite Rocks, to the Ground- 
plan of God's Universe! We advise tbee to pst 
up thy pBTchmenu ; to go home to thy place, and 
make no needless noise whatever. Our heart's wish 
is u> save thee : yet there as thou art, hapless 
Ancuualy, with nothing but thy yellow parchments, 
noisy fiitilities, and shotbelts and faK-brusbcs, who 
of gods or men can avert dark Fate i fie coun- 
selled, ascertain if no work exist for thee on God's 
Earth j if thou find no commanded- duty there but 
that of going gracefully idle ^ Aak, inquire earnestly, 
with a half-frantic eameiBtDess ; for the answer 
means Existence or Annihilation to thee. We 
apprise thee of the wol'ld-old fact, becoming sternly 
disclosed again in these days, rThat he who cannot 
work in this Universe cannot get exiiiCed in it ii'had 
he parchments to thatch th: face of the world, tbesc^ 
combustible fallible sheepskin, cannot avail him. 
Home, thou unfortunate ( and let us have at least 
no noise from tLee ! " 

Suppose the unfortunate Idle Aristocracy, as ths 



ai6 III THE MODERN WORKER 

Land unfortunate Working one has done, were to < retire 
tlie tliree'dayito ili bed,' and conudet itself there, ^rtiat 
Uotber o'clock it had become i— 

How have we to regret not only that men have 
'no religion,' but that they have next to no reflec- 
tion j and go about with head* fail of mere ex- 
traneoos noises, with eyes wide-open but vtBionless, 
— for most part in the aomnambulist state ! 



UMWORKING ARitrOCKACY 

IT is well said, ' Land is the right basis of an 
Aristocracy ; ' whoerer posseases the Land, 
he, more emphatically than any other, is the Gover- 
nor, Viceking of the people on the Land. It ia in 
these days as it was in those of Henry Plantageoet , 
and Abbot Samson ; as it will in all days be. The 
Land is M^ter of us all ; nourishes, belters, 
gladdens, iovingiy raricttes us all ; in how many 
ways, from our nttt wakening to our last sleep on 
her blessed mother-bosom, does she, as with blessed 
mother-arms, enfold us all 1 

The Hill I first saw Hie Sun rise over, when the 
Sun and I and all things were yet in their aurtK'al 
hour, who can divorce me from it i Mystic, deep 
as the world's centre, are the roots I have struck 
into my Native Soil ; no tree that grows is rooted 
so. From noblest Patriotism to humblest iodnstrial 
Mechanism ) from highest dying for your country, 
to lowest quarrying and coal-boring &r it, a Natioa's 
Life depends upon its Land. Again and again we 



UNWORKINO ARISTOCRACT ti? 

have to ny, there can be do croc Aiiitocncy but The 
must powNS the Land. Lsad 

Men talk of 'selling ' Land. Land, it is true, J^^ 
like Epic Poema and even higber thingi, in lach a „ 
trading world, hai to be preKnted in the market for 
wfaat it will bring, and u we say be * eold : ' but 
the notion of * tetltng,' for certain Uta of metal, the 
/&»/ of Homer, how much more the Laiui of the 
World-Creator, ts a ridiculous impoBsiUlity ! We 
boy what is aaleable of it ; nothbg more was ever 
boyable. Who can or could sell it to ui ^ Froperlji 
' speakbg, the Land belongs to these two : To the 
F Almigh^ God ; and to all His Children of Men ' 
I that have ever worked well on it, or that shall ever 
work well on it. No generation of men can or 
could, with never such solemnity and effort, sell 
Laod on any other principle : it is not the property 
of any generation, we say, but that of all the past 
generations that have worked on it, and of alt the 
Aitnre ones that shall work on it. 

.Again, we hear it said. The soil of England, or ^ 
of any country, is properly worth nothing, except /> 
■the labour bestowed on it.' This, speaking even ' 
in the language of Eastcbeap, is not correcL The 
rudest apace of country equal in extent to England, 
conld a whole English Nation, with all their habit- 
ndea, arrangements, skille, with whatsoever they do 
carry within the skins <^ them and cannot be stript 
of, suddenly take wing and alight on it, — would be 
worth a very considerable thing ! Swiftly, within 
year and day, this English Nation, with its multiplex 
talents of ploughing, ajunning, hammering, mining, 
road^nakiog and trafficking, would bring a hand- 
some value out of such a space of country. On the 
other hand, fancy what an English Nation, once 



tit 111 THE IIODEE&M WORKBB 

Tfic 'on tbe wing,* could have done with itself, had 
Dndna there been einiply no soil, not eves an inattthle ooe, 
^^■^^ to alight on i Vain all its talents for ploughing, , 
hammeriog, and whatever else ; there is no Earth- 
roora for this Nation with its talents : tlui Nation 
will halt to icep hoTCfing on the wing, dolefully 
shrieking to and fro i and perish piecemeal ; burying 
itself, down to the last muI of it, in the waate un- 
firraamentcd seas. Ah yet^ soil, with or withoiu 

■- , ploaghing, is the gift of God. Tbe soil of" al\ ' 
countries belongs evermore, in a Ycry conaitlerable 
degree, to the Almighty Maker 1 Tbe last stroke 
of Ikbour beAo%tEd on it is not t he m akii^ of it s 

. ; value, but <mly the i ncreasing tliereot.~ ~ ■ 

"~~fri] K""vecy~ strange, the de e ree to which the ne 
truisms are forgotten in our days ; h ow, in the.ever- 
whirliog chaos of Formulas, we have qaietly !ost 
sight of Fact, — which it is so perilous not to keep 
forever in sight Fact, if we do not see it, will 
make ta/eei it by and by !— From much loud con- , 
troversy, and Corn-Law debating there rises, loud 
though inarticulate, once more in these years, this 
very question among others, Who made the Land 
of England i Who made it, this respectaUe Eng- 
lish Land, wheat-growing, metalliferauB, carbmi- 
iferouB, which will let readily hand over head for 
seventy millioos or upwards, as it here lies : who 
did make it i~-' ' We i ' ' aniwer tlie much-<vn/iun»^ 
Aristocrscy ; " We ! " as. they ride in, nioist vritfa 
the sweat of Melton Mowbray: "It is we that 
made it ; or are the heirs, asmgns and representatives 
of those who did ! " — My lirotherB, You ? Ever- 
lasting honour to you, then; and Corn-Lawi as 
many as you will, till your own deep stonucha cry 
Enough, or some vcuce of Human pity for our 



UHWORKING ARISTOCRACY. 119 

&mine bidi you Hold ! Ye are at goda, that can Cotn- 
create soil. Soil'creating godi there ia do with- ^^'^ ' 
Btaoding. They have the might to sell wheat at S^j-e- 
what price they list ', and the right, to all lengths, 
and famiae- lengths, — if they be pitiless infemal 
gods ! Celestial gods, I think, would atop short of 
the ^mine-price ; but do infernal nor any kind of 

god can be bidden atop \~: In&tuated mortals, 

inUi what 'questions are you driving every thinking 
man in England i 

I say, you did not make the Land of England % 
and, by the possession of it, you are bound to furni^ 
guidance and governance to England 1 That is the 
law of your position OD this God's-Earth ; an ever- 
lasting act of Heaven's Parliament, not repealable in 
St. Stephen's or elsewhere 1 Tr&e government and .' 
guidance ; not no-Bovemment a rid Liaiaaez -taire; 
how much Jess, mij-goverDnient and Uorn-Law ! 
There is not an imprisoned Worker looking out 
from these Bastilles but appeals, very audibly in 
Heaven's High Courts, against you, and me, and 
every one who is not imprisoned, "Why am I 
here I " His appeal is audible in Heaven ; and 
will become audible enough on Earth too, if it 
remain unheeded here. His appeal is against you, 
foremost of all ; you stand in the front-rank of the 
accused ; you, by the very place you hold, have 
tirst of all to answer him and Heaven J 

What looks ntaddeet, miseraUest in these mad 
and miseraUe Corn-Laws is independent altogether 
of their 'effect on wages,' their effect on 'increase 
of trade,' or any other such effect : it is the con- 
tinunl maddening proof they protrude into tlie faces 
of all men, that our Governing Class, called by God 



iio III THE MODERN WORKER 

lUe and Natuie'and the inflexible law of Fact, either to 

_ WcHk- do aomethiag towards goTeming, or to die and be 

•^S*^ abolished,— have not yet learned cwn to sit (till 

^'^"'''and do no migehief! For no Anti-Corn-Law 

League yet aeks niore of them than this j — Nature 

and Fact, very intperatively, aiking so much more 

of them. Anti-Corn-Law League asks not. Do 

something; but, Ceaae your dettructive misdoing, 

Do ye nothing ! 

Nature's message will have itself obeyed : mei- 
sages of mere Free<Trade, Anti-Com-Law League 
and Laissez-faire, will then need small obeying ! — 
Ye fbola, in name of Heaven, work, work, at the 
Aik of Deliverance for yourselves and us, while 
houTB are still granted you I No : instead of work- 
ing at the Ajk, they aay, " We cannot get our 
hands kept rightly warm ; " and jit oittinalcfy bum- 
ittg the planh. No madder spectacle at present 
exhiluts itself undn this Sun. 

The Working Aristocracy ; Mill-owners, Manu- 
facturers, Commanders of Working Men : alas, 
against them also much shall be brought in accus- 
ation i much, — and the freest Trade iu Com, total 
abolition of Tariffa, and uttermost 'Increase of 
ManuftKtures ' and ' Prosperity of Commerce,' will 
permanently mend no jot of it. The Working 
I Aristocracy most strike into a new path ; must under- 
I stand thai tncmey alone is net the rcpreseDtative 
• I either of man's success in the world, or of man's 
I duties to man ; and reform their own selves from 
Itop to bottom, if they wish England reformed. 
England will not be habitable long, unreformed. 

The Working Aristocracy-^— Yes^ but on the 
threshold of all this, it is again and again to be 
asked, What of the Idle Aristocracy i Again and 



\\ 



UHWORKING ARISTOCRACT sii 

again. What thall we lay of the Idle Aristocracy, tuid the 
the Owneri of the Soil of England ; whose recog- Idle 
niaed fimctiop is that of handsomely coneunuDg the ^fi** 
rents of England, shooting the partridges of England, ^^^ 
and as an agreeable ainiuaneat (if the purcbase- 
money and other convenieiicet aerve), dilettaate-ing 
in Parliament and Qoarter-Seasions tor England i 
We will say monraftilly, in the presence of Heaven 
and Uaitit, — that we stand speechless, stupent, and 
know not what to cay 1 That a class of men 
entitled to lite somptDonsly on the marrow of the 
rarth ; permitted simply, nay entreated, and at yet i 
entreated in vain, to do nothing at all in retam, was / 
never heretofore seen on the face of this Planet. 
That snch a class is transitory, exceptional, and, 
unless Natnre's Laws fall dead, cannot continue. 
That it has continued now a moderate while ; has, 
for the last fiity years, been rapidly attaining its 
state of perfection. That it will have to find iu 
duties and do them ; or dse that it mast and will 
cease to be seen on the face of this Planet, which 
is a Working one, not an Idle one. 

Alas, alaa,tbe Working Aristocracy, admonished 
by Ttade»-umons, Cliamst conflagrations, above all 
by their own shrewd sense kept in perpetual com- 
munion with the fact of things, will assuredly reform 
themselves, and a working world will still be pos- 
sible : — but the fate of the Idle Aristocracy, as one 
reads its horoscope huberto in Corn-Laws and 
suchlike^ is an abyss that fills one with despair. 
Yes, my rosy fox-hunting brothers, a terrible I/ip- 
pocratic look reveals itself (God knows, not to my 
joy) through those iresh buxom countenances of 
yoora. Through ^nrar Corn-Law Majorities, Slid-, 
h^Scales, Prdtecting-Duues, Bribray- Election, 



Ill 111 THE HODEnD WORKER 

and'triami^aiit Kentisb-lire, a tbinking eye duceroe 

of ghattly imaget of rmn, too ghastly for words ; a 
"" handwrhmg ai of Mike, Meke. Men and tn'othera, 
00 your Slidmg*«cale you seem slidiiig, and to have 
slid, — you little know whither ! Good God ! did 
iMt a French Donotbing Arirtocracy, hardly ^xtve 
half a cetitnry ago, declare in like mantier, and 
in it> festherhead believe in like manner, " We 
cannot exist, and coniinne to dreu and parade ov- 
lelves, on the just rent of the soil of France; but 
we must have farther paymeat than rent of die soil, 
we must be exempted from taxes too," — we must 
have a Corn-Law to extend our rent? This was 
in 1789: in four years more — Did yon look into 
the Tanneriea of Meudon, and the long-naked 
making for themselTEs breeches of hamae skins 1 
May the merciiiil Heavena avert the onterr j may 
we be wiser, that so we be less wretched. 

A High Class without doties to do is tike a tiee 
planted on preci[Mces; from the roots of which all 
the earth has been crumbling. Nature owns no 
man who is not a Martyr withal. Is there a man 
who pretends to live luxuriously housed up; screened 
from all work, from want, danger, hardship, the 
victory over which is what we name work ; — he 
himself to sit serene, amid down-bolsters and 
appliances, and have all his work and battling done 
by other men? And such man calls himself a 
oWe-man? His fathers worked for him, be sajn; 
or successfully gambled for him : here ie sits ; 
irofesses, not in sorrow but in pride, that he and 
lis have done no work, time out of mind. It is the 
law of die land, and is thought to be the law of the 
Universe, that he, alone of recorded nien,«hall have 



E 



UNWORKI^G ARISTOCRACY Hi 

DO task lud on him, except' that of nting hie The 
cooked victuale, and not flinging himself out of Chirf of 
window. Once more I will say, there was no 
stranger Hpeetacle ever shown under this Sun. A 
veritable fact in our England of the Nioeteenth 
Century. His victuals he does eat: but as for 
keeping in the inside <^ the window, — have not 
his friends, like me, enough to do ? Truly, look- 
ing 3t hia Com- Laws, Game- Laws, Chandos- 
ClauseE, Bribery- Elections and mach else, you do 
shuddCT" over the tumMiog and plunging he makes, 
Jield back by the lapels and coat-skirts i only a 
thin fence of window-glass before him, — and in 
the street mere horrid iron spikes I My rick 
brother, as in hospital -maladies men do, thou 
dreainest of Paradises and Eldorados, which are 
far from thee. ' Cannot I do what I like with 
my own ? ' Gracious Heaven, my brother, this 
that thou seest with ^lose sick eyes is no firm 
Eldorado, and Cam-Law Paradise of Donothings, 
bat 3 dream of thy own ievered brain. It is a glass- 
window, I tell thee, so many stories from the street j 
where are iron spikes and the law of graTitatioii ! 

What is the meaniog of nobleness, if this be 
' noUe ' ! In a -valiant sirlfering 6« others, not in a 
slothful making others suffer for us, did noUeness 
ever lie. The chief of men is he who stands in the 
van of men ; fronting the peril which frightens back 
all othert J which, if it be not vanquished, will 
devour the others. Every noble crown is, and on 
Earth will forever be, a crown of thonw. The 
Pagan Hercula, why was he accounted a hero i 
Because he had slain Nemean Lions, cleansed 
Angean Stables, undergone Twelve Labours only 
not too heavy for a god. In nodera, as in ancient 



PurpoM 



114 in THE UODESH WORKER 

The and all Mcieties, the Aristocracy, diej that aMune 
■<we the functioQi of an Aristocracy, doing them (x not, 
'*" have taken the post of honour ; which is the post of , 
difficulty, the pott of danger, — of death, if the 
difEcnlty be not overcome. JYj^^TT"' ^' "^ T*' 
Why wasonr life given u«,TfnMthat we Bhould 
roanfnily give it t Descend, O Donothing Pomp ; 
quit thy down-cnshions { expose thyself to learn 
what wretches feel, and how to cure it ! The Czar 
of Russia became a dusty toiling shipwright ; 
worked with bis axe in the Docks of Saardam ; 
and his aim was small to thine. Descend thou: 
undertake this hmrid 'living chaos of IgnoTance 
and Hunger ' weltering round thy feet ; say, " I 
will heal it, or behold I will die foremost in it." 
Such is verily the law. Everywhere and everywhen 
a man has to ' i>av with his life ; ' to do -hia work, 
soldier doea, at the expense pf lifei. In no 
' ;r eartbiy iJourt can yon sue an Aristocracy 
work, at this moment ; bat in the Higho* 
Court, which even it colls ' Court of Honour,' and 
which is the Court of Necessity withal, and the 
eternal Court of the Universe, in which all Fact 
comes to plead, and every Human Soul is an 
apparitor, — the Aristocracy is answerable, and even 
now answering, ihcre. 

Parchments ? Parchments are venerable i but 
they ought at all tinies to represent, as nvr as thej 
^ possibility can, the writing of the Adainuc 
Tablets; oUierwise they are not so venerable \ 
Benedict the Jew in vain pleaded jarchments ; his 
uawies were too many. The King sud, " Go to, 
for all thy parchments, thou shalt pay just debt; 
down with thy dust, or observe this tncth-fbrcepa ! " 



Fiepowd 



UNWORKING ARISTOCRACY iij 

Nature, s far jiuut Soreieigi^ has far tnribler Pcrek- 
fbrceps. Ariitocracies, actaal aod imaginary, reach ntpi 
a time when parchment pleading does not arail them. ^^^ 
"Go to, for all thy parchments, thou thalt pa; due 
debt 1 " shouta the UniTeree to them, in an empbuic 
laamier. They refuse to pay, coniideotly pleading 
parchment : their belt grinder-tooth, with horrible 
agony, goes out of their jaw. Wilt thou pay now i 
A second grinder, again in horrible agtny, goei : a 
second, and a tlurd, and if need be, all the teeth 
and grinders, and the life itself with them ; — and 
tien there u free payment, and an anatomist-a abject 
into the bargain ! 

Reform Bills, Corn-Law Atn'ogation Billa, and 
then Laod-Tax Bill, Property-Tax Bill, and stiU 
dimmer list of etaterat; grinder after grinder : — my 
lords and gentlonen, it were better for you to arise 
and begin doing your work, than sit there and plead 
parcfaments! 

We write no Chapter aa the Corn-Laws, in this 
place; the Corn-Laws are too mad to have a 
Chapter. There is a certain imporaiity, when there 
is not a necestity, in speakbg about things fini^ed ; 
in chopping into small pieces the. already ilathed and 
slain When the beams are oat, why does not a 
Soleciam die I It it at its own peril if it refuse to 
die ; it ought to make all conceivabie haste to die, 
and get it^lf buried j The trade of Anti-Com-Law 
Lecturer m these days, still an indispensable, is a 
highly tragic one. 

The Corn-Laws will go, and even soon go : 
would we were all as sure of the Millennium as they 
are of going 1 They go swUtly in these preeent 
months; with an increase of velocity, an ever* 



»C III THE HODBRN WORKBR 

1- deepening, eTer-widarbg *weep of iiMMnentQm,tniIf 
>- notaUe. It it at the Aiiitocracy** oirn damage and 
" peril, atill more than at any other'a whataoerer, that 
the Ariatocracy maiotaing them ; — at a damage, say 
enly, «■ aboTC computed, of a ' hmtdred thonaand 
poinidi an hour' ! The Coro-Lawa keep all the 
air hot : fostered by their (ever-wannth, roach that 
i* evil, but much also, how much that ia good and 
iodtspensaUe, is rajJdly coming to life among m .' 



WOKEIHO uusTooacr 

A POOR Working Mammonisra fetthg hsdf 
■stranelcd in the partridge-nets of an Ud- 
working DilettaDtism,' and bellowing dreadfully, 
and already black in the iace, is surely a disastroui 
spectacle I But of a Midas-eared MamnUMuam, 
which indeed at bottom all pure Mammonianis are, 
what better can yoa expect i No better ;-~if not 
thii, then something other equally disannMU, if not 
still more disaurous. Mammonisms, grown asiniae, 
have to become human again, and rational ; they have, 
on the whole, to ceaae to be Maiamoniama, were it 
even on compulsion, and pretsnre of the hemp round 
th«r neck ! — My fnends of the Workiqg Aristo- 
cracy, there are now a great many ^ings which you 
also, in your extreme need, will have to consider. 

The Continental people, it woidd seem, are *cz- 
< porting oar machinery, beginning to spin cotton and 
' mamifacture for themselves, to cut us oat of thU 



WORKING ARISTOCRACY 



' market and then out of that ! ' Sad news indeed ; Bqiul- 
but irremediable ;• — by no meant the «adde*t newa> ti l i n g 
The sadden news is, that we should find oni *?j^ 
National Exiatence, at I tometimeg hear it aaid, ,^^ iny 
depend on sellinj manufactured cotton at a farthing 
an ell cheaper than any other People. A moat I 
narrow stand for a great Nation to base itsdf on 1 I 
A ataod which, with ail the Com~Law Abrogations * 
concnvablc, I do not think will be capaUe of 
enduring. 

My frieadi^ uippoae we quitted that nandi 
suppose we oune honestly down from it, and said : 
" This b our minimum of cotton-prices. We care 
not, Ibr the present, to make cotton any cheaper. Do 
you, if it seem bo blessed to you, make cotton cheaper. 
Fill your lungs with cottao-fuzz, your hearts with 
cc^peras-fumes, with rage and mutiny ; become ye 
the general gnomes of Europe, slaves of the lamp ! " 
-^I admire a Nation which fancies it will die if it 
do^DDt undersell all other Nations, to the end of 
the world. Brothers, we will cease to luui^^l 
them ; we will be content to ^^W-tell them ; to be 
happy selling equally with them ! I do not see the 
use of underselling them. Cotton-doth is already 
two-pence a yard or lower ; and yet bare backs 
were never more numerous among us. Let inTentivei 
men cease to spend their existence incessantly cm-l 
triving how cotton can be made che^r ; and tryl 
to inveUi, a little, how cotutn at its present cheaimeBd 
could be somewhat juatlier divided among ua. Letti 
inventive men conuder. Whether the Secret or^ 
this Universe, and of Man's Life there, does, 
after all, as we rashly fancy it, oonsin in making 
money^ ThereisOneGod, just,suprenie,almighty; 
but is Mammon the Dame ^ him? — With a Hell 



Ml III THE HODERH WORKER 

f ndns- which mMnt ' Failing to nuke money,' I do not 

,^ial dunk there i« aaj Heaven po«nble that would suit 

(^j£^ oat well ; nor to much m *n Earth that can be 

j^ habitable loBg ! In brief, all diit MantmoD-Goapel, 

I of Supply-aod-deraand, Competiaon, Laiwez-faire, 

I and rSevil take the hiDdmott, begins to be one of 

I the ^bbieat Gospels ever reached ; or altogether 

I the shabUest. Etcs with Dilettante paitridge-aets, 

and at a honiUe espendinire of pain, who shitf 

regret to tee the entirely trangient, and at beat aome- 

what detincaUe life strangled ovt of ir^ At the 

beat, aa we lay, a somevrfiat despicaUe, unveiierable 

thing, this lame * Lainez-faa« ; ' and now, at the 

morjl, (aat growing an altogether deteat^e CMie ! 

" But what ia to be done with our manufactiiriog 
population, widt wr agricnltiml, with oor ever- 
increanng population ! " cry many. — Aj, what ? 
Many things can be done widi them, a hondred 
thingB, and a thousand things, — had we once got a 
soul, and begun to try. This one thing, of doing 
for them by * nnderaelling all people,* and filling onr 
own fanrsten pockets and appetites by the rOad ; and 
turning orer all care for any 'population,' or human 
or divine consideration except cash only, to tbe 
winds, with a " Laissez-faire " and the rest of it : 
this is eridendy tiot the thing. Farthing cheaper 
per yard ! No great Nation can stand on the apex of 
such a pyramid; screwing itself higher and higher; 
balancing itaeif on its great<toe! Can England not 
Bubnst without being aiofie all peo|de in working.' 
England never deliberately purposed such a thing. If 
England work better than all people, it shall be well. 
England, like an honest wwkeriwill wi>rk as well as 
she can ; and hope the gods may allow her to live 
on that basis. Laissez-fiire and much else being 



WORKIHG ARISTOCRACY 119 

once well dead, how many 'iropowible*' will become CImt- 
posiiUe I They are iiDpowiUe, as coUon-doth at »C tbe 
tw&-^ce ao ell was—till men set abont maLing f^"*"** 
it. The inveative genim of great England will not 
forever tit patient with mere wheels and pioifHU, 
bobbins, straps and billy-rollers whirring !n the head 
of it. The ioveDtiT.^..geDiuB of England i* Dot a 
Beaver's, or a Spinner's or Spider's genius : it is a 
Man'i genius, I hope, with a God over bim I 

Laiseez-iaire, Supply -aDd-demaod, — one begins I 
to be weary of alt that. Leave all to egoism, to 
ravenous greed of money, of pleasure, ofapplaose :— 
it is the Gospel of Despair 1 Man u a Pateot- 
Digestefi then : only give him Free Trade, Free 
digesting-room ; ud each of us digest what he can 
come at, leaving the rest to Fate 1 My unhappy 
brethren of the Working Mararoonism, my unbappiM' 
brethren of the Idle Dilettantism, noi world was 
ever held together in that way for long. A world 
of mere PateU'Digesters will soon have nothing to 
digest : such world endi, and by Law of Nature 
must end, in 'over-population; ' in howling universal 
fanune, ' impORsibility,' and suicidal madness, as of 
endless dog-kennels run rabid. Supply-and-demand 
efaall do its full part, and Free Trade shall be free 
as air ;— ^hou of the shotbelta, see thou forbid it 
noli, with those paltry, tverte than Manunoniib 
ewiodleries and Siiding-scales of thine, which are 
seen to be swindieriea for all thy canting, which in 
times like ours arc very scandalous to see I And 
Trade never so well freed, and all TaritFs settled or 
abolished, and Si^ply-and-demand in full operation, 
.~let lu all kjww that we have yet done nothing; 
that ve have merely cleared the p'ound for d^g. 

Yes, were the Corn^Laws ended tomorrow. 



ty> III THE MODERN WORKER 

Trade there is nothing yet eoded; there ia only room made 
P*«»- for all tnaoDec of things begUming. The Cwn- 
'**"■ Lawa gone, and Trade made free, it i« as good as 
certain this paralysis of indiritty will pass away. We 
shall have another period of commercial rateqnise, 
of victory and prosperity ; during which, it is likely, 
much money will again be made, and all the peo^e 
may, by the extant method^,' still for a space of 
years, be kept alire and physically fed. the 
strangling band of Famine will be looKned from oni 
necks ; we shall hare room again to breathe; time 
to bethink oorselvea, to repent and con«der! A 
in-ecioua and thrice-precious space of years ; wherein 
to struggle aa for life in reforming our foul ways ; 
in alleTiating, in«tmcting, regidating our peo^e ; 
seeking, as for life, that something like apiritaal food 
be imparted them, some real governance and guidance 
be prorided them ! It wUI be a priceless time. 
For oor new period or paroxysm of commercial 
prosperity will and can, on the old methods of 
' Competition and Devil 'take the hindmost,' prove 
b«t a paroxysm : a new paroxysm, — likely enongh, 
if we do not use it better, to be our /or/. In this, 
of itself, is no salvation. If our Trade in twenty 
years, ' flonriahing ' at never Trade flourished, could 
double itaelf; yet then also, by the old Laissez- 
faire method, our Population is donhjed ; we shall 
then be as we are, only twice as many of us, twice 
and ten times as unmanageable ! 

AH diis dire misery, therefore ; all this of oar 
poor Workhouse Workmen, of our Chartisms, 
Tradea-Bttikes, Corn-Laws, Toryisms, and the 
gMeral downl»«ak of Laissez-faire in these days, — 
may we not regard it as a voice from the dumb 



WORKING ARISTOCRACY iji 

boKHD of Nature, M^i^ to M I "B«faoldl Supply- Tb 
aad-doniiid la not the one Law of Nature ; Ciub- If™ 
payment is not the nle nexus of man whh man,- — "^ 
bow far from it ! I^e^, iai deeper than Snpply- 
and-deniaod, are Lawt, ObligatioM Baaed as Man's 
Life itself : these also, if yon will continue to do 
work, yoa shall now learn and obey. He that will 
learn them, bcbdd Nature is on his side, he shall 
yet work and prosper with noble rewards. He that 
will not leara thenii Nature is against him, he shall 
Dot be aide to do work in Nature's empire, — not in 
hers. Perpetual mutiny, contention, hatred, isolation, 
execration diall wait on his footsteps, till all men 
discern diat the thing which be attains, however 
golden it look or be, is not success, but the want of 

Su^y-iuid-demuid,-r--alas I For what noble 
work was there ever yet any audiUe ' demand ' in 
that poor sense f The man of Macedonia, speaking 
in vision to an Apostle Paul, " Come over and help 
Hi," did not specify what rate of wages he would 
give ! Or was the Christisn Religion itself accom- 
plished hy Prize- Essays,. Bridgwater Bequests, and 
a * iniaimun) of Four thousaod five hundred a year ' i 
No demand that I heard of was made.then, audible 
io any Laboor-marketf Manchester Chamber of 
Commerce, or other the like emporium and hiring 
eatablishraent ( silent were all these iiom any 
whisper of such demand ; — powerless were all these 
to * supply ' it, had the demand been in ihooder and 
earthquake, with gold Eldwados and Mahometan 
Paradises &k the reward. Ah me, into what waste 
latitudes, in this Time-Voy^e, have we wandered ( 
like adveoturoua Siodbads ; — «4)ere the men go 
about as if by galvanism, widi meaiuiigleis glaring 



i)t III THB MODERN WORKER 

Skin- eye*, and tmc no mm), but only 3 beaTer-fecDky 
deep lod ttomacli ! The haggard densir of Cott<m- 

***•*" factory, Coal-tnine opetatnei, Chmdos Fwin- 
""' IstwuiTTB, in these days, is pwnfril to behold ; but 
not so painful, hideous to die inner seme, as that 
brutish godforgetting Prtifit-and-Loss PhiloBO|Ay 
and Life-theory, which we hear jangled on afi 
hands of oi, h) senate-hooses, spoutiag-clube, leading- 
articles, pulpits and piattbrms, e*erywhere as tbe 
Ultimate Gospel aad candid Plain- English of Man's 
Life, from the throats and peas and thoughts of all- 
hut all men ! — 

Enlightened Philosophies, like Moliire Doctors, 
will tell yon: " Enthusiasms, Self-sacrifice, Heaven, 
Hel) and suchlike: yes, all that was true enoogh 
for old stupid limes; all. that used to be true: but 
we have changni all that, noiu avtMu cka^i tota 
cela I" Wellj if the heart be got round now into 
the right side, and the Krer to the left; if wan have 
no heroism in him deeper than tbe wish to eat, and ' 
m his Boal there dwell now no In£mie of Hope 
xaA Awe, and no diviue Silence can become 
inqcrative because it is not Sinai Thunder, and do 
tie wiU bind if it be not that of Tyburn gallows- 
ropes, — then »eriiy you have changed all that ; and 
for it, and for yon, and for me, behold the Abyss 
and nameJess Aimihilatioii is ready. So acandalous 
a beggarly Universe deserves indeed nothing else; 
I cannot say I wmid save it from Annihilation. 
Vacuum, and the serene Bine, will be muci 
handsotner ; ea^er toO for all of us. I, f(>r 
one, decline living aa a Patent-Digester. Patent- 
Digester, Spinning-Mufe, Mayfair C3othe»-Hone: ( 
manv thanks, but yonr Chaosshtp* will have the 
gooonesa^to excuse me I 

.Google 



PLIFGSON OF UHDBR3H0T 



PLUGSOH OF VKDEKIKOT 



o 



^NE thing I do luiow : Never, on this Earth, was Lais- 
the relation of man to man long carried on by s^' 



Caah-payment alone. If, at any time, a phitoBOpby 
of LaisKZ-faire, Competition md Sup^ly-and-^- ' 
maud, start up a> the exponent of human reiattoDi, 
expect that it will soon end. 

Sach philosophies will arise : fijr man's jdiilow- 
phiee are osually the 'supplement of his practice j' 
toBti oniaiDental Logic- varnisb, tome outer ^in of 
Ardcolate Intelligence, with which he striTCi to 
render his dumb InstinctiTC Doings. presentable when 
they are done. Such phikwophies will arise; be 
preached as Manimoo- Gospels, the ultimate Evangel 
of the World; be believed, with what ii called 
bereft with much superficial bluster, and a kind 
of shallow tatisfactioD real in its way: — tut they 
are onrinons gospels ! They are the sure, and even 
swift, tbreruoner of great changes. Expei:t that 
the old System of Society is done, is dying and 
fallen into dotage, when it begins to rave in that 
fashion. Most Systems that I have watched the 
de^tfa of, for the kst three thousand years, have 
gone, just iDi The Ideal, the True and Noble 
that was in them having iaded ant, and nothk^ now 
remaining but naked Egoism, vnlturous Greedrness, 
they caimot live; they are bound and inexorably 
ordained by the oldest Destinies, Mothers of the 
Univene, to die. Cnrions enough : they themqxra, 
as I have pretty geaeraUy noticed, devise some 
light comfiirtable kipd (^ ' wioe-and- walnuts {dtile- 



>}4 tit THE HODBRH WORKER 

The tofbj ' for themKlres, thi* of Supply-and'deinaiHf 

Dnioii- or bboiIki ; and keep ayii^ dnHag honra oE 

^^^?* inattication ami nuninatioii, i^ich they call hours . , 

„ ' of mediution: "Soul, take thy ea»e; it is aH meJ/ 

meat that thou art a Tnltnre-Kiul ; " — mxl pangs of dis- 

■olutioa come upon them, ofteaett bnore diey are 

Carii-payment nerer was, or conid except fiir a 
few yean be, dKODiaa-bood of man toman. Cash 
nerer yet paid one man (vUy hk deMta to ano^ei -, 
nor could it, nor can it, now or henceforth to the 
end of the world. I invite hi* Grace of Ca«tle- 
Rackrent to reflect on this ; — does be think that 
a Land AriNocracy when it becomes a Land 
Auctioneership can have long to lire? Or that 
Sliding-flcales will increaK the vital stamioa of it ! 
The indomitable PIngson too, of the remected 
Firm of Plugion, Himka and Company, in St. 
Dolly Undcrahot, is invited to reflect on this; for 
to him ^K> it will be new, perhapa even newer. ' 
Book-keeping by double entry is admiraUe, and 
records several things in an exact maooer. Bat 
the Mother-Destinies also keep their Tablets ; in 
Heaven'* Chancery also there goes on a recoidbig ; 
and thin^ as my Moslem friends say, are ' written 
«■ the iron leaf.' 

Your Grace ^d Plugioii, it is like, go to Chnrch 
occasionally : did 3rou never in vacant momoita, with 
perhaps a dull parsoii droning to yon, glance into 
your New Tettameot, and the cash-account stated 
four timet over, by a kind of quadruple eury, — in 
the Four Gospels there? I consider that a cash- 
account, and balance-statement of work done and ; 
wages paid, worth attending to. Precisely fuci, ' 
though on a smaller scale, go on at d moments 



PLUfiSOH OP ONDBRSHOT »js 

under din Sun ; and the (tatement and balaDce of What 
them in the Plugson Ledgers aod on the TaUeti thoGftS- 
_of HeaTMi'* Chancery are discrepant exceedmelj ; Sv.ei^ 
— which ought really to teach, and to have long ^^ 
UQCe taught, an indomitable comtnonHjeoBe Plugson entails 
of Undershot, much more an unattackable uncom- 
mon-sense Grace of Rackrent, a thing or twol — 
In brief, we shall have to dismiss the Cash-Gospe) 
rigoromly into its own place : we shall have to 
Vldow, od the threshold, that Mther there is some 
infinitely deeper Gospel, subsidiary, explanatory and 
daiJy and hourly corrective, to the Cash one ; or 
else that the Cash one itself and all others are fast 
travelling ! 

For all human things do require to have an Ideal^ 
in them; to have sonie Soul in them, aa we aaid, 
were- it only to keep the Body unputrefied. And 
wonderful it is to tee how the Ideal or Soul, place 
it in what ugliest Body you may, will irradiate said 
Body with its own nobleness; will gradually, inces- 
aantly, mould, modify, new-form or reform said 
ugliest Body, and make it at last beautifiil, and to 
a c^tain degree divine 1 — Oh, if you could dethrone 
that Brute-god Mammon, and put a Spirit-god in 
his place ! One way or other, he must and will 
have to be dethroned. 

Fighdng, for example, as I often say to myself, 
Fighting with steel murder-tools is surely a much 
uglier operation than Working, take it how you 
will. Vet even of Fighting, in religious Abbot 
Samson's days, see what a Feudalism there had 
grown,-— a 'glorious Chivalry,' much beaong down 
to the present day. Was not that one of the 
' impoMibleat ' things i Under the sky u do uglier 



*36 III THB HODBRH WORKER | 

TV (pectacle thao two men with clenched teeth, and 

IJ^bU hell-fiFe ejn, hactbg one umther's Sesh ; con- 

^^ ™ verting {ffecioufi living bodies, and prieeleas living, | 

* (ouIb, into nameless masses of putiescence, useful 

only tor turDip-maDure. How did a Chivalry ever 

come out of thatj how anything that was not 

hideous, scandalous, iofernal i It will be a quesdra 

worth considermg by and by. 

I remark, {<x the present, only two things: first, 
that the Fighting itself was not, as we rashly tixf- 
pose it, a Fighung without cause, but more or lesE 
.1 with cause. Man it created to fight ; he is perhaps 
t'jbest of all definable as a born soldier; his life 'a 
('battle and a march,' under the right General. It 
is forever indispensable for a man to fight; now 
with Necessity, with Barrenness, Scarcity, with 
Puddles, Bogs, tangled Forests, unkem)K Cotton; — 
now also with the hallucinations of his poor fellow 
Men. Hallucinatory vinons rise in die head of my 
poor fellow man ; make him claim over me righb < 
which are not his. All fighdng, as we noticed 
long ago, is the dusty conflict of strengths, each 
thinking itself the strongest, or, in other words, the 
justest; — of Mights which do in the long-run, and 
forever will in this just Universe in the lortg-nm, 
mean Rights. In conflict the perishable part of 
them, beaten sufHciendy, Qiet off into dust : this ' 
process ended, appears the imperishable^ the true 
and exact. 

And now let us remark a second thing: how, 
in these baleful citations, a noble devout-heanci 
Chevalier will comport himself, and an ignobk 
godless Bucanier and Chactaw Indian. Victory is 
the aim of each. But deep in the heart of the 
noble man it lies forever legible, that aa an Invif' 



PLUGSON OP UHD^tSHOT 137 

ibie Just God made biin, to will and muM God's God's 
Justice and this only, were it never to ioviribte, Jturtice 
ulcnnately prosper id all ctunroverdes and enter- ^2^1^, 
prises and battles whauoever. What an Influence; P™^*' 
ever-preaent, — like a Soal in the rudest Caliban of 
a body; Like a ray of Heaven, and illumiaative 
creauve FuiS-Imx, in the wastcat terresirial Chaos ! 
BJeaaed divine Influence, traceable even in the horror 
of fiattlefiekla and garments rolled in blood: how 
U Mumbles even the fiatttefiekl; and, in place of a 
Chacnw Massacre, makes it a Field of Honour! 
A battlefield too is great. Considered well, it is a 
kind of Qointeiaence of Labour; Labour distilled 
'iBto ita utmost concentration ; the significance of 
years of it compressed into an hour. Here too thou 
shalt be atroDg, and not in muacle only, if thon 
wooldst prevail. Here too thou shalt be strong of 
heart, noble of soul; tiiou shalt dread no pain or 
desth, thon shalt not love ease or life; in rage, 
thou shalt remember mercy, justice; — thou shalt be 
a Knight and not a Chactawj if thou wouldst pre- 
vail ! Itis the rule of all battles, against hallucioating 
fellow Men, against unkempt Cotton, or whatsoever 
battles they otay be, which a man in this world has 
to fight. 

Howd Daviea dyes the West-Indian Seas with 
blood, piles his decka with plunder ; approves him- 
aelf the expertest Seanian,.the daringest Seafighter : 
but be gains no lasdog victory, lasting victory ia 
not posiible for him. Not, had he fleets larger than 
tbe combined British Navy all muted with him in 
bacaniOTng. He, oace for all, caonot |H'osper in 
bis doeU He strikes down his man: yes; but his 
mait) or his man's representative, has no notion to 
lie Etiiick down; neither, though slain ten times. 



Hi HI THE MODERN WORKER 

Han- will he kee|i w lying ; — nor hu ttie Uaiverte any 
'am pu- mdoD to keep him bo lyiog ! On the contrary, the 
"'•'•^ UnivecM and be hiK, at aU momentB, all maimer , 
i)t\^gf of motiTM to start up Rgain, and deeperately fight 
again. Yoai Napoleon is fiung out, at last, to 
St. Helena; the latter end of him tternLy com- 
penMtiDg the beginnings The Bucanier «trikei 
down B man, a hundred or a million men: but what 
profiti it i He has one enemy ncTcr to be »hick 
down; nay two enemies: Mankind and the Makei 
of Men. On the great acale or on the small, in 
fighting of men or fighting of diScultiea, I will not 
embark my ventuie wiA Howel Danes: it is not 
the Bucanier, j t ii the Hero only thw can f^dn 
rictory> that cimdo more than teem to aucceed. 
ThCM tbihgs will deterre meditating; for they 
apply to all battle and agldierBbip, alt struggle and 
effort whatsoever in this Fight of Life. It is a poor 
Gospel, Caih-&}8pel or whatever name it have, 
that does not, with clear tone, unctHitradictable, 
carrying convictioii to all hearts, forever keep men 
in mind of these things. 

Unhappily, my indomitable friend Flugson of 
Undershot has, in a great degree, forgotten them; 
— as, alas, all the world has; as, alaa, our very 
Dukes and Soul-Overseers have, whose special 
trade it was to remember them I Hence these 
teai's, — Phigeon, who ha^ indomitably spun Cotton 
merely to gain thousandsof pounds, I have to call 
as yet a Bucanier and Chactaw; till there amie 
something better, still more indoniitable from him. 
His hundred Thousand-pound Notes, if there be 
nothing other, are to me but as the hundred Scalps 
in a Chactaw wigwam. The blind PIngsoa; he 
was a Captain of Industry, born member of the 



FLUGSON OF UNDERSHOT 139 

I7itiiii3te gennine Arittocncy of tbii Univerw, Bam- 
conk) be luTc known it ! These thourand men that Backs 
span and toiled ronnd him, they were a regiment V"***" 
whom he had enlisted, man by man ; to nuke war *"' 
on s very genuine enemy: Bareaeu of back, and 
diaofaedieni: Cotton-fibve, which will not, imleai 
toTced to it, consent to cOT«r bare backs. Here i* 
a most genuine enemy { over whom all creatures 
will irish him victory. He enlisted his thousand 
met): said to them, "Come, brotfaets, let us have 
a dash at Cotton I " They follow with chewfnl 
shont; tbey gain such a victory over Cotton as the 
Earth has to admire and clap hands ati but, alas, it 
is yet only of the Bncanier or Chactaw sort, — as 
good as no victory I Foolish PIngson of St. Dolly 
Undershot 1 does he hope to become illustrious by 
hanging ap the scalps in his wigwam, the hundred 
thoosands at his banker's, and taying, Behold my 
scalps? Why, Plugson, even thy own hou ia all 
in mttiny: Cotton is conquned; but the 'bare 
hacks' — areworae covered than ever! Indomitable 
PIngson, thou mutt cease to be a Chactaw ; thou 
and others; thou thyself, if no other ! 

