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"Living in a retired, quiet spot of ground, having your mind at ease, your wants supplied, and your wishes gratified, that is the hour, then is the time to talk philosophically. I got into a little fit of love this morning. I begged Miss Philosophy to help me over it, but the cross old maiden lady used me very ill, just as you would fancy a cross old maiden lady treating a young, lovely girl of twenty, did this maid treat me. I thought of you, and then I was uneasy. I thought again philosophically; then by way of a little stimulant, I rummaged for that very ugly letter you sent me the week before we were separated. You must remember it. A 'to be burnt' letter you called it. It assisted my bit of philosophy most wonderfully. Do you remember the contents of that letter? Oh, this letter has assisted my philosophy most wonderfully. I almost think that if I received a note for admission in the compter to-morrow morning, that I should have magnanimity of soul sufficient for a Seneca's wife. Now what say you? I will have you make a choice. No both. Must I practise love? I will adhere to either of the two characters but not to both. I shall spoil myself and be neither one nor the other. Make a choice, oh! make a choice. Pure nature's feeling for me, altho' I may err 'tis not of the heart; let me be thought weak and irresolute. I perhaps am so, but I never hoped to be called unfeeling. Must your Isis love you or must she not? that is the question; or must she assume an indifference that she does not feel: a cold, calculating, philosophical, dignified indifference? Come, make a choice; oh, make a choice; philosophy or love?"

CHAPTER III. LETTERS TO "ISIS"

A little later comes this letter of Maria, the younger sister of "Isis". It was written because of two open letters which appeared in the Isis, the publication of that name. We neither criticise nor defend these letters, they were no doubt outlined by Carlile in his usual habit of publicity and with the best of intentions, but there is also no doubt that they startled and wounded the feelings of the family deeply. In those days to have your name in the paper was a disgrace, unless under the heading of Births, Marriages or Deaths.

"1832. Her sister Maria to the Editress of the Isis.

"My Dear Eliza, —

"'Isis,' I suppose I am to call you, since you have renounced your Christian name, and taken one instead which I can find only in the heathen mythology. I have received both your letters, and indeed in a form which I should least of all have expected, and least of all wished for any member of our reputable and respectable, but always retiring and obscure family. You are the first one that ever had the ambition to appear before the public, and I must confess that that ambition, extraordinary as it is, appears under circumstances that raise it above all suspicion of the influences which are the ordinary incentives to ambition. It cannot be any ordinary pursuit of riches, nor any very particular regard to reputation that has placed my sister in a situation of such peculiar attachment to an individual whom the law of his country has-placed in a gaol.

"But as I am no philosopher, as you profess to be, and therefore unable to judge of things (as you would) save as they really are, I am obliged to confine my judgment to the nature of things as they appear to be, and as the judgments of society are necessarily governed by appearances, we surely claim too much from society when we expect its good opinions and its bestowal of confidence, without paying the compliment of our attention and regard to appearances. An authority which you ever respected, and which our dear departed father would have us both to respect through life, has counselled us: Whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report, if there is any praise think on these things. And this, I presume, would have been no counsel to regulate young women's deportment in society, even though she had come to discover that the faith in which her father lived in virtue, and died in hope, was a mere being, held bound or tied fast to a system, a dogma, a ceremony, a discipline. But at the distance to which you have pleased to remove yourself from us, a distance I fear greater than miles can measure, we, your religious family, have no means of judging of your conduct but by report, and it is with an aching heart that I find that the frightful corroboration of your own report against yourself. In your first letter, which I read in print in the Isis No. 34, purporting to be edited by a lady, and that lady to be my sister Eliza, you are pleased to expose to the world what certainly the world could have as little curiosity to know as I had inclination to discover, and it is hardly making me amends to publish at the same time the uncalled for acknowledgment that you were a young woman when I, you say (and I thank you, madam, for the advertisement), who am calculating on some early settlement for future life, 'was yet a child'. I am willing to give you as much honor as you would wish for the advantage you have over me in the point of age, though there is a sort of heroism in the extraordinary virtue of a young lady telling the world that she is in the view of thirty, which other young ladies of the same age would feel more disposed to admire than to imitate. But that advantage of quite sufficiently advanced age, on the score of which you are fully authorised to be the instructress, example, and guide of your sister at one and twenty, like all other advantages, involves a corresponding accountability, and gives the world a right to expect and to understand that a lady of such an age does not play with language with the unwary simplicity of a 'Miss in her teens', nor bandy sentences of a construction which may bear meanings to other minds of which her own was unconscious. The composition of a woman of thirty will never be interpreted according to the simplicity of a girl of fifteen. In the stationary and the staid condition in which our father left us, and left us with his best wishes and prayers that we might continue steadfast even to the end, you will not wonder that I should have consulted our minister, the Rev. H. T., in this great calamity, to me, of receiving two letters in print of such a nature as those in Nos. 34 and 35 of the Isis. I thank you for the admission that our minister (for so he was once, and I hope he will be again, both yours and mine) is an amiable man, and that you know he is amiable. Your good opinion of him to that extent would not have been lessened could you but have witnessed with what a generosity of soul he received and read the new sort of questions which a wandering member of his congregation had propounded to him. A sort of questioning, indeed, from which the character of Mr. T.'s suggestive influence is written as with a sunbeam. You bid me examines his motives. Well, my dear sister, well, the advice which you give to me is transcendently well. It is a wise, a discreet, a becoming caution in us young women to examine men's motives, especially ere we take them into such places in our confidence as none but a father could or ought to be. I have examined his motives, and to do so effectually I took the plan of doing so rationally, that is, I contented myself with examining those of his motives which came within my extent of power to examine, without going beyond my powers to examine, and which could be known to God only; and as far as humanity, I could find no motive for the advice I received from him of a less holy character than the motives which would have governed the counsels of a dying parent. Eliza, our minister was moved with sorrow for the inferior repute into which your conduct has brought our respectable family. What could be the corrupt motive for bringing upon us so much sorrow? For though you might choose to maintain that your conduct was that of an angel, you could not deny it was of evil repute, and to have been of a family of good repute and to see it fallen and cast down into most vile suspicion, and however your philosophy may enable you to set it at defiance, is to my feelings a very great calamity. For though you are very clever and have become so all of a sudden, yet I, your poor sister, feeling only as common people feel, and thinking only, I confess, as I have been taught to think, cannot help thinking what would our father have said? Would Eliza have turned Pagan had he lived? You say that the purity of my mind would revolt at the first idea of idolatry, as you have done. But how came you not to revolt at the last idea of idolatry, or having revolted at the first, to come at last to such a peace with that you first revolted at as to renounce your Christian name for that of an Egyptian idol; and not content with taking the name of Isis, to take her character too, and let all the world see that Isis could do nothing without her Osiris – 'her friend, her comforter, her priest, her saviour and her God'? They are your own words, my sister, and I pray God to forgive you their import, whatever it may be. I hope I do not understand them. You ask me in your first letter 'Will the Rev. Mr. T. bear a 'critical question?' Alack, my dear Eliza, what is it but my sister's love and duty that hinders her from putting a critical question to you? But with a sister's love and a sister's prayer I commend the question to your own bosom, which I long to press to mine; and I bid you adieu, not in the new-fangled meaning which no one ever heard of before, but in the sense of its common acceptance to God. And to God I commend you with the utmost sincerity of soul, as no fear of infidel rebuke shall ever hinder me from saying, 'through Jesus Christ our Lord '.