Did William the Norman Bastard, or any of hia 
T»UefeTs, Jronaiaffj, manage so.' IroncQtter, at the 
end of the campaign, did not tum-ofF his thonsatid 
fightds, but said to them : " NoUe fighters, this is 
the land we have gained ; be I Lord in it, — what 
we win call Law-^oartt, maintains and ieeper of 
Heaven's Lava; be I Law-'oiarJ, or in brief 
orthoepy LorJ in it, and be ye Loyal Men arowtd 
me in it; and we will stand by one anotlier, as 
Bcddiers rmnd a captain, for again we shall have 
need of one another I " Flugsoo, bucamer-like, says 
to them : " NoUe spinoen, this it the Hundred 



iV III THE MODERN WORKER 

tlUner ThcnuBnd we have gained, whetein I mean ta dwell 
Mt'. ita and plant vineyards ; the hundred tbouiaod i* nune, ! 
^^^tite three and lixpeace daily was yours: adieu, 
noble vpiaoea ; drink my health with this groat each, 
which I give you over and above ! " The ei^rely 
unjnat Captain of Indiutry, ray I ; not Cheralitf , 
bat £ucamer ! ' Conusetcial Lav ' doei iodeed 
ac(}iiit him ; asks, with wide eyes. What else ? So 
too , Howet I)aTie8 asks, Was it not accwdin^ to 
the acrictest fiucanier Custom ? Did I depart in any 
jot or tittle froia the Lmis of tls Bucaniets ? 

Aiter^,aooey, astheysBy.iainiraculotts^ Plng- 
too wanted victory ; as Cbevaliers and Bucanins, 
and all men alike do. He fwindj)icnej[j£COgiase<i, 
byjhe wMe world vith-one-Asaak as the t gue 
gyigkJ.fyact^^eguualentand.8ynt myni of victory ; 
— and here we^ve him, a grintbg'owed, indoimtable 
Bucanier, coming home to us with a ' victory,' | 
which the whole world is ceatlng to clap hands at ! 
The whole world) taught somewhat impressively, ■> < 
bediming to recognise that such victory is but half I 
a victcffy ; and that now, if it please the Powers, 
we must — have the other half I 
/ Money is miraculous. What jniracoloiis facilities 
has it yielded, will b yield ub ; but alto what never- 
imagined confiuaons, obscurations haa it brought in; 
down almost to total extinction of the moral-iesse i 
in large masses of mankind! *PrMectiaa of pro- 
perty,' of what is ' miu! OKans with most men 
^otection of money, — the thing which, had I t 
thousand padlocks over it, is least of all mine; a, 
in a fiaanner, scarcely worth calling mine I The 
symbol shall be held sacred, defended everywhere , 
with tipstaves, ropes and gibbets; the thing sigmfied 
shall be composedly cast to the doga A homan I 



PLUGSOHOP UNDERSHOT U* 

being who hu worked with human beiD|B clear* Indos. 
all acores with them, cuts himself with trinmphant trial 
completencM forever loose from them, by paying Bocca- 
down certain shillings andpoundB. Was it not the """""K 
wages I pf omised yon ? There they are, to the last 
eixpence, — according to the Laws of the Bncaniers ! 
— Yes, indeed ; — and, at such times, it becomes 
imperatively necessary to ask all persons, bncaniers 
and others. Whether these same respectable Laws of 
the Bncaniers are written on God's eternal Heavens 
at al), on the inner Heart of Man at all ; or on the 
respectable Bucanier Logbook merely, for the con- 
venience of bncaniering merely ! What a question ; 
—whereat Westminster Hall thndders to its driest 
parchment; and on the dead wigs each particular 
horsehair stands on end I 

The Laws of Laissez-faire, O Westminster, the 
laws of indusuial Captain and industrial Soldier, 
how much more of idle Captain and industrial 
Soldier, will need to be remodelled, and modified, 
and rectified in a hundred and a hundred ways, — 
and no/ in the Sliding-scale direction, but in the 
totally opposite one 1 With two million industrial 
Soldiers uready sit^g in Bastilles, and five million 
pining on potatoes, methinks Westminster cannot 
begin too soon ! — A mail has other obJigations laid 
oD him, in God's Universe, than the payment of 
cash : these also Westminster, if it Will continue to 
exist and have board-wages, must contrive to take 
some charge of: — by Westminster or by another,, 
they must and will be taken charge of; be, with 
whatever difficulty, got ivticulated, got enforced, 
and to a certain approximate extent put in practice. 
And) as I say, it cannot be too soon ! For Mam- 
monism, left to it*elf, has become Midas-eared ; 



141 HI THE HODERN WORKER 

Labour and with all iu gold moonuins, nts HarTtag for 

Mid its want of tsead : andBUettsuism with i{j_partridgp' 

■ j^^^aetB, in this extremely eardesfUBTreSe of outs, is 

playing eamewhat too high a game. < A man by 

the very look, of him promisea so much : ' yea ; and 

by the reot-roll <rf him does he promise Dothiog I — 

Alas, what a business will this be, which our 
Continental friends, groping this long while some- 
what absurdly about it and about it, call ' OrgaoiBa- 
tion of Labour ; ' — which must be taken out of the 
hands of abauid windy porsons, and put into the 
hands of wise, laborious, modest and valiant men, to 
begin with it straightway ; to proceed with it, and 
succeed in it more and more, if Europe, at any rate 
if England, is to continue haWtable much longer. 
Looking at the kind of most noble Coro-Law 
Dukes or Practical Duett we have, and also of 
right reverend Soul- Overseers, Christian Spiritual 
Ducei ' on a minimum of four thousand five hun- ' 
dred,' one's hopes are a little chilled. Courage, 
neverihelesa ; there are many brave men in England ! 
My indomitable Plugson, — nay is there not even 
in thee some hope! Thon art hitherto a fiacanier, 
as it was written and prescribed for thee by an evil 
WCH-Id : but m that grim tvow, in that indomitable 
heart which can conquer Cotton, do there not 
perhapa lie other ten-times nobler conquests i 



FOR there u a perenaial nobleoeu, and CTenjrnieKa- 
Bactedneas, in Work. Were he aever bo™''"^'''^ 
beoi^bted, fotgofiJ of his high calling, there u Work 
always hope in a man that actually and earnestly 
wotLb: in Idleness alcme is there perpetual deepair,| . 
Work, never so Mammonish, mean, w in communi-J 
cation with Nature ; the real desire to get Work 
done will itself lead ooe more and more to truth, to 
Nature's appointments and regulations, which are 
truth. 

The latest Gospel in this world is. Know thyi 
work and do it. 'Know thyself;' long enough/ 
has that . poor * self ' of thine tormented thee ; tiiouj 
wilt never get to ' know ' it, I believe I Think iti 
not thy business, this of knowing thyself; tbou artK ' 
an unknow^le iodiiidual: know what tbou canstK' 
work at; and work at it, like a Hercules! Tbatj \ 
will betby better plan. 

It has been written, ' an endless ugniScance lies 
in Work ; ' a man perfects himself by working. 
Foul jungles aie cleared away, fair seedfields rise 
instead) and stately cities ; and withal the man him- 
self first ceases to be a jtmgle and foul unwholesome 
desert thereby. Consider how, even in the meanest 
sorts of Labour, the whole soul of a man is com-^ 
posed into a kind of real harmony, the itistant hJ 
KtA himself to work! Doubt, Desire, .Sorrow, 
Remorse, Indignation, Despair itself, all these like 
helldogs lie beleaguering the soul of the vom day- 
worker, 31 of every man: but he ben<b himself 



Daitinr^ 



M4 III THE IIODBRN WORKER 

Tlte with free valour agaiiut his task, and all the«e are ^ 

Potter stilled, all these Bbrink mDrranring far off into their 

~" caves. The man is now a man. The blessed glow 

' of Labour in him, is it not as purifying fire, wherein 

all poison ii burnt up, aixl of sour smoke itself there 

is made bright blessed flame ! 

^ Destiny, on the whole, ha« no other way of '^ 
tivating us. A formless Chaos, once set it 
revuiving, grows round and ever rounder ; ranges ^ 
itself, by mere force of gravity, into strata, spherical 
courses ; ia no longer a Chaos, but a round com- 
facted World. What would become of the Earth, 
did she cease to revolve i In the poor old Earth, 
so long as she revolves, all inequalities, irregularities 
disperse themselves ; all irregulari^es are incessantly 
becoming regular. Hast thou looked on the Potter's 
wheel, — one of the venerablest objects ; old as the 
Prophet Ezechiel and far older ? Rude lump of 
clay, how they spin themselves up, by mere quick 
whirling, into beautiful circular dishes. And fancy 
the most assiduous Potter, but without his wheel ; 
reduced to make dishes, or rather amorphous 
botches, by mere kneading and baking ! Even 
such 3 Potter were Destiny, with a horaan soul 
that would rest and lie at ease, that would not work 
and spin ! Of an idle ucrevotving man the kindest 
Destiny, like the mo«t assiduous Pottn without 
wheel, can bake and knead nathbg other than a 
botch ; let her spend on him what expensive colour- 
Ling, what gilding and enamelling she will, he is but 
fa botch. Not a dish ; no, a bdging, kneaded, 
crooked, shambling, squint-ccaiKred, amcH'phous 
botch, — a mere enamelled vessel of dishooour! 
Let the idle think of this. 
t Blessed ia he who has fiiund his work ; let him 



LABOUR S4I 

ask no other blewedneM. He hu » work, a life- Helnca 
puqxMe ; he has found it, aod wiil follow it I How, who 
»t a free-fiowing chanoel, dug and torn by noble ^""^ 
force through the sour mud-iwamp of one's exut- 
eoce, like bo ever-deepening rlter there, it runs and 
flows J — draining-ofF the sour festeriog water, gradu- 
ally from the root of the remotest gcaas-blade j 
making, instead of pestilential swamp, a green fruit- 
ful meadow with its dear-flowing stream. How 
blessed for the meadow itself, let the stream and iit 
value be great or flmall ! Labour ia Life : from thsi 
inmost heart of the Worker rises his god-given^^ 
Force, the sacred celestial Life-essence breathed 11 
into him by Almighty God ; from his inmost beatt u 
awakens him to all nobleness, — to all knowledge, |V 
' self-knowledge ' and much else, so soon as Work. \ 
fitly begins. Knowledge i The knowledge that 
will hold good in workmg, cleave thou to that ; for 
Kature herself accredits that, says Yea to that. 
Properly thou hast no other knowledge but what 
thou hast got by working : the rest is yet all a 
h)rpotheais of knowledge ; a thing to be argued of 
in schools, a thing floating ia the clouds, in endless 
logic-Tortices, till we try it and £x it. 'Doubt, 
of whatever kind, can be eided by Action alone.' 

And again, hast thou valued Patience, Courage, 
Perseverance, Openness to light ; readiness to own 
thyself mistaken, to do better next time? All 
these, all virtues, in wrestling with the dim brute 
Powers of Fact, in ordering of thy fellows in such 
wrestle, there and elsewhere not at alt, thou wilt 
continually learn. Set down a brave Sir Christo- 

Siher in the middle of black ruined Stone-heaps, of 
i>oIish unarchitectural Bishi^ redtape Officials, 



*i6 III THE MODERN WORKER 

Wren idle Ne!l>Gwyn Defenden of the Faith ; and ace 
Mid his whether he will evei raise a Pad's Cathedral out 
_™""" of all that, yea or no ! Rough, rude, contradictory 
T*wuice HI- J c_ .1. _ ^' _ 

are aJl things and persons, trom the matinoui raasons 

and Irish hodmen, op to the idle Neli-Gwyn 
Defenders, to blustering redtape OtIiciaiR, foolish 
unarchitectural Bishops. All these things and 
persons are there not for ChristotJier's sake and his 
Cath^ral'a ; they are there for their own sate 
mainly ! Christopher will hare to conquer and 
constrain all these, — if he be able. All these are 
agaiott him. Equitable Nature herself, who carries 
her mathematics and architectonics not on the face 
of her, but deep in the hidden heart of her, — 
Nature herself is but partially for him; will be wholly 
against him, if he constrain her not I His Tery 
money, where is it to come from i The pous 
munificence of England lies far-scattered, distant, 
unable to speak, and say, " I am here ; " — must be 
spoken to before it can speak. Pious muniGceoce, 
aitd all help, is so silent, ioTisible like the gods ; 
impediment, contradictions manifold are so ioud 
and' near ! O brave Sir Christopher, trust thou in 
those notwithBtanding, and front all these ; under- 
atand all these ; by valiant patience, noble effort, 
insight, by man's-strength, vanquish and compel all 
these, — and, on the whole, strike down victorioualy 
the last topstone of that Paul's Edifice ; thy monu- 
ment for certain centuries, the stamp ' Great Man ' 
impressed very legibly on Portland-stone there ! — 
Yes, all manner of help, and pious response from 
Men or Nature, is always what we call ailent; 
cannot apeak or come to light, till it be seen, till it 
be spoken to. Every noble work is at first ' imKOs- 
iible.' In very truth, fbr every noble worlcUie 



LABOUR 147 

pombilitieB will lie diffaaed through Immennty ; Tbe 
inarticulate, imdiBcoverable except to faith. Like Conr- 
Gideon thou «halt ajn^ad out thy fleece at the door Sj?5f 
of thy tent ; «ee whether under the wide arch of 
Heaven there be any bounteous moiiture, w none. 
Thy heart and lite-pnrpoK shall be as a miraculous 
Gideon's Heece, spread out in silent appeal to 
Fleaven : aud irom the kind Immenoitiea, what 
from the poor unkind Localities and town and 
country Patiahea there never could, blessed dew- 
moisture to suffice thee shall have fallen ! 

Work ii of a religions nature : — work is of a I I 
briroe nature ; which it is the aim of all religion to \ 
be. All work of man is as the swimmer's : a 
waste ocean threatens to devour him ; if he front it 
Dot bravely, it will keep its word. By incessant wise 
defiance of it, lusty rebuke aod buffet of it, behold 
how it loyally supports him, bears him as its con- 
queror along. ' It is so,' says Goethe, ' with all 
' things that man undertakes in this world.' 

Brave Sea-captain, Norse Sea-king, — Columbus, 
my hero, royalest Sea-king of all ! it is no friendly 
environment this of thine, in the waste deep waters ; 
around thee muunous discouraged souls, behind 
thee disgrace and ruin, before thee the unpenetrated 
veil of Night. Brother, these wild water-moun- 
tains, bounding from their deep bases (ten miles 
deep, I am told), are not entirely there on thy 
behalf! Meaeema ihey have other work than float- 
ing thee forward ! — and the huge Winds, that sweep 
from Ursa Major to the Tropics and Equators, 
dancing their giant-waltz through the kingdoms of 
Chaos and Immensity, they care little about filling 
' filling wrongly the small shoulder-of- 



>4> III THE MODBRN WORKER 

The an not among articulate-speaking friendi, toy 
Un- brother ; thou art among inuneawraUe dumb mon- 

'**'?7' stera, tumbling, howKng wide as the wcH'ld bae. 

Silence ^^''^ f^ ^t ioTiuble to all hearu but thinci there 
lies a help in them : see how thou wilt get at that. 
Patiently thou wilt wait till the mad South-wester 
spend itself, saving thyself by dextroua science of -^ 
defence, the while : valiantly, with swift decinon, 
wilt thoa strike in, when the favouring East, tbe 
Possible, springs up. Muuny of men tfaou mlt 
sternly repress ; wealuiess, despondency, thou wilt 
cheerily encourage : thou wilt swallow down 
complaint, uarea^on, weariness, weakness of others 
and thyself { — how much wilt thou swallow down t 
There shall be a depth of Silence m thee, deeper 
than this Sea, which is but ten miles deep: a 
Silence unsouiidable ; known to God only. Thou 
shalt be a Great Man. Yes, my World- Soldier, 
thou of the World Marine-service, — thou wilt have 
to be greater than this tumultuous unmeasured Wtwld 
here round thee is : thou, in thy strong soul, as 
with wrestler's arms, shalt embrace it, haraees it 
down; and make it bear thee on, — to new America*, 
or whither God wills I 



Cbaptet tij 

REWARD 

' "D ELIGION,' I said ; for, properly apeaking, 
Xv all true Work is Religion : and whatsoever 
Religion is not Work may go and dwell among the 
Brahqjins, Al)tii>qii)ianB, Spinning Dervishes, or 



where it will ; with roe it shall hive no harbour. The 
Admirable waa that of the old Monl^, ' Z.aiorare Goapel 
eit Orart, Work is Worship.' '■ w t* 

Older than all preached Gotpels wm this un- . 
|x«ached, inarticulate, but ineradicable, fereT^-j 
eodaring Gospel: Wwk, and thereb have well- 1 
being. Man, Son of Earth and of Heaven, lies 
there DOt, in the innermost heart of thee, a Spirit of 
acd*e Method, a Force for Work ; — and bntiu like 
a faiofdly-nnouldering £re, giving thee no rest till 
thon unfold it, till thou write it down in beneficent 
Facts around thee ! What ii iminethodic, waste, 
tbou (halt make methodic, regulated, arable ; obedi-i 
ent and productive to thee. Wheresoever thou 
findest Disorder, there is thy etmial enemy ; attack 
him swiftly, subdue him ; make Order of him, the 
subject not of Chaos, but of Intelligence, Diviiuty 
and Thee! The thistle that grows in thy path, 
dig it out, that a blade of usefiit grass, a drop of 
nourishing milk, may grow there instead. The 
waste cotton-stvub, gather its waste wlute down, 
spin it, weave it t that, in place of idle litter, there 
may be folded webi, and the naked skin of man be 
covered. 

But above all, where tbou jindest Ignorance, 
Stupidity, Brute-mindedness, — yes, there, with or 
without Church-tithes and Shovel-hat, with or 
without Talfburd-Mahon Copyrights, or were it 
with mere dungeons and giUxts and crosies, attack 
it, I say ; smite it wisely, unweariedly, and rest not 
while thou tivett and it lives ; but smite, smite, in 
the name of God I The Highest God, as I 
understand it, does audibly so command thee g still 
audibly, if thou have ears to hear. He, even He, 
with his HMpok«i voice, awfuler dun any Siaai 



*5o III THE MODERN WORKER | 

Tnit thonders or gyllabled speech of Whirlwiiuls ; fi>r . 

Worit the Silence of deep Eternities, of Worlds ironi 

SKieq ijeyond the mornmg-stars, does it sot speak to 

V thee ? The unborn Ages j the old Grares, with 

)tb^ long-mouldering dnit, . the very tears that 

r wetted it now all dry,— do not these spe*k to thee, 

j what ear hath not heard i The deep Death- ' 

/ kingdoms, the Stars in tiieir nevo'-reetiBg courses, 

\ all Space and all Time, proclaim it to thee ia , 

( continual Eilent admoDition. Thou too, if eref 

Span ehould, shalt work while it is called Today. 

frgc-the Night cometh, wherein no mag ^an wy k. 

I AU'ffuewSSTlMMeaTTn'rsfftiw^Work, 

Ivere it but true hand-iabour, there is something of 

RliTiiKoeBS. Labour, wide as the Earth, has its 

summit in Heaven. Sweat of the brow ; aad up 

fiom that to sweat of the brain, sweat of the heart ; 

which includes all Kepler calculations, Newton 

meditations, all Sciences, all spoken Epics, all acted 

Heroisms, Martyrdoms, — up to that ■ AgfMiy of ' 

bloody sweat,' which all men have called divine ! 

O brother, if this is not ' worship,' then I say, the ' 

more pity for worship ; for this is the noblest thing 

yet discovered under God's sky. Who art thou 

that complainest of thy life of toil i Complain sot. 

Look up, my wearied Inother ; see thy fellow 

Workmen there, in- God's Eierafty ; surviving 

there, they alone surviving ; sacred Band of the 

Immortals, celestial Bodyguard of the Empire of 

Mankind. Even in the weak Human Memory 

they survive so long, as saints, as heroes, as gods ; 

they alcKie surviving ; peopling, they alooe, the 

uomeaaured solitudes of Time ! To thee Heaven, 

1 though severe, is not unkind ; Heaven is kind, — as 

a n^le Mother ; as that Spartan Mother, saying 



REWARD tst 

vhile she gave her son his Bhirid, " With it, my No 
toD, or Dpon it ! " Thou too shalt return heme ia VkI- 
honour; to thy far-dJatant Home, in honour; doubt ^j^^ 
jt not, — if in the battle thou keep they shield ! 
Thou.iii the Eternitiea and deepest Deach-kiogdoma, 
art not an alien ; thou everywhere art a denizea I 
Complain not ; the very Spartans did not complaia. 

And who art thou that braggest of thy life of 
Idleness \ complacently ahowest thy bright gilt 
emupages ; sumptuouB cuahions ; appliances for 
fmding of the hands to mere sleep i Looking up, 
iookiag down, around, behind or before, discerneat 
thou, if it be not in Mayfair alone, any ulle hero, 
saint, god, or even derit >. Not a veatige of one. 
In the Heavene, in the Evth, in the Waters under 
the Earth, is none like unto thee. Thou art an 
original figure in thia Creation ; a denizen in May- 
fair alone, in this extraordinary Century or Half- 
Century alone ! One monster there is in the \ 
world: the idle miui. What ia his ' Religion' i \ 
That Nature ia a Phantaam, where cunning beggary 
or thievery may aometimes find good victual. That 
God ia a lie ; and that Man and his Life are a lie. 
— Alas, alaa, who of ua it there that can aay, I 
have worked^ The feithfidcst of ua are unprofit- 
able aervants ; the faithfulcst of us kix>w that beat. 
The faithiiilest of u« may say,.widi sad and true 
old Samuel, "Much of my life has been trifled ' 
away I " But he that has, and except 'on public 
occasions' profinset to have, no fimcdon but that of 
going idle in a graceful or graceleaa manner ; and 
of begetting aons to go idle ; and to addreas. Chief 
Spinnera and Diggera, who at least arc apnning and 
digging, " Ye scandalous persons who produce too . 
much " — My Corn-Law friend*, <Hi what imaginary 



«S* in THE liODERN WORKER 

Vta^a Hill richer Eldoradoii and tme iroii-B|Hke« with law . 
<u4 of graTitatioa, are ye nuhii^ I 

A« to the Wages of Work there might imuiineF- 
able thinga be said ; there will and miut yet io- 
nmneraUe thmgi be taid and spoken, in St. 
Stephen's and out of St. Stephen*! ; and gradually > 
Dot a few thing* be ascotained and wntten, on 
Law-parchment, coDcenung this very matter : — ^ 
y. * F^.day's-iTiBges for^,&ird^(^faaa''k ' " the 

most unrefusable ^^and ! Money-wagea * to the 
extent of keeping your WOTker alive that he may 
work more ; * these, uolesa you mean to dinnias him 
straightway out of this woHd, are iodispanable 
alike to the noblest Wwker and to the leaK noUe ! 
One thing only I will say here, in special refer- 
ence to the former class, the noble and noblest ; but 
throwing light on all the other classes and their 
arrangements of this difficult matter: The ' wages' 
of every Doble Work do yet lie in Heaven or else ' 
Nowhtte. Not in Badc-of- England bills, in 
Owen's Labour-bank, or any the most improved 
eetaUishmeiU; of banking and money-changing, 
needest thou, herioc soul, present thy account of 
earnings. Human hanks and labour-banks know 
thee not ; or ' know thee after generations and 
centuries have passed away, and thou art clean gone 
ti-om < rewardii^,' — all maimer of bank-drafts, shop- 
tills, and Downing- street Exchequers lying very 

linvitible, so far from thee 1 Nay, at bottom, dou , 
thou need any reward ? Was it thy aim and life- 
purpose to be filled with good things for thy 
heroism ; to have a life of pomp and ease, and be 
what men call ' happy,' in this world, or in any 

I other world i I answer fot thee deliborately, ^o. 



REWARD tj) 

The whole spiritual secret of the new epoch liee hi WBgn 
thia, that thon caost answer for thyself, with diy ^J?^^ 
whole clearness of head and heart, deliberately, " ^""^ 
No! 

My brother, the brave man has to give his Life I 
away. Give it, I adnK thee ; — thon dost not I 
expect to teO thy Liie in an adequate manner f [, 
What price, for example, would content thee i 
The ju»t price of thy Life to thee, — why, God'a 
entire Creation to thyself, the whole Universe of 
Space, the whole Eternity of Time, and what they 
bold : that is the price which woald content thee ) 
that, and if thou wilt be candid, nothing short of 
' that ! It is thy all ; and for it thon wouldet hare 
all. Thou art an unreasonable mortal ; — or rather 
tbou art a poor tafimtt mortal, who, in thy narrow 
clay-prieon here, teemejt so unreasonable 1 TJipu_ 
wiU-oeyet-sell thy Life, or any prt of thy Life, m 
a wrisf^rrnry minn'T Give it, like a royal heart ; 
let the price be Nothing : thou iait then, in a 
cert^Q sense, got All for it ! The heroic man, — 
and is not every man, God be thanked, a potential 
hero i — has to do so, in all times and circumstances. 
In the most heroic age, as in the most unheroic, he 
will have to say, as Bums said proudly and hnmbly 
of his little Scottish Songs, little dewdrops of 
Celestial Mdody in an age when so much was 
unmetodious ; " By Heaven, they shall either be 
invaluable or of no value ; I do not need your 
guineas for them ! " It is an element which should, 
and must, enter deeply into all settlements of wages 
here below. They never will be ' satisfactory * 
otherwise ; they cannot, O Mammon Gospel, they 
never can ! Money ftw ray little piece of work ^ 
* to the extent that will dlow me to keep working ; ' 



!» Ill THE MODERN WORKER 

ik- yea, this, — oiJms joa meao that I ahall go my ways I 
'<<>' irfen the work n all uken out of me : but aa to ^ 
[^'wages'—!— 

On the whole, we do entirely agree with those i 
old Monka, Lahorare nt Orarc, In a thouaaiid | 
aenaes, from one end of it to the other, trne Work j 
» Worahip. He that works, whataoerer be bis ■ 
work, he bodies forth the form of Things Uneeen; I 
a small Poet every Worker is. The idea, wereB 
but of his poor Delf Flatter, how much more of hu 
Epic Poem, is as yet 'seen,' half-seen, only by 
himaelf; to all others it is a thing snseen, impos- 
sible ; to Nature hereof it is a thing unaeeD, a 
thing which never hitherto was j — xery ' impos- 
aible,' for it is as yet a No-thing ! The Unseen 
Powers had need to watch over such a man ; he 
works in and for the Unseen. Alas, if he look to 
the Seen Powera only, he may as well quit the ; 
business ; his No-thing will never rightly issue as a 
Thing, but as a Decepdvity, a Sham-thing, — which ' 
it had better not do 1 

Thy No-thing of an Intended Poem, O Poet 
who hast looked merely to reTiewers, copyrights, 
booksellers, popularities, behold it has not yet 
become a Thiitg ; for the truth is not in it ! 
Though printed, hotpressed, reviewed, celebrated, 
sold to the twentieth edition: what is all thatf i 
The Thiag^ in phtlosophical uncommercial language, 
ii still a No-thing, mostly semblaoce and deception | 
of the sight J — benign Oblivion inceasandy gnawing 
at it, impatient till Chaoa, to which it belongs, da 
reabsorb it 1 — 

He who takes not counsel of the Uaaeen and 
Silent, from hira will never come real visilnlity and i 
^teech. Thou must descend to the Motitrt, to \ 



REWARD *55 

the Monti, and HerciUeg-Iike long tiaSex and labour The 
there, wou)d«t thou emerge with victory into the WMk 
sunlight. Ab in battle and the »hock of war, — for ^^^^ 
is not thie a battle ? — thou too shalt fear no pain or |^^„ 
death, shalt love no ease or life; ^e voice of festive 
Lubberlands, the noise of greedy Acheron shall 
alike lie silenE under thy victorious feet. Thy 
work, like Dante's, shall ' mak£_^)eeJean_for ipany i 
years.' The world and its wages, its criciciems, 
'co&ieele, helps, impediments, shall be as ■ waste 
□cean-flood ; the chaos through which thou art to 
swim and sail. Not the waste waves and their 
weedy gnlF-streams, shalt thou take for guidance: 
thy star alone, — ' Ss.^i/'-tessi.Ji/a.. JleBa ! ' Thy 
star aione, now clear-beaming over CKaos, nay now 
by fits gone out, disastrously eclipsed ; this only 
shalt thou strive to follow. O, it is a business, as 
I fancy, that of weltering your way through Chaos 
aitd the murk of Hell ! Green-eyed dragons watch- 
ing you, three-headed Cerberuses, — not without 
sympathy of litir sort ! " Eecom P uem eh' e italo 
alF Iiifemo." For in fine, as Poet Dryden says, 
yon do walk hand in hand witfa sheer Madness, all 
the way, — who is by no means pleasant company ! 
You look fixedly into Madness, and her undis- 
covered, boundless, bottomless Night-empire; that 
you may extort new Wisdwn out of it, as an 
Ewrydicc from Tartarus. The higher the Wisdomj 
the closer was its neighbourhood and kindred witfa\ 
mere Insanity ; literally go ; — and thon wilt, with 
a speechless feeling, observe how highest Wisdom, 
struggUog up into this worlds has ofundmes carried 
such tincture* and adhesions of Insanity still 
cleaving to it hither! 

All Works, each in their degree, are a making 



(j« III THE HODERM WORKER 

u- of Madnen tuw ; — trnly enoagh r religiooa opera- 
'Bd tion ; which cannot be carried <m without reli^oa. 
^ Yoo have not work otherwise j you hare eye- 
«errice, greedy grasjNng of wages, swift and ever 
swifter manufacture of semUaiices to get hold of 
wages. Instead of better felt-hata to cover yaw 
head, you have bigger lath-and-plaater hats set . 
travelling the streets on wheels. Instead of 
heavenly and earthly Guidance for the souls of 
men, yon have ' Black or White Surplice ' Contro- 
versies, stuffed hiur-and-leather Popes ; — terrestrial 
Law-inanir, Lords and Law-bringerB, 'organising 
Labour ' in these years, by passing Com-L>aws. 
With all which, alas, this distracted Earth is now 
full, nigh to bursting. Semblances most smooth to 
the touch and eye ; most accursed, nevertheless, to 
body and soul. Semblances, be they of Sham- 
woven Cloth or of Dilettante Legislation, which 
are not real wool or substance, but Devil's-dost, 
accursed of God and man ! No man has worked, 
or CM work, except religiously ; not even the poor 
day-labourer, the weaver of your coat, the sewer of 
your shoes. All men, if they work not as in a 
Great Taskmastn's eye will work wrong, work 
unhappily for themselves and yon. 

i Industrial work, still under bondage to Mammon, 
nhe rational soul of it not yet awakened, is a tragic 
f spectacle. Mea in the rajndest motion and eclf- 
motion ; restless, with convulsive energy, as if 
driven by Galvanism, as if possessed by a Devil', 
tearing asunder mountains, — to no purpose, fis 
Mammooism is always Midas-eared t This is sad, 
on the face of it. Yet courage : the beneficent 
Destinies, kind in their sternness, aie apprising us 



KBWARD ij7 

that this cannot coatitiue. 1 Libour ii not a deril, Labour 
evm while encased in Mammonian ; Labour ii tbs Im. 
ever an imprisooed god, writhing unconicioiuljr or J^S^^S?^ 
cofucioiuly to escape out of Maminoniun I Plug- 
■on of Uiidcr»hot, like Taillefer of Normandy, 
wants victory } how much happier will ctco Plug- 
son be to have a Chivalrotu victory than a Chactaw 
one ! The unredeemed uglinen is that of a tJoth- 
fiil People. Show me a People energetically busy ; 
heaving, straggling, $H shonldera at the wheel ; their 
heart pnlnag, every muscle swelling, with man's 
eangy and will ; — I show yon a People of whom 
great good is already predicable t to whom all 
manner of good is yet certain, if their energy endure. 
By very working, they will learn ; they Jiave, 
Antams-like, their foot on Mother Fact : how can 
they bat learn ? 

The valgarett Plugson of a Mister- Worker, who 
can command Workers, and get work out of them, 
is already a ctMiaiderable man. Bleased and thrice- 
blessed symptom* I discern of Master-Workers 
who are not vulgar men ; who are NoUes, and 
begin to feel that they must act as such : all speed 
to thes^ tb^ are England's hope at present 1 
But in this Plugson himself, conscions of almost 
no noUeneas whatever, how much is there ! 
Not without man's faculty, insight, courage, hard 
energy, is this nigged figure. His words none of 
the wisest; but his actings cannM be altogether 
foolish. Thmk, how were it, sioodst thon suddenly 
in his shoes ! He has to command a thousand 
men. And not imaginary commanding ; no, it is 
real, incessantly practical. The evil passions of so 
many men (with the Devil in Aem, as in all of as) 
he has to vaoquish ; by mamfbid force (^ speech 



■51 III THE HODBRll WORKER 

w- and of nleocct to itftem or endc Wbat a &rce 
>■■ of alnice, to My nothiog of the atben, u in Plug- ' 
MM ! For tbew hit thoonnd nm he hu to frotide 
nw-inaterial, ma^anerj, unngnantt, houMroam ; 
and c*CT « Uk week'* end, wage* by doe tale. No 
Ci*il-Lut, or Goulboni-Banng Bodget ba* he to 
kU back npoo, for pajring of hii reginiept } ke hai 
to pick hi* (npplie* &om tl>e ccsifiiaed face o( de 
wlude Earth and Coiit»nporaiieou( History, by Us 
desterity alone. There will be dry eye* if he lul 
to do it !— He exclaim*, at [xnent, ' Uack io the 
fiice,' near atrangled wiUi Dilettante Legtslalioi : 
** Let roe have elbow-room, throat-room, and I 
will not Ml I Ho, I will ipiii yet, and cootjiier like 
a ^ant ; what * nnew* ot war ' lie ia me, untold 
rctontcet tovarda the Coacpeat of this Planet, if 
instead of hanging me, you husbaod them, and help 
me ! " — My indomitable fnend, it i* /nu; and thou 
■halt and must be hdped. 

This is tiot a man I would kill and strangle by 
Corn-Laws, even if I conld ! No, I would flinj 
my Corn-Laws and Shotbelts to the Devil ; and 
try to help this man. I would teach him, 1^ nofale 
{HTcept and law-precept, by noble examjit most of 
iall, that MammoniBm waa not the eaaence of hi* or 
fof my station in Grod'aUDi«etsei but the j^daciuiiim! 
excrescence of it ; the gross, te»ene, godless em- 
bodiment of it; which would have to become, rowc 
or less, R godlike one. By noble real legidatxa^ 
by true ooM^z-wock, by unwearied, nliaat, anl 
were it wagelcts effort, in my Parliament uxl ia 
my Parish, I would aid, constrain, encourage him 
to effect mote or less this blessed change. I should 
know that it would have to be effected ; thai 
unless it were m some measure effected, he and I 



OEHOGRACT >5f 

and all of 118, I first and soonett of all were doomed T«^ 
to perdiiion ! — Effected it will be ; unksa it were u<l tbt 
a Demoo that made tliit UmTcnci wbicb I, for "'*'* 
roy own part, do at do nwment, under w> form, in 
the Icut believe. 

May it pleate your Serene Higbnewet, your 
Majectiet, Lwdabip* and Law-wardabipt, the proper 
Epic of thta world iaoot now 'ArmsaiKl the Man;' 
how much leaf, * Shirt-fiillt and the Man ; ' do, 
it u DOW ' To(da and the Mas : ' that, henceforth 
to d time, ia oow our Epic ; — ODd you, firat of all 
othera, I think, were wise to take note of that I 



OBMocaacr 

JF dte SercDc Higbneties ud Majettiea do not 
take note of that, tbeo, aa I perceive, that will 
talce note of itself I The time ibr levity, insincerity, 
aitd idle babble and play-acting, in all kisda, ia 
gone by; it ia a aeriou% grave time. Old long- 
vexed qBestiona, not yet solved in logical wordi at 
parliaraentary lawi, are fait aolving themeelvca in 
facta, aomewhat unbleBeed to behold 1 Thia lorgeat 
of queationa, thia question of WotIc and Wagea, 
which ought, had we heeded Heaven'a voice, to 
have begun two geoeradoag ago or more, cannot 
be delayed longer without hearing Earth'a voice. 
* Labour ' will verily need to be aomewhat * organ- 
iaedi' as they aay, — God knows with what diiGcdty. 
Man will actually need to hare hia debts and eatsii^ 
a little better paid by man ; which, let FarlianKOta 



*<<> III THE HODEim WORKER 

Lifi m ipeak of tbem or be aim of them, are ettn»% Iik , 

*— *— ^ (foe from man, and cannot, widtoot penalty and at 

***"■* length not whhoot death-penalty, be vidiheltL 

How much ot^bt to ceaae among ih ttraigfatway ; 

bow much ought to begin ttraightway, while the 

boon yet are! 

Truly tbey are airMge reraits to which thii of 
kaving all to 'Caah;' of ^ietly diutting-np thr 
God't Temfde, and gradsally opening wide-op 
the Mammon'* Temple, with ' Laksez-faire, »ni 
EYcry man fat bimaelf,' — have led lu btbeae days! 
We have Upper, speaking Clanea, who indeed do 
' speak ' u never man spake befijre ; the withered 
flinuioess, the godless baseness and barrenness of 
whose Speech might of itself indicate what kind of 
Doing and {tactical Governing went on nnder it ! 
For Speech is the gaseous element out of whicb 
most kinds of Practice and P«^mance, especially 
all kinds of moral Performance, condense themselves, 
and take shape ; a* the one is, so witt the other be. 
Descending, accordingly, ioco the Dumb Ckus in 
it* Stockport Cellars and Poor-Law Bastilles, 
have we oot to announce that they also are hitherto 
unexampled in the History of Adam's Posterity i 
I Life was never a May-game for men ; in all 
time* the lot of the dumb milliont bom to toil was 
defaced with manifold sulferingt, injustices, heavy 
burdeiH, avoidable and unavoidable ; not {Jay at all) 
but hard work that made the sinews sore and the 
heart sore. As bond'ilavei, villatii, bordarii, loeht- 
numni, nay indeed as dukes, earh and kings, mn 
were oftentimes made weary of their lifo ; and had 
to say, it) the sweat of thnr brow and of their soul, 
Behold, it is not sport, it is grim earnest, and our 
back can bear no more I Who kiiows not what 



DEMOCRACY >Si 

laaaucringB iutd barryingi there kiTc been ; grifid- The 
lag, long-continuing, unbearable injuMces, — till the P*'*'** * 
heart had toiiie in madDeu, and 90iae''£u Sachiem, ^'tji^ 
nimiib eutr sacbns. You Saxons, out with your ^,q 
gully-kniTCB, thai!" You SaxonS) some ' arrett- tirilef 
ment,' partial 'arreaimem of the Knavei and 
Canards' has become iodiBpensable ! — The page 
of Dryesdutt ia heavy with such detail*. 

And yet I will TCDture to beliere that in no tiaie, 
since the beginning* of Society, was the lot of tho«e 
same dumb millions of toilers so entirely unbearaUe 
38 it is even in the day* now passing over us. It is 
not to die, oc ev«i to die of hunger, that make* a 
man wretched ; many men have died ) all men 
must die,T~the last exit of lu all is in a Fire- 
Chaiiot of Pain. But it is to live miserable we 
know not why ; to work sore and yet gain nothing ; 
to be beart-WQrn, weary, yet isolated, unrelated, 
gin-in with a cold universal Laissez-faire : it is to 
die alowly all our life long, impFistmed io a deaf, 
dead. Infinite lajustice, as b the accursed iron 
belly of a Phalarii' Bull [ This ia and remains 
forever intolerable to all men whom God ha* nude. 
Do we wonder at French Revolutions, Chartisms, 
Revolts of Three Days \ The tiroes, if we will 
ccmsida' them, are really unexampled. 

Never before did I hear of an Irish Widow 
reduced to ' prove her sisterhood by dyii^ of 
' typhus-fever and infecting seventeen persona,' — ■ 
saying in such undeniable way, " You itt I wa* 
your siater 1 " Sisterhood, brotherhood, was often 
forgotten ( ' but not till the rise of these ultimate 
MamrooD and Shotbelt Gospels did I ever see it 
BO exi^essly denied. If no pious Lord or Left- 
ward would remember it, always some (moub Lady 



Nm» 

MhStr 



*<* III THE HtmERR WORKER 

(' Hlaf-J^,' Benebctrew, * Loaf-pvereu' they ny 
■be is, — UeMoga on ha beantHb! fanrtt) was 
there, with mOd nwtber-rfnce and hand, to remeinber 
it ; KHOe piom tbonghtJiil Elder, what we now call 
'Pre*er,* Pmfyler or 'Priert,' wh there to pot 
alt men in mind of it, in the name of the God who 
bad made atL 

Not even in Black Dahomey waa k ever, I think, 
fbrgotten to the tyjAo^-fcrer length. Mimgo Part, 
rewnrcdeBB, bad nmk down to die under the Negro 
Village-Tree, a htHTiUe White obiect in the eyes 
of all. Bnt in the poor Black Woman, and her 
daaghter who ttood aghast at him, wfaoae earthly 
weahh and fimded ca[iital conritted of one small 
calabash of rice, there lived a heart richer than 
Lmien-fim: they, with a royal mimificence, bt^led 
their rice fw him; they tang all night to him, 
vpinDing autduom on their cotton diitaffs, aa he lay ' 
to steep : '■ Let ua pity the poor white man ; no 
mother has he to fetch him milk, no nater U grind ' 
him corn ! " Thou poor black Noble One,-^iou ; 
Lady too : did not a God make thee too ; waa i 
there not in thee too something of a God ! — 

Gurth, bom thrall tA Cedric the Saxon, lias been | 
gready [uued bv Dryasdoat and othen. Gurth, 
with die Ix'aas cottar roiutd hia neck, tending Cedric's 
pigs m the ghdea c^ the wood, is not what I caU aa ; 
exemplar c^ human felicity ; but Gurth, with the 
sky above him, with the free air and tinted Ixwcagc 
and nmbrage round him, and in him at leMt the , 
certainty of aupper and social lodging when he | 
came home ; Gurth to me seems happy, in com- 
pariaoD with many a Lancashire and Buckio^um- 
abireman of tbeae days,BoC btxn^nUof «qFtMNly! 



DEHOCRACT tSj 

Gurth's brass collar did not gall hiin : Cedrk tU~ Tb« 
terctd to be his master. The pigs were Cedric's, libw^ 
tnt Garth too would get his pariagi of tbem. ?**^' 
Gorth had the inexj^ewible HUEfactioa of feeling j^tj, 
hiiBaetf related indiisolQUr, though in a nide brata- 
coUv war, ^ ^ fdlow-monals in this Esnh. 
He had superiors, inferiors, equals. — Gurth is now 
'emandpcited ' long since ; has what we call 
'Liberty.' Liberty, I am told, is a divine thbgii. 
Liberty when it becomes the 'Liberty to die h^\ 
stuntion ' ia not so divine ! I 

Liberty \ The true liberty of a man, you would 
^y, consisted in hii finding out, or being forced to 
God out the right path, and to walk thereon. To 
learn, or to be taught, what work he actually was 
^ble f(ff ; and then hy permission, persuaiion, end 
even compulnon, to set about doing of the same ! 
Tbu is his true btessednesa, honour, ' liberty ' and 
nuximum of wellbeiog : if liberty be not that, I iw 
OIK have small care about liberty. You do not 
^"ow a palpable madman to leap over precipices ; 
you violate his liberty, you that are wiae ; and keep 
him, were it in strait-waistcoats, away from the 
piecipicea ! Every sCufud, every cowardly and firalisb 
■nan m bat a less palpable madman : his true liberty 
Wne that a wiser man, that any and every wiser 
^oaa, could, by brass collars, or in whatever milder 
or iharper way, lay hold of him when be was going 
*R)ng, and order and compel him to go a little 
fighter. O, if thou really art my Stiuor, Sngoeur, 
my ElJiT, Presbyter or Priest,— ^f thou art in very 
dnd my Wuer, may a beneficent inninct lead and 
uapd thee to ' cDn<iDer ' me, to command me 1 If 
thou do know better than I what is good and right, 
I conjure thee in die naroe of God, force me to do 



^^L 



1S4 III THE MODERN WORKER 

D17U- it I were it by never audi brass collan, whipi and 

AntaaA bxodevfft, leaTC me not to walk orer precipical ~ 

^ That I hsTC b«n called, by all the Newspapers, 

a ' free man ' will avail me little, if my [Migrimage 

havcended in death and wreck. O that tbe NewB- 

bad called me slave, coward, fool, or what 

Jeased their «weet voices to name me, and I 

had attained not death, but life! — Liberty requite* 

new definitions. 

A conscious abhorrence and intolerance of Folly, 
of Baseness, Stupidity, Poltroonery and all that 
brood of things, dwells deep in some men : still 
deeper in others an unconscions abhorrence and 
intolerance, clothed moreover by tbe beneficent 
Supreme Powers in what stout appetitee, energies, 
egoisms so-called, arc suitable to it ; — these latter 
are your Conqoerors, Romans, Normans, Rnasians, 
Indo-Eoglish ; Foonders of what we call Aris- 
tocracies. Which indeed have they not the mo&t 
' divine right ' to foand ; — ^being themselves very 
truly ApuTToc, BaAvEsT, Bestj and conquering 
generally a confiised rabble of Worst, or at lowest, 
clearly enough, of Worse ! I think their divine 
right, tiied, with alHrmatory verdict, in the greatest 
Law-Conrt known to me, was good ! A class of 
men who are dreadfiilly exclaimed against by 
Dryasdust ; of whom nevertheless beneficent Nature 
has oftenumes had need ; and may, alas, again have 

When, acroM the hnndredfiild poor scepticinnt 
trivialisms and conttitntiooal cobwcbberies of Dry- 
asdust, you catch any glimpse of a William the 
Conqueror, a Tancred of Hanteville or suchlike^ — 
do you not discern vnitably some rude outline of 
a true God-made King ; 'whom not the Cham^oo 



OEMOCKACY .65 

of England cased in da, but all Nature and the Light 
UnirerM were calling to the throae i It ia ab- ^^ 
eolotdy necCBsary that he get thitber. Nature doea '"■' 
not mean her poor Saxon children to periah, of 
obesity, stnpor or other malady, as yet : a atern 
Rnler and Line of Rulera therefore i> called in, — 
a Bt«ii but most beneficent pafetual ffoiue-Surgetm 
is by Nature herself called in, and even the appro- 
priate^^/ are provided for him ! Drya«lutt calk* 
lamentably about Hereward and the Fen Countiet ; 
fate of Earl Waltheof ; Yoikshire wad the North 
reduced to aihea : all vhich is undoubtedly lament* 
abl«. Bnt even Dryauluit appdees me of one fact ; 
'A child, in this William's reign, might have carried 
a porae of gold from end to end of England.' My 
erudite friend, it is a fact which outweighs a thou- 
sand I Sweep away thy cotisMuiional, sentiiiiaitBl 
and othercobwebberies; look eye to eye, if thou uttt 
have any eye, in the face of this big burly William 
Bastard; tfaou wilt see a fellow of moEt .flashing 
diecemment, of most strong lion-bean i— -is whom, 
as it were) within a frame of oak and iron, the gods 
hare planted the soul of ' a man of genius ' ! Dost 
thou c;^l that nothing^ I call it an immense thing! 
— Rage enough was in this Will elmus Conquxsior, 
rage enough for his occasions ; — and yet the es- 
sential element of him, as of all such men, is not 
scorching _/&«, but sbtning illtunlnative %6/. Fire 
and light are strangely interchangeable | nayr at 
bottom, I have found them diAerent forms of the 
same most godlike * elementary subnance' in our 
world : a thing worth stating in these days. The 
essential element of this Conqucstor is, first of all, 
the most sun-eyed percepdon of what ii really what 
oa this God's-Earth ; — which, thou wih find, doei 



a« III THE HODBiOf WORKER ' 

Ma- mesa at hcttom • Jvstice,' md * Vinoea ' oot a few : 
^toe'« Cimformitf to what the Maker baa »een good to~ 
^^^ make ; tlut, I mppoBC, will nieaii Jiudce aod a 



d^ 



Virtne or t 

DoBt thoo think Willelmiu Conqueslor would 
have tolerated ten years' jargoa, one hour'a jatgoo, 
on the propriety of killing Cotton- manufacturea by - 
partridge Coro-Laws ( I fancy, tfai* wa* not tbe 
man to knock out of his night't-iest with nothtag 
but a DoiBy bedlamisoi in your mouth ! " Assist n 
stUt better to bosh Ac partridgef ; itrangle Flugioo 
who spins the shirts?" — "Par la S^aiJatr dt 

Ditm! Dost thou think WitlelimuConqoKstor, 

in diis new time, with Steamengine Capteins of 
Industry on one hand of him, and Joe-Maoton < 
Captains of Idlenen on the other, would have 
dodxed which «uiu really the Bitrt which did | 
deaerve strangling, and which not J ^ 

I hsTe a certain indestructible regard for Willelmus 
Coocnuestor. A reiident House-Surgeoii, provided ' 
bf Natve for her beloTcd Eaglidi Peo]Je, and 
e*en fomiAed with the requisite foes, as I said ; ' 
for he by no means folt himself doii^ Nature's ' 
workfthis Willelinus, butkisown wwk exdoHTclyl ' 
And his own work withal it was ; informed *fttr la 
Spkndeur Je Dieu* — I say, it it neccsaary to get 
the work out of nich a man, bowerer hanh that be! I 
When a world, not yet dooined for death, i« nuhinf; | 
down to erer-deeper Baseness and Coofiuioo, it it 
a dire necessity of Nature's to bring in her Ajunx^ 
caaaii, her But, eTcn by forcible methods. Wha 
their descendants or rqiresentativei cease entirely to 
U the Beit, Nature's poor world will Tcrj sooo 
nut) down again to Baseness) and it bect»iB» a | 
dire necessiiy of Nature's to cast tbem oot. Hence 



DEMOCRACY *<r 

French RcTohitioiw, Five-pMut Chamri, Demo- T«kIU>- 
cracies, aud a motirnful Kst of Elceiena, b theK^'Bddi 
our afflicted timei. •*■*" 

To what extent Democracy has now leached, 
bo^v it advatKea irresistible with ominont, erer- 
increasing speed, he that will opea his eyes oa any 
proTince of human alFain may discern. Demo- 
cracy is everywhere the inexorable demand of these 
age«, swiftly falfilling itvelf. From the dinndn' of 
^aptJeon batdes, to the jabbering of Open-vestrjr 
in St. Mary Axe, all things announce Democracy. 
A distinguished man, whom some of my readers 
will bear again with pteas*u«, thos writes to me what 
in these days be notes from the Wahnpsse of 
Weisniichtwo, where our London tishions stem 
to be in fiiU vogue. Let ns hear the Herr 
Tenfejtdrdckh again, were it but the smallest 



■ Democracy, which means despair of 6iiditig | 
' any Heroes to govern you, and contented potting- | 
' up with the want of them, — alas, thou too, meia • 
' LUhtr, seest w^ how close it is of kin to Atbtiim, 

' and otber sad hmt: he who discovers no God 
■ whatever, how shall he discover Heroes, the 
' visible Temples of God } — Strange emnigh mean- 
' wfaUe it is, to obverve with what thoughtlessness, 
' here in our rigidly Cooservative Country, men rush 
' into Democracy wHh Aill cry. Beyond doubt, 
> his Excellenz the Titntar-Herr RitMr Kander- 
■walach von I^rdcfuES-Quacks^ber, he our dis- 

tingtHshed Conservative Premier himself, and all 
' bat the thicker-beaded <tf his Party, discern 
' Democracy to be inevitable as denth, and are 

even desperate of delaying it much 1 

■ You cannot walk the streets witbotu beholding 



iCS 111 THE HODBSN WORKER 



Tm&I*. ' Democracy aanouoce itadf : the very Ttuilor has 
drtt^lt 'become, if Dot properly Santculottic, which to hini~' 
ClothM ' ""'"^'^ ^ ruinous, yet a Tailor uncooscioualy 

< (yraboli«iag, and pro^esying with hie aciasoirs, the 
'reign of Equality. What now ia our kahionable 
' coat i A ihiDg of euperfineat texture, of deeply 
'meditated cut; with Malioes-lace cuffs; quilted-' 

* wuli gold ; ao that a mao can carcy, without 
'difficulty, an estate of Jaodonhis back? Kdrtaivqr, 
' By DO manner of means! The Sumptuary Lavs 
' have fallra into such a state of desuetude as wai 
'Derer before seen. Oiu^&^isiiitbl«.XQat''iB'--aii 

' amphilaum betyecD batn-sacjc and dnynjg Ki't ' 

* doublet. The doth bfirtiTuudiousIy coarac i the 
' coloiJT a speckled soot-black or ruat-brovn gray ; 
'the nearest approach to a Feasant's. And for 
'ahapCi — thou shouldst see it ! The last coobuid' 

' mation of the year now passing over us is definaUe ^ 
■ as TI^eeBags ; a big bag for the body, two 
' small b^sTor" the aims, and by way of collar a ' 
' hem 1 The first Antique Cheruscan who, of felt- 

< cloth or bcar's-hide, with bmie or metal needle, 
'set about making himself a coat, before Tailors had ' 

* yet awakened out of Nothing, — did not he make 
' it eren ao ? A loose wide pc^e ibr body, with 

* two holea to let out the arms ; this was hisori^nal 
'coat: to which holes it was soon visible that two i 
'small loose pokes, or sleeves, easily appended, I 

< would be an- improvement. 

* Thus has the Tailor-art, so to speak, overset 
' itself, like most other things ; changed its centn- 
' of-gravity ; whirled suddenly over from zsnitb to 
' nadir. Your Stulz, with huge someraet, vaalli 

* from his high diopboard down to the depths of I 
' i»imal savagery^ — carrying much along with him ! 



DBUOCRACT tC 

' For I will inTite ihee to re6crt that the Tailor, i 

■ topmost nltimate frotfa of Homan Society, !■ indeed dfBckh 
'iwift-patsing, CTanesccDt, rfippcry to decipher j yet ^ ., 

■ ugnificant of mmch, nay of all. Topmost 
' eranesceat froth, he te chnrned-up from the very 
'ieea, and firom a)I intermediate regioDs of the 
' liquor. The geoeral outcome he, visible to the 
'eye, of what men aimed to do, and were obliged 
' and enabled to do, in this one public department of 

* symbolisiDg themaehet to each other hy covering 
'of their akina. A smack of all Human Life lie* 
' ID the Tailor : ita wild ttrugglea towarda beauty, 
'dignity, freedom, victory; and how, hemmed-b 
'by Sedan and Hoddenfield, by Nescience, Dnl- 
< ness, Pntrioice, and other sad necessitiea and lawa 
'of Nature, it has attained just to this; Gray 

* tavagery of Three Sacks with a bem ! 

• Wben the very Tailor verges towards San>- 
' culottinn, is it not ominous ? The last Divinity of 
' poor mankind dethroning himself ; sinking bit 
' taper too, flame dowomosi, like the Genius of 
' Sleep or c^ Desnh ; admonitory that Tailor time 
'shall be no more I — For, little aa onecould adviw 
' Sumptuary Laws at the present epoch, yet nothing 
' is clearer than that where ranks do actoally exist, 
' strict division of costumes wilt also be enforced ; 
'that if we ever have a new Hierarchy and 
'Arietocracy, acknowledged veritably as such, for 

* which I daily pray Heaven, the Tailor will 
' reawaken i and be, by volunteering and appointment, 

* coasciouidy and anconsciously, a safeguard of that 
' same.' — Certain fivther observations, from the same 
invaluable pen, on our never-ending changes of 
mode, OUT ' perpetual nomadic and even ape-like 
' appetite for change and mere change ' m aU the 



vjo III THE UODElUr WORKER 



Parter CQuipmeoU of our existence, aod the ' &tal rerolu- | 
pttt * ttooary character ' thereby roanifewed, we toppreM ■ 
'"C*^ for the present. It may be admitted that Democracy, i 
b all meaDiogi of the word, is ia full caieer ; 
irrcMstible by any Ritter Kauderwalsch or other Son 
of Adam, ai tintea go. * Libeny ' is a ^ing men 
are determined to have. . | 

But truly, u I had to ranaik in the mean v\^e, 
' the liberty of not being o^cssed by your feUov 
man ' is an iodispenaable, yet one of the moat id- 
sigoificant fracUonal parts of Human Liberty. No 
man o^^esses thee, can hid tliee fetch or carry, 
come or go, without reason shown. True { from ' 
all men thou art emancipated ; but from Thyself 
and frcmi the Devil — i No man, wiser, unwiser, 
can make thee come or go : but thy own futilities, j 
bewilderments, thy false appetites for Money, ^ 
Windsor Georges and suchlike ; No man of^jrestes 
thee, O free and independent Franchiser : but does < 
oot this stupid Porter-pot offress thee i No Son , 
of Adam can bid thee come or go } but this absurd i 
Pot of Heavywet, this can and does I Thou an 
the thrall not of Cedric the Saxon, bat of tlw own | 
t»-utal appetites and this scoured dish of liquor. | 
And thou pratett of thy < liberty i ' Thou entire i 
blockhead ! i 

Heavy-wet and gin : alas, these are oot the only 
kinds of thraldom. Thou who walkest in a vain ' 
■how, looking out with ornamental dilettante siuf 
and serette supremacy at all Life and all Death', ' 
and amblest jauntily; perking up thy poor talk ima ' 
crotchets, thy poor cfHuluct into fatxous soronani' 
butisme ; — and art as an ' enchanted Ape ' under 
God's sky, where thou mightett have been a man, 



DEHOCRACY 171 

bad proper Sdioobnuters and Cooqunori, and VtMed 
'ConUatJe* with cat-o'-nine taila, been voucluafcd totr ; 
thee t dott thou c»U that ' liberty ' ? Or your so- SS^* 
repodug Manunon-woTBhipper again, driTcn, » if ^ P«U- 
by Galrantanu, by Dcriui, and Fixed-ideai, wbo Terer 
liie* early and lits late, channg the inipoMible ; 
.scrainiitg every faculty to ' £11 hinudf with the eatt 
wiiMJ,' — bow nterci&l were it, could you, by mild 
persnantm, or by the aevereat tyranny •O'called, 
check him in hia mad path, and turn him into a 
wiieT one ! All pamful tynmny, in that case again, 
were bbt mild 'mrgery ; the pain of it cheap, as 
health and life, instead c^ galvaniim and fixed-idea, 
are cheap at any price. 

Sure enough, ^ all paths a man codd Krikie 
into, there ir, at any given moment, a butt path for 
every man \ a thing which, here and now, it were of 
all tilings •witett for him to do ; — which codd he 
be bat led or driven to do, be were then doing < like 
a man,' as «re phraae it ; all men and gods agreeing 
with him, the whole Univerte Virtually exclaiming 
Wcti-done to him ! His sncceat, in such case, were 
comgdete f hii felicity a maximum. This path, to 
find thu path and walk in it, i* the one thing neediiil 
for him. Whatsoever forward* him in that, let it 
come to him even in the shape of Uows and apom- 
ings, is liberty : whatsoever hinders him, were it 
wardmotea, Dpert-vesiries, poUbooths uemndous 
chters, rivers of heavy-wet, is slavery. 

Tbe notion that a man's liberty c<»iiata in giving 
hit vote at election-buttings, and taying, " Behold, 
DOW I too have my twenty-thoosaDdth part of a 
Talker in our National Palaver ; will not all the 
goda be good to me ? " — is one of the [Jeasantest ! 
Nature Devathelew ia kiod at present ; and puts it 



>7> III THE MODERN WORKER 

The into tbe beada of nuiiy, olrocMt of all. Tbe liberty 
Ritfrtrfe«peciaHy which hu to purchate iuelf by socUf 
^Rj^ itolatiao, aod each man nandiDg Bcperate from the 
^^S^j Mher, haviiig ' do bunness with him ' but a cath- 
account : thu is such a liberty as the Earth Beldom 
Mw;— «B the Earth will not long put up mth, 
recommend it how you may. This liberty tnnts 
out, before it have long continued in action, with all 
mm flinging up their cap* round it, to be, fcr liie 
Waking Mtlltona a liber^ to die by want of food', 
Jot the Idle Thoosonda and Unit*, alas, a stUI more 
iatal liberty to live in want of work ; to hare no 
earnest duty to do in this GodVWofld any more. 
What becomes of a man in such predicament? 
Earth's Lawawe stent ; and Heaven a apeak in i 
voice which u not heard. No work, and the 
ioa-adkable need of work, give rite to new very 
wondrous lite-philoeaphies, new very wondrous life- ' 

Sactices ! Dilettantism, PococuramiBm, Be»i- 
rummelisn], with perhaps an occasional, half-mad, 
protesting barst of fiyronism, establish themselves : 
at the end of a certam period, — if you go back to 
■ the Dead Sea,' there ia, say our Moslem friends, i 
very strange ' Sabbath>day ' transacting itself there ! 
— Bretbrea, we know but imperfectly ye^ after 
ages of C<Ktstitational GoTcmment, 'What Liberty 
and Slavery are. 

I>emocracy, the chase of Liberty in that direc- 
tion, shall go its full course ; unrestraioaUe by him 
of Pferdefuss-Quacksalber, or any of jUj honaehoU- 
The Toiling Milltona of Mankind, in moat vitt^ 
need and passionate inatinctive deme of GnidURi 
shall cast away False-Guidance; and hope, {<Ar in 
hour, that No-Guidance will suffice diem : but ii 
can be for an hour only. The smatleat item of 



DEMOCRACY 

iuman Slavery it the oppresnon of man by 

Mock-Snperiora i the palpabtest, but I uy at bottom 
die amallen. Let him ihake-ofF inch opjnvtnoii, '■ 
Inm^ it indigQaDtly nnder hi* feetj I blame him 
not, I |aty and comnteDd him. Bat oppresaion by 
yoor Hock-Snperioca well shaken otF, the grand 
proUcm yet rcaHins to wive : That of finding ' 
governmect 1^ yow Real-Saperiort ! Alu, how 
sball we em learn the soIutioD of that, benight^, 
bewildered, sniffing, sneering, godforgetdog unfbr- 
tonatfi as we are ? It is a work for cemuriei ; to 
be taught lu by tribolations, confusions, insurrec- 
tions, c^wtmctions ; who knows if not by con- 
flagration and degpair ! It is a lesKm inclunve 
of all other lewons ; the hardest of all lessons 

One thing I do know : Those Apes, chattering 
on the br^ches by the Dead Sea, never got it 
\«amed ; but chatter there to this day. To them 
no Mose* need come a lecoad time ; a thousand 
Moseses woidd be but bo many painted Phantasms, 
interecting Fellow-Apes of new su^nge aspect, — 
whom they would ' invite to dinner,' be glad to 
meet with in lion-soirees. To them tbe voice of 
Pro[4iecy, of heavenly monition, is quite etided. 
They chatter there, all Heaven shut to them, to the 
end of the world. The tmfbrtunatcs ! Oh, what 
is dying of hanger, with honest tools in your hand, 
with a manful purpose in your heart, and much real 
labour lyii% round you dtnie, in comparison ? You 
honesdy quit your tools ; quit a most muddy con- 
tused coil of sore work, short rations, of sorrows, 
dispiritmeiits and contradictions, having now 
honestly done with it all ; — and awmt, not entirdy. 
in a distracted mamier, whM the Supreme Powers, 



*74 HI THE MODESM WORKER 

The k»- ^asd the Siientxi and the Eternities may have to >ay 
BMfrfto you. 

^*^*'" A second thing I know : This lesson will have 
to be learned, — under penalties ! England will 
either learo it, or England also will cease to exist 

Iamoi^ Nstione. Eogtand will eitber leam to 
reverence its Heroes, aod discrimiitate them irom its 
Sham-Heroes and Valeti and gaslighted Histrios ; 
and to prize them as the andible God's-Toice, amid 
all inane jargons and temporary market-cries, md txj 
to them with heart-loyalty, " Be ye King and 
Priest, and Gospel and Guiduice for as;" or else 

I England will continue to worship new and ever -new 
forms of Qjiackhood, — atid so, with what resiliences 
and reboundtngs matters little, go down to the 

, Father of Quacks ! Can I dread such things of 
England i Wretched, thick-eyed, groes-heaitcd 

'Qiortals, why will ye worship lies, and 'Staged 
Clothes'suits created by the ninth-parts of men ' ! It 
is not your purses that suiFer ; youc farm-reot«, yow 
conusefces, your mill-reTenaes, loud as ye lament 
over these ; no, it is not these alone, but a far 
deeper than these : it ia your souls that lie dead, ' 
crusted down under despicable Nightmares, 
Atheisms, Brain-fumes ; and are not souls, at aH, 
but mere saccedai|Ea.fbr' /d/r to 'EeepTyQur.^jwdies 
and theit appetites fromjmtrefying! Your cotton- 
spinning arid thrice-miraculous mechankm, what is 
this too, by itself, but a larger kind of AlUnialism i 
Spiders can apa. Beavers can build and show con- 
trivance ; the Ant lays-up accumulation of capital, 
and hat, for aught I know, a Bank of AjtUancL If ' 
there is no soul in man higher than all that, did it 
reach to sailing on the cloud-rack and spiimiog ae«- 
saad) thea I Bayt-man is bst an anianl, a ohhc 



SIR JABBSH WnNDBAG >TI 

cuaniiig kind of brnte : he hu do bouI, but odIjt a CfMB- 
Eoccedaiieum for salt. Whempon, Keing himself welland 
a be truly of the bea«u ihat periah, he ought to w-^ 
admit it, I think ; — and also atraightway tuuTertally 
tokillhimselfi aixl lo, ia a maBJik^ maimer at least 
o^, and wave these btntc-worlds iii digoified 
bitvell I — . 



tIK JABBSH WWDBAO 

OLIVER CROMWELL, whoee body they 
hung OD their Tyburn gallows became he 
had found the Christian Religion inexecutable in 
this country, remaioa to me by far the remarkabien k 
(loT«iKir we have had. here for the last iive[ 
ceDOdes or so. For the last five centuries, there 
ha' been no Governor among us with anything like 
nmilar talent ; and for the last two CKtturies, no 
GoTwnor, we may My, with the possibility <rf 
»™ilar talent, — with an idea m the heart of hira 
capoUe of inajnring similar talent, capable of co- 
exisung therewith. When yoa conuder that 
Oliver believed in a God, the dkference between 
Oliver's poution and that of any lobietjUKit 
&>vemor of this Country becomes, tiie more you 
t^fiect on it, the more immeasurable 1 

Olives', no volunteer in Public Life, but jdainly a 
(balloted soldier strictly i»dered thither, ent^s upc» 
Public Life; ccwiportB hiaiself there like a man 
who carried his own life in hia hand { like a man 
whqte Great Comnuoder'a eye was tdways on him. 
Not without resulu. Oliver, well-advaoced ia 



*1* III THE HODERK WORKER 

HeBand yean, findi now, W Dottny and hit own DaeningB, 
^■H^ or ai he hinuelf better jJirued h, by wondrooi 
'■"'"" nccetnve ' Birtht of Frorkletice,' the Government 
of England pot into In* handi. In Bcnate-boiue 
md bMtlMeld, in comwel and in action, m pinte 
and in public, tfai* man hai jprored himielf a nian ; 
EiMland and the loicc of God, through wane 
awnil whirlwind* and CDTiramDentf, ipeaking to hii 
great heart, nonmon him to awert formally, in tbr 
way of wiemn Pi^ic Fact and ai a new piece d 
Engliih Law, what infbrnMlly and by Nature'E 
eternal Law needed no jm r tin g. That he, Oliver, 
wa( the Ablett Man of England, the Kbg of 
England ; that be, Oliver, would oodeftake govern- 
■og England. Hit way of making this lame 
'asMTtion,' the one way he had of making it, has 
given rite to immente criiidim ; bnt the asaertion 
itself, m what way soever 'made,' is it not some- 
what of a solemn one, eomewhat of a tremendous 

And now do but contraat this Oliver with my 
right hoiHHirable friend Sir Jabeah Windbag, Mr. 
Pacing-botfa-wayt, Viacount Meatymouth, Earl of ' 
Wlndlcttraw, or what other Cagliostro Caglionrino, 
CaglioBtraccto, the course of Fortune and Parlia- 
mentary Majorities has cODBtitutiOoatiy guided to 
that dignity, any time durbg these last eorrowfiil i 
hundred-aad-fifty years! Windbag, weak in the 
faith of a God, which he believes only at Chnrch I 
on Suodaye, if even then ; strong only in the ^th > 
that Paragraphs and Plausibilities bring votes ; that 
Force of Public Oronion, as he calit it, is the ' 
primal Necessity of Things, and highest God we 
have i — Windbag, if we will consider him, baa a I 
problem set before him which may be tanged in the ' 



SIK JABESH WINDBAG *7T 

■mpoMible clau. He i» a Cotuntbui raindcd to tail Then I 
to the iDdittinct country of Nowheke, to the m- nM«!L^a 
distiiict couDtry of Whither. wakd, by ihefritnJi/i^ 
of those Mune wute-tumbliDg Witet-Alpa and 
howliog waltz of All the Winds ; not by conquest 
of them and in spite of them, but b^ friendship of 
them, whea once tiiy have made-up their miod ! 
He is the most original Columboa I erer saw. 
Nay, hia problem is not an impouible one : he will 
iniiillibly tutive at that same country of Nowhbke ; 
lus indistinct Whitherward will be a Tiilberwaid. ! 
In the Ocean Abysses and Locker of Dary Jooes, 
there certainly enough do he and Hi ship's company, 
and ail their cargo and navigatings, at last find 
lodgment. 

Oliver knew that his America lay Thekk, West* 
ward Ho ; — and it was not entirely by frieathhif 
of the Water-Alps, and yeasty insane Froth- 
Oceans, that be meant to get thither ! He sailed 
accordingly ; had compass-card, and Rules of 
Navigatioo, — older and greater than these Froth- 
Oceans, old as the Eternal God ! Or again, do 
but think of thia. Windbag in these hia probable 
five years of office has to prosper and get Para- 
graphs : the Paragra^^s of these five years must be 
his salvation, w be is a lost man ; redemption no- 
where in the Worlds or in the Times discoverable 
for him. Oliver too would like his Paragrapha; 
successes, popularities in these five years are not 
undesirable to him : but mark, I say, this enormous 
circumstance : after these five years are gone and 
done, comes an Eternity for Oliver 1 Oliver bos 
to appear before the Most High Judge : the utmost 
Sow of Paragraphs, the utmost ebb of them, is now, 
in strictest arithmetic, verily no matter at all g itt 



i7l III THE MODBRW WORKER 

Tbeeiuct vahM neroi an aoctNiDC altogether crated 1 
Fate Of EnormoM : — which a man, in theso days, bardlv 
^^^ fancies with an efFort ! 01i«r'a Paragraphs we all 
^^ done, hia battles, diTision-liUB, successes all sommed : 
and now in that awful unerriag Court of Renew, 
the real question first rises. Whether be has suc- 
ceeded at all I wbe^er he has not been defeated 
miseraUf forevermore i Let him ctmie with world> 
wide Ic-P^aiu these avail him not. Let him eoae 
covered over with the world's exeo^tioos, gashed 
widi ignominious death-wounds, the gallows-rope 
about his neck : what avails that i The word is, 
Cune thou brave aodjkidiful ; th e word is. Depart 
t hou qua c lc and accurse JT^ 

O Windbag, my right hoiHnu'able friend, in very 
truth I pity thee. I say, these Paragraphs, and low 
or iond votings rf thy pow feHow-blockheads of 
mankbd, will never guide thee in any enterprise at 
all. Govern a country on such guidance i Thou 
canst not make a pair of shoes, sell a pennyworth of 
tape, on such. No, thy shoes are vamped tip falsely | 
to meet the market ; behold, the leather only itemtd 
to be tanned ; thy shoes melt under me to rubbishy 
pulp, and are not veritable mud-defying shoes, bttt 
planaiUe vendible similitudes of shoes, — thou un- 
tbrtunate, and I ! O my right honourable friend, 
whra the Paragraphs flowed in, who was like Sir 
Jabesh \ On the swelling tide he mounted ; highn", 
higbn', triumphant, heaven-high. But the Para- 
grajdu agun ebbed out, as unwise Paragraphs needs , 
must ; Sir Jabesh lies stranded, sunk and forever 
nnking in ignominioua ooze ; the Mud-nympha, and 
ever-deepening bottomless Oblivion, Us portion to 
eternal time. 'Posterity'? Thou appealest to 
Posterity, thou? My right hononraue friend. 



MORRISON ACAIH >79 

iriat IBJIL Ewttr ity do fet the e ! The votiag ofTheAp- 
FcMterity, were it omtinuecPt&roiigh centuries b ^^'^ 
thy faTOBT, will be quite inaudible, extra-forensic, ^™''' 
without any effect wliatever. Poiterity can do 
nmply Bothii^ for a nan; nor even «eein to do 
nmcb if the man be not braiotick. Betides, to teU 
the truth, the bets are a thoosaod to one, Posterity 
wijl Bot hear of thee, my right honourable JHend ! 
Posterity, I have found, has generally his owa 
windbags suAiciently trumpeted in all market-jJacea, 
and DO leisure to attend to ours. Posterity, which 
haa made of Nwse Odin a similitude, and of 
Nwinaa William a brute miwster, what will or 
can it make of English Jabesh? O Heaveas, 
' Posterity ! ' — 

<* These poor persecuted Scotch Cotenanters," 
said I to my inquiring Frenchman, in auch Minted 
French ai stood at command, " iU t'en afpelaieia a " 
— "^/a Piutiriif," interrupted he, helping me out. 
— "yfi, Mctuitur, non, imSe fiM nonf They 
appealed to the Eternal God; not to Posterity 
at all ! Cclml dijereta." 



Cttaptei £9 
MoaaisoM AaAiN 

NEVERTHELESS, O Advanced- Liberal, 
. one cannot promise thee any *New Religion,' 
tar aoine time; to say troth, I do not think we 
haw the smallest chance of any ! Will the candid 
reader, by way of clcmog this Book Third, listen 
remarks on that subject} 



FaUw7 
of Puis 



*la 111 THE HODERN WORKER 

Tbe Candid reader* hxre not latel; met with ae^ man 
"~~~ who had leu do^d to ioterfere with their Thirty- 
Nine or other Church-Articlet ; wberewi^, yoj 
helpJestly u u like, they may have straggled to 
form for themselves some not tncoDceiTBble bypo- 
ihesis about this Universe, and their own ExiKence 
there. Superstition, my irieod, is far from me; 
Fanaticiam, for any Fanam likely to arise eoon on 
this Earth, is Jar. A majx't Church-Articles sk 
surely utidea of price to him ; and in these tinM 
ooe has to be tolerant of many strange * Articles,' 
and of many still stranger ' No-articlea,' which go 
about placarding themselves in a very distracted 
the numerons long placard-polea, and 



peaceable tboroughf 

Fancy a roan, moreover, recommending his fellow 
men to believe in God, that so Cbaidsm migla i 
abate, and the Manchester Operatives be got to spin 
peaceably ! The idea is more distracted thaa any , 
placard-pole seen hitherto in a public thorough&re I 
of men! My friend, if then era: do come to 
believe in God, thou wilt find all Chartism, ' 
Manchester riot. Parliamentary incompetence, 
Mimsiiies of Windbag, and the mldest Social 
Dissolutions, and the buming-up of this entire 
Planet, a most small matter in comparison. Brother, 
this Planet, I find, is but an inconaderable sand- 
grun in the continents of Being ; this Planet's poor 
temporary interests, thy interests and my intnesu 
there, when 1 look fixedly into that eternal Light- 
Sea and Flame-Sea with irx eternal iDUreets, 
dwindle literally into Nothing ; my speech of it 
is — silence for the while. I will as soon think of 
making Galaxies aod Star-Systems to £uide little 



MORRISON AGAIN sli 

befring-vetaels t^, as of pmchmg Religion that R*. 
tbe CoDBtabte may continue pouiUe. O my Uf^ca 
AdTonced- Liberal friend, thii new aectmd pio- ?!i^ 
grets, of proceedimg 'to iaTent God,' u a very 
strange one ! Jacobinism nofblded into Saint- 
Simonion bodet innimieraUe bkwed things; but 
the thing itself might draw tears tiom a Stoic I— 
As for roe, at^ne twelve or thirteen New Religions, 
heavy Pickets, most of them unfranLed, having 
amTcd here from various parts of the world, in a 
space of six calendar months, I have instructed my 
invalu^e friend the Stamped Postman to intro- 
duce DO more of thero, if the charge exceed one 
penny. 

Henry of Essex, dvelliog in that Thames Isbnd, 
' near to Reading Abbey,' had a religion. But was 
it io virtue of his seeing armed Phantasms of St. 
Edmund 'on the rim of the horizon,' looking 
minatory on him i Had that, intrinsically, any- 
thing to do mth his religion at all ! Henry of 
Essex's religion was the Inner Light or Moral 
Coatcieoce of his own soul ; such as is vouchsafed 
still to all soula of men ; — which Inner Light shone 
here < through such intellectual and other media ' as 
there were; producing 'Phantasms,' Kircherean 
Vimial- Spectra, according to circumstances ! It is 
so with all meiL The clearer my Inner Light 
may shine, through the lat turbid media, the fewer 
Phantasms it may produce, — the gladder surely shall 
I be, and not the sorrier ! Hast thou reflected, O 
serious reader. Advanced- Liberal or other, that the 
one end, essence, use of all religion past, present 
and to come, was this only: To keep that same 
Moral Conscience or Inner Liglit of ours alive and 



Ui 111 THE HODBSN WORKER 

a tbiiiiiig ; — whicfa certaitily the * Fhaounna ' and the 

i- * turUd media ' were not etsential for ! Ali religion 

* wai here to remind ut, better or worse, of what we 

^ alieady koow ixtux or worie, of the quite it^wUt 

diflerence there is between a Good maa and a Bad ; 

to bid HI love iDfinitelj the one, abhcH' and avoid in- 

finitely the other, — itrive infinitely to i< the one, and 

not to be the other. ' All religion isnira » doe 

Practical Hero-worafaip.* He that ha* a sou] »■ 

aaphyxied wilt never want a religion ; he that hat i. 

Bonl aa|ihyxied, reduced to a auccedaneom ffM" aalt, 

will never find any religion, though yon row Atm 

the dead to pteach him one. 

But indeed, when men and reformers ask for ' a 
religion,* it is analogoua to th«r aiktog, 'What 
wonid yon have ns to do ? ' and nicbHke. They 
&ncy that their religion too shall be a kind of 
MorriHon'a Pill, which they have osly to swallow 
once, and all will be well. ReBoIutely once gnlp- 
down your Religion, your Morrisons Fill, you 
have it aU plain sailing now : you can follow jrow 
affairs, your no-afTairi, go along money-huming, 
l^eaaure-hantiiig, dilettanteing, dangling, and miming 
and chattainghke a Dead-Sea Ape: yourMorrisoa 
wilt do your business for jrou. Men's notiotu are 
very strange ! — Brother, I say there is not, was not, 
nor will ever be, in the wide circle of Nature, any 
Pill or Reli^n of that character. Man ctumn 
afford thee soch ; for the very gods it ie impossiUc 
I advise thee to renounce Morrison; once for alt, 
qnit hope of the Universal Pill. For body, fbi 1 
soni, for individual or society, there baa sot any 
such article been made. Nm txiM. In Created 
Nature it is not, was not, will not he. In the void 
imtnvglioa -of Chaos only, and realm* of Bedlam, 



BIORRISON AGAIN *»i 

doea aome shadow of it hovtt, to bewilder and Pacta 
bemock the poor inhatntaniB tiire. Wajodtt 

Rituals, Liturgies, Creeds, Hierarchies ; all diis "'"'^'^ 
is not religion ; alt this, were it dead as Odiotsm, ai 
Fetishiim, does not kill reKgion at all J It ii 
Stupidity alone, with never so many ritual*, that 
kills religion. Is not this sbll a World ? Spinning 
CoHon under Aikwright and Adam Smith i foiuid- 
ing Cities by the Fountain of Jotama, on the 
Janicuhini Moont ; tilling Canaan under Prophet 
Samuel and Psalmist David, man is ever nun ; the 
missionary of Unseen Powers ; and great and 
victorious, while be contiaDes true to his mission ; 
mean, miserable, foiled, and at last annihilated and 
trodden out of sight and itieniory, when he ^oitt 
untrue. Brother, tboa art a Man, I think ; thon 
art not a mere building Beaver, or two-legged 
Cotton-StMder ; thui hast verity a Sonl in thee, 
asphyxied or otiwrwise ! Soo^ Manchester, — it 
too IB built on the infinite Abysses ; overspanned 
by the skyey Firmaments ; and there is birth in it, 
and death in it ; — and it is every whit as wonderiiit, 
19 fearful, unimaginable, as the oldest Salem or 
Prophetic City. Go or stand, in what time, in 
bvhat place we will, are there not Immeauties, 
Eternities over us, araund us, in us : 

'SalemD before ai, 
VeiUtl, the dark Portal. 
Goal of all mortal : — 
Stan illent rest o'er us, 
Onve« under ui silent!' 

Between titte two great Silences, the hum of all 
mr BpiiHUDg cyKuders, Trades-Unions, Anti-Cora- 
L,aw League* and Carlton Clutw goe« on. Sti^iidiiy 



tl4 111 THE MODERN WORKER 1 

The tuelf ought ta pauw a litije and craakler that. I 
Uw- tell thee, through all thy Ledger!, Snpply-and- ' 

g-^^^ demand PhitosopbicB, aod daily moat inodeni 
by^M DKlancholy Buiiuese ood Cant, there does thine thc; 

on Law prcKDce of a Primeral UnspeakaUe; and thoD| 
wen wise to recogniae, not with lips tmly, that aanw ! ! 
The Maker's Laws, whether they are pro- . 
mulgated in Sinai Thunder, to the ear or imagina^, ' 
or quite odierwise [fl'oiiinlgated, are the Lawii/ 
God ; tranKCndent, ererlatting, imp^atively if ' 
manding obedience from all men. Thia, without 
any thunder, or with aevw so mudi thunder, thou, 
if there be any soul left in thee, canst know of a 
truth. The Universe, I say, is made by Law ; the 
great Soul of the World is just and not onjun. 
Look thou, if thou have eyes or sonl left, into dtn' 
great shoreless Incoin{«'eheosible : in the heart tiS 
its tumultuous Appearances, Embroilmenta, and mad. 
Time-vortexes, is there not, silent, eternal, an All- ' 
just, an All-beautiful j sole Reality and ultinutcl 
controlling Power of the whole i Thia is not u 
figure of i^Kech ; this is a fact. The hex ofl 
Gravitation known to all animals, is not surer thic- 
this inner Fact, which may be known to all loen. 
He who knows this, it will unk, silent, awful, 
unspeakable, into his heart. He will say with 
Faust: *'Who liare name Hih?" Moat rituali 
or ' naminga ' he will fall in with at present, are like 
to be ' naming! ' — which shall be nameless ! In 
ailence, in the Eternal Temple, let him wor^ip, 'J 
there be no fit word. Such knowledge, the crow 
of hia whole spiritual bebg, the life of his life, let 
him kAp aiui sacredly walk by. He has a reli^n. 
Hourly and daily, for himself and for the whole 
world, a faithful, unspoken, but not iBefiectual, 



MORRISON AGAIN ilj 

prayer rim, "Tliy wil) be done." Hi* whole Rc- 
wak OD Earth ia an emblenutic ipoken or acted ^^oa 
pyer, Be the will of God done on earth, — not P*3 ' 
bt Devil'i will, or any of the Deril's servant*' g^^ 
nils ! He has a religion, this man ; an ererlaitiog 
Load-iUi that beams the brighter in the HeavenB, 
^ darker here on Earth grow* the night around 
iiuD. Thou, if thou know not this, what are all 
itnalg, jiturgiea, mythologies, roaw-chantingB, tiin>> 
ngs of the rotatory calabashf They are a*nothmg; 
° i good matij retpect* they are a* Urr. Divorced 
nun thii, getting half-<]ivorced from thia, tbey are 
. tJiiag to fill one with a kind of horror ; with 

ucred inex]»'eHnble pity and fear. The most 
ngical thing a human eye can look on. It waa 
>i(i to the Prophet, '• Behold, I will show thee 
roTse thinga than these : women weeping to Tham- 
mz." That was the acme of the Prophet'* virion, 
-then as now. 