"Maria Sharples."

This not unworthy letter of itself throws no discredit on the writer, but the postscript attached to it carries a sting which undoes the very good impression the letter itself makes, which in justice to the writer, as well as to the recipient, is withheld, as it only shows that the religious ossification of the heart had set in even at the premature age of 21. Another curious circumstance in regard to this sister's letter is, that it is in the Rev. Robert Taylor's handwriting. The only explanation for this is that Isis may have sent it to Carlile, and he in turn sent it to Taylor, in prison, for his perusal, as their daily correspondence shows them to be in the habit of doing, i.e. exchanging everything that may have been of interest at the moment. Taylor must have copied it, with what object we are at a loss to discover. We find it in a collection of Taylor's own letters.

We left Carlile and Isis exchanging confidence and making arrangement for a permanent and mutually satisfactory partnership of marriage as well as of business. It was not, however, thought wise to make a public declaration of their union till Carlile's term of imprisonment had expired.

Richard Carlile to Isis.

"What shall I do to be saved? was never more earnestly felt than a feeling of mine at present which says: 'what shall I do to restore happiness to her whom I love and whom I have wounded?' As I began an intended long letter just now, Mrs. and Miss Henderson came about six o'clock. They waited until eight for Master Cooper, and left thinking he would not come. They had not left above a quarter of an hour before he and his father came. I wish you would come to breakfast with me to-morrow and have my atonement for the injury I have done you. I cannot write more to-night as my messenger whistles his visit."

"I did, love, indignantly say to Mr. League, do you think Miss Sharples is hiding herself? She is at my house, at her own house, indeed. I told him that his conduct was insolent and unbecoming him, that it was persecution, of which I had encountered enough to know how to deal with it, and that I should deal with it; I did not spare him, but treated him as he was – a low scoundrel. I shall write and tell him that you will visit me as usual to-morrow, and that he will refuse you admission at his peril. Mr. Paine and I are friends. I think it was the whispering of something of the kind that alarmed Mr. Paine and made him uneasy. I am very hungry waiting for my dinner. You shall have the receipts. I think you had better print 250 more Gauntlets. There is no other way of increasing the circulation than to meet all demands. This ten pound note must go to the landlord. I shall have another from Edinburgh in a day or two. Copeland is gone to the East for me. Cannot David get the paper from Shelding and Hodges?"