Ritoals, Litnrg^, Credos Sinai Thunder: I 
DOW more or le*a the hiatory of these ; the rise, 
rogte**, decline and fell of these. Can thunder 
tm iH the thirty-two azimuths, repeated daily ftir 
nunrie* of year*, make God's Laws more godlike 
) me i Brother, No. Perhaps I am grown to be 
man now ; and do not need the thunder and the 
TTor any longer ! Perhaps 1 am above being 
ightened ; perhaps it is not Fear, but Revnence 
Irax, that shall now lead me ! — Rerelauons, 
itpirationa i Yes : and thy own god-created 
wl ; dost thoD not call that a ' revelation ' ? 
'ha made Thee i Where didst Thnu cwne 
3m i The Voice of Eternity, if thon be not a 
uphemer and poor asf^yxied mnte, speaks with 
at tongue of tlune 1 Tiou art the latest Birth of 



i» III THB UOVEKH WORKER 1 

Tht Nature t it it < the In«|nration of the Almighty ' 
D*r ^ diK giveth lie* undcriUmdiDg 1 My brother, mj' 
W^breUwr!— 

^^ Undo' balefnl Atheiuns, Maminoaisnu, Joe- 
Manton DiletumisniR, with their appropriite Canu 
aod Idolinni, and whatsoever sc^idarotii n^ifaiih 
otxcurei and all but excil^uiihea the soul of man, 
— religioD now is; its Lawi, written if not on nooe 
UUm, yet OD the Azure i^ luEnitude, in the imb- 
heart of God'a Creation, certain ai Life, certain > 
Death ! I . aay the Laws are diere, and thou sh^t 
not diaobey them. It were better fbt tbee not 
Better a hundred deatha than yes. Terriblt 
'penalties,' witb^, if thon still need 'penaldee,' are 
there for disobeying. Don thon obserTe, O redtapc I 
PolibciaD, that fiery infernal Phewunenon, whid) ! 
mm name Frehch Retolution, sailing, nnlooked- 
ht, unbtddea ] throt^h thy inane Protocol Do- 1 
minion :— far-seen, with splendour not of Hcotcd '. 
Ten centuries will sec it. There were TanDerieti 
at Meodon for human skins. And Hell, Tery trnly] 
Hell, had power over God's upper Earth fot a 
season. The crueleat Portent that has risen into- 
created Space these ten centuries : let na hail it, 
with awestruck repentant hearts, as the voice oocc 
more of a God, though of one in wrath. Blesatd! 
be the God's-vwce ; for if is tme, and Falsebood^i 
have to cease before it 1 But for that same jw 
lematnral cjuasi-infcraal Portent, one could noi 
know what to make of this wretched world, is the* 
days, at all. The deplorableit qrack-rtdden, oA 
now hunger-riddeo, downtrodden Desptcabmtj and 
FleiHe LutSiriuta, of redtape ProtoccJs, rotatory 
Calabashes, Poor-Law Bastilles : who is there that 
could think of ib being fatxd to cootiaae i~— 



■nWRISOir AGAIN >>7 

PeoaldM cDough, nnr brotfacr ! This peulty Whatii 
iDcIuaive of xU : Etemd Death to thy own hapleu Kc- 
Self, if thoQ bcfd no other. Eternal Deidi, I uy, Ijff^i 
—with raanr meaomg* old and dcw, of which 
In tbia Hogje one auffice m here : The eternal 
unpouibility kt thee to be aught but a Chimera, 
>od awift-Tanishiiig deceptive Phantasm, in God's 
CreatioD; — awift-Tamahiiig, never to reappear : why 
^JMHild it reaf^Kar 1 Thon hadat one chance, than 
*ilt Dcrer have another. Everlaating aget will roU 
°I^ tnd no other be gi*en thee. The fbotiaheat 
vticotate-speaking ioui now extant, may not he ny 
himaelf : "A whole Eternity I waited to be 
vm ; and now I hare a whole Eternity waiting to 
et *hat I will do when born ! " Thia ia not 
Tbeology, thia >» Arithmetic And thon but half- 
liKcmeat this; thou but half-believcit it J Alai, 
>D the shores of the Dead Sea, on Sabbadi, there 
iOM cai a Tragedy ! — 

Bat we will leave dua of * Religion ; ' of which, 
o ny tnith, it is chiefly profitable in these unape^- 
hh days to keep silence. Thou needcst no * New 
^el^ioB ; ' nor art thou like to get any. Thon 
>M already more ' religion ' dian tbou oiakest ose 
if- This day thon knoweat tea ctHnmanded duties, 
eeit in thy mitxl ten thing! which should be done, 
>>t one that thoo doeat] Do one of them; this 
•f iuelf will show thee ten others wluch can and , 
^»lt be done. " But my future fate i " Yes, thy 
umre fate, indeed I Thy fntute bxe, while thon 
laliest it the chief question, seems to me — extremely . 
lOeatioijaUe ! I do not think it can be gootL 
'lorse Odin, immemorial centuries ^o^ did not he, 
'wugh a poor Heathen, in the dawn of Time, tcadi 
* that for the Daatard there was, and coold be, an 



Ill III THE MODERN WORKER 1 

What ii good &te ; n> faatbonr anywhere, nve down viA 
Worti? Hda, in the pool of Night ! Dastards, Knavei, 
l_^ are they that lust fat PleaSttre, that tremble at Pun. 
^^^ For this world and for the next Dastards are a ctass 
of creatures made to be ' arrested ; ' they are good 
for Dothiog else, can look for nothing else. A 
greater than Odin has been here. A greater than 
Odin b>s taught o*— oot a greater DastuxUsm, I 
bopt ! My brother, tbon must pray <«: « W,- 
strnggle, as with life-and-deatb energy, to get bad 
thy soul ! Know that '-rdigion ' is no Morrison's 
Pul frorawitbont, bat a reawakening of thy own Self 
from wi^in ; — and, above all, leare me alone of tby i 
* religions ' and ' new religions ' here and elsewhere ! 
I am weary of this sick croaking fiw a MorriaonV 
Pill religion ; for any and for erery such. I want 
none luch ; and discern all such to be imposnUe. 
The resuicitatioa of old liturgies fallen dead ) much 
more, the manufacture of new litoi^es that will 
never be alive : how hopeless 1 Stylitiams, ««miu . 
fenaticisms and fakeenams; spaamodic agtmisdc 
posture-makings, and narrow, cramped, moi^iid, if 
forever noble wrestlings: aU this is not a thing 
desirable to me. It is a thbg the world has done 
once, — when its beard was not grown as now 1 

And yet there is, at worst, one Liturgy whicli 
does remain fwever unexceptionable : that of Praj- 
kg (as the old Monks did withal) By IVoriitig. And 
indeed the Prayer which accomplished itself it 
sped^ chapels at stated hours, and went not with ) i 
man, rising np from all his Work and Action, at all 
moments sancd^iing the same, — what was it em 
good for ? ' Work is Worship : ' yes, in a highly 
considerable sen^, — whic^ in the present atWe k \ 
J 



HORRHSOH AGAIK »>9 

ill ' worebtp,' who i« Uion ibu cm aafvii 1 He Ba- 
thu undentandi it urell, undertuodt iht Prophecy tmti 
of th« wtiole Future ; tha last Evtngel, whitth bta ^ 
incliKjed all others /t> cathedr*! the DoBW of 
Immensity, — hast tbou seea it i coped with the uv- 
galaxicf ; pa*cd with the grera masatc of had and 
ocoan ; and &n altari verily, the StaE>-throB« of the 
EtcTDslI Ita litaoy and pulmody the coble Bcti, 
the htrok worlt and BufTericg, and true faeut-Btter- 
■Bce of til the Valiant ef the Soni of Ma*. Ita 
chdir-niisic the ancient Windi a&d Ocean*, aod 
deeprfonad, inartiouJate, but most apeaking roices 
o'' t)istiay and Hiatory, — 8i4»enal ervr as of old. 
fi«twea two givat SUencca ; 



Between wkich two gj«Bt SilcDces, do «», as we 
9w), ^1 hunBD Ncdses, in the natutaieK times, most 
/niMHturBHy march and roll t — 

I will itMMt thii alto, in a towef atrein, from 
Sauertdg'a jEitbititche Spr'mgVJumcln. * War- 
' Auf i ' aay* he t ' B^ie diat tetne tmnttlt of 
Heareay filled men's heada, white d)e world lay 
yet nient, and the heart true aod opea, many 
diinga were WonUpt To the priraevat man 
whataoerer good came, deecended oB him (aa, in 
mere faet, it evCT doai) direct from God j what- 
soever duty lay viubje fi>r him, this a Supreme 
God hod' ptetmbed. To the preaeat hour I aak 
thee, Who else ? For the prnDeval man, in Iwhon) 
dwelt Thought, thi» UaiTcrae wai all a Temple ; 
Life orarywhera a Worship. 

'What Worship, for example, i« there not in 
mere Washoig ! Perhaps one of the most mwal 



>9o III THE MODESH WORKER | 

Tlie ' thinga a man, in common cajet, ha« it in hia power 

Gospel ' to do. Suip thytelf, go into the bath, or were it 

^S ' '"*" ^' liinpid pool and ruaoing brook, and thert 

Water ' ^v>^ ^^ ^ clean j thoQ wilt step oat again a 

' purer and « better man. Thia conaciousneM of 

< perfect outer purcnei*, that to thy akin there now 
'adheres no foreign «peck of imperfectioD, how ii 

< tadiates in on thee, with cunning symbolic influ- 
'ences, to thy very soul ! Thou ban an increaeto'' 

< teodency towards all good things whatsoerE, 

* The oldest Eastern Sages, widi joy and h<dy 
■gratitude, had felt it ao, — ^aod that it was tk 
' Maker's gift and will. Whose else it hi It 

* remainG a religious duty, from oldest times, in the 
' East. — Nor could Herr Professor Straus*, wheo 

* I put the quection, deny that for ut at present ii 
'is Bull such here in the West ! To that dii^ 
' fuliginous Operative, emerging from his soot-null, I 
'what is the £ist duty I will prescribe, and oSe' 
'help towards? That hb dean the skin of faim-j 
' Can he pray, by any ascertained method ! OoA 
' knows not entirely : — but with soap and a su£- 
'cienc^ of water, he can wash. Even the dulV 
' Enghsb feel something of this ; they have a 
' saying) " Cleanliness is near akin to Godliness : 

' — yet never, m any country, saw I operative m* 
' worse washed, and, in a climate drenched witb 
.* the softest cloud-water, such a scarcity of baths ! ' 
— Alas, Sauerteig, our ' operative men ' ai 
present short even of potatoes: what 'duty' 
you {»«sciibe to tbem ! 

Or let us give a glance at China. Our new friend. 
the Emperor there, is Pontiff of three hundred mil-| 
ItoB men t who do all live and work, these idbojI 
centuries now ; authentically patronised by Heaven 



UORRISOH AGAIN 191 

so far ; and therefore must have Bome ' religion ' of The 
a kind. This Emperor- Pontiif has, in fact, a Ritual 
religious belief of certain Laws of Heacen ; ob- nVT* 
serves, with a religious rigour, his ' three thouBand piin.0^ 
punctualities,' given out by men of insight, eome 
sixty generations since, as a tegibJe transcript of the 
saine,--the Heavens do seem to say, not totally an 
incorrect one> He has not much of a ritual, this 
Pontiff-Emperor; believes, it is iikes^with the old 
Monks, that ' Labour is Worship.' His most 
public Act of Worship, it appears, is the drawing 
solemnly at a certain day, on the green bosom of 
our Mother Earth, when the Heavens, after dead 
black winter, have again with their vernal radiances 
awakened ber, a distinct red Furrow with the Plough, 
— signal that all the Ploughs of China are to begin 
pjongbing and worshipjnog ! It is notable emugh. 
He, b sight of the Seen and Unseen Powers, draws 
fail distinct red Furrow there ; saymg, and praying, 
in mute symbolism, so many most eloquent things I 
If you ask this Pontiff, " Who made him i 
What is to become of him and us f '' he maint&ins 
a dignified reserve; waves his hand and pontiff-eyes 
over the unfathomable deep of Heaven, the * Tsien,' 
the azure kingdoms of Iniimtude ; as if asking, 
" la it doubtful that we are right iveS made ? Cap 
aught that is wrmg become of us i " — He and bis 
three hundred millions (it istheir chief 'punctuality') 
visit yearly the Tombs of their Fathers j each man 
the Tomb of his Father and his Mother : alone 
there, in silence, with what of * worship ' or of other 
thoughttheremay be, pauses solemnly each man i the 
divine Skies all s^ent over him ; the divine Graves, 
and this divinest Grave, all silent under him ; the 
pulsings of his own soul, if he have any soul, alooe 



^9* III THS MODBSN WORKER | 

TkeMidiUe. Truly it nuy fae a kind of w9r^ipl 
PvitaE- Truly, if a man cannot get ioiiib glimpse tnta tiv 

~?' Etemitisa, looking through thit panal,— dirODgli 
^^. whit other Deed he try it ? 

dom Our friead the Poatifi'- Emperor pecmits cbeer- 
Ally, though with OMMempt, aB numier of Boddiib, 
Boozes, T^aptHDs and mchtike, to baiM biick 
Tcmj^cs, on the Boluntary principle ; to worahip wiiii 
n^at of chantH^B, peper-lanteroB and tumuituMi 
farayiii|s,p]eaBe»tfa«n; and make night hideoue^aiaa 
they Rod some comftat to to doiog. Cheerfiillyi 
though with coptempt. H« ts a wiser Pontiff tbaa 
roapy pertona think ! He is a$ yet the i»e Chief 
PoienCaK or Priest in this Euth who bu made ■ 
distinct syKematic attempt at what, we eaU the 
ulUmatc result (^ all religion, • PraHital Hero- I 
wQTahip : ' he doe) iDcessantly, with true anxieiy, 
in such way at he can, eearch and sift (it wmld | 
atKxar) his whole enonnoui populatian for the 
Wisen bom among them | iiy which Wiaest* as bfl 
born Kings, diese three himdred million naeo arel 
governed. The Hearena, to a certain extent, do' 
appear to countenance him. These three hundred, 
nillioas actually make porcelain, soocliDng tea, with I 
■QDumerable other things) and fight, under Hesveo'ij 
flag, agsiost NeceBtity ;«-and have fewer Sevcn- 
YewtWart, Thirty- Yesrs Wart, French-Rerok- 
tion Wars, and infernal fightings with each otber, 
U)an certam millitms etsewherc have ! ' 

Nay in our pocH- distracted Ewopc ittelf( in theil 
tiewetft timea, h»Te there not religioui voices Tiseo, — 
with a religion new a4td yet the oldest; eiuirely 
iadiipntablc to all besrts of men I Seme I do kotnr, 
who did not call «r think themsdvei *Pro|^u,', 



MORRISON iMSAJH *» 

far ofioOgh hom that ; but who wwe, in Ycry tnuh( Peflw. 
melodiout VoiceH from the etAmal Hurt d£ Nuura tiea of 
once agaUt; »o(ds fc»-e*CT T«DerabIe to all that hava J^*"** 
3 sottl, A Frrocb RevolutioD h tiw pheDctmepon ; 
as complefneDt and spiritual cxptmolt thereoft a poet 
Goethe and Go'ihan Literature ts to me aQOther. 
The oM Secular or Practical World, so to speak, 
having gone ap b fire, is not here the prophecy and 
dawDof a new Spirinal World, parent ol'iar nobler, 
widw* Mv PractkaJ Worlds f A Life of Aatiqud 
derouttiet^ Anltque verbcity and heroism, ha^ agaiQ 
become posGiblc, is a^in tcea actual there, for the 
most modem man. A phenomenon, as quiet as it 
is, comparable for greatness to no other 1 ' The 
' great event for the world is, now as always, the 
•arrival in it of a new Wise Man/ Touches there 
are, be the Heavens ever thanked, of new Sphere- 
melody; audible once more, in the iofinite jargoning 
discords and poor KraOnd-inpingB of the thing 
calJed Literature ;— priceless there, as the voice of 
new Heavenly Psalms ! Literature, like the old 
Prayer-Collections of the first centuries, were it 
• * well selected fi'oni and burnt,' contains precions 
things. For Literature, with all its printing' presses, 
puffing-engines and sboceleis deafeiuog triviality, is 
yet ' the Thought of Thinking Soiils.' A sacred 
' religion,' if you lilte the DamS) does live in the 
heart of that straoge £roth..oceaDi not wholly froth, 
which we call Liieratiire ; aad will more and more 
disclose itself therefrom ; — not now as scorching 
Fire : the red smoky scorching Fire has purified 
itself into w^ite toDny Light. Is not Light grander 
than Fire i It is the same element in a state of 
purirt. 

My ingenuous readers, we will march out of this 



S9f III THE MODERN WORKER 1 

GoeOk^a l^ird Book with a rhythmic word of Goethe'i oa I 
f ^S*"' '""^ ''I" ' * *°c*' which perhapa haa already lung I 
'^^S^ itaAf, in dark hoora and in bright, throi^h many i j 
heart. To me, fiading it deroat yet wholly credible 
and TtriiaHc, fiiU of piety yet free rf cant ; to roc, J 
joyfully finding much in it, aod JoyfnUy nuuing m I 
much in it, this little match o( iniuic, by the greatea 
Gemtati Man, wcoxla like a stanza in the ffad | 
Read-Song and Marclmg-Soitg of our great Team , 
Kindred, wending, wending, raliant and nctorioOi 
through the nndiscoTcred Deep* of Time ! He 
calls it ManH-Lodgt, — not Paalm or Hymn: 

The Mudd') waji are I 

A tfpc of Exittence, i 

And hU penlitence 

Ii ai the dayi are 

Of men in thi« world. ! 

The Putnre hidea In it 
Ghdneal and lorron ; 
We prcM itill tborow. 
Naught that ihide* in it 
Daunting ni, — onward. 

And Kilemn before as. 
Veiled, (he dirk Portal, 
Goal of all mortal :— 
Stan gilent rest o'er ns, 
Oniei nndar ni •Uentt 

While earneit thon gaiest, 
Comei bodinfr of terror, 
Comei phantann and error, 
Perplexet lhe.>raTe>t 
With doubt and mitgirlog. 
But heard are the Voices, — 
Heard are the Sagei, 
_ The Worldi and the Agei : 



UORRISON AGAIN *9t 

Here ere* do reprd you, Sl^'" 

In Eternity', .tilin™; «"<«- 

Here l> all rulnei.. "dge 

Ye briTe, to reward you [ 
Work, and detpair not." 



IV HOROECOPB 



ARISTOCRACIES 

The 'T^O predict the Future, to manage the Preeert, 
P*st X would not be so impOBsible, had not the 
^ Fast becD so sacrilegiously miahandled; effaced, and 
j^ml what is worse, defaced! The Past caaaot be seen; 
daj Ea- the Past, looVed at through the medium of ' Philo- 
tini B tct sophical History' in these times, cannot e»en be net I 
™ " seen : it is mieseen ; atGrmed to have existed, — and 
to have been a godleu Imposnbility. Your Norman \ 
Conquerors, true royal souls, crowned kings assncb, | 
were Tultorous irrational tyrants ; your Becket W3i 
a noisy egoist and hypocrite ; getting hie tx'ains i 
spilt OD the fioor oi Canterbury Cathedral, to 1 
secure the main chance, — somewhat uncertain how ! 
' Policy, Fanaticism ; ' or say ' Enthusiasm,' even i 
'honest Enthusiasm,' — ah yes, of course : 

'The Dog, I 
ffflri mad, 

For in truth, the eye sees in all things ' what it 
brought with it the means of seeing.' A godless 
century, looking back on centuries that w«'e godly, , 
l^oduces portraitures more miraculous than an) 1 
Other. AjI was inane discord in the Past ; iMiite 
Force bore rule everywhere ; Stupidity, savage | 
Unreason, fitter tor Bedlam than for a human 
World ! Whereby indeed it becomes (ulGcieDtiy i 



AraSTQCRACIBS t9T 

asm»S that tfa« like Realities, iB new sleeker Tbc 
habilinMDt*, shoOld cominue in our time to rule. Biblo 
Milliow enchmied in ESiiille W«.rkhoine« ; IriA ^j^T" 
Widows pTDring their fduionship \>j tjphut'feTcr i History 
vbat woukl you have i It wia ever so, or worse. 
Mao'« History, waa it not always eton this ; The 
cookery and eating-np of imbecile Dupcdent by 
tKoaafid QuacktMod ; the battle, with Tiriooa 
IraipoBt, of vuhoTcui Quack aod Tyrant against 
ndtunme Tyrant and Quack ? No God was in 
cbePaatTime; nothing but Mechanisms and Chaotic 
fimte-Godi i— 4iow shall the poor * Ph^nophic 
Htttorian,' to whom hia awn cemisy ia oil gocUcNj 
tee any God in other centuriea ? 

Mea beliere in Bibles* and disbelieve in them : 
bat of all SiUes the fiightfultat to disfaeKevc in 
11 this ' Bible of Unirersa] History.' This ii the 
Eternal Bible and God's^Book, ' which eiery bom 
man,' till oDcetbeeonl and eyesight are cictinguiBbed 
ia Urn, ' can aad most, with ki« own eyet, tee die 
GodVFinger writing ! ' To discredit this, is an 
ii^iUBty like ao other. Sacfa mfiddity yoa would 
pnoish, if not by fiw aod faggot, which are difficult 
to manage in our times, yet by. the most pereitiptory 
order. To hold its peace till it got aomething wiser 
(0 lay. Why ihould the blessed 8ilcflcs be broken 
Imo Dcases, to communicate only the like of this ? 
If the Post have m> GodVReason in il^ nothang 
bni DevilVUnreaaon, let the. Past be eternally 
fiirgotten : mention k no more ;-»wa whose an- 
cestDTB were all banged, why should we talk of 
rapes 1 

It is, in brief, not true that men ever lived by 
DeHriun), Hypocri^, Injustice, or any form of 
Unrenon, since they canie to inhalnt diis Fbneli 



sjl IV HOROSCOPE 

Thenal It U not true that they ever did, or ever will, liie 
Tfttaeof except by the reverse of tbeee. Men will again be' 
*™^" taught this. Their acted Hiitory will then agwn 
""*'"* be a Heroism ; their written History, what it once 
was, an Epic. Nay, forever it is either trnch, or 
else it virtnaily la — ^Nothing. Were it written in 
a thoosand volumeB, tix Ucberoic of such volumn 
hastene incegsantly to be forgotten ; the net content 
cyf an Alexandrian Library of Unheroics is, ad 
will ultimately show itself to be, xero. What nun 
is interested to remember it ; have not all men, it 
all times, the liveliest interert to forget it?— 
■ Revelations,' if not celenial, then infem^, will 
teach us that God is) we shall then, if needfiil, 
discern without difficulty that He has always been! 
The Dryasdust Philo sophisms and enlightened 
ScepDcisms of the Eighteenth Century, historical 
and other, will have to survive for a while with dr 
Phynologists, as a memorable Nigitmare'DraM. 
All this haggard epoch, with its ghasdy Doctrines, 
and death's-head Philosophies 'teaching by example' 
Of othowise, will one day have become, what to 
onr Moslem frinids their godless ages are, *die 
Period of Ignorance.' 

If the coBvulsive struggles of the last Half- 
Century have taught poor etmggliog convulsd 
Europe any truth, it may perhan be this as the 
essence of innumerable cnhen : That Eun^ re- 
quires a real Aristocracy, a real Priesthood, or ir, 
cannot continue to exbt. Huge French Revolo^ 
tions, Napoleonisms, then fiourbonisms with theii 
corolla^ of Three Days, finishing in very nnlinal 
Louie-Philippisms : all this ought to be didactic ! 
All this may have taught us, That False Ariatocfaciei 



ARISTOCRACIES 199 

in iiMDpportable ; that No-Ariicocraciea, Liberty- PriM 
iDd-Equa]iu«iareimpouibie; tKattroe Ariscocracies "id 
are at once iodiBpensable and not eaiily attained. ^^^ 

Aristocracy and Priesthood, a GoTeraing Class t 
and a Teaching Class: these two, sometimes separate, 
and endeavouring to hanDonise themaelves, some- 
time conjoined as one, and the King a Pontiff- 
King : — there did no Society exitt without these 
tvo fitai elements, tiiere will none exist. It lies 
in the very nature of man : you will visit ito remotest 
village in the most republican country of the world, 
where virtually or actually you do not find these 
two powers at work, Man, little as he may suppose 
it, is necesgitated to obey «nperiora. He ii a social 
tcing in virtiK of this necessity ; nay he could not 
be gregarions otherwise. He obeys those whom he 
eiteems better than himself, wiser, braver ; and will 
foiever obey such; and even be ready and delighted 
to do it. 

The Wiser, Braver : diese, a Virtual Arirtocracy 
(T«'ywhere and everywho, do in all Societies that 
reach any articulate shape, develop themselves into 
I ruling class, an Actual Aristocracy, with settled 
nodes of operating, what are called laws and even 
irivale~/mvt Or privileges, and so forth ; very 
lotable to look upon in this world. — Aristocracy' 
lad Priesthood, we say, arc sometimes united. For 
odeed the Wiser and the Braver are properly but ' 
y» class ; ' no wise man bur needed first of all to 
w a brave man, or he nem had been wise. The 
loble Priest was always a boUe JlAitai to begin 
(ith, and something more to end with. Your 
^uther, your Knox, your Anselm, Bccket, Abbot 
jamson, Samuel Johnson, if they had oot been 
save eixtugb, by what poesiUtity could they ever 



3M tV H0R08C0PB ' 

Tbe h«Tr bod wise ^-^If, (rooi accidcDt or fbretfaougbt, 
Chnrdi- this ymc Aenal Arkiocf aoy bar* gM diMriminatal 
^P**^ into Two ClasaCB, tk«e c» be do doubt bst the 
Priest CitM it tho iDore digmfied t anpreme over 
tbs other, n gorerniiig bead i> atOT acbTe hand. < 
And ]ret id practice aganit it b MsUctt the lererie 
will be fooad afraaged )— -a nga that the arrange* 
ment is already vitiated ; that a i^l it introdnca/ 
isto it, whicb will widen and wi^m till th« wAmIc 
be rent aiooder. 

In England, b Esnipe generally, we may ny 
that these two VtftnaKties hare unfolded Aemwif et 
itM Actualities in by far the nAUctt and licbeM 
maiwer lay Kgioa of the vwU ever mw. A 
ipritual Goideah^, a [vactieal GorcrBotahip) Init 
of the grand conactaBt eitdeaT«ir«f tay rsther vt the 
imneuwabte «ncanaeiau« tnatinctt and ncceaattiei : 
(rf men, have eatabUab^d tfaennelvm ; very stnnfc ' 
to behold. Everywhere, while to much haa beta 
forgotM), yon find the King's Palace, and the i 
Viceking^B Canle, Mattuot^ Manorhouie) till there 
ii not an inch of groofld from sc* to Ma bat hu | 
both its King md Victkiug^ kng due series of- 
Vicekingt, it« Sijoi^c, Eicl, Dnkt or iriiatevet tbc 
utie of hinv~H> wbom ,you have given th» land, 
that be may govern yen in it* 

More tonobing nail, there is not a haaaJM where i 
poor ytuaatB congregate, but, by onC laesit Hd 
Boetber, a Cbnrch-Apparatua bas been got together, 
— roofed cdHice, vitb revenuM and brifiiea ; pulw : 
reading^esk, whh Booka and Mothoda: potribilttj, 
in short, and strict prescription, That a man stud , 
there and speak of a^nritual thbg« to men. It is 
beandfnl ; — «Tcn in iu great obBcuruim and de- 
cadence, it i» among the beautifitlest, most tovcbiag I 



AKIGTOCRACIBS yn 

ab'pcta ODc «ee« on the Earth. Thi* Speakng The 
Mbq hu bdced, io these times, wandered teiribljr Speak- 
ftora the point; hai, alai, as it were, totilly lost '"'• '*"* 
nghc of the point i yet, at bottom, whom have we 
to compare widi him i Of all pabltc fbnctiomries 
boarded and lodged on the Indoitry ef Modern 
Europe, U there oae warthier of the bcurd he ha« ? 
A maa even protMsing, gad nerer ao languidly 
mAiag Kill aome endeavour, to uve tlie Kmlt of 
mcBi ctntrHt him with a man profasaing to do 
little but shoot the panrid^ei of men J I wtrii Ik 
could 6nd tlie point again, this Speflking One ] and 
nick to it wkh tetiaciiy, with deadly eoergy; for 
dKfe it need of him yetl The Speajtbg Fanctiov, 
thia of Truth coming to u with a tiviog voice, nay 
ia a tivlng shape, and M a concrete pracncal ex- 
emplar: this, with all our Writing and Printiog 
Fimctioiu, has a pcreixual place. Conld ha but 
find the point again, — take the old spectacle* off 
bii nose, atid looking up discover, almon in contact 
with faim, what the rao/ Setaoaa, and soul-devouring, 
world-devouring Devil, now is I Original Sin and 
Buchlike are bad «nati|h, I dotdtt not ; but (Uitilled 
Gin, dark Ifporance, Stapidity, dark Corn-Law, 
Sastilie and Company, what are they ( UTJI he 
discoTcr our aew real Satan, whom he bat to fight t 
or go on droning throagh his (Jd nose-speatacles 
about old extinct Satani ; and dcvct see the real 
one, till be fed him at his own throat and ouri i 
That ia a qMsdon, for the world! Let us not 
btMinoddle with it hov. 

Sorrowful, phantasmal as this sama Double 
Aristocracy of Teachers and Goyernori now looks 
it is worth ^1 mea's while to know tfaat the purport 
of it is and remain* noUe and mosc real. Dryae- 



joi IV H0K05C0PE 

The daBt, looking . merely at the surface, » grratlj a 
Rule of error as to thoK aocieot Kiiiga. William &aiquerot,- 
"«•" William Rofus or Redbeard, Stephen Cuithiwl 
himaelf, much more Henry Beauclerc and oufi 
bvave Plantageoet Heciry : the life of these mnil 
wu not a Tulturous Fighting ; it wm a falarouii 
Governing, — to which occasionally Fighting did, 
and alas must yet, though far seldomer now, super- 1 
add itself as an accident, a distressing impedimeW | 
adjunct. The fighting too was indispensable, ^ I 
aecertwoing who. had the might over whom, ibi 
right orer whom. By much hard fighting, as vt. 
once said, * the unrealities, beaten into dust, ficv 
gradually ofF;' and left the plain reality and (ao) 
" Thou stronger than I ; thou wiser than I ; thouj 
king, and Gubjcct I," in a somewhat cleaietl 
condition. I 

Truly we cannot enough admire, in those Ablw- ; 
Samson and William-Conqueror tiroes, the arrange ' 
ment they had made of their Governing ClauKJ 
Highly interesting to observe how the sincfra 
insight, on their part, into what did, of primai^j 
necessity, b^ove to be accomplished, had led thenj 
to the way of accomplishing it, and in the couik! 
of time to get it accomplished ! No imagimn 
Aristocracy would •erve their turn ( and accordJ 
ingly they attained a real one. The Bravest me^ 
who, it is ever to be repeated and remembered, m 
also on the whole the Wisest, Strongest, everyvi' 
Best, had here, with a respectable degree of accuraci] 
been got selected ; seated each on his piece fl 
territory, which was lent him, then gradually giva 
him, that he might govern it. These Vicekingij 
each on his portion of the common soil of EngkmJj 
with a Head Kbg over all, were a 'Virtualitj 



ARISTOCRACIES joj 

perfected into an Actoality ' really to an astoniihing Whea 
extent. Might 

For tboae vere nigged Raiwart ages ; full of ^^i,^ 
arncatiteu, of a rude God'i-tnith : — nay, at any latc, ^^ 
ibeir qmb'a^ waa 8c unspeakably tbmner than ours ; 
Fact came swiftly on themt if at any time they had 
yielded to PhaatMm ! < The KoaTci and Oattards ' 
bd to be * aireited ' in some meatnre ; or the 
voild, almost within year and d^, found that it 
could not live^ The KnaTca and Dastards accord- 
ingly were got arrested. Dastards upon the very 
duDiie had to be got arrested, and taken ofF the 
Cfarone, — by socb methods as there were ; by the 
rougbett method, if tbeie chanced to be no smoother . 
ciDc [ Doubtless there was mtich harshness of 
spnation, moch severity ; as indeed government 
ind surgery are often somewhat severe. Gurth, 
bora thrall of Cedrici it is like, got cutfs as often 
ss pwk-paringB, if he misdemeaned himself) bttt 
Gurth did belong to Cedric : no human creature 
then went about connected with nobody ; left to go 
bis way into Bastilles or worse, under Lau^fa- 
fain } reduced to prove his relationsbip by dying 
}f typhus-fever! — Days come when there u no 
King in Israel, but every man is his own kmg, 
doing that which is right in his own eyes ; — and 
arbarrels are burnt to ' Liberty,' * Temwmnd 
Franchise ' and the like, with considerable effea in 
nrious ways ! — 

That Feudal Aristocracy, I say, was no imagin- 
iry tme. To a respectable degree, its Jarb, what 
ve now call Earls, were Strong-Ona in fact as 
veil as etymology; its Dukes L£aJeri i its Lcwds 
Latv-tuardt, They did alt the Soldiering uid 
Police of the country, all the Judging, Law-making, 



S04 IV 

Tbe efoi the Cburcb-ExteanoQ ; whataoever in the 
Mw««n way of Governing, of Guiding and Proteaag: 
j'^S could be done. It wa* a Land Arirtocracj ; hi 
Aristo- nuBBged the Gorerning of thi( Engliih PeofJe,! 
crocy and had the reaping of the Soil of Esglaad w 
renmb It u, in many gentes, the Law of Hatnre, 
this same Law of Feudalism ;~-^4io right Ana«- 
tracy but a Laod ox I The cariaiu are iavitedn ' 
meditate upon it in the>e days. Soldiering, Polir 
and Judging, Churdi-Exteiiu«), nay real Goia^ 
mcBC and Guidance, all tUa waa actually dont bi 
the Holder* of the Land in return for their Laud. 
How much of it ia now done by them ; done bji 
anjrbodyf Good Heaveua, '* Laisaez<-&ii«, Do' 
ye nediing, eat your wages and aleep," l» eTcry-l 
wbtre the paawmate halt-wise cry of diis tiiM;| 
and they will aot «o much as do DOthing, bat nut 
do oiere Cora-Laws 1 We raise Fifty-two ■Nllioa, 
from the general mau of ua, to get our Govenii^ ' 
done — or, alas, to get oorselTet perxiaded that it iij 
done : and the * peculiar burden of tfa« Land ' ii 
to pay, not oil diia, but to pay, as I ieani, out 
twenty-foaith part of all this. Our first Charutx 
Parliameut, or Olivei Ridivivut, you would saT, 
win know whereto lay the Dew (nxeit^ Englaiia! 
— Or, alas, toxci i If we made the Holder* of tbc 
Laod pay every ahilliug etilt of the expenae li 
Gov«-ning the Land, whu were all that J Tbc 
Land, by mere hired GoTernors, cannot be gs 
governed. You cannot hire men to gov«ii ib, 
' Land : it is by a mission not contracted for in ck* 
- Stocl(> Exchange, hut felt in their own hearts at 
coming out t^ Heaven, that men can govern a 
Land. The mission of a Laod Aristocracj ii > 
taercd one, in both the seaiaa of diat old vwil- 



ARISTOCRACIES jos 

The footing it Gtandg on, at present, might give A Prae- 
riie to thouglits other than of Corn- Laws ! — tical 

But truly a ' Splendour of God,' aa in William J^™" 
Conqueror s rough oath, did dwell in those old rude ^^' 
Teracioiu ages ; did inform, more an4 moUf with a 
heavenly noblenest, all departm^u of their woric 
and life. Phanuams could not yet walk abroad .ia 
mere Cloth Tailorage ; they were at leatt Phan- 
tasms ' oa the rim of the horizon,' pencilled there 
by an eternal Lightbeam from within. A most 
'pfacticai' Hero-worahip went on, unconsciously 
or half-conseiously, everywhere. A Monk Sam- 
lOD, with a maximum of two shillings in his pocket, 
could, without ballot-box, be made a Viceking of, 
bebg seen to be worthy. The difference between 
a good man and a bad man was as yet felt to be, 
what it forever is, an immeasurable one. Who 
durti have elected a Paadanu Dogdraugbt, in thoie 
dayt, to any ot£ce, Carlton Club, Seoatorship, or 
place whatsoever i It was fdt that the arch 
Satanas and do other had a clear right of property 
b PandaruB ; that it were better for you to have aft 
hand in Pandarus, Co keep out of Pandarus his 
oeighbourhood ! Which is, to this hour, th« mer« 
(act; though for the present, alas, the fbrgottea 
fact. I think they were comparatively Ueased 
limes those, in their way ! ' Violence,' ' war,' 
' disorder : ' wfil, what is war, and death itself, 
K) such a perpetual life-in-death, and ' peace, peace, 
rhere there is no peace' ! Unless some Hero- 1 
vorship, in its new appropriate form, can return, I 
his world does not promise to be very habitable I 
ong. 

Old Anselm, exiled Archbi^op of Canterbury, 
me of the purest-miaded ' men of genius,' waa 



}ofi IV HOROSCOPE 

n travelling to make his appeal to Rome agaimt King 
RufiiB, — a niaD of rough ways, in whom the * iniKr 
Lightbeam' ihotx very fitfully. It is beantifiil to 
read, in Monk Eadmer, how the Continental popa- 
tatioat welcomed and venerated this Ansclin, a» no 
French population now venerates Jean-Jacques or 
giant- killing Volt^rc ; as not even an Americac 
population now Tcnerates a Schniispel the distin- 
guished Novelist! They had, by phantasy ad 
true insight, the iniensest conviction chat a GodV 
Blessing dwelt in this Anoelm, — as is my conviction 
too. They crowded round, with bent knees and 
enkindled hearts, to receive his blessing, to hear his 
voice, to see the light of his face. My blessings 
OD them and on him ! — But the notauest was a 
cntain necessitous or covetous Duke of Burgiutdy, 
in straitened circum stances we shall hope, — who 
reflected that in all likelihood this English Arcl- 
bishop, going towards Rome to appeal, must ban 
taken store of cash with him to bribe the Cardinals. 
Wherefore he of Burgundy, for his part, decided to 
lie in wait and rob him. ' In an open space of a 
wood,' some * wood ' then green and growing, eight 
centuries ago, in Burgundian Land, — this fierce 
I>uke, with fierce steel followers, shaggy, savage, 
as the Russian bear, dashes out on the weak old 
Anselm ; who is riding along there, on his small 
quiet-going pony j escorted only by Eadmer aod 
another poor Monk on ponies ,' and, except arnall 
modicum of roadmoney, not a gold coin in hi, 
poaaession. The eteeiclad Russian bear emerges, 
glaring : the old white-bearded man starts not, — 
paces on unmoved, looking into him with those 
clear old earnest eyes, with that venerable sorrowfuJ 
time-wom face ; of whom no man or thing need be 



ARISTOCRACIES 3°7 

afraid, and wha alw> ia afraid of do created man or Rnfiis 
thing. The fire-eyes of his Burgundian Grace "^"^ 
meet these clear eye-g!ances, conTey ihem awift to ™''^™ 
his heart: be bethinks him that probably this 
feeble, fearless, hoary Figure has in it something 
of the Most High God ; that probably he shall 
be damned if he meddle with it, — that, on the 
vhole, he had better not. He plunges, the 
rough saTage, ' from his war-horse, down to his 
knee*; embrace* tlw feet of old Anselm: he too 
begs his Messing ; orders men to escort him, 
guard him from being robbed, and under dread 
penalties see him safe on his way. Per ot Dei, as 
his Majesty was wont to ejaculate ! 

Neither is this quarrel of Rafiis and Anselm, 
of Henry and Becket uninstructive to us. It was, 
at bottom, a great quarrel. For, admitting that 
Anaelm was full of divine blessing, he by no means 
iacfaided in him all forms of divine blessing : — ■ 
there were far other forms withal, which he little 
dreamed of; and William Redbeard was uacon- 
seiously the representative and spokesman of these. 
In truth, could your divine Anselm, your divine 
Pope Gregory have had their way, the results had 
been very notable. Our Western World had all 
become a European Thibet, with one Grand Lama 
sitting at Rome ; our one honourable business that 
of singing mass, all day and all night. Which would 
not in the least have suited us. The Supreme 
Powers willed it not so. 

It was as if King Redbeard unconsciously, ad- 
dressing Anselm, Becket and the others, had said : 
" Right Reverend, your Theory of the Universe is 
indisputable by man or devil. To the core of our 
heart we l«el that this divine thing, which you call 



sat IV HOROSCOPE 

Tke Mother Qiarch, does fill the whdc world hitberto 
Emc of IcpovOt and u and shall be all our uivation and all 
^^^ our dtkre. And yel — and yet— Behold, though his 
an uoapoken secret, the world is vuirr than any of 
Bt think. Right Reverend 1 Behold, there are yet 
other iinineanirable Sacfedneesea in thia that you 
call HeatheniBm, Seculariiy ! On the whole, I, in 
an obscure but most rooted manner, feel that X cao- 
BOt comply with you. . Western Thibet imd per|MAu/ 
mass-cb anting, — No. I am, to to speak, in the 
^mily-way ; with child, of I know sot what, — 
ceitainly of something far diiferent from this! 1 
hare — Perot Dei, I have Manchester Cotton-tradei, 
Bromwicham Iron-trades, American Commcui- 
wealchi, Indian Empires, Steam Mechanisms^ and 
Shakspeare Dramas, in my belly ; and canoot do 
it. Right Reverend ! " — So accordingly it was 
decided : and Saxon Becket spilt his life in Canter- 
bury Cathedral, as ScotUsh Wallace did on Towel- 
hill, and as generally a noble man and martyr has to 
do, — not for nothing ; no, but for a divine aome- 
thicg other than he had altogether calculated. We 
will now quit this of the hard, organic, but limited 
Feudal Ages ; and glance timidly into the immense 
Industrial Ages, as yet all inorganic, and in a ijuite 
pulpy condition, requiring desperately to harden 
themselves into some organism J 

Our Epic having now become Tooli and the Man, 
it b more than usually imposuble to prophesy the 
Future. The boundless Future does Ue there, pre- 
destined, nay already extant though unseen ; hiding, 
in its Continents of Darkness, ' gladness and sorrow: ' 
but the BUpremest intelligence of man cannot pre- 
figure much of it ; — the united intelligence aod 
effort of All Men in all coming generations, this 



ARISTOCRACIES ]o» 

alone will gradmlly prefigure it, and figoic and Tlie 

form it into a aeea fact ! Straining our eyes I-ife- 

hitherto, tbe otmoit efFtnt of inteJligeace sheds Tl^g^ 

but aoiat moat glimniering dawn, a little way into *™**^ 

its dark enennout Deeps ! only huge outlines loom 

vocenain on the sight ; and the ray of prophecy, at 

1 thort distance, expires. But may we not asy, here 

as always. Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof 1 

To shape the whole Future is not our problem ; but 

ody to shape faithfully a small part of it, according 

m rules alieidy known. It is perhaps possible for 

each of us, who will with due earnestness inquire, 

to ascertain clearly what he, for his own par^ ought 

to do : this let him, with true heart, do, and con- 

tinoe doing. The (leneral issue will, as it has 

always done, rest well with a Higher Intelligence 

than ours. 

One grand 'outline,' or even two, many earnest 
readers may perhaps, at this stage of the business, 
be aUe to prefigure for themielTeB, — and draw 
same guidance from. One prediction, or erentwo, 
are already possible. Fw the Life-Tree Igdranl, 
.in ail its new devclopnienu, is the selfsame world- 
old L ife-tree : having found an element or elements 
there, rnnatng from the very roots of it in Hela's 
REalme, in the Well of Mimer and of the Three 
Nomas or Timbs, np to this present hour of it in 
our own hearts, we conclude that such will have to 
continue. A man has, in hia own soul, an Eternal ; 
can read something of the Eternal there, if he will 
look ! He already knows what will continue ; 
what cannot, by any ineans or appliance whatsoever, 
be made to continue i 

One wide and widest 'oatline' ought really, in 
all ways, to be becoming clear to ue ; this namely : 



jio IV HOROSCOPE 

BraM' That a ' SpIendDur of God,' in ooe fonn or other, 
collar will have to unfold iuelf from the heart of theie 
Bro^w- (,„, InduMrial Ages too ; or they will never g« 
"^^ themselveB ' orgaoiBed ; ' but coDtmoe chaotic, 
distrcsaed, distracted eTermore, and have to periih 
in frantic luicidal dimoluticm. A second * outline' 
or prophecy, narrower, but also mde enon^, aeenu 
not lest certain : That there will again Be a Kin; 
in Israel ; a system of Order and GoverameU,' 
and every man shall, in some measure, sec himtdi 
conEtraitied to do that which is right in the Kii$'> 
cyet. This too we may call a sure element of the 
Future ; for this too is of the Eternal ; — this too 
is of the Present, tfaot^h hidden from most ; and 
.without it no Sbre of the Fast ever was. Aa actual 
Inew Sovereignty, Industrial Aristocracy, real not 
limaginary Aristocracy, is indispensable and indabi- 
Ptable for us. 

But what an Aristocracy ; on what new, Sa 
more complex and cunmngiy devised conditioDi 
than that old Feudal fighting one! For we are lo 
bethink us that the E{nc verily it not jirmt and lb 
Man, bat TooL and the Man, — an infinitely wula 
kind of Epic. And again we are to bethink us thai 
men cannot now be bound to men by brait-eiJiari, — 
not at all : that this brass-collar method, in all figurn 
of it, has vanished out of Europe forevemiore! 
Huge Democracy, walking the streets cverywhert 
in its Sack Coat, has asserted so much ; irrevocably, 

I brooking no reply ! True enough, man u t<xvi« 
the ' bom thrall of certain men, bom master <]i 
certain other men, bom equal of certain others, let 
him acknowledge the fact or not. It is unblesKd 
for him when be cannot acknowledge this &ct ; be 
is in the chaotic state, ready to perish, till he do get 



ARISTOCRACIES 511 

the fact acknowledged. But on man i», or raifTte 
hcDceforth be, the braM-cgllar thrali of any nun ^^i)"*- 
joa will have to bind him by other, &t noUer and '" 
cuiminger methodi. Once for all, he ii to be loote 
of the hras«-collar, to have a scope ai wide as hi* 
faculties now are : — will he not be all the ueefulef 
to you in that new itatc > Let him go abroad a« 
a trusted one, as a free one ; and return home to you 
with rich earninga at night ! Gurth could only 
tetid pigs ; thii one will build cities, conquer wa«tc ■' 
worlde.- — How, in conjunction with inevitable 5>C^ 
mocracy, indispenaaUe Sovere^ty ia to. exiat ; 
certainly it is the hugen cjueation eve/* heretofore 
propounded to Mankind ! The solution of which 
is work for long years and centuries. Years aad 
centuries, of one knows not what complexion ; — 
blessed or unblessed, according at they shall, with 
earnest valiant effort, make (K'^ew thernn, or, to 
slothful unveracity and dilettantjam, only talk of 
making progress. For either progress therein, or 
swift and ever swifter progress towards dissolution, 
is henceforth a necesHty, 

It it of importance that this grand reformation 
were begun; that Corn-Law Debatings attd other 
jargon, little less than delirious in such a time, had 
fied far away, aitd left us room to begin [ For the 
evil has grown practical, extremely conincuous ; if 
it be not seen and provided for, the blindeat tool 
will have to feel it ere long. There is much that 
can wait ; but there is something also that cannot 
wait. With millions of eager Working Men im- 
prisoned in 'Impossibility ' andPoor-Law Bastilles 
it is dme that some means of dealing with them 
were trying to become ' possible ' ! Of the Govent- 



]■■ IV mmoscdps 

J ment of Englaml, of all articnlate-speakmg nnction- 

^ arjw, real and iinaginwy Arittocracies, of me and 

* of thee, it is imperariTely demanded, " How do yon 

mnn to manage these men ! Where are diey to 

find a SQpportable exigence ! What ii to become 

of them, — and of you ! " 



BftlBEKY COUMITTEK 

IN the case of the late Bribery Cominittee, it 
seemed to be the cmiduaion of the soundest 
practicBl minds that Bribery could not be put down ; 
diat Pure Eiectioa wai a thing we Kad seen Ae Im 
o^ jmd must now go on witjiout, as we best cooU 
A conclosion not a little startling ; to which A 
Mquires a practical nund of some Heaaoning to 
lecoDcile yourself at once ! It seems, then, wc ait 
henceforth to get ourselves cotwwdted Legislatoti 
not according to what merit we may have, or eren. 
what merit we may seem to hare, but according to 
the length of our purse, and oar fraBkness, im- 
pedeoce and dexterity in laying out the contcnuof 
ifae same. Our theory, mitten dowa in all books 
and law-books, spouied forth from all barrel-beads, 
is perfiect purity of Tenpound Franchise, abeduic 
sincerity of question put and answer given ; — as^ 
our practice is irremediable bribery ; irreraediaUt, 
unpunishable; which yon will do more harm thn 
good by attempting to puniah ! Once more, a very 
startling conclusion indeed ; which, whatever the 
soundest practical minds in Parliament may tfainb of 



BRIBERY COHMITTEB jtj 

it, ioTite* all Bridtb men to ineditatioiis of vnrknu la 
kinds. ^""^ 

A FarliaiDent, one would ny, which proclaims iuelf Z^^ 
elected and dibble by iH'ibery, tells the Nation that is 
governed by it a [Mece of ringular news. Bribery ; 
have we reflected what bribery is ? Bribery means 
not only length of purse, which is neither qnalifica- 
tion Dor the contrary for legialating welt ; but it 
means dishonesty, and even impudent dishonesty ; — 
Wazea insensitnlity to lying and to making others 
lie; lot^ oblivion, and flingbg oyerboard, for the 
nonce, of any real thing you can call veracity, 
morality ; with dexiions pntting-on the cast-clothes 
of that real thing, and strutting about in them ! 
What Legislating can yon get out of a man in that 
fatal sitoation ! None that will proiit much, one 
would think! A Legislator who has leit his 
veracity lying on the door-threahold, he, why verily 
be — ought to be sent out to seek it again I 

Heavens, what an improTement, were there once 
fairly in Downing-street an E lection- OiEce opened, 
with a tsifT of Boroughs ! Such and such a popn- 
Jation, amount of property-tax, grouiwi-rental, extent 
of trade ; letnms two Members, returns one Mem- 
ber, for so much money down : Ipswich so many 
thousand^ Nottingham so many, — as they happened, 
one by one, to &I1 into this new Downing- street 
Scbedde A I An incalculable improvemeni^ m 
comparison : fi» now at least you have it fairly by 
Jengtb of purse, and leave the dishoaesty, the im- 
pudence, the unveracity all handsomely aside. 
Length of pwse-and desire to be a Legislator ought 
to get a man into Parliament, not •with, but if possible 
•a^ithout the Dnvcracity, the impudence and the dis- 
honesty I Length (^ putsc and desire, theae are. 



314 IV HOROSCOPE 

Tba M intrinBic quali&cations, coixecdy equa] to zero ; 

Chosen but they are not yet leit than zero, — as the Bmallest- , 
"^ "^ addition of that latter sort will make them ! 

Ht^ir r. And is it come to this I And does our venerable 
bub Parliament anoouDce itself elected and eligible in 
thi( DuuiDei i Surely such a ParliameDt piomul- 
gates strange horoscopes of itself. What is to 
become of a Parliament elected or eligible in thii 
mannn' ? Unleu £elial and Beelzebub have gac i 
MMSesGion of the throne of this Universe, Eiie\L ' 
Parliament is preparing itself for new RefiK-m-bilk 
We shall have to try it by Chartism, or any coo- i 
ceivable urn, rather than put-up with this ! There 
is already in England ' religion ' enough to get tax. I 
buDdred aod fiity-eigbt Omsuldag Men brought I 
together who do nai begin work with a lie in thnr 
mouth. Our poor old Parliament, tboasanda of : 
years old, is still good for something, for eevertJ 
things; — though many u'e beginning to ask, with 
ominous anxiety, in these days: Fm' what thing! j 
But for whatever thing and things ParliarQeDt be 
good, indisputably it must start with other than a lie 
in its mouth ! On the whole, a Parliament work- | 
ing with a lie in its mouth, will have to take itself I 
away. To no Parliament or thing, that one has I 
heard ot, did this Universe ever long yield harbour 
on that footing. At all hours of the day and night, | 
some Chartism is advancing, some armed Cromwell . 
is advancing, to apprise such Parliamem : ■' Ye are 
00 Parliament. In the name of Cktd, — go 1 " j 

Id sad truth, once more, how is our whole exist- 'j 
ence, in these present days, built on Caot, Speciosity, i 
Falsehood, Dilettantism ; with this one serioui | 
Veracity in it : Mammonain ! Dig down where 
you will, through the Parliament-floor or elsewhere, I 



BRIBERY COUHITTEE 315 

how inMibly do yon, at spade'a dn>th belov the Uoney 
surface, come upon thw unirersal iww-rock sub- *J'*FJ*'' 
ttratum! Mnch eUeiaomamenUl; true on barrel- 
beads, ID pulpits, hustings. Parliamentary benches ; 
but this is forever true and truest : " Money does 
bring money's worth ; Put money in your purse." 
Here, if nowhere else, is the human soul still in 
thorough earnest ; sinc^v with a prophet's uaceri^ : 
and 'the Hell of the English,' as Sauerteig said, 'ts 
the infinite terror of Not getting 00, especially of 
Not making money.' With results ! 

To many persons the horoscope of Parliament is 
more iotereBting than to me : but surely all men 
with souls must admit that sending members to 
Parliament by bribery is an infamous solecism ; aa 
act entirely immoral, which no man can have to do 
with more or less, but he will soil his fingers more 
oc less. Mo Carlton Ciubs, Reform Clubs, nor any 
sort of club* or creatures, or of accredited opinions 
or practicee, can make a Lie Truth, can make 
Bribery a PropriMy. The Parliament should really 
either punish and put away Bribery, or legalise it 
by some OiGcc in Downing-street. As I read the 
Apocalypses, a Parliament Utat can do neither of 
these things is not in a good way. — And yet, alas, 
what of Parliaments and their Elections i Parlia- 
nieDtary Elections are but the topmost ultimate 
outcome of an electioneering which goes on. at all 
hours, in dl places, in every meeting of two or 
more men. It is uv that vote wrong, and teach the 
poor ragged Freemen of Boroughs to vote wrong. 
We pay respect to those worthy of no respect. 

Is not Pandarus Dogdraught a member of select 
clubs, and admitted mto the drawing-rooms of men? 



IV HOROSCOPE 



The VitiUy to all persom he U ef-tbe offal of Creation ; | 
EtMa but he curin maney in his puree, due lacquer oa buT | 



of Flim- 



The human specieH doea not with one Totce, like 
the Hebrew Fealmivt, 'shun to at' with Dog- 
draaghi, refiiee totally to dine with Dogdrsught ; 
men called of booonr am willing enongb to diDc 
whh him, hit talk being lively, and his champagne 
excdlent. We »ay to ourseivei, " The man 'a b 
good «ociety," — otheri haw already voted for bira-, 
why should not I ? We forget the indefeaaible 
right of property that Satan haa in Dogdraught,— 
we are not afraid to be near Dogdraught t It is 
we that vote wrong ; UnxUy, nay with ^ri^ pre- 
pense J It is we that no longer know die difference 
Mtweeni Human Worth kkI Human UnwcMth ; or 
feel diat the one is admirable and alone admirable, 
the other deteitable, damnable 1 How shall m 
find MM a Hero and Viceking SaniMD with a maxi- 
mum of two diillings in his pocket i We have no 
I^auce to do inch a d)iog. We have got out of 
the Ages of Heroism, deep into the Ages of 
Fltinkyisin,-~afid must reniro or die. What a., 
noble set of mortals are we, who, because therv is > 
no Saint Edmund ttHvttraing us at the rim of the 
horizon, are not afraid to be whatever, fot the day 
and hour, is amoothest for us ! 

And now, in good soOth, why should an indigent 
discerning Freeman give his vote without bribe*? 
Let tu rather honour the poor man tbat he doer 
discern clearly wliflrein lies, for him, the true kcmA 
of the matter. What is it to the ragged grimy 
Freeman of a Tenpomd-Francbise Borough, 
whether Arislides Rigmarole Esq. of the I>escnic- 
tive, or the Hon. Alcides Dolittle of the Con- 



BRIBBRT OOKHITTEE 317 

ParEjr be tent to ParliaaKiit ;-:— much mote, Rjgnu- 
Vhetber the two^thotuuidth part of them be gent, Mle *nd 
for that iB the amount of his faculty in it ? De- DoUttle 
axuctive or CoDKrvatiTc, what will either of them 
dettroy or coDsecve of vital luomeat to thii Free- 
maii^ Hafr he iowtd either of them care, at 
boOoiD, a aixpeit» for him or l»s inteteats, or those 
of hia clau or of hia cause, or of any data or cauac 
diat ia of much Talue to God or to man 1 Rigma* 
[ote and Dolittle have alike cared for tbemaeivea 
hitherto t and for their owq diqtie, and telf-con- 
ceited crotchets, — their greasy diihooeK iotereKa 
of pudding, or windy diahoneat iatn^ats of praiae ; 
and not veiv perceptibly for any other interest 
whatever. Neither Rigmarole nor Dolittle will 
accomplish any good or any evil for this grimy 
Freeman, like giving him 3 five-pouod note, or 
retiinng to give it him. It will be smoothest to 
vote according to value received. That is the 
veritable fact ; and he indigent, like others that are 
not bdigent, acta conformably thereto. 

Why, reader, truly, if they aaked thee or me, 
Which way we meant to vote J— were it not our 
likeliest answer ; Neither way ! I, as a Tenpound 
Frandiiaer, will receive no laibe ; but also I will 
lot vote for either of these men. Neither Rigma- 
'ole nor Dolittle shall, by furtherance of mine, go 
md make laws for this country. I will have no 
nand in auph a misaioa. How dare 1 1 If other 
nen cannot be got in England, a totally other sort 
if men, differeot as light is from dark, as atar-fire is 
i-om street-mud, what is the use of votings, or of 
Parliaments in England ! England ought to resign 
lerself ; there is no hope or possibility for England, 
f England cannot get her Knaves and Dastarda 



]it tV aOROSCOPB 

What ' iriMted,' in «ome de^ee, but only get them | 
Hextt 'elected,' what ia to become of England ? 

I conclude, with all confidence, that England 
will Tcrily hare to put an end to Iwiberiea on fas' 
Election Huttings and elsewhere, at what cost 
H' ;~---aod likewise that we. Elector* and 
EUgible*, one and all of nt, for our own behoof 
and hers, cannot too wxin begin, at what coR sacra', | 
to put an end to hriheaiilitiet in outkItcs. Tte . 
death -leproiy, attacked in this manner, by pnrifying \ 
lotion* from without and by rallying of the vita! 
energies and purities from within, will probably 
abate somewhat ! It has otherwise no chance to 
abate. 



WHAT our GoTemment can -do in this grand ' 
Problem of the Working Classei of Eng- J 
land ? Ves, supposing the insane Corn-Laws . 
totally abolished, all speech of them ended, and 
' from ten to twenty years of new possitnlity to ! 
' live and find wages ' conceded us in conseqaence : 
What the English Government might be expected 
to accomplish or attempt towards rendering tbc 
existence of our Labouring Millions somewhat ieti , 
■nomalous, somewhat less impossible, in the yein 
that are to follow those 'ten or twenty,* if either i 
'ten' or 'twenty' there be? i 

It ia the most momentous c]ue*don. For all this | 
of the Corn-Law Abrogabon, and what can follov 



THE ONE INSTITUTION 319 

^refroni, i> but as the shadow on King Hezekirii'i Ojvu 
Dial : the shadow hag gcme back twenty yeari • bufismfe < 
will again, in apite of Free-Tradw and Abrogatiotm, L*l>« 
travel forward iu old fated way. With our preifenti' 
system of individua] MammooiBin, and GoTeni'J 
ment by Laieaez-fotre, this Nation cttnot iJTe.f 
And if, in the priceless interim, some new life and 
healing be not found, there is do second respite to 
be counted on. The shadow on the Dial advances 
thenceforth without pausing. What OoTeramnit 
can do J This that they call ' Organising of | 
Labour ' is, if well understood, the Problem ef t 
the whole Future, for all who will in fmaic pcetoid I 
to govern men. But onr first preliminary stage of 
it. How to deal with the Actual Labouring MiUions 
of England ? this is the imperatively pressing 
Problem of the Present, pressing with a truly fearful 
intensity and imminence in these very year* and 
days. No Government can longer neglect it : oncC 
more, what can our Government do in it ? 

Governments are of very various decrees of 
activity: some, altogether Lazy Governments, in 
'free countries' as they are called, seem in these 
times almost to profess to do, if not nothing, one 
knows not at first what. To debate in Parliament, 
and gain majorities ; and ascertain who shall be, 
with a toil hardly second to Ixion's, the Prime 
Speaker md Spoke-holder, and keep the Ixiim's- 
Wheel going, if not forward, yet round ? Not 
altogether so : — much, to the experienced eye, is 
, not what it seems ! Chancery and cerraiii ocher 
Law-Courts seem nothing ; yet in fact they are, the 
worst of them, something ; chimneys for the devilry 
nen to escape by ; — a very con- 



yo IV HOROSCOPE 

Tl* (idtt'tlile MMMthing ! Farliunent too hat it* taiLs, 

1 Sohir if thoo wilt look ; 6t to weBr-«at die Jive* of 

j^j^ toughest men. The cdebtated KiHtomy Catt, 

^tj(,^~tbraitgh thtar tumultaow coafftaa, cleaxittg the etr 

: t^ Night, could they be said to do noting > Hadtt 

.thon beea of them, thon hadR «mii ! The feline 

bnrc laboured, u with Bteam up — to the burmiog 

point ; and death-doiag eoergy nerved every raotck: 

they had a work there; and did it! Ga.tbt 

matraw, two tails were foiud left, uid peaccaUc 

armihilatioD ; a neighbourhood ddroered from 

deapair. 

Again, are not Spiiping<Derv!ahes an doqaent 
emblem, signiticaiit of much \ HmI thou noticed 
him, that solenui-viaaged Turk, the eyei ihut; 
dingy wool maotle circularly hiding his figure ; — 
bell-^aped ; like a dingy bell set apianing on the 
tmgut of it.? By centiifugaJ force the diogy woof 
■Made heaves itself) spreads more aiid mor^ like 
upturned cup widening into upturned saucer : thus 
spins he, to the praise of Allah and advantage of 
'mankind, fast and faster, till coUapae ensue, and 
(Ometimes death J — 

A Government such as onrs, consisting of irom 
seven to eight hundred Parliamentary Talkers, widi 
(heir escort of Able Editors and Public Opnion! I 
and for head, certain Lords and Servants of the I 
Treasury, and Chief Secjetaries and others, who 
find themselves at once Chiefs and No-Chiefe, and 

often commanded rather than commanding, m 

doubtless a most complicate entity, and none of the 
Bl«tc6t for getting on with business! Clearly , 
enough, if the Chiefs be not self-motive and vh^ i 
we call men, but mere patient lay-figures without 
•elf-motive principle, the Government will not move 



THE ONE IHSTITUTION jit 

aoywhither ; it will tunble dinstro»lrt uiii Jumble, Tht 
roond iu nvn txia, as far rnuiy ye»n pan we have Uoa- 
leeo it do. — Aad yet a Mlf-motiTC man who u not ij^^ 
a lay-ligiire, place him in .the heart of what entity ^^ 
you may, will make it move more or leu 1 The 
abrardest in Nature he will make a little le» abiurd. 
he. The tmwieldiest he will niake to move ; — that 
{< the use of hia existing there. He will at lean 
have the maiifaliieaa to.depait out of it, if not ; to 
«ay : "I cennot move in tbee, and be a man ; like 
3 irretched drift-log drcBKd in manfs clothes and 
minister's clothes, doomed to a lot baser than 
belongs to man, I will not continue with thee, 
tumbling aimleta «d the Mother of Bead Dogs 
here ; — Adieu I " 

For, on the whole, it is the lot of Chiefs every- 
where, tliJB same. No Chief in the most despotic 
country biVwas a Servant withal ; at once au abso- 
lute commaiKling General, and a poor Orderly- 
Sergeant, ordered by the very men in the ranks, — 
obliged to collect the TiUe of the ranks too, ia some 
articulate or inardculate shape, and weigh well the 
same. The proper name of all Kings is Minister, 
Servant. In no conceivable Government can a lay* 
figure get forward ! Tilt Worker, surely he abovd 
all others bat to 'spread Qut his Gideon's Fleece,' 
and collect the mooititHis of Immensity ; the poor 
Localities, as we said, and Parishes of Palace-yard 
or elsewhere, having no due monition in them. A 
Prime Minister, even, here in Englwd, who shall. 
dare believe the heavealy omeca^ and address himself 
like a man and hero . to the great dumb-atruggling 
heart of England ; and speak out for it, and act out; 
for it, the God'^-Juatice it ia writhing to get uttered 
and periihing for want of, — yes, he too will see 



]it nr HOROSCOPE j 

Btrit- awaken nnmd him, in patnoMte Wning all-dc&nt 
■^o li^alty, tbe heart of Eoglmd, lul rach a 'mppon' i 
*^^ at no D)visioo>List or FarliaiiieDtuy Majori^ was | 
ever yet known to yield a man ! Here aa there, I 
DOW as then, he who can and daretrtiat the heavenly 
Immensitiea, all earthly Localities are nibject to him. | 
We will pray for such i Man and First-Lord ; — 
yes, aod far better, we will suiie and ioceatantlf | 
make ready, each of us, to be wortbj to senea^ 
eecood BDch a Firit-Lord I We ahatl then be u 
good as (ure of hia arriving ; sore of many tbiogB, 
let hini arrive ur not. 

Who can despair of Governments that passes a 
Soldier's Guard-house, or meets a redcoated man on \ 
the streets ! That a body of men could be goi , 
together to kill other men when yoa bade then: 
this, a ftriori, does it not seem one of the impot- 
nblest things f Yet look, behold it: Jn the etolidest | 
of DoDothlng Governments, that impossibility is i j 
thing done. See it there, with buff belt*, red coA 
OD its hack ; walking sentry at guard-houset, iNtisb- 
ing white breeches in barracka ', an iadispulabk 
palpable fact. Out of gray Antiquity, amid ^ 
hnance-difEculticE, jfoffornmi-talties, shi[>-mDn^i, 
coat-and-condnct moneys, and vKissttudea of Otann 
and Time, tberev down to the present bletBed hour, 

Oftent in the«e painfully deckdem and painfidlj 
nucent Times, wnh their dia(res«e% inarticultf 
gaspmgs and ' impossibilitiea ; ' meeting a tall Lift 
gu^srnan in his snow-white trousera, or atnog 
those two *tatiies(|ue LifegoardsmeQ ia their frown- 
ing bearskms, ]Upe-cIaycd buckskint, on their coal- 
black sleek-iiery quadrupeds, riding sentry at the 



THE ONE INSTITUTION pt 

HcH-H-GuardB,— it stiikc* Ooe with a kiltd eifSkMl- ' 
mournfiil iaterest, how, in such univcfwi down- ^^^ aot 
nuhiag and wrecked impotcDce of aimHt aU old wJ^T" 
iDstitotion^ this olden Fighdag Insiituticai it ttiU so 
young 1 Fcesli-complexiaiied, firm-limbed, rix f«et 
by the standard, this iightiDg man hai verily been 
got up, and can fight. While so much has not yet 
got into being ; while so much ba« gone gradually 
out of it, and become an empty SemblaDce or 
Clothes-soit j and highest king's-cloaka, mere 
chimeras parading under them so long, are getting 
unsightly to the earnest eye, unsightly, almost offen- 
sive, like a costlier kind of scare crow' s- blanket,— 
here still ii a reality ! 

The man in horsehair wig advances, promising 
that he will get me ' justice : ' be takes me into 
Chancery Law-Courta, into decades, half-centuries 
of hubbub, of distracted jargon ; and does gel me — - 
disappointment, almost desperation ; and one refuge : 
that of dismissing tum and his ' justice ' altogether 
out of my head. For I have work to do ; I 
cannot spend my decades in mere arguing with 
other men about the exact wages of my wWk ; I 
will work cheerfully with no w^et, sooner than 
with a ten-years gangrene or Chaiu:ery Lawsuit in 
my heart ! He of the horsehair wig is a sort of 
faUure ; no eubstaoce, but a fond imagination of tbe. 
miiKL He of the shovel-hat, again, who comeS' 
forward professing that he wilt save my soul— O ye 
eternities, of him in this place be absolute silence ! 
— But he of the red coat, I say, is a success and no 
&ilure ! He will veritably, if he get orders, draw 
out a long sword and kill me. No mistake there. 
He is a 6tct and not a shadow. Alive in this Year 
Forty-three, able and willing to do iu work. la 



}H IV HOROSCOPE 

What dim oU ceoturiei, with WUiun Rufos WiUUm of 
disci- Iprea, or far earlier, he began ; and has come down 

^^^ Mfc to ftr. Cttapuh hM gJTen place to camon, 
pke ha* given place to musket, iron mail-shirt to 
coit of red cloth, Mltpetre ropenwtch to perctmiop- i 
cap ; cquipmeats, circumitanccB have all changed, 
and again changed ; but the human battle-engine u 
the ioaide of any dr each of these, ready rail to do 
battle, Ktands there, rix feet in nandard size. Thar 
are Pay-Offices, Woolwich Arsenals, there is i 
Horse-Gnardj, War-Office, Captain-Cieneral ; pec- 
svasiTe Sergeants, with tap of drum, recndt in 
matket^towne and villages ; — and, on the whole, I 
say, here is your aaual drilled fighting-man ; here 
are your actual Ninety -thousand of such, ready to 
go into any quarter of the world and fight 1 

Strange, interesting, and yet fnort moumfiil to 
reflect on. Wai this, then, of all the things man- 
kind had some talent for, the one thing important 
to learn well, and bring to perfection ; this of sue- I 
cessfnlty kilting one another i Truly yon haw 
leimed it well, and carried the bufiineas to a high 
perfection. It is incalculable what, by arranging, 
commawling uid regimenting, you can make of men. 
These thousand iiraight-standing firmset indinduali, 
who shoulder arras, who march, wheel, advance, 
retreat ; and are, for your behoof, a fnagaziK 
charged irith fiery death, in the most perfect coo- 
dition of potential activity: few months ago, till the 
penntanvesergeantcanie,what werethey? Multifont 
ragged losels, runaway apprentices, stuped weaven, 
thievish valets; an entirely broken populatioo, fut 
t«)ding towards the treadmill, fiut the pemiasEie 
sergeant caniei by tap of drum enlisted, <k fonwd 
Ittta of them, took heartily to driltii^ them ; — and 



THE.OMe INSTITUTION jij 

be and you bare made them thii I Most potest, Cun- 
efiectual for all work whatmeter, u wise pUnning, P**l[o 
Urm conlnDbg uid conunaodttig among nea. Let W"?~ 
DO ve^n despair of GoTcnuneito.wtio loolu on thutf ^^Jf 
two ■entries at the Horse-Guanls aod our Uaited- Starnt* 
Service Clubs ! I could cooceive aa EDugratioa tion 
Service, a Teaching Service, coEuidecable varieties 
of United and Sepvete S«^ices, of the doe 
thousands atrong, all effective as this Fighting 
Service is; all doing littr work, hke itj — which 
work, much more than fighting, is henceforth the 
Decesaity of these New Ages we are got into I 
Much UeB auKmg ui,- convultivdy, nigh desperately 
tImggUug to be bom. 

But mean Goveroment^ as meao-Iiimted in- 
dividuals do, have ttood by the. pbyaicaily indie- 
p«iBabIe ; have realised that and nothiog more. The 
Soldier is pechaps one of the most difiicuLt things to 
realise; but Goveinmefits, had they not realised 
hun.cDuld not have existed i accordingly he is her*. 
O Heavens, if we saw aa army oioety'thouBaad 
stroDg, maintained and fully equipt, in continv^' real 
action and battle against Human Starvation, against 
Chaof, Necessity, Stupidity, and our real ' natural 
enenues,' what a busiaeEs were it I Fighdng and 
moleating not 'the French,' who, poorniei), have a 
hard eoough battle of their own in the like kind, 
and need no additional moiestii^ ii0m ui ) but 
fighting and iocessantly snearing dowa and destn^bg 
Falsehood, Nescience, JjelusitM, Disorder, aod the 
Devil and his Angels 1 Thou thyself, cultivated 
reader, hast done something in that alone true war- 
fare ; but, ala«, under whbt circumstances was it i 
Thee no bcneficrat drUl-sergeant, with any efiective- 
nesB, would rank in line besidt thy fellows ; traiot 



jiC IV HOROSCWB 1 

Is Ig^ lilt« a true didactic attirt, by the wit of all pact 
noraae* experience, to do dij soMierbg; enconrage thee 
'"'"hff? 'rfien right, pusiih thee when wroag, Mid erety- 
"*^ where with wne word-of-commaDd wy, FMward 
on this hand. Forward on that! Ah, no: diou 
hadit t» leam thy HinalI-«word and platoon exet- 
ctie where and how thea couldit; to all mortili 
bot thyKlf it was iodiifertiit whether thon diouldfl 
ever karn it. And the radtHM, and shiDing i 
day, were they provided thee, — reduced as I bin 
known brave Jean-Paols, leumng th«r exereue, 
to live on * water •akboiit the to'ead ' i Tbc 
rations t or any Autberance (^ prmnotioD to cor- 
poial^ip, lance-corporal ship, or doe cat-o'-niK 
ta^s, widi the slightest reference to diy dewrte, 
were not provided. Fore^ought, even as of 2 
pipe-clayed drill-sergeant, did not preside om 
thee. To corporalship, lance-corpra'alship, thov 
didst attain ; alas, also to the balberts aad cat : but 
thy rewarder and punisher Beeined blind as tht. 
Deluge ; neither lancc-corporalflhip, nor even dnim- 
mer'e cat, because both appeared delirious, brongbt 
thee due profit. 

It was well, all thisf we know ; — and yet it «3i 
not well ! Forty soldiers, I am bdd, will disperw 
the largest Sptalfields mob : fortv to len-thousaod, 
that is the proportion between drilled and nndriiled. 
Much diere is which cannot yet be organided in thii 
world; bat somewhat ^so which can, lomewtw 
also which imnt. When one thinks, I<ir example, 
what BAoks are become and becoming for us, wh> 
Operatrre L«Kashires are become ; what a Fourth 
Estate, and innumerable Virtualities -not yet got to 
be Actualities are become and becoming,— one MR 
Organisms enough in the dim huge Futwe; and 



THE OHE IMSTITUTION ji? 

' United Servicet ' qnke other than the redctUl G 
Dce; and much, even in these yeara, atcuggling to ■> 
be bom! J 

Of Time-Bm, Factorr-BiU and other wch Billi " 
the present Editor has no autbwity to speak. He 
knowi not, it U for others than he to know, in what 
specific ways it itiay be feasible to interfere, with 
Legislatioat between the Workers and the Matter- 
Workers g— knows only and sees, what all men are 
beginning to aee, that Legislative iaterferehce, aod 
iaierferefices not a few are iodispensaiile ; that as \ 
lawless anarchy of anpply^snd -demand, on markets 
wages alone, this province of things cannot longer be 
left. Niy interftrence has begun : there ate already 
Factory I Doctors,— who leeni to have no laei of 
work. FerhapR there ought be Mine-Ioipectoia 
too : — inight there not be Furrowlield Inspectors 
withal^ eod ascertain for us how on eeren and six' 
pence a week a human family does live ! Inter- 
ference has begun; it must continuf^ mnst exten- 
sively enlarge itself, deepoi and sharpen itself. Such 
tfaiDgs cannot longer be idly Wped in darkness, and 
BofFered togoon uaseen: the Hearens do«eetheni; 
the curse, not the blessing of the Heavens is on an 
Earth that refuses to see tbem. 

Again, are not Sanitary ReguhtionB poasibte for 
a Le^slatnre i The old Romuw had ifaeir .£diles | 
who would, I think, in direct contravention to 
supply-aod-demand, have rigorously seen ramtned 
up into total ab^tioa many a foul cellar m our 
Southwarlu, Saint-Gileses, and dark poicon-lanes ; 
saying ttnuly, " Shall a Roman maD dwell there? " 
The Legislature, at whatever cost of consequences, 
would b»t had to answer; " God forbid ! ' ~-The 
Legislature, evm as it boV is, could order all dmgf 



jU IV HOROSCOPE 

Lefi*- Iibinifictiiiiag Town to cease from their loot and 
J ™*" dsrkneM ; to let-in the blened (onlight, the blae of 
^S Heaven, and become clear and clean ; to bora thrir 
coal-Niioke, umely, and make flame of it. Baths, 
free tir, a wboleiome temperature, ceilirtgi tweoty 
feet high, might be ordained, by Act of Parliament, I 
in aL -establishmeDts licensed as Mills. There are 
tnch Mills already extant ; — hooour to the boildcn 
of them ! The Le^slature can say to other* : Go 
ye and do likewise ; better if yon can. 

Every twlbg Manchester, its srocdie and soot all 
burnt, ought it not, among so many world-wide 
conqnnts, to have a himdred acrci or so of free 
greeofidd, with trees on it, coocjnered, for its little 
cliitdren to disport in ; for it* a)l-icoiiqnerin£ 
workers to take a breath of twilight air in ? You 
would say so I A willing Legislation conld tVy so 
with eShx. A willing Legislatore could say tery 
many ihiogs I And to whatsoever < vested aiterest,' 
or BQchlike, stood up, gainsaying merely, '* I shall ' 
lose profits,"-~-tfae wilting Legislature woukt ana^rer, 
** Yes, but my sons and daughters will gain health, 
and life, and a soul." — " What is to become rf oa 
Cotton-trade?" cried certain Spinners, when the | 
Factory £ill was raoposed ; ** What is to become 
of our invaluable Cotton-trade 1" The Hnmanity 
of England answered steadfastly: "Deiiver me 
these rickety perislung sonls of imants, -uid let your 
Cotton-trade take its chance. God Himself com- 
mands the one tinng ; not God especially the otfav 
thing. We cannot have prospcrou Cotttm-trada 
at the expense of kcepng the DefU a {artner in 

Bills enough, were the Corn-Law Abrogation 
Bill oiice passed, and a Leg idatore willing I Nay 



THE OHB INSTITUTION ]>9 

thii ooe Bill, whkh ]ie» yet iineiMcted, a ri£htAH%lit 
EducadoD ^0, ia not this of iuelf the rare parent ^^?:- 
of buuuneiable wise Bills, — wife reguUiions, fttc- '"'* ^^ 
tical methodi and ptopmak, gradually ripeniag 
towofdi the itite of EilU i To irradiate with intel- 
ligence, that IB to tay, wtdi order, arrangenienc and 
all bicmedntta, the Chaotic, UniacelligeDt : bow, 
except by educaliog, eait yon accompiieh thia i 
That thought, reflection, articulate ntierance and 
undentanding be awakened in these individual mtilioii 
heada, which are the atom* of yaur Chaoi i thers 
ia DO other way of illuminBtiog any Chaot I The 
mm-total of btelJigeace that ia foood in it, detn- 
mines the extent of order that is 'possible tor your 
Chaoa;^ — the -feasibility and rationality of whu your 
Cbaoa will dimty demand from yo«, and will' gladly 
obey when proposed by you ! It is aar exact eqna^ 
tioo; the one accoratdyraeasurea the other.— If^ the 
whole Engli^ People, durmg these ' twenty yeara 
of reapite,' be not cdocaud, with at least school- 
master's educating, a tranendous resptmslbility, 
before God and men, wiU rest aomewhere! HoW 
dare aoy nan, especially a man calling himself min- 
ister of Ood, stand up' in any Parliament or j^ace, 
under any [Hetext or delusion, and for a day or ui 
hour fbiUd God's Light to come into the world, 
and bid the Devil'i Darkness continue in it one 
hour rtiel For all light sfoA acience, uoder aH 
shap' i, in all degreea of perlectioa, ia of God ; all 
<l-'.aneis, oetciencc, ia of the Enemy of God; 
The fcboolniaster'a ' creed is toniewhat -awry i ' 
Yes, I have found few creeds entirely correct y few 
light-beams shining *oibiii, pure of admixture : but 
of M creeds and religions now or eieihbetbre kcown, 
waa sot that of thoughtless thriftless Animalism, of 



Bflee- Dttulled Gin, and Snmor ind Dapair, anapeakaUj , 
ti*e die least orthodox i We will exchange il eim wiik 
inlr ^''^•'''•'"i ^'1* FotisbiBin ; and, tya the whole, mvSt 
exchange it with tomcthns. 

I An efiective ' Teaching SerTice ' I da contidet 
(hat there miut be ; soine Education Seeretarj, 
Captain- General of Teachers, Who will kOxoHj 
contrive to get at ta^hl. Then agada, why ohooM 
there not be an * Enrigratioa Service,' and Sccretxj', 
with »djuact8, with fundt, force*, idle NaTy-ifaiJLs ' 
KoA erer-increaMng apporatna ; in fine an efficiiw 
ifiUm of Emigratton ; to that, at length, before our 
twenty. yean of resjMte eadcd, every hooett wiling 
Workman who fbiuid En^aod loo strait, and the 
* OrganiBUioii of Labonr ' not jrct snfEcieDtly ad- 
ranced, might find likewise a bridge built to cair/ 
him into new Weicern LhiuIb, there to 'organiie' 
with more elbow-room some labow for famudf! 
There to be a real bletung, raising new corn for u^ 
jMrchMing new weba and hatchets from us ; leavinfi 
us at least in peace ;— rvBitcadof staying here to bei 
PhygicM-Force Clwrtist, unbleaaed and ao UeMinj^ 
Is it not scandalous to consider that a Prime MidAci 
could ruse within the year, as I have seen it done, 
a Hundred and Twenty Milliuis Sterling to shom 
the French ; and we are smpt short for w^ot <^ 
the hundred^ part of that to keep the Engluli 
living \ The bodies tA the English living, aad 
the souls of the Hngiish living : — these two * Ser- 
vice^' an Education Se'vice and an Enigraaai^ 
Serrio^ these with othnt will actually have to )>' 
organised! 

I A free bridge for Emigrants : why, we should 
tlicn be on a par with America itw^, the most 
favoured of ill lands that haw no gaivernment \ 



THE ONE IHSTITUTION jji 

we ahoolil have, bcndes, so mooy traditioiis aai'Bm^ 
memCDtoi of priceless things which America has Jj?" 
cast awaf . We could proceed deliberatdj to S^'-f 
'organise Labour,' not doomed to perish unleu we tiie 
etFected it within year and day ; — every willing Putnre 
Worker that proved superfluoua, findidg a In-tdgc 
ready for him. This verily will have 10 be done ; 
the Time ia big with thia. Our little Isle is growni 
too narrow for ua { but the world is wide enough j 
jet for another Six Thouaand Years. England's! 
xiK markets will be among new Coloniea of English- 1 
men in all quarters of the Globe. All men trade ' 
with all men, when mutually conTcnient ; and are even 
bound to do it by the Maker of men. Our frienda 
of Chiaa, who guiltily refused to trade, in these 
circumstancea, — had we not to argue with tbem, in 
cannon-shot at last, and convince them that they 
ought to trade ! ' Hostile Tariffs ' will arise, to 
shut na out } and then again will fall, to let us in : 
bis the Sons of England, apeakers of the English 
language were it nothing more, will in all times have 
the ineradicable predisposition to trade with England. 
Mycale was the Pan-Jaruon, rendezvous of all the 
Tribes of Ion, for old Greece : why should not 
London long continue the jfll'Saxm-bome, rendez- 
vous of all the 'Children of the Harz-Rock,' 
arriving, in select samples, from the Antipodes and 
elsewhere, by steam and otherwise, to the ' season ' 
here ! — ^What a Future j wide as the worldi if we 
have the heart and heroism for it, — which, by 
Heaven's blessing, we shall : 

■ Keep not ftutdinc fixed and rooted, 
Brisklf Tentucc, bilslik roam; 
Head and band, wbere^ thon foot tt, ' 
And atoM hmrl arc Mill it borne. 



Lent- 



IV maoscoPE 

In irbat Uod the tun doei liiit 
Briak ue we, whale'er betide: 
To gite Ipace for nandering U it 
That the world wai made lo widi 



Fourteea hundred years ago, it was by a coonder- 
able ' Emigration Service,' never doubt it, by much 
colistmeDt, discussion and apparatus, that we our- 
lelvea arrived in this remarkable Island, — aod got 
into our present dilBculties among others ! 

( It is true the English Legislacuie, like the Englith 
People, is of slow temper ; CBsentially craaservative. 
tn our wildest pcrbds of reform, in the Long 
ParlianieDt, itself, you notice always the itiTUicible 
instinct to hold fast by the Old; to admit the 
minimum of New ; to expand, if it be possible, some 
old habit or method, already found fruitful, into ne« 
growth for the new need. It is an instinct worthy 
of all honour ; akin to all streitgth and all wisdom. 
The Future hereby is not dissevered from the Past, 
but based conUnuously on it ; grows with all tbc 
vitalities of the Past, and is rooted down deep ba 
the beginnings of us. The English Legislature 
is entirely repugoaot to , believe in ' new epochs.' 
The English Legislature does not occupy itself 
with epochs ; has, indeed, other business to do 
than looking ^^ the Time-Horologe and hesuiog 
it lick I Nevertheless new epochs do actually i 
come; and with them neiy, inmrious peremptoiy 
necesMties ; so that even an English Legislatare 
has to look up, and admit, though with reluci- { 
ance, that the hour has struck. The hour having 
Struck, let UB not say ' impossible ; ' — it will have 
to be possible 1 * Oqitrary to the haUts of Par* | 

. ■ Goethe, IViO.lm MikUr I 



THE ONE INSTITUTION SSI 

liament, the habiu of GoTerament .' * Y« : bot The 
did any Parliiunent ot G«venmient ever lit in a Work- 
Year Forty-three before? One of themoat origioal, V?.^ 
vnexampled years and epochi ; in scFcral importaot ,„„^ |^ 
respecta totally nnlike any other ! For Time, all- houMd 
edacious and all-feraciani, does run on : and the 
Seven Sleeper*, awafceniiig hna^ after a hondred 
years, find that it is not thur old nones who can 
now gi»e them auclc ! 

For the rest, let not aay Fariiament, ArJMocracy, ' 
Millocracy, or MenUier of the Governing Class, 
condemn with much triumph this imall specimen of 
'remedial measures; ' or ask again, with the least 
anger, o£ this Editor, What is to be done, How that 
alarming problem of the Working ClanKs j« to be 
managed ; Editors are not here, foremost of all, to 
say How. A certam Editor thinke the gods that 
nobody pays him three hundred' tbouBand pounds a 
year, two hundred thonsand, twenty thousand, or 
any similar sum of cash for saying How ; — that hii 
wages are xery different, his work somewhat fittw 
(or him. An Editor's stipulated work is to apprise 
tkee that it must be done. The ' way to do it,' — is 
to try it, knowing that thou shait' die if it be not 
done. There is the bare back, there is the web of 
cloth ; thou shalt cut me a coat to covet the bare 
backithonwhosetradeitis 'Impossible?' Hapless 
FrscdoD, dost thou discern Fate there, half unveil- 
ing herself in die gloom of the future, with her 
gibbet-cords, her steel-whips, and yctj autheatic 
Tailor' s Hell ; waiting to seewhether it is 'possible'? 
Out. with thy scissors, and cat that cloth or thy own 
windpipe 1 



.IV HOROSa>PE 

Cbapter Iv 



IndnajTF I beliered that Manunoniim with it* sdjancta 

^bi«iX wu to comintie henceforth the one Geruwi 

Sm [HTOciiJe of our exiatence, I ahould reckon it idle to 

I solicit remedial meaGures from any Gorernmcu, dc 

I diaeaae beiag JnMisceptible of remedy. Govenuwa 

1 can do much, but it can in no wise do all. Gorem- 

ment, as the most cooapicixiui object in Society, i> 

called upon to give signal of wbat thai] be done ; 

and, in many ways, to preside over, furtho', and 

cominasd the doing of it. But the Govenuntnt 

cannot do, by aJI its signaling and commanding, 

iwhat the Society is radically indisposed to do. la 
the long-run every Government is the exact ayn^l 
of its Peo]:Je, with their wisdom and unwiadom ; 
we have to say. Like People like GoTemment. — 
The main lubstaoce of this immetise Problem <i 
Organising Labour, and £rat of all of Managiag the 
Working Classes, will, it b rery clear, have to be 
solved fa^ those who stand practically in the middle 
of it i 1^ tbose who themselves work and preside 
over work. Of all that can be enacted by any 
Parliament b regard to it, the germa must akeady 
lie potentially extant in those two. Classes, who are 
to obey such enactment. A Hamaa Chaoa in which 
there is no light, you vainly aoempt to irradiate b( 
Ijgbt shed on it : order never can arise there. 

I But it is aay firm conviction that the * Hell of 
England ' will ceaie to be that of ' not making 
money ; ' that we sball get a nobler Hell and a 
nobler Heaven ! I anticipate light m the Hiunao 



CAfThUtS OP mOUSTRY 3JJ 

Chaos, glinuueriag, riiiung mare and more ; under Tha 
nuoifold true nguli-inim withoot Tbai li^ jhaH "*" 
ihiae. Onr deity no longer being Mammoa, — O 5^*^ 
Heavens, each man will then say to himself: "Why 
such deadly haste to make money I I shall not go 
to Hell, even if I do not make mooey I There is 
anotber Hdi, I >m told! " CoInpetitioI^ at rail- 
wayapeed, id all branches of commerce and work 
will then abate: — good ielt-bats im the head, in 
nery sense, instead of seven-feet lath-and-plaater 
hin on wheels, will then be discoTcrable I Bubble- j 
periods, with their panics and commercial cfises, will I 
again become infrequent ; steady modest induau'y I 
will take the place of ganibliDg ipeculaticm. To be 
a noble Master, among nable Workers, will again 
be the first ambition with wMne few ; to be a rich 
Master only the second. How the Inveuive Genius 
of England, with the whirr of its bobtnn* and UUy- 
ToUers shoved somewhat into the backgrounds of the 
brain, will cootnTe and devise, not cheaper produce 
exdonvety, but fairer distribution of the prodace at 
its present cheiqiitesi! By degreas, we shall ^aint 
have a Society with something of Hermsm in itj 
something of Heaven's Blessing on it ; we shalP 
again have, as my German friend asserts, ' instead 
'of Mammon- Fnidalism with unsold cotton-shirts 
' and Preservatioo of the Game, nobte just ladiw- 
' trialinn and GovoiuneK by the Wisest 1 ' 

It is with the hope of awakening bete and tb«K 
I British man to know himself tor a man and divine 
out, that a few words c^ parting adroonitioa, to all 
lersoas to whom the Heavenly Powers have lent 
lower of aay kind in this land, may now be ad- 
IresMd. And first to those same Master-Workers, 
readers of Industry ; who stand nearest aod in but 



NflU- fom afv iin t, though not imut promincfU, being u 
Iitr.«tf yn in too nunT Kom t Virtnalkv raUicr dun u . 

1 The. Leaden of IndMiry, if Indnwy ii e«er to j 
ILe led, are rinuall^ the Captoiiu of the World ; if | 
there be no noblenest in them, there will nerar be 
an AriKocracy more. Bot let the Captaina of 
Induiuy conaider : oace again, are thra born t/ ^ 
other clay than the old Captuns of Slaoghteti 
doomed forever to be no Chivalry, but a men 
gold-fdated Doggrry, — what the French well name , 
CwtmSt, ' Doggei7 ' with more or leu gold carrioa | 
at iu disposal i Captaiiw of IndnEtry are the true j 
Fighters, henceforth recogrisaUe as the only true | 
one* : Fighteri against Cbaoi, Necessity aod the 
Devils and Jotuni; and lead on Mankind iu that i 
great, and alone trne, and unirerial warfare ; the ' 
sUui in their conrset iighting for them, and all 
Heaven and all Earth laying audibly, Well done! I 
Let the Captains of Indnstiy retire into their owt ' 
fiearts, and ask icdemnly, If there is nothing ba 
trulturons hunger, for fine wines, valet reputation 
and gilt carriages, discoverable there i Of heaitt 
made by the Almighty God I will not believe nidi 
a thing. Dee^hidden under wretebedeM: god- 
forgeiting Cants, EpicorisniB, Dead-Sea A|Jsnw; 
forgotten aa under foulest ftt Lethe mad and weedi, 
there i* yet, in all hearts boni into this God'i- 
World, a spark of the Godlike slumbering. Awakt, 
nightmare keepers ; awake, arise, at be ferem 
faHen i This is tiot playhouse poetry; it is a^xf 
fact. OuF England, our world caonot live as it is. 
It will connect itself with a God again, or go down 
with namelen throes and fire-conaommatioa to the 



CAPTAINS OF INDUSTRY 337 



J 



DcTilh ■ Thoa who feelest aught of such a God- i 
like nining in dice, any faiotert in^madoD of it u i 
throogh hcBTy-ladm dreams, follow (/, I coajnre S.^^ 
thee. Arise, save thyaelf, be one of those that save ^ 
thy country. 

Bncanien, Chactaw Indians, whose auprerae um 
in fighting is that they may get the scalps, the 
money, that they may amasa scalps and money : out 
of such came no Chivah'y, and never will ! Out 
of such came only gore and wreck, infernal rage 
and misery ; deaperation quenched in annihilation. 
Behold it, I bid thee, behold there, and consider ! 
What is it that thon hare a hnndred thonsaad-pound 
biUi laid-np in thy strong-room, a hundred scalps 
hung-ap in thy wigwam? I valne not them or 
thee. Thy scaipe and thy thousand-pound bills are 
aa yet DOthbg, if no nobleness from within irradiate 
them ; if no Chivalry, in action, or in embryo ever 
straggling towards Im'th and action, be there. 

Love of men camiot be bought by cash-payment; 
and without love men cannot eodore to be togetho-. 
Von cannot lead a Fighting World without having 
it regimented, chivalriai : the thing, in a day, be- 
comes impossible t all men in it, the highest at first, 
the very lowest at last, discern conscionsly, or by a 
DoUe instinct, this necessity. And can yon any 
more continue to lead a Working World uniegi- 
mented, anarchic ? I answer, and the Heavens 
and Earth are now answering, No I The thing 
becomes not * in a day ' impossible ; but in some 
two generations it does. Yes, when lathers and 
mothers, in Stockport honger-cellars, begin to eat 
their ckil^en, and Irish widows have to prove 
their relationship by dying of typhns-iever ; and 
amid Governing < Corporations of- the Best and 



J3S IV HOROSCOPS 

Tbe BnTCBt,' busy to premrE their game by ' bndiiiig,' 

ChiiN j^^ millioiu of Cod'* hnnuii creatuns curt ep in 

^7^ mad ChartitmB, impracticable Sacred-Mmtha, and 

^nH Uie MancfacEtcr IiwiuTcisioiu; — and there is a virtual 

Chir- Industrial Aristocracy as yet only half-alir^ ipell- 

•IfT of bound amid mmwy-bags uid ledgers; and an actual 

Fi^ht- i^ Aristocracy seemingly near dead m soannoleot 

delurioQB, in trespaaaei and doable-barrels ; < sliding,' 

a* on incliDed-planea, which every nev year tbtf 

loap with new Hamard'i-jargon midef God's sk], 

and io are 'sliding,' erer faster, towards a 'scale' 

and bahoce-acale whereon is written Thmt ori _^uiJ 

Wm^g : — in fuch days, after a generation or two, 

I say, it does become, even to the low and lim]^ 

*ery palpably impossible ! No Working World, 

Vany more than a Fighting World, can be led on 

jwithout a noble Chivalry of Wo'k, and laws and i 

Eiced rules which follow out of diat,— ^ nobler I 

than any Chivalry of Fighting was. As an anarchic 

multitude on mere Si^ply-and>deiBand, it ia be- 1 

coming inevitable that we dwindle in honid swctda' 

convulsion and self-abrasion, frightful to the imagia- 

ation, into. Cbaclirw Worksrs. Wtd wigwams and 

scalps,. — with palaces and tfaonsand-ponndhtUa; with 

savagery, depopnlatioD, diaouc deaolatioB ! Good 

Heavens, will not one French Revolntion and | 

Reign of Terror suffice us, but mnst then be two .' 

• There- will be two if needed ; there will be twenty ' 

if needed t tbere will be precisely as many as an 

needed. The Laws of Nature will have themaelva I 

folBlled. That is a thing certain to me. ' 

Yoar gallant batde-hosts and wwk-hoata, aa the 

others did, will need to be made loyally yoora ; [bey 

mnst and will be regulated, methodically secnred in 

their jutt Amt of conquest under yon; — ^joined 



CAPTAinS (BP IHBUSt^RY i» 

with ygn m Tcrkable brotfamhood, aonbooiL by quitt Iwt*- 
ocber and deeper ties than thtwe of Kmjea^ tfa/* ^*T 
wages ! How wouW. mere red-coaled regimeirt^ »" !•" 
say nothing of chivalries, £ght ibr yoo, if yoa c 
discharge them on the evening of the battle, od [ 
ment of the atipalated shillings, — and they disdMT^ 
yoa on the moroing ^ it 1 Chelsea HosjHtals, pen-X 
sioDB, promotions, ligorouB lasting covenant on the 
one side aad on the other, are iodispens^Ie even for 
a hired fighter. The Feudal Baron, much mote,— 
how cooid he subsist with mere temporary mn'- 
cenaries round him, at sixpence- a day; ready togo 
over to the other side, if Bevenpence were offBTed J 
He could not have Bubsiited ; — and his noble instioct 
saved him' from the necessity of even trying I The 
Feudal Baron had a Man's Soul in him; to which 
anarchy, mnciny, and the other fruits of temaovary 
mercenaries! were intolerable : he had.ne*er been a 
Baron otherwise, but bad continued a Chactsw and 
Bucanier. He felt it precious, and at last it bceanr 
h^ntual, and his frukfol enlarged exMence indaderf 
it as a necenity, to have men round him who in 
heart loved him ; whose life he watched over with 
rigour yet with love ; who were prepared to give 
their life for him-, if need came. It was beautifiil ; 
it was hiHnan ! Man lives not otherwise, vat cott 
live contoited, anywhere or anywhen. Isolation is 
the sum-tetal of wretchedness to nnn. To be cut! 
off*, to be left solitary ; to hare a wtnkl alien^'mt 
your world; all a hostile camp for you; not a 
home at all, of hearts and faces who are yonrst 
whose you are 1 It is tbe £nghtfnlcBt enchantment ; 
too tndy a work of t^ft Evil Om. To have nother 
BQpcrior, nor inferior, nor equal, united maDlike- to 
you^ Witbont&ther, without child, wtdionhiotkea 



»S rv HOROSCOPS 

Tbe Bravest,' B no nddcr dntio^. ' How i* each of 

■ 9*"]^ dark mtunw Jean Pad, ' m> lonely in the wide 

^^ mad y of the All ! * Encased each aa in his 

and the M^iarent ' ice-palace t ' our brodier TisiUe io hii, 

Chir- Iciag lignala and geiticolationa to iw ; — viuble, but 

^7^'^.ieTer unattainable : on his bosom we shall nerei 

'^Veft, nor he on onra. It waa not a God that M- 

this; no I 

Awake, ye noble Workers, warrion m the one 
tnie war t all this nnut be remedied. It ia you who 
are already half-alive, whom I will welcome into 
lift ; whom I will conjure, in God's name, to shake 
off your eochanted sleep, and live wholly! Cease 
to count scalps, gold-purses; not in these lies your 
or our aalTation. Eren these, if you count onij 
these, will not long be left. Let bucaniering be put 
far from yon ; alter, speedily alvogate all laws of 
the bncaniers, if yov would gain any victory that 
shall endure. Let God's justice, let {»ty, noblenesa 
and manly valour, with more gold-purses or with 
fewer, testify themselfes in this your brief Life- 
tratmtt to all the Eternities, the Oods and Silences. 
It is to ycHi I call ; for ye are not dead, ye are 
already hatf.'-alive : there is in you a sleepless daunt- , 
less enet^, the ptinie-mattet of all nobleiiesa in man. 
Honour to yon in your. kind. It is to yon I call : 
lye know at least this. That the mandate of God to 
IHis creature man is : Wo^ ! The ftiture Epic of 
the Wwkl rests not with those that are near dead, 
but with those that are alire, and those that are 
craning into Kfe. 

Look around yon. Your world-hosts are all in 
mutiny, in confusion, destitution ; on the eve of 
liery wreck and madoess ! They will not march 
brther for yon, on the sixpence a day and snpply- 



CAPTAINS OF INDUSTRY 141 

and-dnaand jjciaciple : they wiil not ; nor ought The 
tbey, oar can they. Ye shall reduce them to order, orsm- 
begiu reducing thein. To order, to just lubordina- S?S?^ 
tionj no ble loyalty m return for noble guidance. 
Their souw are driven nigh mad ; let yours be aaoe 
and ever laiier. Not as a bewildered bewildering 
mob; but as a £rm regimented nuaa, with real cap- 
tains over them, will these men march any more. 
All human interests, combined human eodeavonn, 
and social growths in this world, have, at a certain 
stage of their development, re<]uired organiiingi and 
Work, the grandest of human interesta, does now 

God knows, the task will be hard : but no noblel 
task was ever easy. This task will wear away yout^ 
lives, and the livea of your ions and grandsons 1 bat 
for what purpose, if not for tasks like this, were 
livea given to men ? Ye shall cease to count your 
thous^id-pound scalps, the noble of you shall cease! 
Nay the very scalps, as I say, wilt not long be left 
if you count only these. Ye shall cease wholly to 
be barbarous vulturous Chactaws, and become noble 
European Nineteenth -Century Men. Ye shall know 
that Mammon, in never such gigs and flunky 're- 
spectabilities,' is not the alone God ; that of himself 
be is bnt a Devil, and even a Brute-god. 

Difficult; Yes, it will be difficult. The short- j 
fibre cbuon j that too was difHculL The waste 
cotton-shrub, long useless, disobedient, as the thistle 
by the wayside, — have ye not conquered it ; made 
it into beautiful bandana webs ; white woven shirts 
for men ; bright-tinted air-garments wherein flit 
goddesses? Ye have shivered mountains asunder, 
made the hard iron pliant to you as soft putty : the 
Forest-giants, Marsh-jStuns bear sheaves of golden- 



34» IV 

Ho grain ; S.^ the .Sea>deinon binaidf atretckea hit 
Oiffi- b»ck fcr a (leek highway to yos, ud on Firr- 
°~^1"' horaet and WukUuh-ks ye career. Ye are most 
j^j itiwng. Thor red-bearded, -with his blue soa-eyes, 
with hia cheery heart and nroDg thunder-hammn, 
he and you have prevuled. Ye are most ttrong, 
ye Sons of the icy North, of the &r East, — far 
mwching from your rugged Eaitem WilderoCHef, 
hkberward irom the gray Dawn of Time ! Yc 
are Sons of die yiiAn^-land; the land of Difiicnliiej 
CoD^oeFed. Difficult? You must try thia tfaii^. 
Once try it with the underttaDdiog that it will and 
ahall have to be done. Tiy it as ye try the paltrier 
thing, making of mooey ! I will bet oa yon once 
more, against all J6ttuia,Tailor-goda, Oonble-barrdted 
Law-wardi, and Denizeas of Qiaos iriiatioeTn I 



Obaptet V 

rEKMAHEHCB 

STANDING CO the ibreshold, nay as yet ontrade 
the thrediold, of a ' Chivalry of Labour,' and 
an immeasuraUe Futare which it it to fill with fiuk- 
fulneai and verdant shade ; where «o much haa not 
yet come erea to the rudimestal state, and all ^eecb 
of positive enactmenu were hazardous in those who 
know this business only by the eye, — let us here bint 
at amply one widest Dniveraal principle, as the basia 
from wbkh all n'gsniBatian hitherto hat grown up 
amoHg BKB, and all hen(ieii9rth wU have to ^ow : 



PERMANENCE m 

The principle of PsSiaii£aL-diat£aa.JastSAd.^sLEamMr. 
Tempo rary. n«t not 

PefroanCDt Dot Temporary: — you do not hire the ^^ 
mere redcoated fighter by the day, but by the score tracts 
of years ! Pennaoeoce, persistence is the Gnt con-i 
dition of all fruitfiilneaa id the ways of men, Thel 
' tendency to penevere,' to petBist in spite of 
hiadrancea, discouragementa and ' impoaaibiiities :' 
it is thia that in all things distinguiabes the strong 
Hwl from the wealc ; the civilised burgher from the 
nomadic MTsge, — the Species Man from the Genus 
Ape I The Nomad has hi* very house set on 
wheels; dw Nomad, and io a still higher degree the 
Ape, are all for ' liberty ; ' the privilege to %t con- 
tiiuially is iiuiispensable for them. Alas, in how 
many ways, does our hrnnour, in this swift-rolling, 
self-abrading Time, show itself oomadic, apelike ; 
mournful enough to him that looks on it with eyes ! 
This humour will have to abate ; it is the first 
element of all fertility in human things, that such 
■ liberty ' of apes and oomads do by freewill or con- 
straint abridge itself give place to a better. The 
civilised man lives not in wheeled booseB. He 
builds stone casdes, plants lands, makes lifelong 
marriage-contracts ; — has long-dated hundred-fold 
possessiooi, not to be valued in the money-market; 
has pedigrees, librariet, law-codes; has memories 
and hopes, even for this Earth, that reach over 
thousands of years. Lifelong marriage- contracts ; 
how much preferable were year-long or month-long 
~— to the nomad or ape 1 

Month-long contracts please me little, in any 
proTiDce where there can by possibility be found 
virtue enoi^ for more. Month-long c ' 



J44 IV HOROSCOPE 

Efila of iH)t answer well eren with your hotw^-Krvuia ; tbe 
T«m- liberty oa both eidet to change every month U 
P*5*2[ gfoviag very apelike, nomadic ; — and I hear philo- 
ti^CtM *(^^B predict that it will alter, or that etrange 
reaultB will follow : that wise men, pestered with 
nomads, with unattached erer-shifiing spies and 
' enemies rather than friends and servants, will gndu* 
ally, weiglung substance agiiiiMt semblance, with 
tndigoation, dismiss such, down almost to the vei^ 
shoeblack, and say, " Begone ; I will serve mysdi 
rather, and have peace ! " Gurth was hired for life 
to Cedric, and Cedric to Gurth. O Anti-Shvery 
Convention, loud-sounding long-cared Exeter-Hall 
— But in thee too is a kind of instinct toward* 
justice, and I will complain of nothing. Only 
black Qusshee over the seae being Mice sufGciently 
attended to, wilt thou not perhaps open diy dull 
Eodden eyes to the 'sixty-thousand valets in London 
' itself who are yearly dismissed to the streets, to 
' be what they can, when the season ends ; '—or to 
the hunger-Btricken, pallid, j^/ow-coloured * Fret 
Labourer! ' in Lanca^ire, Yorkshire, Buckinghatn- 
shire, and all other shires ! These Yellow-colourtd, 
for the present, absorb all my sympathies: if I had 
a Twenty Millions, with Model-Farms and Niger 
Expeditions^ it is to these that I would give it ! 
Qtushee has ah^ady victuals, clothing ; Quasbee ii 
not dying of such despair as the yellow-coloured pak 
man's. Quashee, it must be owned, is hitherto i 
kind of blockhead. The Haiti Duke of Marmalade, 
educated itav for almost half a century, seemi to 
have next to no sense in him. Why, in ooe of 
those Lancashire Weavers, dying of hunger, there 
is more thought and heart, a gream arithmeticti 
jgmom of misery 31^ desperation, t)mi in vhole 



i 



PERBIANENCE sK 

gaoga of Quaabeet. It muct be owned, thy eyea Eduoi- 
are of the wddcD sort ; and with thy enuncipatioiu, ^to* *»<' 
stad thy twenty-milliomnga and long-eaied clamour- ^t"** 
ingSf thou, like Robespierre with his paste-board 
£tre Supreme, tbreateoett to become a bore to ua ; 
^■uec tea Eire Supreme hi commttitu m'embeUr! — 

In a Printed Sheet of the ataiduous, much-abiued, 
and truly useful Mr. Cliadwick's, containing i]U«in 
and re«p<Mues from far and near ai to this great 
qiiestkin, *What ia the effect of education on 
' working-men, in respect of their value as mere 
' workers i ' the present Editor, reading «ith satis- 
faction a decisjie unanimous verdict as to Education, 
reads with inexpressible interest this special remark, 
put in by way of mar^nal incidental note, &om a 
practical niannfaclurii^ Quaker, whom, as he is 
anonymoas, we will call Friend Prudence. Pru- 
dcQCe keeps a thousand workmen ; has strivea in 
all ways to attach them to him; has provided 
coDTcrsational smrees; play-grounds, bands of music 
for the young ones { went even * the length of buy- 
ing them a drum ; ' all which has turned oat to be 
aa excellent investment. For a cenain perstm, 
marked here by a black stroke, whom we shall 
name Blank, living over the way, — he also keeps 
somewhere about a thousand men ; but has done 
none of these things for them, nor any other thing, 
except due payment of the wages by su^y-aod- 
demand. Blank's workers are peqietually getting 
into mutiny, into broils and coils : every six months, 
we suppose. Blank has a strike j every one month, 
every day and every hour, they are fretting and 
obstructing the shortsighted Blank ; pilfering from 
hini( W4stiog and idling for him,, omitting and com- 



j46 IV HOROSCOPE | 

Tbe miKinf for bkm. " i vosld aot," tayi Friend 
Qiunvl Prndence, "exchange my workers tor hia •uiiii' 

"'^^/Mifli tbouiaMd founJU to boot." ^ 

jg^ Right, O honourable Prodence; thou art wholly 

Units in the right: Seven thonsuid poinds even as i 
matter of profit for this woHd, nay for the mere 
caBh-market of this world ! And as a matter of 
profit sot for this world only, but for the other 
world and all worlds, it outwdghs the Bank d ^ 
England ! — Can the sagacioiu r«der descry hen, 
aa it were the ontnwMt toconsidcrabfe rock-ledge of 
a univeraal rock- foundation, deep once more as the 
Centre of the World, emerging so, in the experi- 
ence of this good Quaker, throDgh the Stygian 
mnd-vortexea and general Mother of Dead Dogs, 
whereon, for the present, all swags and insecurriy 
hoTCTB, as if ready to be swallowed ? 

Some Permanence of Contract is already almost 
poasible ; the principle of Poinanence, year by year, 1 
better seen into and elaborated, may enlarge itself 
expand gradually on erery side into a avnem. Tim : 
once secured, the basis of all good renuts were laid. | 
Onoe permatient, you do not <]iuu'ret with the firKJ 
difficuTty on your path, and quit it in weak disgust; 
you reflect that it cannot be quitted, that it must be 
cooquered, a wise arrasgemcnt fallen on with regard 
to it. Ye foolish Wedded Two, who have quar- 
relled, between whom the Evil Spirit has stirred-up 
traosient strife and bitterness, so that 'incompao-, 
bslity ' seems almost nigh, ye are neverthetecs tht] 
Two who, by long habit, were it by nothing nuxt, 
do best of all others suit each other : it is expedioit 
&x your own two foolish selves, to say noibing of 

> X^iH a* lit TnUnhg if Faufer CUldrai (lifl), p. |3. 



PERMANENCE 347 

the idkots, padigreet and pnUic u) general, that ye The 
Bgree again f that ye pat away the Evil Spirit, and Bless- 
wisely on both haoda Rtruggle for the guidance of a pS,^ 
Good Spirit! nence 

The very haise that ig permanent, bow much 
iiDdlier do his ridef and he work, than the tem- 
poiary one, hired on any hack principle yet known 1 
1 am for permanence in all tbiaga, at the earliest/ 
poesifcJe moment, and to the latest possible. Bleesed/ 
it he that continueth \rtiere he is. Here let us rest,' 
aod lay-out seedfidda ; here let us leam to dwelL 
Here, even here, the orchards that we pla&t will 
yield va fruit ; the acoras will be wood and pleaaant 
umbrage, if we wait. How much grows every' 
where, if we do but widt ! Through the swamps 
we will shape cauaewaya, force purifying draius ; 
we will leam to thread the rocky inaccessibilities ; 
and beaten tracks, worn smooth by mere travelling 
of human feet, wilt form themselves. Not a t^fficulty 
bat can transfigure itself into a triumph ; not even a 
defMrnity but, if oar own soul have imprinted worth 
on it, will grow dear to ua. The sunny plains and 
deep indigo tranaparenc akies of Italy are all indif- 
ferent to the great sick heart of a Sir Walter Scottt 
on the back of the Apennines, in wild spring weather, 
the sight of Ueak Scotch £rs, and snow-spotted 
heath aod desolation, brings tears into his eyes.^ 

O UBWtse mortals that' forever change and shift, 
and say. Yonder, not Here ! Wealth richer than 
both the Indies lies everywhere for roan, if be will 
endure. Not his oaks only and his fruit-trees, hia 
very heart roots itself wherever he will abide ; — 
roots itself, draws nourishment Irom the deep foun- 
uins of Universal Being ! Vagrant Sam-Slicks, who 
• Locfchan'i Ljfi <f Sim. 



]4t IV HOROSCOPE 

what roTC otct the Eaitb doing ' atrokea of uade,' what 
Um wealth have they i Hwieloadi, tbiploacU of whitr. 

"'^''^or yellow metal: in very sootb, what are these i 
Slick re«ta nowhere, he is homeless. He can build i 
stone or marble houses ; but to contioue in them ii i 
denied him. The g aalllL of ^ i"'" " the nuinbet I 
of things which he IfiTea^iyi |il; |fe fc wliirh hr Tt! 
^'hrrRtandTjIeBsedTiyT The herdsman in his poor 
clay ahealing, wheVe'^i very cow and dag iir 
ftitnda to him, and not a cataract but canict 
memories £>r him, and not a mowit^-top but nods 
old recogmtion : his lifi:, all encircled as in blessed 
mother" B-arms, is it poorer than Slick's with the 
ass>loads of yellow metal on his back ! Unhappy 
Slick ! Alas, there has so much grown nomadic, I 
apelike, with us : so much will have, with wbatever , 
pain, repugnance uid ' impossitnlity,' to altet itself, 
to fix itself again — in some wise way, in any noi 
delirious way ! I 

A question arises here : Whether, in mat 
ultericx', perhaps some not far-diitant stage of thit ' 
* Chivalry of Labour,' your Master-Worker may 
not find . it possible, and need&l, to grant hii i 
Worken permanent inlerat in his enterprise and I 
theirs ? So that it become, in practical result, what i 
in essential h.a and justice it ever is, a joint enter- ! 
prise I all men, from Uie Chief Master down to the ' 
lowest Overseer SoA Operative, economically ai 
well as loyally concerned for it i — Which questiv 
I do not answer. The answer, near or else &r, ii 

Khaps, Yes ; — and yet one knows the difficulties, 
spotism is essential in most enterprises ; I am ' 
told, they do not tolerate 'freedom ckF debate' oa 
board a Seventy-four ! RepubUnm senate and Mb- 



'-1 



TRB LANDED m 

Hicila would not anawer well in Cotton-Milts. The 
And yet obBerve there too : Freedom, not ooinad'i *^^T 
M ape's Freedom, but man's Freedom; this i» in- Jiier*^ 
diipensable. We mut have it, and will have it ! ^)^ 
To reconcile DcBpotism with Freedom : — well, is 
that auch a myacerji ! Do you not already know 
the way ? It is to make your Deepotism piiK 
RJgorous as Destiny ; but juat too, as Destiny and ^ 
its Laws. The Laws of God : all men obey ' 
^lue, and have no ' Freedom ' at alt hixt in obey- 
ing diem. The way is already known, part of 
the way ; — and courage and some qualities are 
Deeded for walking on it ! 



A MAN with fifty, with five hundred, with a 
thousand pounds a day, gi^n him freely, 
rithODt condition at all, — on condition, as. it now 
rims, that he will rit with his hands in his packets 
ind da no mischi^, pass no Com^Lawa or liie like, 
~-he too, you would say, is or might be a rather 
itrong Worker ! He is a Worker with such tools 
u no man in this world ever before had. But in 
xactice, T«y astotiishing, very ominous to look at, 
■e proves not a strong Worker ; — you are too 
lappy if he will prove but a No-worker, do nothing, 
md not be a Wrong-worker. 

You ask lum, at tl»e year's end: "Where is 
^our three- hundred thousand poond ; what have 
rou realised to us with thatf ' He anewers, ia 



TTie indignant Nrprite : " Dooc with it ! Who an 

Cone yon that ask ! I hcve eaten it ; I and my flunkies^ 

*™'^ and parasites, md skvea two-footed and foor-footed, 

PfOf^ in an ornamnital manoer ; and I am bere alire b;^ 

it ; /am realised by it to you ! " — It is, as wc 

have oiten sud, such an answer as was never befwe 

given mider this Sun. An answer that fills me 

with boding aptn^ension, with foreshadowi of 

despair. O stolid Use-and-wont of an aAeiioc 

Hatf-ceotury, O IgaiTia, Tailor-godhood, soii- 

killing Cant, to what passes art thou bringing us 1 — 

Out of the lond-mping whirlwind, andtbly to him 

that has ears, the Highest God is again anaovKing 

in these days : " Idleness shall not be." God has 

said it, man cannot gainsay. 

Ah, how happy were it, if he this Aristocrat 
Worker would, in like moaner, see hit work and do 
it ! It is frightfiil seeking anothn' to do it for him. 
Gnillounes, Meudon Tanneries, and half-a-million 
men shot dead, have already been expended in tbv 
basinets ; and it is yet far ftom done. This ma 
too is something i nay he is a great tbh^. Look 
on him there : a man of manfiil aspect ; soinetfaiog 
of the 'cheerfulness of pride' still lingering in him. 
A free ail of gracefiil swicism, of easy silent dignity 
sits weU on him. ; in his heart, could we reach it, he 
elements of generosity, self-sacrificiDg justice, true 
human valour. Why should he, viiti such apfli- 
aaces, stand an incumts^nce in the IVesent ; periA 
disastroDsly out of the Futurel From no sectiM 
of the Future would we lose these noble courtesiei, 
impalpable yet all-controlling j these dignilied re- 
dcences, these kingly simplicities; — bie aught of 
what the fruitful Past still gives us token of, 
nMmento of, in this man. Can we nM save him : — 



; 



THE LANDED 3J1 

can be not help in to aave him ! A brave iTMn, he The 
loo; had not uodivine IgDavia, Hearsay, Speech L«»Ad 
without meanmg, — had Dot Cant, thousandfold Cant ^^^ , 
within him and around him, envelopiRg him like Lud- 
choke-damp, like thick Egyptian darkncM, thrown les* 
bis loui into aaphyxta, aa it were extingoished hie 
Mnl ; so that be aee« doi, bean do^ iud Moses and 
all the Prophets address him in vain. 

Will he awaken, be alive again, and haTC a sou) ; 
n is tbis death-fit very death i It is a queation of 
questicmK, for himself and for ns all ! Alas, is 
there no noble work for this man too ? Has not he 
thickheaded ignorant boors j hzyienalaved tanners, 
weedy lands i Lands I Has not he weary heavy- 
laden plougbere of land ; immortal souls of men, 
plougbiDg, ditching, day-drudging ; bare of back, 
empty of stomach, nigh desperate of heart; and 
none peaceably to help them but he, under Heaven ? 
Does he find, with bis three-bundred thousand 
jxmnds, no noble thing trodden down in the 
thorongh&res, which it were godlike to help up ? 
Can he do itothing for his Bums but make a Gauger 
of him ; honise htm, bedinner him, for a foolish 
vhile ; then whistle him dotni the wind, to desper- 
ation and bister death i — His work too is difficult, 
b these modem, far-dislocated ages. Bat it may 
be done; it may be tried; — it must be done. 

A modem Duke of Weimar, not a god he 
either, but a human duke, levied, as I reckon, in 
rents and taxes and all incomings whatsoeveri less 
than several of onr English Dukes do in rent alone. 
The Duke of Weimar, with these incomiage, 'had 
to govers, judge, deiend, everyway administer hU 
Dukedom. He does alt this a* tew others did: 
and-lie improve* lands bcsideaalt dais,. makes river- 



jj« IV HOROSCOPB 



Tke embaokiDciiU, nutntaiiu not toldien onlj but Uni- 
Greftt - - - 

iike<rf 



Jjbut L 

Gfi TerntiM and lastitntioiM ; — and in his Court u 

^J^ tbMC four men : Wieland, Herder, Schiller, Goedit 
Not as paruiies, which was impossible ; not m 
taUe-wits and poetic Katerieltoes ; bat as noble 

rnal Men working onder a noble Practice 
Shielded by him from many miseries; peifaipti 
Irom many ■h<McDiiiingi, deatroctiTC aberratiou.. 
Heaven bad sect, once mwe, heaTcniy Light into: 
the world ; atd this nun'* honour was that he gava 
' it welcome. A new noble luod of Clergy, nnterl 
an old but sull noUe kind of King I I reckoal 
that this one Duke c^ Weimar did m<Ke for thcl 
Culture of his Nation than all the English Duko^ 
and JDncti now extant, or that were extant since 
Henry the Eighth gave them the Church Lands tm 
eat, have done for thdrs! — I am Euhamed, I am 
alarmed for my English Dukes : what word have 1^ 
to aay ? | 

// our Actual Aristocracy, appointed < Best-andi] 
Bravest,' will be wise, how tnexpressiUy happy foii 
UB ! If not, — the voice of God from the whirl- 
wind is very audible to me. Nay, I will thank th<{ 
Great God, that He has said, in whatever fearful 
ways, and htt wrath against us, " Idleness shall be 
no morel ' Idleness f TJie awakened "ool of 
man, all bnt the asphysied soul of man, tnnu fixnq 
it as from worse than death. It is the Ufe-in-death 
of Poet Coleridge. That fable of the Dead-Sea 
Apes ceases to be a &ble. The poor Worker 
starved to death is not the saddest of Hghts. He 
lies there, dead on his shidd ; feUen down into the 
bosom of his old Mother ; with haggard pale &ce, 
sorrow-wem, but lUUed now into divine peace, 
silently appeals to the Eternal God and all the 



THE UUTDED 15J 

JniTcrse, — the most aileotr the mon eloquent of He 
Hen. Who 

Exceptions, — ah yes, thank Heaven, we know ^S" 
here are exceptions. Our case were too hard, ),{, 
rere there not exceptions, and partial excntions Order 
IOC a few, whom we know, and wham we do not 
Jiow. Honour to the name of Ashley, — honour 
» this and the other valiant Abdiel, found faithful 
till ; who would fain, by work and by word, 
dmoniEh their Order not to rush upon destrucuon ! 
These are they who will, if not save their Order, 
wstpone the wreck of it i — l^ whwn, under bksa- 
ig of the Upper Powers, *r quiet eutfaaoasia 
spread over generatioDS, instead of a swift torture- 
death conceiKred into years,' may be brought about 
or many things. All. honour and success to these. 
The noble man can still strive nt^ly to sa?e and 
erve his Order ; — at lowest, he can remember the 
«eept of the Prophet : *' Come out of her, my 
eople ; come out of her ! " 

To ut idle aloft, like living statues, like absui^ 
ipicnroa'-gods, in pampered isolation, in exclusion 
rom the glorioua fateful battlefield of this God's- 
Vorld : it is a poor life for a man, when all 
Jpholsterers and French-Cooks have done their 
tmoat for it ! — Nay what a shallow delunnn is this 
re have all got into, That any man should or can 
eep himself apart from men, have * no business ' 
'ith them, except a cash-account 'business' ! It 
I the silliest t^e a distressed gen«'auoa of men 
ver toc^ to telling one another. Men cannot live 
solated : we are all bound together, for mutual good 
IT else for mutual misery, as living Dervea in the 
ame body. No highest man can disunite himself 



554 IV HOROSCOPE 

Han'* from any lowcEt. Consider k. Your poor * Werwr 
W«r- •blowing out hisdwU'actcdexiBtencebecauBeCharloTO 
"^■^'wiil not have the keeping thereof:' this is i» 
peculiar phasit ; it is simply the highest expreasion 
of a phasis traceable wherever one hnman creature 
meets another ! Let die meanen ciookbacked 
Thersites teach the supremest Agamemmn that he 
actually does not reTcrence him, the nipremea 
AgamemDon's cyea flash fire responsive; a real pm . 
and partial insanity has seized Agamemnon. Strange 
enough : ■ many-comiselled Ulysses is set in motion 
by a Bcoundrei -blockhead ; plays tunes, like a barrel- 
organ, at the scoundrel-blockhead's touc^, — has to 
snatch, namely, his sceplre-cudgel, and weal the 
crooked back with bumpa and thumps i Let a 
chief of rneti reflect well on it. Not in having *no 
business ' with men, but in having no unjust busineu . 
with them, and in having all manner of true and ' 
just bosineeB, can either his or their tJessedneta be i 
ifoond possible, and this waste world become, fw I 
both particB, a home and peopled garden. ! 

/ Men do reverence men. Men do worship in 
that 'one temple of the world,' as Novalts calls it, i 
Lthe Presence of a Man 1 Hero-worship, true and 
Ibiesscd, or else mistaken, &lse and accnrsed, goes on 
leverywhere and everywhen. In this worid there is 
lone godlike thing, the essence of all that was or ever 
will be of godlike in this workl : die veneration doiM \ 
to Human Worth by the hearts of men. Hero- 
worship, in the souls of the heroic, of the clear and! 
wise, — it is the perpenial presence of Heaven in our I 
poor Earth i when it ii not there, Heaven is | 
veiled from us ; and all is under Heaven's ban and 
interdict, and there is no worship, or worth-ship, m 
Worth or blessedness in the Earth any morel — ' 



THE LANDED ' 35$ 

Indepencfence, ' lord of the lioD'-heart and eagle- Inde- 
eye,' — atu, yee, he is one we have got acquainted P«»d- 
with in theae late times ; a very indispensable one, *''^* 
for spoming-ofF with due energy innumerable aham- 
superiors. Tailor-made : honour to him, entire 
succCH to him ! Entire success is sure to him. 
But he must not stop there, at that small succeu, 
with his eagle-eye. He has now a second far 
greater success to gain ; to seek out his real superiors, 
whom Dot the Tailor but the Almighty God has 
made mperior to him, and see a little what he mil 
do with these! Rebel against theae also? Past 
by with minatory eagle-glance, with calm-sniflnig 
mockery, or even without any mockery or sniir, 
when these present themselves ? The lion-hearted 
will never dream of such a thing. Forever fat be 
it from him 1 His minatory eagle-glance will veil 
itself in softness of the dove ; his lion-heart will 
become a lamb's t all its just indignation changed 
ioto just reverence, dissolved in blessed floods of 
DotJe humble love, how much heavenlier than any 
pride, nay, if you will, how much jx-ouder ! I 
know him, ^is lion-hearted, eagle-eyed one ; have 
met him, rushing on, < with bosom bare,' in a very 
diMracted dishevelled manner, the times being hard ; 
— and can say, and guarantee on ray life. That in 
him is no rebellion; that in him is the reverse of 
rebellion, the neediiil preparation for obedience. 
For if you do mean to obey God-made superiors, 
your first step is to sweep out the Tailor-made ones; 
order them, under penalties, to vanish, to make 
ready for vanishing ! 

my, what ia best of all, he cannot rebel, if he 
would. Superiors whom God has made for us we 
cannot ordn- to withdraw ! Not in the Icait, No 



iS6 IV «<»tOSCOPE 

God- Gnad-Turk himtelf, tiiicken-tpiilted ttilof-mwh 
Given Brother of the Sun and Mood can do it : but ib ' 
ri^ Arab Man, in cloak of hit own clouting ; with 
black beaming eyes, with flamiag aovereign-beait 
direct from the centre of the Uoiverse ; and also, I 
am told, with terrible 'horwahoe *ein ' of nrcUit^ 
wrath in hi* brow, and lightning (if you will not 
have it u light] tinglii^ throngh every vein of 
him, — he lisei; uyi autboritatively : "Thicke«- , 
quilKd Graad-Tork, tailor-made Brother of tfac 
Sua and Moon, No :—/ withdraw not ; tbou abalt 
obejr me or withdraw J " And so accordingiy it 
is : thickest-quilted Grand-Tnrki and all their 
progeny, to thia hour, obey that man in th« re- 
markablest manner i preferring not to withdraw. 

O brother, it is aa endless ctHisolation to me, in 
thia diior£uiic,.aa yet BO c]uack-ndden, what you 
may well call hag-ridden and hell-ridden world, to 
iiod that disobedience to the-Hcavena, when ^tej 
send any messenger whatever, is and renwins im- i 
possible. It cannot be dcwe i no Turk grand ot 
Hnall can do it. ' Show the dullest clodpoJe^' «ay« 
my invaluable German friend, ' ahow the haughtiest 
' teather-head, that a so^l higher than hioaaelf it 
* here ; were his knEcp siifieaed into brass, he muat ! 
'down aikd worship^' 



Y 



dbaptet vil | 

THE OIFTED ' 

ES, in what tumultuous huge anarchy aoever » 

Noble human Principle may dwell aixl 

:, such tumult is in the way of being calmed ' 



THE GIFTED J57 

into a frnitfti iovereignty. It i« ineriuble. No The 
Chaot can cootintie chaotic with a soul in it. Be> Sonl Uw 
•ouled wilh earnest human NobleoeM, did «"«2^"" 
slaughter, TioleoCe snd fire-eyed foiy, grow into a 
ChivalFy ; into a ble«aed Loyalty of GavemoE and 
GoYcratdi And in Work, which is of itieif 
Doble, and the only true fighting, there shall be no 
auch powibility i Believe it not ; it is incredible ; 
the whole UniTcree contradict* it. Here too the 
Chactaw Princi[Je will be subordinated ; the Man 
Principle will, by degrees, become superior, become 
supreme. 

I know Hammoo too; Banks-of-England, 
Credit-Systems, world-wide powibilities of work 
and traffic ; and applaud and admire them. Mun- 
ition is like Fire ; the uvefulett of all servants, if 
the tHghtfilest of all masters! The Cliffords, 
FitzadeJms and Chivalry Fighters 'wished to gain 
victory,' never doobt it s but victory, unleci gained 
in a certain spirit, was DO victory ; defeat, BUttained 
in a certain spirit, was itself victory. I say again 
and again, had they counted the acalps alone, they 
had continued Chactaws, and no Chivalry or lasting 
victory had been. And in Industrial Fighters and 
Captains is there no noblenesa discoverable i To 
them, alone of meb, there shall forever be no 
blessedness but in swollen coffers i To see beanty, 
order, gratitude, loyal human hearts around them, 
shall be of no moment; to see fiiliginous deformity, 
mutiny, hatred and despair, with the addition of 
haif-a-million guinea:, shall be better ! Heaven's 
Uessednees not there ; HelFs cursednesa, and yonr 
half-miltion Ems of metal, a safaatitute for that ! Is 
there be profit in diffbting Heaven's blesKdnest, but 
only in gainine gold .' — If so, I apprise the MtU- 



]5t IV HOROSCOPE 

Tl» owner and MiltioDaire, that he too miut prepaie for 

Elc^^ vuiighiog ; that neither is ht bom to be of tbc 

f^^ aovereigns erf* thit world ; that he will have to be 

^^^ trampled and chained down in whatever terriUe i 

ways, aitd brass-collared safe, among the bom { 

thiaUs of this world ! We cannot hare CamaiSa 

and Doggeries that will not make some Chivalry of 

theroselvei : our noble Planet ia impatient of such; ! 

in the end, totally intolerant of mch ! \ 

For the Heavens, nnwearying in thnr botuty, do 
■end other souls into this world, to whom yet, as to 
their fOTerunners, in Old Roman, in Old fiebrcw 
and all noble times, the omnipoteot gnines is, on the 
triiole, an impotent goioea. Hai your half-<lead 
avaricious Corn-Law Lord, your half-alive avari- i 
ctona Cotton-Law Lord, never seen one such? : 
Such are, not one, but several ; are^ and will be, ; 
unless the gods have doomed this world to swift 
dire ruin. These are they* the eiect of the world ; | 
the bom champions, strong men, and liberatory j 
Samsons of this poor world : whom the poor I 
Delilah-world will not always shear of thcii 
strength and eyesight, and set to grind in darkacst 
at it! poor gio-wbee} 1 Such souls are, in these 
days, getting somewhat out of humour with the | 
world. Your very Byron, in these days, is at leaM 
driven mad i flatly refines fealty to the world. 
The woftd with its injustices, its golden brutalitiei, ' 
and dull yellow guineas, is a disgust to such aouls : 
the ray of Heaven that is in them does at least 
predoom them to be very miserable here. Yea : — ' 
and yet all misery is faculty misdirected, strength 
that has not yet found its way. The black whirl- 
wind is mother of the lightning. No iwieitf in any 
sense, but can become flame and radiance I Such 



THE GIPTED jS9 

sou], once graduated in Heaveo's stern University, Hmt- 
steps out auperior to your guinea. en's 

boM thou know. O sumptuous Corn-Lwd, V^'" 
Cotton-Lord, O mutinous Trades-Unionist, gin- J^ jjg 
Taii(]uiahed,unde]iverable; O much-enslaved World, Gradu- 
— this nura is not a slave with thee 1 None of thy ate 
promotions is necessary for bini. His place is with 
the stars of Heaven : to thee it may be momentous, 
to thee it may be life or death, to him it is io- 
difTerent, whether thou place hira in the lowest but, 
or forty feet higher at the top of thy stupendous 
high tower, while here oo Earth. The joys of 
Earth that are precious, they depend not on thee and 
thy promotions. Food and raiment, and, round a 
social hearth, souls who love him, whom he loves : 
these are already his. He wants none of thy 
rewards ; behold also, he fears none of thy penal- 
ties. Tbou canst not answer even by killing him : 
the case of Anaxarchus thou canst kill ; but the 
self of Anaxarcbus, the word or act of Anaxarchus, 
■n no wise whatever. To this man death is not a 
bugbear ; to this man life is already as earnest and 
a^rful, and beautiful and terrible, ai death. 

Not a May-game is this man's life; hut a batde 
axid a march, a warfare with prini:^>alities and 
powers. No idle promenade through fragrant 
orange-groves and green flowecy spaces, waited on 
by the choral Muses and the rosy Hours : it is a 
stem ]nlgrin>age thtongh burning sandy solitudes, 
throngh regions of thick-ribbed ice. He walks 
among men j loves men, with inexpressible s<^ 
pity, — as they caanol love him: but his soul 
dwelh in solitude, in the uttermost parts of Creation. 
In green oases by the palm-tree wells, he rests a 
space; but anon be has to journey forward, 



jCa IV HOROSCOPE 

Tbe cKorted by the Terron Bod tbe Splendonn, the 
WorU'a Archdemons and Archangels. All Heaven, all , 
**•" PandemoDtum are hi» eicort. The turs keen- I 
"^ glancisg, from the Immeniitiet, tend tiding! to 
hint ; the gtam, olent with thnr dead, from the { 
Ettrnitiet. Deep call* for him onto Deep. 

Thou, O World, how wilt thoa secure thyaelf , 
agaion this man .' Thoa canst not hire him by thj 
gnineu ) nor by thy gibbet* tatd liw-petultia i 
restrain him. He eludes thee like a Spirit. TboB 
camt BM forward him, thou caon not hinder hinu 
Thy penalties, thy puvenies, neglects, contumdiet : 
behold, all these ite good for him. Crane lo bim 
as an enemy ; tum from him as an onfriend ; only 
do not thii one thing, — Infect him not with thy 
own drinsioD : tbe benign Geniui, were it by very 
death, shall guard him against this! — What wilt 
thon do with bimf He is abore thee, like a god. 
Thoa, in thy stupeodous tbree-inch pattens, art I 
ander him. He is thy born king, thy cooqoerot | 
and supreme lawgiver ; not all tbe guioeaa and 1 
cannons, and leather and prunella, nnder tbe aky 
can save thee from him. Hardest thick-skinned 
Mammon-worid, ruggedest Caliban shaU obey him, 
or become not Caliban but a cramp. Oh, if in this 
man, whose eyes can &aA Heaven's lightnbg, and 
make all Calibans into a cramp, then dwelt not, 
as tbe eGsence of his Tcry being, a God's jnstii^, 
human NoblenesB, Veracity and Mercy, — I should 
tremble for the world. But his strength, let us | 
rejoice to undetstand, is even this : Tbe quantity 
of Justice, of Valour and Pity dtat is in him. To 
hypocrites and tailnvd quacks in high places hii 
eye* are lightning ; but ihey melt in dewy pity 
■ofter than a mother's to the downpresKd, mai- 



THE GIFTED j6i 

treated ; in hia heart, in his great thoaght, is a A 
saDctoiry for all the wretched. This world's im- »< 
provement is forever sure. " 

' Man of Gmias i ' Thou hait imall notion, 
ineBcems, O Mxcenaa Twiddledee, of what a Man 
of Genins i*. Resd in thy New Testament and 
elsewhere, — if, with floods of mealy-mouthed in- 
anity i with miserable froth-vorticeB of Cant now 
BCTeral ceoturie* old, thy New Tettament is not all 
bedimmed for thee. Camt thou read in thy New 
Teatament at all ! The Highest Man ol Genims, 
knowcn thou hmi ; GodKke and a God to this 
hour i His crown a Crown of Thorns ^ Thon 
fool, with tiy empty Godhoods, Apotheoses eiige- 
giii ; the Crown of Thorns made into a pooF jewel- 
room crowa> fit for the head of UocLheadi ; the 
bearing of the Cross changed to a riding in the 
LoDg-Acre Gig ! Paow in thy masB-chantings, in 
thy litanyings, Mid Calrouck prayings by machinery ; 
aoid pray, if noiuly, at least in a more human 
idanner. How with thy rubrics and dalmatics, and 
clothwcbs and cobwebs, and with thy aupiditiei 
and grovelling baseheartedncGS, hast thou hidden the ; 
HoUeit into all but inniibility I — .' 

* Man of Geoiui : ' O M«xnias Twiddledee, 
hasC thou any notion what a Man of Genius isM 
Genius is *the iospred gift of God.' It is the | 
clearer presence of God Most High in a niaiL I 
I>ifn, potenual m all men ; in this man it has 
become clear, actuaL So says John Milton, who 
ought to be a judge ; so answer him the Voices of 
all Ages and all Worlds. Wouldst thou commune 
with such a one \ Be his real peer, then : does 
that lie in thee ^ Know thyself and thy real and 
thy apparent place, and know him and his real and 



yh IV HOROSCOPE 

'It it hit apparent place, anil act in aome noble CDiiiarmh<r 
nought • with all that. What ! The ttar-£re of the 
Empyrean shall eclipse itself, and illuminate toaffc- 
tantemg to amuM grown children i He, the god- 
inipired, is to twaog harp« far thee, and blow through 
scraanel -pipes, to soothe thy lated aoul with visioDS 
of oeW) still wider Eldofadoa, Honri ParadiKi, 
richer Lands of Cockaigne i Brother, this is uM 
he ; this is a coimterfeit, thu twaogling, jangliag 
vain, acrid, scrannel-piping man. Thou dost w& 
to tay with lick Saul, "It is nought, such harping!" 
— and in sudden rage, to grasp thy spear, and try il 
thou canst pin such a tme to the wall. King Sail 
wae mistaken in bis man, but thou art right in 
thine. It is the due of such a one : nail him to 
the wall, and leave him there. So ought copp«' 
shillings to be nuled oa counters ; copper geniusn 
on walls, and left there for a sign I — 

I conclude that the Men of Letters too nuy 
become a ' Cbivalry,' an actual instead of a. virtu/ 
Priesthood, with result immeasurable, — so soon » 
there is nobleness in themielvea for that. Aixi, to 
a certainty, not sooner 1 Of intrinsic Valetisms yes 
cannot, with whole Parlianwus to help you, make > 
Heroism. Doggeries never so goId-[Mated, Thtg- 
genes never so escutcheoned, Doggnies never so 
diplomaed, bepuffed, gas-lighted, continue Dog- 
geries, and must take the fate of such. 



THE DIDACTIC 



THE DIMCnC 



CERTAINLY it were a (oad imagmation to The 
expect dial any preaching of mine could Scho<d 
abate MammoDinn ; that Bobns of HoDodsditch . ' 
will lore his guineaa leu, or hia poor soul more, for P^^ 
any preaching of mine ! But there is one Preacher 
who does preach with effect, and gradually persuade 
all per'ioiu : his name is Destiay, is Divine 
Proiidence, and his Sennon the inflexible Course 
of Things. Experience does take dreadfully high 
school-wages ; but be teaches like no other ! 

I Ferert to Friend Pmdence the good Qualm's 
refusal of ' seven thousand pounds to boot.' Friend 
Pmdence's practical condusion will, by degrees, 
become that of all rational practical men whatsocTcr. 
On the present scheme and principle. Work cannot^ 
continue. Trades' Strikes, Trades' Unions, Chart- 
isms ; mutiny, squalor, rage and desperate revolt, 
growing ever rawe desperate, will go on their way. 
As dark misery settles down <ki as, and our refuges 
of lies fidl in pieces one after one, the hearts of 
men, now at last serions, will turn to refuges of 
truth. Ttw eternal stars shine out again, so soon ai 
it is dark tnough. 

Begirt with desperate Trades' Unionism and 
Anarchic Mutiny, many an Industrial Lavi-warJ, 
by and by, who has neglected to make taws and 
keep them, will be beard saying to himself: " Why 
have I realised fire hundred thousand pounds i I 
rose early and sat late, I toiled and moiled, and in 



]<4 IV HOROSCOPE 

Lore the nreat of my brow and of my toul I strove to 
Uw gain thii money, that I might become contpicuom, 
^^'*~ and haTC aotae honoDr amoog my fellow-creatoreB. 
I wanted them to honour me, to love me. The 
money is here, earned with my begt lifeblood : but 
the boQour ? I am encircJed with aqnalor, with 
hunger, rage, and looty deiperation. Not hononred, 
hardly even envied; only feof land the flunky-apcciei 
to much aa envy me. I ant cantpicnoua, — ai i 
mirk for cutki and brickbats. What good is it'. 
My five himdred scalp* hang here in my wigwam : 
would to Heaven I had looghc aomething dsc thao 
theicalpa; wooU to Heaven I had been a Chrtstias 
Fighter, not a Chactaw one ! To have mkd and 
fought not in a MimnuMuah but in a Godlike 
ipirit } to have had the hearti of the people bka 
me, u a true ruler and captain of my peo]^ ; to 
have felt my own heart bleu me, and that God 
above instead of Mammon below wai blessing me, 
— thii had been nmething. Out o( my sight, yr 
beggarly live hondred acalpt of banka'i-^oaBaiidi : 
I will try for lomething other, tu' account my life a 
tragical futility I" 

Friend Prndence'i 'rock-ledge,' aa we called 
it, will gradtmUy ditdoK itielf to many a man ; to 
all men. Gradnally, asaiulted from beneath and 
from above, the Stygian mud-deluge of Liaiisez^ 
faite, Supply-and-demand, Cash-paymeDt the one 
Duty, wiU abate on all hands ; and the everlastutg 
mountaiit*top«, and lecure rock-foundatums that 
reach to the centre of the world, and rett on Natare't 
aelf, will again emerge, to found on, and to build 
on. When 'Mammon-WDrBhippers here and there 
begin to be God-worshippcri, «id bipede-of-prey 
become men, and there ia a Soul felt once more in 



THE DIDACTIC ]6| 

the buge-pidnng dephuttine mechanic Animalism Tkft 
of thia Earth, ii will be again a blewed Eartia. P'ic' < 

'* Men cefl«e to regard money J " criei fiobiu of ^^^ 
Houndaditch : "What el«e do all men strive (or ? ^j^^ 
The very Bishop infbmiB me that Cluistiaiiity 
camiot gel on without a iiiiiumum of Foot thousand 
five hundred in its pocket. Cease to regard money? 
That will be at Doomsday in the aftWDOon ! " — \) 
Bobus, my opioioD is somewhat different. My 
opinion ii, that the Upper Foweta have not yet, 
detenmoed on deitraying this Lower World. A' 
resectable, ever-increasing minority, «ho do strive ' 
for Bomethiog higher than money, I with coolidence 
anticipate ; ever-increairog, ull there be a iprinkling 
of them found in aU quarterB, aa salt of the Garth 
once more The Christianity that cannot get on 
without a minimum of Four tbouiand £ve hundred, 
will give place to something better that can. Thou 
wilt not join out amall minority, thoa i Not till 
Doomsday in the afternoon l Well ; thai, at least, 
thou wilt join it, thou and the majority in masa I 

But truly' it is boauuful to see &e brnti^ empire 
of Mamnion cracking everywhere ; giving sure 
promiae of dying, or of bong changed. A strange, 
chill, almost ghwtly dayspnng atrUcs np in Yankee- 
land-itseif : my Traasceodental friends aniiouace 
there, in a distinct, though somewhat laakhaired, 
ungainly manner, that the Deraiurgus Dollar ta 
dethroned ; that new unheard-of D>eniiurgUBships, 
Priestbooda, Aristocracies, Growths and Destiuc- 
tioni, are already viable in the gray of coming 
Time. Chrtmos ia dethroned by Jove; Odin by 
St. Olaf : the Dollar cannot rule in Heaven fiirever. 
No; I reckon, not. Socinian Preachers quit thrif 
pulpits m Yankeeland, saying. " Friends, this is aU 



jM IV 

Jiulke gone to coloured cobweb, vc regret to aay ! " — and 
...— *?! '^'"* """ "^ fieldi to cultivate onion-bedt, and ' 
*"** Ktc jragally mi vegetablea. It is very notaUe. 
Old godlike CalvinUni declares that its old body 
i« DOW fallen to tatters, and done ; and its moumfol , 
ghost, disembodied, seeking new embodintent, ppti 
again b the winds ; — a ghost and spirit as yet, but 
heralding new Spirit^worlda, and better Dynaitia 
than the Dollar one. 

LYes, here as there, light is coming into the vorldt 
n loTC not darknesu'they do lore light. A deep 
feehng of the eternal natare of Jostice looks out 
among us everywhere, — e*cn through the dull eyei 
of Exeter Hall ; an unspeak^le religionsnest 
struggles, in the most helpless manner, to apnk 
itaelf, in Piueyimns and the like. Of our Cant, all 
coodemoable, how much is not condemoable without 
pty ; we had almovt said, without respect ! Tbe 
tnarticnlate wonh and truth that is in England goei 
down yet to the Foundatioiis. I 

L Some ' Chivalry of Labour,' some noble Hb- 
Imanity and practical Divineness of Labour, will yet 
'be realised on this Earth. Or why wS; why do 
we pray to Heaven, without setting our own 
shoulder ta the wheel? The Present, if it will 
have the Future accompli^, shall itself commence. 
Thou who prophetieit, who believest, begin tbou to 
fiilfiL Here or nowhere, now equally as at any 
time i That outcast help-needing thmg m person, 
trampled down under vulgar feet or hooii, ix> help 
' poisible ' for it, no prize offered for the saving ot 
it) — canx not thou save it, then, without prize? 
Put forth thy hand, in God's name; know that 
' impossible,' where Truth and Mercy and die evcr- 
lasung Voice of Nature wder, has no place in the 



THE DIDACTIC jS? 

brave man's dicdooary. That when all men hive The 
said " Impossible," and tumbled noisily elsewhither, heroism 
and tbon alone art left, then first thy time and '^^« 
possibility have come. It is for thee now ; do othos 
thou that, and aak no man's counsel, but thy own 
only, and God's. Brother, thou hast possibility in 
thee for much : die possibility of writing on the 
eternal sktes dte record of a heroic life. That noble 
downfsllen or yet unborn ' Impossibility,' thou canst 
lift it up, thou canst, by thy soul's travail, bring it 
into clear being. That loud inane Actuality, with 
millions in its pocket, too ' possible ' that, which 
rolls along there, with quilted trumpeters blaring 
round it, and all the world escorting it as mute 
or vocal flanky, — escort it not thou ; say to 
it, either nothing, or else deeply in thy heart : 
" Loud-blaring Nonentity, no force of trumpets, 
cash. Long-acre art, or universal Aankyhood of 
men, makes tbee an Entity i thou art a JVbnentity, 
and deceptive Simulacrum, more accnrsed than 
thou seemest. Pass on in the Devil's name, nn- 
worshipped by at least one man, and leave the 
thoroughfare dear ! " 

Not on Ilion's or Latium's plainsi on far other 
plains and places henceforth can aotie deeds be now 
done. Not on Ilion's plains ; how much less in 
May&ir's drawiogrooms ! Not in victory over 
poor brother French or Phrygians ; but in victory 
over Frost-jotuns, Marab-giacta, over demons of 
DiscMd, Idleness, Injustice, UoreaMin, and Chaos 
come again. None of the old Epics is longer 
possible. The Epic of French and Phrygians was 
:omparatively a small Epic : but that of Flirts and 
Fribbles, what is that ! A thing that vanishes at 
:ock-crowlng, — that already begins to scent the 



jU IV HOXOSGOPE 

Tbe mornbg air ! GanK-presuving Arutoa^dea, In ! 

God- them ' buih ' nevet to dFectiuUy, caooot escape the 

ni^^ Subtle Fowler. GanK «cmoii« will be excelknt, 

^ and again will be iodifFereDt, and by aod by ibey 

Better- will not be at all. The Last Partridge of EDglani, 

ingMea of an England where milJioiu of men can get aa 

com to eat, will be shot and ended, AristocTadM 

with beards on their chins will find otbn work to 

do than amuse themselTcs with truBdIing-boops. 

But it is tt> you, ye Workers, who do already 

work, and are as grown men, noble and honourabie 

ID a. sort, that the whole wtvld ct^a for new work 

I and Dobleceas. Subdue mutiny, discord, wide- 

1 aivead despair, by manfiiloeBa, justice, mercy and 

n wisdom. Chaos is dark, deep as Hell ; let light 

f be, aod there is instead a green flowery World. 

Oh, it is great, and there is do other greatness. To 

make some nook of God's Creatioo a little fruit- 

fiiller, better, more worthy of God ; to make eonv 

humao hearts a little wiser, manfuler, haf^er,— 

more blessed, less accursed 1 It is work Ux a God. 

Sooty Hell of mutiny and savagery and despair can, 

bj man's energy, be made a kind of Heaven j 

cleared of its soot, of its mutiny, of its need to 

mutiny ; the everlastbg arch of Heaven's azurt 

overspjnniog it too, and its cunning meChaoisms and 

tall chimDey-EteepIes, as a Inrth of Heafcn ; God 

and all men looking on it well pleased. 

Unstained by wasteful deformities, by watte<l , 
tears or h^art'a-btood of men, ac any defacemoit oi 
the Pit, noble fruitful Labour, growing ever nobler, 
will come forth, — the grand sole miracle of Man ; 
whereby Man has risen from the tow places of tbti 
Earth, very literally, into divine Heavens. PlmigherB, 



THE DIDACTIC 3*9 

SpinnerB, Builden; Prophets, Poets, Kmgs; Brind- Haman- 
leys and Goethes, Odini and Arkwrighci ; all ^' 
martyrs, and noble men, and goda are of one grand Apothe. 
Most; immeasurable; marching ever forward since 0513 
the beginnings of the World. The enormous, all- 
conquering, flame-crowiKd Host, noble every soldier 
in it ; sacred, and alone nobie. Let him who !■ 
not of it hide himself; let him tremble for himself. 
Stars at every button cannot make him noble ; 
sheaTCS of Bath-garters, nor bushels of Georges ; 
nor any other contrivance but manfully enlisting in 
it, valtandy taking place and step in it. O Heavens, 
will be not bethink himself; he too is so needed in 
the Host ! It were so blessed, thrice-blessed, for 
himself and for us all i In hope of the Last 
Partridge, and some Duke of Weimar among our 
English Dukes, we will be patient yet a^ while, 

'The Fucnr* hidei ia it 
GUdoeii an4 Borrow ; 
We prcu atitl thorow, 
Naufht that abidea in U 
Dinntliig ua,^M>nward.' 



Summary 

BOOK L— PROEM 
Cbap. I. MUmi. 
Thi condMon of England one of the moat oiniDOQi re • 
■«■ In thii world: Fnll of wealth in CTery kind, jH . 
ijiag aUtaiiitlau. Workhouid, in which no witfk cu ' 
be done. Dntitatioa in Scolland. Stockport AHiuL ' 
(p. ]■) — EngUad'i nnprofiuble lacceu: Hanun bet) ' 
eloomiDg diKordantly on one another. Mldai longtd 
for gold, and the godt gave it him. (t.) 

Chap. II. Ti, Sfioj,. 
The grand unnaoiablc Sphlax -riddle, which each nun 
i( oUeiT upon to wItc. Notions of the foolish canceio- 
ing juitice and judgment. Courti of Weitminater, ud i 
the general High Court of the Uniiene. The one ttroD; ' 
thing, the ja(t thinr, the true (hiog. (p. lo.) — A nobk 1 
Conwmtlam, ai wdl at an ignobu. In all battlei r^ 
men each fighter, in the end, praaper* according to hi> - 
right: Wallace of Scotland. (i6.)~Fact and Semblance 
What i> Jnitlce? Aa man; men aa there are In a NattoD 
who on '« Heaien'a Juitli 
•tand between it and petdlcic 

CbAT. III. Ma^iiilcr I«„irritHi,M. 
Peterloo not an untucceaaful Ingurrection. GoTCrnoct 

the Stalest conraea. Unapeakable Count]' Yeomaory. 
Poor Maocheater operativea, and their hnge iaarticnbu 
queation : Unhappy Worlleri, unhappier Idler*, of thii 
actual England! (p. lo.)— Fair daj'a.wagei forfair day'c 
work: Mikon'i 'wagei;' CromweU'a. Pay to each 
man wliat he haa earned and done and deterred; what 
more hare we to a>k ? — Some not inaupporcable approxi- 
mation iadiipenuble and Inevitable. (15.) 



Chap, IV. Miirrhax', Pill. 

A lUCe of mind worth reflectiag on. No Morrlaon't 
Pill for curing the malidiei of Society ■ Unirenal alter- 
ation of regimen and way of life : Vain jargon gi'lng 
place to loiiie genuine Speech again, (p. Jo.)— If we 
walk according to the Law of thii UnJTerie, the Law- 
Maket wiU befriend n>; if not, not. Quacks, sham 
heroei, the one bane of the world. Quack and Dupe, 
upper side and under of the lelfiame tubatance. (ji.) 

Chap, V. AriUctracycfTalal. 
All miiery the fruit of unwisdom : Neither with indi- 
Tiduals nor with Nations is it fun dame Dtatlj otherwise. 
Nature in late centuries uniTersally supposed to be dead ; 
but now eTerfwhere aaier^ng herself to be aiiTc and 
miraculous. The eaidance of this country not tui&ciently 



(p. 35.) — Aristocracy of talent, or government by 
'" It, a dreadfully difficult affair to get started. 
ryi for talent ; and the flunky eye for respect- 



I and larders dropping titness 
Bobuta'nd Bobiisimus. (jg.) 

Chap. VI. Hirt-werMp. 
Enlightened Egoism, neier so luminous, not the rale 
by which man's life can be led i A loal, different from a 
itomaeh in any Mnie of the word. Hero-worship done 
diSerenCly in every different epoch of the world. Reform, 
like Charity, must begin at home. 'Aireatment of tha 
knaies and dastards,' beginning by arresting our own 
poor selves out of that fraternity, (p. 43.) — The present 
Editor's purpose to himself full of hope. A Loadstar la 
the eteioal sky: A giimmeriog of light, for here and 
there a human son], (47.) 



BOOK II.-^THE ANCIENT MONK. 

Chap. I. Jialm i/ Br4-iib>nd. 

How the Centuries stand lineally related to each other. 

The one Book not permissible, the kind that has nothing 

la It. Jocellu't ' Chronicle,' a private Boswelleui Note- 



37> SUMMARY 

book, now wtcd centnriet old. How Jocelia, from ondci 
hi) monk'i cowl, looked out ou that narrow icctioa of 
the woild In a rvally kiamnK miiuieT ; A wiie aimpLidty 
in him ; a vcrvcijjr that goes deeper thin wordi, Jocelio'i 
Monk-Latin ; *nd Mr. Rokewood'i editorial belpfnlneu 
and fidelity, {p. 5o.)—A veriuble Monk of old Bury 
St. Edmund) worth allending lo. Thii Englaad of onn, 
of the year iioo : Coair-de-Llon : King Lacklaod, and 
hia thirteenpenny nan. The pooreit hiatorlcU Fact, 
and Ihe grandest imaginatite Fiction. (55.) 

St. Ednmnd'a Bury, a proaperou) briik Town : "RXr- 
tenaiTe ruina of the Abbey nil! visible. Aisiduoni 
Pedantry, and itifubbish-heapacalled'Hiatory.' Another 
world it wa), when thoae black ruina firat >aw the inn 
ai wall). At loweat, O dilettante friend, let ua know 
■Iwaya that it viai a world. No ea)y matter to get arrou 
the chaun of Seven CeDCuriea: Of aU help), a Bo)weU, 
even a iinall Boawell, the welcomeat, (p. 59.) 

Ciur. IlL LanMtrdEAa^d. 
' Battle of Fornham,' > hct, though a forgotten one. 
Edmund, Landlord of the Eaatero ConDtiei : A *Cry 
(Ingularkind of 'landlord.' How became to be 'aainted.' 
Seen and lelt to have done verily a man') part in tht) 
life-pilgrimage of hi). Mow they took np the ilain 
body of their Edmund, and reverently emlnlined it. 
(p. 64.) — Ploni muDificeocc, ever growing by new piont 
^fti. Certain Timei do cryit^ae themwlTe* in ■ 
magnlficcntmanneri otfaeralna rather ahaMy one. (71.) 

Chat. IV. ^biat Hug.. 
All thing) have two facet, a lirlit one and a darh : 
The Ideal ha) to grow In the Real, and to aeek iti bed 
and board there, often in a very aorry manner. Abbot 
Hugo, grown old and feeble, Jew dcbu and Jew 
creditors. How approximate justice strive) to accom- 
plish itself, (p. 71).— In the old monastic Books almost 
no mention wharever of ' personal religion.' A poor 
Lord Abbot, all stuch-over with horse-leechea ! A 'roval 
commisaion of inquiry,' to no purpose. A monk's flm 



CBAr, V. Tvilfill CcMnry. 
iDspectOTa or Custodiars ; the King not in xnj breaCh- 
leis haste to appoint > new Abbot. Dim and very 
■trange looki that mook-liie to ui. Oar venerable 
ancient spinning grandniotheri, ihrieking, and rushing 
-t with their distafis. Lakenheath eeli coo slipper]' to 
- ■ nd, in 



Cur. VI. M^ni SawuDM. 

Monk-Life and Monk-Religion : A great heaven-high 
Uaqneslionabilitf, encompassing, interpenetrating all 
hnman Duties. Onr modern ArkwHght Joe-Mancon 
ages: All human daei and reciproeittes changed into 
one great due of > cash-payment. ' The old monks bats 
limited clau of creitares, with a somewhat duUlifeof it. 
(p. S4.) — One Monk of a taciturn natnre dlstingnishea 
himaelf among those babbling onei. A Son of poor 
Norfolk parents. Little Samson's awful dream : His 
poor Mother dedicates him to St. Edmund. He grows 
to he a learned man, of devout grave nature. Sent to 
Rome on business ; and returns las successful : Method 
of travelling thither in those days. His tribulations at 
home: Strange conditions nnder which Wisdom has 
sometimes to struggle with foUy. (8«.) 

CllAT. VII. TAi CoBvaiiirg. 
A new Abbot to be elected. Even gossip, seven een- 
turiei off, has significance. The Prior with Twelva 
Monks, to wait on his Majesty at Waltham. An 
' election ' the one important social lact : Given the Man 
a People chooae, the worth and worthlesaness of the 
People iKelf is given, (p. 91.) 

Chat. Vill. T*' EUthi. 

Electonl nethods and nunlpulationa. Brother Samaon 

re«dy ofteneat with soaae qnestioD, some auggestion that 



574 SUHHART 

bu wlidom In it. The Thirteen olT to WaUhun, to 
choow their Abbot : In tlie (aliiude of the CoD*cnt, ' 
Deatinj thua big and in her birthtime, what goiiipioE, 
babbling, dreuning ofdreuna I (p. 96.) — Kiag H^nrj 11. 
In hi) hieh Piesence-ehamtier. Samson cboien Abbot: 
the Kiapi tojtl aeceptatian. (99.) — St. Edmundaburj 
MohIls, without eiprem battat-boi or other winnowing 
machine. In eTery Nation and Community there ii it 
all timei o/««<, wImM, bravett, best. Human Worth 
and human WorthieMueM. (loj. ) 

CiUF. IX. AU>tSam«m. 
The Lord Abboc'i arrJTal at St. Edmnndibnrv : Tlie 
■elfiame Samson reiterday a poor mendicant, Uiii day 
finds himself a SaminMi AUai and m!lt«d Feet of ParUa- 
ment. {p. 105.) — Depth and opulence oT true social Titalitr 
in those old barbarous ages. True GoTernors go abont 
under all manner of disguises now as then. Geuina, 
Poet ; what these words mean. George the Third, head 
charioteer of England ; and Rotierl Burns, gauget of ale 
in Dumfries. (107.) — How Abbot SamaoDfoaadaConTenl 
all in dilapidation. His life-long harsh apprenticeship 
to goTerning, namely obeying. First get your Man ; 
ell IS got. Danger of blockheads. (log.) 

dur. X. GWmnf. 
Beautiful, how the chrysalis goTeining-sonl, shaking 
oR its dusty slough and prison, starts forth winged, a 
true royal soul t One first labour, to Institute a strenuous 
review and radical rtform of hie economics. Whereso- 
ever Disorder may irand or lie, lei it hare a caie ; here 
Is > man that has declared war with it (p. iij.) — In less 
than four years the Convent debts are all liquidated, and 
the harpy Jews banished from St. Edmundshury. New 
life springs beneficent everywhere : Spiritual rubbish as 
little tolerated as materiaL {116.) 

Ciu?. XI. The AhUt'i W^i. 

Reproaches, open and secret, of ingratitude, nntoel. 

ability : Except for ■ fit men * in all kinds, hard to say 

for whom Abbot Samson had much favour. Remembrance 

of benefits, (p. 117.) — An eloquent man, but intent 



z tfasn on omameDt. A juet clear heart 
rhe baiiiof ill true talent. One of thejustest of judge*: 
Hii ia*aliuble ' talent of lilence,' Kind of people be 
likeil wont. Hoipitality and Moieiim. (119.)— The 
Gonntrj in thoie daji still dark with noble wood aad 

nd fruitful once, 
I of four-footed 
■ {"3-) 
Chaf. XII. Th, AbU'i Triuhla. 
The troubles of Abbot Samion more than tongue can 
IrU. Not the spoil of victotj, od\j the glorioui toil of 
battle, can be theirg who really goTern. An inaurrecrion 
of the Monks : Behare hatter, ye remiss Monks, and 
think Heaien for such an Abbot, (p, 114.)— Worn down 
with incesaiDt toil and tribulation : Gleami of hilarity 
IDO) little ■□atchea of encouragement granted even to a 
OoTcrnor. How my Lord of Clare, coming to claim hia 
■niae ■ debt,' gets a Roland for his OliTer. A Life of 
Literature, noble and ignobU. (117.) 

CsAr. XIII. In ParllaninJ. 
Confused days of Lackland'i usurpation, while Ctenr- 
de-Lion was away : Our brave Abbot took helmet 
himself, eicommuuicallng all who should ^vour Lack- 
land. King Richard a captive in Germany, (p. 131.) — 
St. Edmund's Shrine not mrddled with ; A heamily 
Awe orershadowed and encompassed, at it (till ought 
and mnit, all earthly Business whatioeier. (tjl.) 

Cbai. XIV. Hc,ri of Eiiex. 
How St. Edmund punished terribly, yet with mercy) 
A Narrative significant of the Time. Henry Earl of 
Esses, standard -bearer of England : No right reverence 
for the Heavenly in Man. A traitor or a coward. 
Solemn Duel, by the King's appointment. An etit 
Con*cience doth make cowards of us alL {p. I33.) 

Chap. XV, Practital-Drmliatal. 

A Tournament proclaimed and held in the Abbot's 

domain, in spite of him. Roystering young dogs brought 



,7( SUUHARV 

to reawd. The Abbot a man that geaoMj ndudi 
mMteral Ian : The imponunate Biihop of Elj sotwltted. 
A mm that dare abide Sing Rich ard'i anger, with jiutice 
on hja ii<le. Thou brave Rich vd, thou brave SatnionI 
(p. ijt.) — The bails of Abbot SanDon'a life truly religion. 
Hit I^aloiii intereat in the Cnliadei. The great antique 
heen, like a chiid'a In Ita aimpljcitr, like a mu'* in iu 
eamett solemnity and depth. Kia cocnparaliia alienee 
at to hli religioD preciaetf 'h< healthien aign of him 
and it. Methodiam, Dilettaotisni, Fuaeyiaai. (144.) 

Ciup. XVI. Si. BJm^nd, 
Abbot Samaon built many ai^ul, many ploua ediGcei: 
All ruinoua, incomplete tbinga an eye-aorrow to hin. 
Rebuilding the great Altar: A glimpae of the glorioni 
Martyr'a very Body. What a acene; how ba vanlahtd 
from ui, In thew nnworthipping ag«> of oura! Tfat 
manner of men'a Hero-worahip, *erlly the innermost 
6ct of their exiatence, detennining all the reat. (p. 147.) 
—On the whole, who knowa how to riTerence the Body 
of Man? Abbot Samaon, at the cuLninating point of 
hia eaiiteuce : Our real-phantssmagory of St. Edmundi- 
bury pluDgei into the boaom of the Twelfth Centuiy 
■gain, atid all U oier. (■;4.) 

dur. XVII. 7%i B,siinagi. 
Formulaa the very skin and ainscular tiaane of a Nbn'a 
Life: Living Formulaa and dead. Habit the deepcat 
law of human nature. A pathway through the pathleti. 
National! tiea. Pulpy infancy, kneaded, baked into any 
form you chooae: TheManof Buaineasj the hard-handed 
Labourer; the genua Dandy. No Mortal out of the 

depths of Bedlam but lives by Formulaa. (p. 1C7 ] 

The hoBta and generations of brave nun Oblivion fiai 
iwaUowed : Their crumbled duit, thtf toil our Lfe-fruit 
growl on. Invention of Speech; Forma of Worahipj 
Methods of Juatice. This English Land, here and now, 
the summary of what was wiae and noble, and accordant 
with God'a Truth, in all the generationa of Engliah Mea. 
The thing called 'Fame.' (161.) 



BOOK ni.— THE MODERN WORKER. 
Chap. I. Pkumiena. 
Hon men IwTe 'forgotten Goi ;' taken the Fact of 
thla OniTetie at it u no*,- God'i Laws become a Greateit- 
Happines* Principk, a Parlianwntary EipediencT, Man 
haa (oat the iml out of him, and begiaa to £nd the want 
■ofit, (p. i69.>— The old Pope of Rome, with hii itufled 
dummy to do the kneelinx ioi him. Few men that 
worship bT the rotator? Calabaah, do it In half ao great, 
frank or effectual a way, {171.)— Our Ariitocracy no' 
ioDgar able to do tt> work, and not in the least contcloul 
that it kai any work to do. The Champion of England 
'lifted Into hli aaddk.' The Hatter in the Etrand, 
monating a hug« lath-and-plaater Hat. Our noble 
aoceatora hare faahioned for ui, in hon many thooaand 
■enae*, > ■ life-road ; ' and we their aona are madly, 
literally enough, 'caniumtDg the way.' (174.} 

Cbat. II. Gcfil ,/ Mai^mom,^. 
Heaven and Hell, often ai the worda ate on our tongue, 
got CO be iabuloui or temi-fabnfoni for moat of ua. The 
real ' Hdl ' of the English. Caah-paymenc, mtf the aole 
or eien chief relation of human bcinga. Piactical 
Atheiatn, and iu deapicable &-ait>. (p. 179-) — One of 
Dr. Aliaon'a melancholy facta 1 A poor Irish Widow, In 
the Lanes of Edinburgh, pritving her listerhood. Until 
we get a human mul within ue, all things are inposiible: 
Infatuated geese, with featheri and without. (184.) 

Chap, HI, Capil ef DilcHantiim. 
Manunoniam at leaat worha ; bat 'Go gracefully idle 
in May&lr,' what does or can that mean ?— Impotent, 
ioKilent Dooothingism In Practice and Saynothingiim in 
Speech. No man now ipeaki a plain word ; Insincere 
Speech the prime material of Insincere Action, (p, iSG.) 
— Moalem paisble of Monei and the Dwellers by the 
EteBd Sea: Tiit Unirerae inwor a Humbug to the Apea 
thai thought it on*. (iSS.) 



];t SOHHART 

Ctua. IV. Hafff, 
All work aoble ; and traj noble crown a crown of 
thorn*. Man*) pitiful preteniion to be what be call) 
' happy : ' Hii GrotoC-Happinai Principle lut becom- 
ing a rather nnhappy one, Byron'i lar^ andience. A 
phiiotophical Doctor: A diicoDKUie Mot-jack, vnarring 
and cmklng with mat and work. (p. 190.] — The onl; 
■ happincM' a brave man ever troobled himself mncli 
abonl, the happincH to get bis work done. (193.) 

Chaf. V. TJuEi^luK 
■ With all thy theoretic pUtitnde*, what a depth of 
practical mdm in thee, great England! A dumb people, 
who can do great act*, but not de*cribe them. The 
noble Warborie, and the Dog of Knowledge : The btttt 
Utterance! not by any meani the be>L (p. 195.)— The 
done Work, much more than the >poken Word, » 
epitome of the man. The Man of Practice, and tlie 
Man of Theory : Ineloqueot Brlndley. The Englitb, 
of alt Nation* the stupidest in ipeech, the wiseit is 
action: Sadneia and ierioD«ne»; UacODiciouity thri 

5 rest UniTerte i> great to them. The silent Romani. 
ohtt Bull'* admirable in*en*ibilicy to Logic, (ij^.)— 
All ereat Peoples conacnatiTe. Kind of Ready-IUckoDcr 
a S^ecism in Eaatcheap. Berserkir rage. Truth atiii 
Justice alone cafablr Ol being ' conserred.* Bitter in- 
dignation engendered by the Cani-L.Bwa in erery jnH 
English heart. (101.) 

Chap. VI. Tieo Cnluria. 
The 'Settlement 'of the year 1660 one of the monm- 
fule»t that ever took place in thia land of oura. The 
true end of GoTcrninent, to guide men in the way the; 
■honld go : The true good of thi* life, the portal of 
infinite good in the life to come Olirer Cromwell's 
body hung on the Tyburn gallowi, chetypeof Paritanina 
found futile, inexecutable, execrable. The Spiritnaliasi 
of England, for two godless centnriei, utterly forget- 
table : Her practical material Work alone memorable, 
(p. xo6.) — Bewildering obscurations and impedimenti ; 
Valiant Sons of Toll enchanted, by the million, In thdr 



Com. VH. (hHr-Pruhdim. 
An idle GoTcrning Cliu addreoing iu Worken with 
an indictment of ■ Over-production? Duty of jiiitl; 
apportioning the Wigei of Work done. A game-pre- 
serTing Ariitocracjf guiltleu of producing or apportion* 
inganjthing. Owaing the loit of EngUnd. (p. ili.)^ 
The Worlting Ariitocracy >teep«d in ignoble MunmoD- 
ism : The Idle Ariatocracj', with its ydlow pxrchnunti 
and pretentions fatllilie*. (114.) 



Chap, Vlll. Uit-anrUng Arulncratf. 
Onr Land the Mttitr of us all : No true Ariitocracy 
but must possess the Land. Men taU of • celling ' 
Land : Wham it belongs to. Our much-coniuming 
Artstocncy : By the law of their position bonnd to 
furnish ^idance and gorernance. Mad and mlterabte 
Com-L«vi. (p. ii6.)~-The Working Arisloctacy, and 
Its terrible New-Work : The Idle Arlitociacy, and Its 
horoscope of despair. (119.) — A High Class without 
dutiei to do, like a tree pUnted on precipices. In a 
valiant suffering for otheri, not in a tlotliful making 
others suffer for us, did nobleness ever lie. The Pagan 
Hercules; the Ci«r of Rnnia. (ill.)— Parchments, 
venerable and not tenerable. Benedict the Jew, and hli 
uanriei. No Chapter on the Corn-Laws; The Corn- 
Laws too mad to have a Chapter. (114.) 



CHAf. IX. H^^ihg ArUl«racg. 
Many things for the Working Aristocracy, in their 
extreme need, to consider. A National Existence sup- 
posed to depend on 'selling cheaper' than any other 
People. Let inventiTe men try to invent a little how 
cotton at <t> present cheapness could be somevrhat 
iuitlicr divided. Many ' im possibles ' will have to 
become possible, (p. ll£.)^Snpply-and-demand : For 
what neUe work was there ever yet any audible ' demand ' 
in diat poor senaer (iji.) 



Man'* philoiophiea uiuallj the ■ lupplemcnt of hi* 
pracllce i ' Sj mplomi of Bocial doth. Ciih-Pajtnent : 
The Fluglon Ledger, and the Tablet) of Heaien'i 
Chincery, dliciepant exciwdlnglj. (p. 1]].) — All baman 
thlnvi do require Co h>Te an [deal in them. How 
murderoDi fighting beeanie s 'glorioni ChiTalrj.' Moble 
deTsat-hearted CheTaliei*. ignobU Bocanierii and Chu- 
taw lodiuii : Howel Difiei. HapoleoD Sung out, at 
)ut, to St. Helena ; the letter end of him aterntr cnn- 
penatiDg for the beginning. (1]J.) The lDdoiiiit^>k 
PlugUD, at fet a Bucaoier and CbacUw. William CoD- 
queror and ( bi* Nonnan foUoweri. Oinnieation of 
Labour; Courage, there are fet many EnTe men in 
England! (13S.) 

Chaf. XL Zai«r. 

A perenoial oobleDos aad eren aacredDCM >d Work. 
Significance of the PotceKa Wheel. Bles*ed i> he who 
bii fonnd hie Work ; let him aak no other bte*MdDe». 
(p. 143. H-A brave Sir Chriitopber, and hi> Paul'* Cathe- 
dral : &ttxf noble work at firit' impoiiible.' Columbai 
rojaleit Sea-king of alt ; A depth of Silence, deeper than 
the Sea; a Silence uoioundahle; known to God snly. 
{»45-) 

CbaT XU. SnmrJ. 

Work ii Worihip : Labour, wide at the Earth, bai iU 
■nmmit in HeiTen. One monatet there it in the world, 
the idle man. (p. 14J.)— 'Fair day'i-waget for a &ir 
day's- work, 'the most unrefuaable demand. The ' wagea' 
of CTcry noble Work In Heaven, or elie Nowhere: The 
brave man haa to £ii« hit Life away. He that works 
bodlei forth the form of Thinga Unseen. Strange myatic 
affinity of Wisdom and InnniCy ; All Work, in ita degree, 
a making of Madneii tane. (i5i,)-~Labour not a devil, 
eren when encased in Munmoniam : The unredeemed 
uglineu, a ilochful People. The vulgarest Plugion of 
a Matter- Worker, not a man to atrangU by Corn-Lawa 
and Shotbelu. (ij6.) 

Chaf. XIIL Daamaig. 



SUMMARY 



"V 



millioDf of tmttri w enCirei; unbeanUe u now. Sliter- 
hood, brotheritood often fbrgottta, bac neT«r before to 
eipreuly denied. Mungo Puk and bj> poor Black 
Benefictreat. (p. 159.) — Gnrth, born thrall of Cedric the 
Saxon: Llbercjr 1 dirinc thing; but 'liberty to die by 
itamtion ' not so diiine, Naiure'a Ariitocraciei. Wif. 
iiam Conqueror, a reaident Honw-Suigeon proridcd by 
Nature for her beloTed English People. (xSi.J— Demo- 
cracy, Che deipail of findioK Heroea to govern ni, and 
contented putting-op with the want of them. The very 
Tailor naconscioualjr tymbollaing the reign of Equality. 
Wherever rankt do acluall)' eiiat, atrict diviaian of 
coitamea will alio be enforced. (167.) — Freedom from 
oppretaion, an indiipenaabie yet moii intlgniGcanc por- 
tion of Human Liberty. A tat patk does eiiit for every 
man; a thing which, here and now, It were of all thinga 
TDiicft for himcodo. Mock SupetiorBandRealSaperiori. 

Cuar. XIV. Sir JaiiiA H'kdt^. 

Oliver Cromwell, the remarkableat Governor' we have 
had for the last five centuries or ao : No volunteer in 
Public Life, but plainly a balloted aoldier : The Govern- 
ment of England put into hli handi. (p, 175.)— Wind- 
bag, weakin thefaith of a God; atrong only In the faith 
that Paragraphs and Ptauaibilitiea bring Totes. Five 
yeara of popularity or unpopularity; and iiflir those five 
yean, an Eternity. Oliver has to appear b^ore the 
Moat High Judge : Windbag, appealing to ' Poiceiity,' 
(176.) 

CUAF. XV. JMnriJM agait. 

New Religions s This new stage of progreai, proceed- 
ing ' to invent God,' a very itrange one indeed, (p. I79.) 
—Religion, the inner Light or Mural Conacience of a 
man'a aoul. Infinite difiereoce belvfeen a Good man 
and a Bad. The Great Soul of the World, juit and not 
uujuat : Faithful, unapoken, but not inefiectual ■ prayer.' 
Penahiei : The Flench Revolution ; crueleat Portent that 
haa risen into created Space these ten cenlutiea. Man 
needi no ' New Religion ; ' nor is like to get it : Spiritnal 
Daatardiam, and aiek folly, (iti.)— One Litorgy which 
doea remain forever noexcepclonable, that of JV-nw ty 
— ■• " " a of Wash- 



lag. ChloBM Pontlf-Empcror ■ixl hli (ignlfieaut 
'punctnilidM.' (lis.) — Goethe aod Gentun Litaatnn. 
The great enol for the world, nowaialwa^i, the arritU 
la it of ■ new WiM Man. Goethe'i M>i<m-LK^. {x^i.) 



BOOK IV HOROSCOPE, 

Coat. I. jtriitatraaa. 
To predict the Future, to mamge the Preaeat, would 
not be >□ impoiiible, had not the Paat been to aacrilegi- 
oubIj roiihandled : a ecxileK century, looking back to 
ceDtnriea that were godly, (p. 196.) — A new r^ AriaEo- 
cracf and Prieilhood. The noble Prieit alwajl a noble 
Ariilti to begin with, and aomethinF more to end with. 
Modern Preachera, and the rial SaCanai that now j*. 
Abbot-Samaon and WlUiam-Conqneror timea. The 
miaaion of a Land Ariatocracj a laend one. In both aeaaea 
of that old word. Truly a • Sptendoar of God ' did dwell 
in thoae old rude leracioui ages. Old Aniebn traTelliae 
to Rome, to appeal againit King Rufua, Their quarrd 
atboEtom a great quarrel. (19S,) — The boundleaa Future, 
pred^acined, nay already exiant though nnieen. Our i 
Epic, not Armu and Ihi Man, but TkL ami tJu Mum; an 
InGnilely wider kind of Epic. Important that our 
grand Reformation were begun. [30S.) 



CuAF. II. Briitry C 

Oar theory, perfect purity of Tenponnd Praachiie; 

our practice, Irremediable bribery. Bribery, indlcatire 

aot only of length of purae, but of brazen diahoneaty : 

Proposed improvements. A Parliament, atarting- with 
a lie In its mouth, promolgatea lErange horoscopea of I 
iteelf. (p. 31a,)— Respect paid to those worthy of no I 
respect ; Pandaru! Dogdraught. The indigent discerDlns t 
Freeman ; and the kind of men he is called upon to Tote 
tor. (j.J.) 

Chaf. III. Til «.i InslH-Uai 



SUUMARY 3S3 

degree! of utllitj. KlkennyCaU; SpinnlDg-DerTiahei ; 
PaiUuntntuy Eloquence. A Frime-Mialtur who ivouki 
dm belicTc the heavenly omena. (p. 318.) — Who can 
degpair of Governments, that paisea a Soldier's Guard- 
houie? — Incalculable what, by arranging, commanding 
and regimenting, can be made of men. Organiimi 
CDougb in the dim huge Fnture ; and ' United Serricei' 
quite other than the red-coat one. (jxiO—LegiilatiTC 
iatetference between Worlcet) and Master- Workers 
increasingly iodispeniable. Sanitary Reform : People's 
Parks : A right Education BiU, and elfective Teaching 
Serrice. Free bridge for Emigrants 1 England's snre 
markets among her Colonies. London the ^ll-SaMvn- 
HvH, rendezTona of aU the ' Children of the Han-Rock,' 
(317.) — The English essentially conierTatiTe : Alwaya 
the iQilncible instinct to hold fast bj the Old, to admit 
the jBiKjwm of New. Yet new epoch* do actually come ; 
and with them new peremptory necessities. A certain 
Editor** atipnlated work. <33l-) 

Chap. IV. Caftaini rf ItUkary. 
Government can do much, but it can in nowise do all. 
Fall of Mammon ; To be a noble Master among noble 
Workers, wiU again be the firat ambition wit^ aame 
few. (p. 334.J— The Leaders of Industry, virtually tiie 
Captains of the World : Doggeries and Chiralriei. Iso- 
lation, the mm-total of wretchedness to man. All social 
growls in this world have required organising ; and 
Work, the grandest of human Interests, does now require 
it. (336.) 

Chap. V. Pirmi^na. 
The • tendency to pera«*ere,' to persist in spite of 
hlodrances, discouragements and ' impossibilities,' that 
which distingaishes the Specie* Man from the Genus 
Ape. MoDih-loag contracts, and Exeter-Hall purblind- 
neaa. A practical manu&icturing Quaker's care for hit 
vrorkmen. {p. 34a. )— Blessing of Permanent Contract ; 
Permanence in all things, at the earliest possible moment, 
and to the laleat possible. Vagrant Sam-Sltcki. The 
wealth of a nan the number of things he loves and 
bloses, which he Is loved and blessed by. (346). The 



3S4 SUUMARV 

Worker^ biitrvl in the enterpriK witb wfaich he i* con- 
nected. How to reconcile Deipotitm with FtwedWt. 

CEAr. Vt. Tht tandA 
A BUD with fiftf, with Gtb hundred, with > thoBMsd 
ponndi > Avf, ^teo him freely, without condition u ail, 
mizbt tie a nitber atrooK Worker ; The a»A miitr, lerr 
OBiiuoui to look at. will he iwaiieD, be lUie aniD) 
or !• thit death-fit Terj death ?—Goethe'> Duke of Wei- 
nur. Doom of Idlenetg. (p. 349.)— To lit Idle aloft, like 
abiurd Epicurui'-godi, ■ poor life for a miD. Indepeni 
ence, ' lord of the tion-heart and eagle-eye : ' Rejectioi 
of (ham Supcrioti, tlie needful preparation fbi obedience 
to rW Superiori. (353.) 

Cnw. VII. Tkt Glfid. 

TumnltuoDi anarch; calmed by noble eflort Into {rait- 
fiil KiTereignty. Mammon, like Fire, the nt^ileat of 
•ervanta, if the frighcfuleit of maiteri. Soul* to whom 
the omnipotent guinea ii, on the whole, an impotent 
guinea : Not a May-game ii this mau'i life ; but ■ battle 
and ttetn pilgrimage: God'a justice, human Nobteneu, 
Veracity and Mercy, the eoenee of hia rery being. 1 
(p.3S6.)-WhatamanofGenlii.la. The Higheat ' Man 
of Geniug.' Oeoiui, the clearer preaeoce of Ood Moil I 
Mieh in a man. Of intrinaic Vdetlami yon cannot, 
WiHi whole Parliament) to help you, make a Kcrcdim. 
(36'-) 

CsAT. VIII. TTuDidaait. 

One preacher who doei preach with effect, and gradn- 
ally perauade all peraona. Repentant Captaina of In- 
dnatry ; A Chactaw Fighter become a Cbriitlaa Figiitcr. 
(p. 363.) — Doomtday in the afternoon. The ■ Chriati- 
anity' that cannot get on without a mtnimnm of Pour- J 
thonund-fiie-haodred, will give place to lomethiDe i 
better that can. Beantiful to aee the hrntlah empire M ' 
MamoHHi cracking eierywhere : A acraoge, chill, alnoat 
ghaatly dayapring in Yinkeefand iiadf. Here aa there. 
Light is coming into the world. Whoto believea, let 
... ........ .J falsi: 1.-.-.- 1 



SUUUARY jSj 

hare do place Jn the bra're mui'a dictfoMrr. (3(5. { — 
Not oa llion'i or Latium'i plaio; oa far other plaini 
■nd place* henceforth can noble jeedi be done. The 
laat Partridge of England ihot and ended : Ariitocradei 
with bearda on their china. O, it It great, and then Ii 
no other greatneia : To make anme nook of God'a Crea- 
tion a litue fniicfuler i to make aoine homan bean* ■ 
little wl*n, manfuler, happier; It ia work for a God! 
IJ«7-) 



a nfriMl tf tlu Jirit nSlian <f 1843. Tit iict lUi ktm iMii 
ty OUfkmM SmHl<m, M.A., uio kai aMiJ lit Mar^Mtlit 

LoDdoD, Apcil ifiva. 



Dotes 

Paa mti Prtint may bo defined in brief ii a trenchant 
criciciaai and damaging Indictment of our latter-day 
ciiUintion which aeeni tohaTethe tendency of making 
the rich richer and the poor poorer, {t !• also a severe 
aatire upon the thama and unreiliilea of modern Society, 
and the Inherent " immorality " of its moralitj. 

Page 7, line 34. The reference it to Lamentationa ir. 
ID ; ■' The hand) of the pltlfdl women hare lodden their 
own children \ tlHy were their meat in the destruction of 
the daughter of my people." 

Page 9, line 10. " Pausing amid Wi game-preierrei."-- 
The OsisaiLaws, aa far as England l> concerned, date 
l>ack to the "Forest Laws" enacted by the Forest 
Charter of 1117, by nhlch Henry III. set a.part certain 
Unda for royal iiontlng preserves. Foreit Courts were 
eabblisbed for the purpose of enforcing the laiFs reiating 
to the royal forests. There were four kinds of Conrts 



note ; " and of the " Lord Juitice in Eyre in the Foreit 
or Justice Seat." The Game Laws sprung out of these 
reatrictions, and are Irath numerous and stringent. The 
Prescmdon of Oane Act (1771), Day and Night Poach- 
ing Acts (ilil), and the Day Trespass Act are among 
the principal Game Laws. 

Page ij, lint 16. Manchester Insurrection '. otherwise 
the "Feterloo Massacre," of Angiiat lEth, igig. A 
mcAting had bcea called at which it had been arranged to 
prepaTB a monster memorial in ftiTonr of Parliamentary 
reform. " Orator Hunt " was inrlted to be present and 
piesid*. An immense concourse gathered, but was per- 
fectly orderly In condoet. In an efil hoar the magistrate* 
detennlBed to arreM Orator Hunt, and commissioned 
the hussaiB >md the yeomanry to clear the ground — St. 
Peter's Fields. They had the Inhumanity to charge the 



3tt NOTES 

defenceleii crowd and to ttrike at them with their labre). 
Eight ptttooi were killed outrietie and upwardi of ooe - 
hundred injured. And yet the ifome Secretary, ViKount 
SidmoDth (AddingtoD), had the elTroiitery to think the 
nugigtritea for lo yigotoinly upholding tlie constitution. 
Page i6, line 14. Tinpmind Franihucri. — "Finding 
that a qualification of a houie rated at fia a jear would 
confine the elcctiTc franchfae in place of enlarging it, we 

tropose that the right of voting thonld be giren to 
Duneholders paying ntet for houiet of the yearly Talne 
□f^io and upwards, apon certain conditions hereafberie 
bettated."— iKi-arf/™.**. Speak rf Urd JJu, JbuttU a 
intrsJuciitg iht great S^erm Sill, Martk 111, iKjI. 

Page 19, fine 31. 73(i>«.— Mallet in hit Northern 
AnliquiticB remarl:i " that the Old Norae ibr giant wu 
Jdlunn, and that Grimm aaaerti it la eognate vitfa the 
Ang.-Sax, mla Ha, O.C lOiit, Scota E^ti/it, from Ang.- 
Sax. o-ctati, to eat, hence Jdtuu would be the counter- 
part of the Greeli Polyphagoa — big eater. 

Pace 33, line le. " FiTe-point Charter. "—The Chart- 
iaU formulated ali their demanda into fire requeata for 
conceajioni which they called their Five Pointa. Then 
were; (i) Manhood Suffrage, (1) E<iual Electoral Dis- 
tricts, (3) Vote by Ballot, (4) Annual Parliamente, (5) 
Payment of Members of Parliament. Another " paiot " 
was subsequently added, viz. (£) Abolition of property 
qualification for Memben of the Home of Commoni, 
and these "Six Pointa" therefiire became the Creed i£ 
the party. The majority of tfaem have already been 

Page 3E, line 5. SUJJxg.itaU.^-K device in connection 
with the Corn Lawi, the object being to reduce the 
import duty as the price of grain increaaed, for the pur- 
pose of prohibiting the importation when the price was 
low and encouraging it when the price wai high, so 
that at famine rates grain might come in duty free. Sy 
the Act of iKiS, the price of 6ij. a quarter on wheat 
wai taken as the turning paint. At that price the import ' 
duty was £\ +1. %d. For every shilling leaa in the price 
a shilling was added to the duty. When the price rote 
above this point a different gradation ruled, the duty 
decreaung by a larger ratio tluui the riae, Thna when 
the price wai 691. per quarter, the duty wa* ijt. Id., and 
when it roae to 731., the duty aunk to its minimnm of 



NOTES i»9 

If. Sir Robert Peel cried the expedient of a Sliding' 
tcale to mltigiate the dislike to the Corn Laws, before 
avowing hlmielf > convert of Free Trade. 

Page 41, line 3;. RhaJamaatkai, JEaciii and Minn 

The three judges of the dead In the inferoB] regiona. 
Rhadamaothus wu in life king of the Cyclides and of 
lome of the Greek cities on the coast of Asis Minor. 
He wu the son of Jupiter and Enropa, snd by some said 
to be the brother of Minos hi* fellow-judge. Macai wai 
the Kin of Jupiter by ^gina. Minos wu the Supreme 
Judge of the three. 

Faze 4.7, litie 15. Cassandra, daughter of Priam and 
Hecuba, beloved of Apollo, who granted her the know- 
ledge of futurity, but because she slighted his love, 
onbined that no reliance should ever be placed on her 
predicCloQS. She was looked upon by the Trojans as 
insane, and no credit was attached to her warnings. 

Page J4, line 34. Spilman anj Dttmn. — Sir H. Spdman 
(1561-1641), one oF the greatest of British antiquaries. 
His huge Glmtariiim Anhttliigiivm or Ooiury of all 
archaic worda, was brought by him as far ai " L," but 
contpleted after his death by hin son, Sir John Spelroan 
and William Dugdale, the topographer, Charles Dnfresne 
Ducange (1610-1SS8), one of the greatest ot French 
icholars and antiquaries. Wrote Latin Ghiiary, also a 



Spelman and Dncange were united nai publlilied in 
1840. 

Page 5J, line II. Murelori Aniali.—lMSovico Antoaia 
Muratoti (1671-1750) issued his great work .Ra-™ 
IlalUamm Siripttra in twenty-nine huee folio volumes 
between 1713-ji, It contains all the chronicles of Italy 
from the fifth to Che sixteenth century. 

Page 55, line iq. Richard Arkwright (1731-1791) — 
iDventor <^ the Sfiiiiaiig-/rame; often confounded with 
Hargretves, inventor of Jie Sfinninf-^iiy. 

Page 56, Hue it. Xymt/i Fulcra Thomas Rymer 

(1639-1714) compiled the Invaluable collection of historic 
eal materlali — Frndira, Cfmtnliiairr, Lilert it cmjiacaman 
gffmtrit A^a Pmiiiea ijiirr Segei Anglitt tt alios qavoir Im' 
fcrattrii, Saii, PinHfias, Prindfn nl Ctmrninilala—i 
collection of the treaties and public acts from the eleventh 
century to his own time. 



S90 NOTES I 

. Page 70, line 16. AJvtailiii-I>aMi~{" tbt deTil'i ti- ^ 
TOCftte"). TbepameKiien Eotht perMBappoinndtotUte - 
the objcctioni to any propoied canonintioo in the Rooriib 
Church, by bringinf up facci from the indivldiwl'* lift 
which would tniiiei canoniution ineipcdient. Ht ii 
oppoied bf the '>dAw<(lw £U" — the adiocBtc on the 
■idc of Ood. 

IT Baan'i tramtm iwiL— See the I 
a bf Robert Greene, friar Aecu I 
en/ A-ur JSm^af, Friar Bacon wat, of conrae, the 
celebrated Roger Bacon. 

Page It, Une ji. "GnTCh, born thtali of Cedric."— O. 
Jvanlut, ch^p. I, p. 10. 

I>tgc It, Une 34. XMm Hmd bmJ mU StarleU.-~Ci. 
Ritton'i Setym Unit, A I^ GaU rf Jbfyi Hmk, etc. 
Scarlett nai a famout bowman in the band of the great 
outlaw of Sherwood Foren. , 

Page S6, line t. filMmtrU. — The poor-roam in a 
nionaitery, where die potw receiTed tlieir dolea. 

■all gar fernii piiiti, maittit, and gtm^iu for howkin' 
ye nano fra' toe bed o' che water." — Burfi SrcM-Ji •/ 
££aturgk, 15QI. 

Page IID, line 14. Fadimm it Flipami^x mcdianal 
legal phraie signifying to giie ■nrely a ' ' ' 

thi 



: the neat 


Court the iriTcr would 


appear to 


annrer to 






. appr 


oiimated to our i, 


d« of bail. 




Page 
»idenC 


'S9i. 


t^l 


1 SenegamTiU. _ 


. Bantu laa 


.ofA&ics, 



n field*. Cf. Oreenc'i 
play of Gargt'U.Crtat, At fi»mT •fWaktpM. 

Page 165, line 17. " Lifting up the vizard of hit 
helmet a face bai-dly appeared from within, which afCet 
■ pauK wa* known for tint of the renowned Dryden . . . 
the helmet wa* nine tlmea too large fin the head, which 
appeared tituate fxr in the hinder part, cTCn like a. lady 1 
in a lobater, or like a mouie Doder a onopy of it^e, or I 
like a thrivelled bean frea within the penthooie of a 
modern periwig." — Swift*! B^Oi if ikt Biit, 

Page 173, tine aj. Ai/row^A'fjir ^ Or«>.— Cf. Horwe, 
OdEcf, fi. i. %%. 10; abo B. ii. il, 30, 

I''E<>9J> "i" ■4- Mr. fnii^.— Sir Henry Rowley 
Bishop {\^%i-\il%y compoKr of the opcreitae — Guy 



NDTB6 ]»> 

, Maii Marua. etc. Id 
r of the Euniliar tening of 
PaTDC'i King, Hate, 8<ar,l Him,. 

Pagtloj, line s6. iWHi«i/ Gnkaulj.—Tht former wu 
errODcentfy lappoml by CarlyU to belong to Peru mnd 
to be MK>ci«ted «itb gold mining. It orai of old, Pern- 
tIsq [trritoiy, but now helnnga to BoIItIs, and ii the 
centre of the illvet mining Indnatry. Oolconds Id 
Hyderabad i>.celebnited for its diunondi, which, howerer, 
■re only out and potiihed (here. 

Pige *l%, line 9 II. One of the patugei quoted by 



Heary Georee to proTc that hd economie doctrines i» 
bBied upon thoM of Oirlyle. 

Pigc ijl, line 19, Referring to the (cene recoRled In 
Atti xtI, 9. 

Fafeiji.llneu. S»abrf.-»C£ ^raJMi JV^ib, vol. It. 
p. loS (Deot's Edition). 

Page »]7, line *C. Html Dmia tki BuceaiUir.-'Cl. 
■ccoDBt ia Barney'* ItuUiry <fAt Bwranari, and Pomll'a 
edition oiZmtaaAiB^'t Bmccmmcrrt rf Amiria. 

Page »5*, line a*. Ouo'i Zabir-Ani.— One of the 
many acbcfnet of locial and economic reform on Soclallat 
llDciof Robert Owen (1771-1158). 

Page 157, line 5. 'laiOrftt ^ AbnaAi^.--The imvn-i 
siinttril who rode tn froot of the Norman army at the 
battle of Hutlngi, when the attack cMnmenced (Oct. 14, 
[06A). He rode toMing hia aword tn air and catching it 



firat to laU. 

Page 1J7, line 16. Animii. — A giant of Libya, aon of 
Tern and Neptune. He wai nid to be Irreatatlble in 
wreitJiDg, becaoie, howerer often lie Waa thrown, he 
alwaya receired new itrength from hia Mother (Earth) 
the mooient he toncbed the ground. At laat Hercnlea 
met him, and iinowing hii inTloeibllltj to sU ordinary 
meana of eonqneat, the hero lifted him in air and aqneeied 
him to death. 

Page iCi, line 1*. P^i/drli' J.Jf.— Phalariiwaa tyrant 
of Agligentum in Sicily about J50 a.c He waa nid to 
have roaatad hit enemiea In a bralen bull which waa 
■o conatmcted tliat the aound of their ahriekiaod groani 
waa deadened, llie tradition polnta poaiibly to the aacri- 
fice of human TJctima to Baal or Moloch. 



Page 171, line 19. Piaaitiuiliim. — Careleuoeu, In- 
sec uruy. 

Page «7J, line 7. Oliier Cromwell banged aC Tyburn, 
Thii act. which wai quite of a piece with the chancrer 

of Charlea H. and hi) adrliera, degraded those who 
rBaorted to It more than hitn vrhoie memorj they thiu 
■ought Co diahonour. The remains were interred at the 
foot of the gibbet on which they had been suspended. 

Page 196, line lo. Tluimu i Buia wu firM the 
Intimate friend and Chancellor of Henry il., then hii 
determiaed opponent after the monarch iotiated on hln 
accepting the Archbishopric of Canterbury. The cod' 
lirmation of the " Constitutions of Clarendon " was tht 
bone of eontention between them. Their animosity gre« 
so hot that Henry II. must be held to hare Instigated tbe 
mnrder of Becket by the four Knights— Fitzurae, Tracy, 
Brito and MorTille, Dec. 19th, I170. 

Pagea9J,linei6. DryasJuii PhiLuafiiiimi ami EtlhUani 
Sctftitiiwu, — In imitation of Diderot and the Frendi 
EacwI'fc&U, alao of Rousseau and Voltaire. llic 
eighteenth century, particularly in its earlier and middle 
decades, was distinguished by intense philo-GaUicism. 

P»g= i°h "ne 3+- An»elm [1033-1109), a great 
acholaatic philosopher, author of Cur Dm Bamtf 
Appointed Archbiahop of Canterbury bf William Rufus. 

Page 306, line 4. £iu!iKr (1055-1114), a learned monk 
of Canterbury, the Mend and biographer of Anachn. 
Appointed Bishop of St. Andrews in Scotluid but nerer 
Invested, owing to tha dispute to whom he was to owe 
allegiance, whether to Canterbury or to York or to 
Rome direct. 

Page 3ofi, lioe 6. Jta* Jacjua er giail-iiUii^ Fitairt. — 
Jean Jacques Rouaaeau (1711^1778), one of the greatest 
of Piencb thinkers. His three great works are the 
Ntmlli Hiloiu (the Mew HeloVse), the Cnlrml Stiid 

ithe Social Contract) and Emiis. Bf the £rit hs became 
.noWD as the most popular writer of the romance of 
sentiment, by the second as a great political economist, 
by the third as an educationist.— frfljifoij Jlfa™ ^Mirrf Hi 
FaOairc (1694-1778), one of the greatest genium France 
has produced. There is scarcely a branch in letters in 
which he did not attain the higheat rank. As a 
diamaciat, la a Dorelist, as a philosopher, aa a historian, 
as a poet, and as a critic he shone in all. Carlyle'i 



NOTES 393 

refrcen^, " the giaiit-iilti*g Fitialrt," Ii to hi* atruggle 
with faiuticiim over the CaUii aBur, la nhkh be 
demonilnCed.tlie iuuocetice of ■ man nnjuatly executed 
for mnrderliiK hii ton to preoeat him becoming a Roman 
Catbolie. 
Page 

the Greek) on [he Feiiiana, ii Sept. 479 ■. 
d»y that Mardoolui wa* defeated at Platza. 

Page 345, line 7. " Tit iiiiiJ$ma, mudt-abauJ, mij inly 
usifut Mr. Ckadv,ici."~iAt. Edwin Chadwick wai' one 
of the atiiatanE Commiailonera in concectioa with the 
Rojal Commiaaion of 1S34, to inquire Into the condilion 
of the poor with a Tiew to formuUting a new Poor Law, 
Mr. Chadwick'a iuTeitigationa proved of prime value to 
the Commiuion. 

Fagejsi, line it. Dtie ^ H^amar.~Kul-Augutt, U 
wboae court, at the dote of the eighteenth and the begin- 
ning of the nineteenth century, Goethe, Schiller, Herder, 
and Wieland were alt living, and working, enjoying the 
bounty of thit munificent patron of lettera. 

Page 151, line ig, Lifr-ia-DaUh—Ci, Coleridge'a An- 
cient Mariitir, Part ill, Sunia 1 1. 

Page 35], line 7. Lord Aahtey, better known at the 
Earl of Shafleibury. Aa early at 1833 he succeeded in 
carrying the Factory Act of that year, which provided 
that peraoni under iK ihould not be required to work 
more than 69 honra a week, and that Intpectora ihould he 
appointed to aee the provlaiont of the Act carried into 
effect. 

Page 354, line i. Wtriir. — Ooelhe'i romance of that 

P»ge 3S4> ''°e 7- Tlurtila — One of the Greekt at the 
Trolan War, deformed and envloai, conataotly ridicnl- 
1 feUow-ioldieri. Achillea killed him with a blow 
fiat, becauae he aneered at hia mourning the death 
of Penthctilea. Cf. Horn. Ifmi, B. ii. iii 

Page 354, line tj. JVgm/i.— The «_ Ji plamt of 
Frietlrich Ton Hardenberg (i77J-igol)i one of the moat 
dittinguiahed of German poeta and philoaophical 



K 



sn H0TB6 

when the phdoiopbcr biting oflT hli tonfnc ipat it odi 
Into Hlcocraon'i fMe, nylog, ■■ Ton sny tortare the body ' 
of AniBarchnt, but tlion canit not torture lili looL" 

Pigt jtii line I. CBti^tir.—An imigimry conntrr 
of luxury and delicbt. Ct Canli tf Ctcinpxi, by the bn 
H. 8. L«lgl). 



Sntiej: 



lAlbOk, Dr., SiiB*- 

^sclm, DaTenmg to Ronu, 3I>5. 

Apes, Dad-Sea, 169, sjo, ajj- 

Arab FDeB, loS. 

AiisloctacT of TaIcul 35 ; dread- 
fully difficult to anaiD, ^ 43, 
398 ; our Fhuiustn-AristocracVi 
174, 11*. "«, yi, 350, 3«7; 
dunes of an Atinocracy, 3^3^ 
SIB. S38; WoHdng Arijiocracy, 
ai4, aao, 336, 36a ; no true Ans- 
locracy, out miut poueu the 

toci'acio, 9&4 ; a Virtual Arit- 



tocracy everyw 
whcn^ B^; (hi 

tards, 4S. 303. 






Bible of UmrenMl HiAocy, ag?. 
Blockheads daa^er of, iia. 
Babus of Uaundsdltch, 3B, 43, 36; 

Bnndley, 19S. 

Bunu,44.ii».«S3,Mi. 
Bynn • bfa-waanutu, i9>> jjL 

Canute, Kitig, te. 
Caih-paynKnt not the 10k rrJuin 

of hutnin beinji, '1^1=33 



Chancery I^tr-Cmirtt, fli 



Chnnianity, grave of, iji; the 
ChrislLin Law of God found 

the Christian Reti£ion not ac- 
compH^ed by Pnze-K&says»a3i ; 
DT tv a minimum of Four-lhob- 
laDd-fiTe-huDdied.sS;. See New 
Ihurch. the English, aoS ; Chunb 



among her, 3 
Columbus, roy 



'3, '6; John Bull a bora Con- 
ta^aiU of be' - ' ■" " 



lot be Bought 



Cemuris, the, Uoully nlalt 

Chiclaw IniJiaD, aj6. 
Chanqnon of Entluid, Ihc, ' 

Iota hli laddV i74- 




UKhief and 
danger of, nil, aaj, ajS ; after 
the C^oio-Lawi are ended, av), 
311, J18; what William Con- 

Sieror would have thought of 
em, sM. 
rremwell, and bis tembte lifelong 
wrcstl^ a5 ^ by far our teOiajk- 



Mt INC 

DaHDT, Iha RCDUt, I&k 

Doth, Moiul, >Br. Seelile. 
DcmoCTKr. >]» : cloH of kin to 
Athtum, aft/; mUdng dw BErecti 

Dupotiiia rEisiicikd wilb Free- 
dom. M- 

Dntmr, oLdBctic, 47. 

Dilcttaniiim^ 60,. 146, ig^ no; 
Sncelallj idle ID Harfair, 1S6. 

Dupei and QuBclu. js- 

Dutf , iufliule nalure of, 137, 145. 

Editor'i, the, puipoK lo himSElC 
AdI of lujpe, 49 ; bu stipulated 

Edmuod, St-T 64 ; on tHc rkn of 
the borizoD, 137 ; openioit the 

Edmund&bury, Si-, S9- 
Edncition gcivice, in effective, 

Klection, the one impottajit social 

machine*, 98, 103- 

EmiRUion, 330. 

Enibnd, fallof wciltli, yet dviuz 
of imuiilion, 3 : the guidiince o^ 
not wise eDauiEtij37r33£;EiigUTid 
of the yeariaoo, $6, 61, 7a, 137, 

GlEForali.iJs: Ihli England, 
thepiacricatnunmary of Engliih 

up by puffery and unfaithfajnesi, 
17S: real HeU «f the En^ish, 
TBo;of all tiationi, die stupidest 

196 ; uripolcen udness, im : 

rage, 904; n Vatuic, wide as th 
world, a we have heart an 

E»Ui Henry iJA of, 133, iSi. 
Expeneoce, 363. 

Fact and Semblance, iS ; an 
Ffclian, jS. 

Fime, the thing called, i<i, iM- 

Fl^Iing,all, an ucenamnienl wh 
hu the right to rule over vhom, 
^fijo^i murderous Fightmg be- 
come a 'gloiioui CSiLvairy,* 7ii- 

Fkinkiei, »liani no Hero- King am 



Fonibam Jnttle of, 64. 

French Dooathins AriBlooacy, 
111 ; the Fitnch ReToluiian i 
voice of God, though in madi, 






Gi^i. with featben 



G«the, 194. 3ii : bis 'Ataii' 
Gouip pielctable to pedantry, 6] 



'ernmeB(sy3i9; every Gowcm- 
It the lymbol of la Ttofit, 

Mu, a, 948. See Wisdom. 



bidh I7i. I 

Healing AH- the, a aacred one, 5. 
HcaTcn and Hell, our notioni J. 

Heaven's Ounccry, a3s, ■41. I 

HelE, tul, ofaman,i): Hdlif 
the £nEl!sb, iBo, 334, 

Henry ILdi(K4inEBnAhbot,]a' , 
hit Welsh wan, ijsianhiivi' * 
lo the Crusades, 144 : our bna 
Flancagencl Henry, 31a. 

Hercnles, al}, ite. 

Heroic Proouaad-Land, 49- I 

iai,30j, 354: nat Hsroeshaie | 
Hiitory, philoao^ikal, igtf. 



d wiUjnff to « 



Idtencu alone ivithoDt hope, iBi ; 

IgSiuil, the IMt-Tm, m, 163, 

ifiad, Iht'iiS* 

JmpoulbJe, Of, 39; without j0h/» 
j[ thuigM Lmpouiblc. 1B5; cvory 



noble m 



IsdmafS 



EC the ooe thing intolerable 



Irish Widow, an, ftnine her 

sisterhood, 1S4, 161. 
iBolsliou tbt imn-louil of wietch- 



loceiin ef Bralceio 
-^ BosweUean NoU 



the tttiu of all thingv, Ti, 
"■ '^.:. -ible" WigMdl 
Wild-Jiiaice, 



18, .a66 
fe^^God^ 



IClLKMKNI CaU, 3»- 

iCing, the Due and Ihc sham, 104, 
no, n4 : the Ablot Man, Ih< 
virtoal KiBe, >7j : agaiD ii i 



£X 397 

all Kioii, Uiniitet, Eetnat, 

iCww IhyKlf,' a43. 

Labour, to be Kint of ttui Eailb, 
911 : Otganuatioa of. 141, jg^ 
pereDDial noblcuesa aad 
. : j_ SeeOimdiT, 






Land belongi to, n6; the mit- 
UDD of a £ud AriUocracy a 
xaavd ODO, J04, 34a 
Law, gradual rra»th of, i^i ; 
the Makei'i Lam, 9II4. See 

tAielative interfcreDce, 337. 



LiTcrpoo], i^ 
LoadAtar, a, m the 
Logical futUiIies, i 



!te™l.ky,48. 



dAHHOH, not 1 cod at aD, B4; 
Goipel of Mammoniun, i«, 

bettei than Idle Dileltantinn, 
iSi, t86, 157; EEtting iusir 
itrantled, 316 ; falfof Mammon, 
a3S. 364; Mam ■" ~ 



ie.,,,.; 
a B«^, 

lu; a bom Soldiet, 136; a 
(rad-cruled Soul, ggj. See 

Manchater in the toeUthce^ 
tury, S3 ; enn taorf Uancheiter 
built on the inhoiie Abyuca, 

Mamage^oDtract^ 343, 346, 
Muter, eye of the, lu. 
Meat-jack, a diicMmJat e, ip> 

Mighlt and Ri|M>i eji- 



M' 



iTT, ill, ul^hik flf DDiimilai 

36 ; itrHigtb, tlutt hill ml y 
liMnd lu mr, SI*. 

HuBkf, mHiM .Si BOden., , 
Ih* old naiMiki »t vilhout mc 



How ad lb* D>eUen bj ihc 
DHd-Sa,iBS. 



MegTO SlaTerymd While Nomid. 
Nchlcueu, m 






_, rlut nuy H doH br, 

O^ufi^, idi. Sw Fath-oulc- 

Ow-ProduQtioii| duig« of, til, 



rUB Dogdnmrfit, 305, 31 

and the CourH 
13, 319: ■ I^ 

Paatt P i ■■e m vid Foture, 41), agS, 

pDtfc-B^BR, lit. 



pMteTttr, ippeaCag to, tft. See 



Fnoiu, the Uin of, 



fcvwkmg, 98B. 
t a wise, mifht do, 
— Windhng. 1 






Pufeyism, 146, 3W. 



I^hi.«r 


kmen, 345, 


36J,' 


RtlDY-RK: 


euu, itr 


D£=S.= 







our TelinoD ffODe, i6g I il 
Worii, ^eUgnn, 14I : fi 
cmving for a 'New RelwW 

•mil, iSi. See Prs jer, Wonb*. I 
Rklurd I. St* Cceut^Uoi. 1 
Robot de Houfort, Tij. 
Kokevood, Mt., n. 

Riuuaiu, the nint, worth kiik- , 
(tdng^ 1)6, igg; tba Car ^' 



Siuui, UodE, Miliar of i* 
Noriect, 77 1 Us paRiiDK 
dieaio, and dadiealHH is * 1 
EdBB Bd , ti I KM to Kw ! 
W ; iMMwtntaliitiBH, 90 1 ifli« 

Aaraiu oiTsefnuit^ bi> inv4i ^ 

totU 97; electMl AbbOL m: 

lo] ; geuini id voH^ nft lu^ 
hB IbvQur (or Gt mm, iij : M 



K: ctuMwuMd mam, nl 
piMlitr iBd ttoidta, <»; 

vatkrn, iiB ; ££cip of Ely out- 
Mitsd, 140; Kids lUclunl 
widutDod, £4*; teAJaa EDUmt 
in tbe Cru3ade«f iu ; it ^npsc 
of ths BadT c^ at. Edniuncl, 



SauoHil, on Nature J7; our 

, rcvireiKC for Doth ind tat 

Ulc, 153 : th< reil Hell of ihe 

Engluli, ita ; Guhioniible Wiu, 

1S7 ; ivmbMic iDflucDCci of 

' -"uhiDit, ^ 



leott. Sit W., 
ieMiiuiw, 18, 



h« Apamuaa, 
hiabU Bleat ot, at. 



Soldier, the, 313. 
Eonow, Wonhip of, 1^ 



haiL»C tbctflf/out of haoti 

tweeB, ji ; iuiren'ligii of arti 
tota ■peech, 164 ; iiuinci 

wanderiog ternbLv from I 

Siminv-nddle of lAfe, thE. to, 1 
Mf- Sphinx-riddle, 13. 

tpinninf Dervisbei, 330. 
UQiptuwy Lawi, aSg. 



^ ba^ihilat kind of, <9. 

TouMdMekkoB BeBBcmer, (67. 
ThwT^ Uu ol, i9r' 

TUrqr-iwieAiticIti, iSo. 
Took Hid Ih* Mu, joS, ]»> 

Uhahiuitv h fcHr, 178. 
Uncaucioui, the, tke «la» Com- 

[mvene. genenl Hi(k Cmt of 

ti^linMe^ Perhaps,' 169 : iearmt 
the Humbuff it wu iBought t» 
bo, 189 1 a beygarlf UlUvetle, 

lS.w, 184. ""™ '' 

rwen, the, iji. 



Valeti and Heiwi, j: 



Wagsi, fair diy-i, for fur diy'i 

Wai^,°Sco^^'i debt ta, 17, 
Waflhing, tymbolic LnQucDca of, 

=,. 348 364. 



iifi, ... ""• 

mniun Ruftis, joi, 3116 1 th* 

great quimL *». 

Wlndbac, Six Jab^ 167, 17J. 

Wisdom, how, hu to dii^e 
with Folly. 9\ 97, >&t; tbe 
higher the Wiidom the ckusriti 

miitiltalA for eray cun, »7i 1 
ttw Wm and Braie property 
but one glaja, 109, 3m. 368 ; the 
life of the iyxhtA not a May 
game, bu[ a battle aod tteia 
fitgriizui^, U0. 
Wu, bsfaioBahle, 187. 




■^avWim', UmUti, ImikmnndBM,^^ 



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