"If you were to complain to me of an insult from Richard, I should forbid him the house; but, love, I do not think it lessens you, but think it very much heightens the public view of your standing with me to see my boys about you. It shows that your ground is moral and good. If Mrs. Carlile did not feel this, she would never consent to the boys sleeping there or being there, and there is no more danger of your being undermined in my love, esteem, affection, and good opinion by any member of my family than there is of my taking back Mrs-Carlile, than which I had rather shorten my life. Such are my feelings on the subject, that I shall never shrink from meeting Mrs. Carlile anywhere in your company, nor from meeting the boys, nor from proposing to take either of the boys out with us, or to ask them to dine. In every respect I shall treat you as if there were no other Mrs. Carlile, and as if you were my lawful as well as my good wife. I fear nothing about you but your own temper, you own susceptibilities, which, though in some degree admirable, are very apt to be carried beyond the verge of reason and justice for the moment. I will always endeavor to set you a good example to rise above you in character and temper and goodness if I can. From me you shall never receive injustice, from no one will I bear it patiently. Now, love, I pray you, if you have written me any unpleasant letter to throw it in the fire. It will only spoil my working and make me unhappy. Why should you do it?

"I consider David France has done wonders for me since he has been in town, and notwithstanding that I intend much alteration in the management of the shop-when I come out."

But now a little shadow has fallen between them, but it is a shadow. Isis is smarting at her exclusion from the gaol, while every other lady is admitted; she is evidently a little jealous, and has so expressed herself. One cannot but be impressed at the dignity and firmness of his reply. Yet how tenderly considerate of her he is. He will not let her have his reply till morning. He does not wish to spoil her night's rest or his own.

"I am as chaste towards you in mind and body and thoughts, as the infant at your breast. Toward you I have been honest and will be honest; but remember, I am not a man to be trifled with, to be jeered at, nor to be easily duped. You have seen my promptitude in resenting an insult from Mr. Taylor, and my resolution in carrying out the resentment. I shall deal with you precisely the same if you so deal with me. And I am sorry to say there is a much nearer resemblance between your temperament and Mr. Taylor's than between yours and mine. You have his weaknesses and waverings, and much of his impatient, suspicious irascibility, without his genius and study. Instead of growing in philosophical improvement you are diverging from it. You do not now act up to the promise of your Bolton letters. It is no sufficient apology to say you love me too well to be at ease; I should prefer the love that would allow you to be at ease. My soul burns with a steady and pure flame of desire to see and be with you; but I cannot degrade myself so far as to exhibit folly and madness about it, and to be food for the sport of my enemies; nor do I upbraid you on account of our separation. This letter has been all my evening's work, I shall not let it spoil my sleep, and I do not intend you to have it until the morning. After the apologised error of Saturday I did not expect another so soon. I feel nothing but love for your love, and pity for your weakness, and ill-health, and separation from me. The letter which I began about the husband was intended for a pretty letter, but the pie (the dinner) came unexpectedly, before I could finish."

In the Preface to the first volume of the Isis the Editor made the following statement in relation to the matter; it is her first statement to the public of their union: —

The Preface to the "Isis" (1st Vol.)

"When a gap was made in the philosophical business of the Rotunda by the imprisonment of Messrs. Carlile and Taylor, I volunteered the best assistance I could give to preserve the utility of that establishment. A stranger to all public business and public men, I came alone from Lancashire, fortified in my resolve by nothing more than the goodness of the principles I espoused, and the kind, generous encouragement and assistance given to me by Mr. Carlile, to whom and with whom, I rejoice to say, I have since allied myself in matrimonial engagement, and find no disappointment in the possession of happiness in the third year. I have seen Messrs. Carlile and Taylor restored to public business, and under every engagement I felt that my task was complete. If I have not done all that I might have wished, I have done my best, and should rejoice the more to see an Englishwoman doing more than I have done. I am proud in the conviction of having set a good example, somewhat proud of the success of my effort, but prouder still of the honorable and useful position which I still fill in the community in aid and assistance of the true spirit of reform for whatever is corrupt and wrong. There are those who reproach my marriage; they are scarcely worth notice, but this I have to say for myself, that nothing could have been more pure in moral, more free from venality. It was not only a marriage of two bodies, but a marriage of two congenial spirits, or two minds reasoned into the same knowledge of true principles, each seeking an object on which virtuous affection might rest, and grow, and strengthen; and though we passed over a legal obstacle, it was only because it could not be removed, and was not in the spirit of a violation of the law, nor of intended offence or injury to anyone. A marriage more pure and moral was never formed and continued in England. It is what marriage should be, though not perhaps altogether what marriage is in the majority of cases. They who are married equally morally will not find fault with mine; but where marriage is merely of the law, or for money, and not of the soul, there I look for abuse. My spirit was wedded to the spirit of my husband before I had spoken to him. My soul craved him on the love of good political principle, and for his endurance of its martyrdom through many years of imprisonment. I have not yet repented. We fairly won the bequeathed flitch of bacon to a year's happy marriage.¹⁸ And long may it continue. We remembered that we were human, and have not fallen into the error of pledging love for life, hoping in the absence of that pledge to make it last the longer.

"The contents of this volume, in conjunction with my life's career, I submit to the judgment of all charitable beings. I court not the judgment of those who have no charity; but I can boldly say I brave and defy it. I live to please myself, and to serve the cause of virtue and honesty. Rail who may, I am not to be dismayed or discouraged; praise who may, my career must still be guided by its principles, rather than by that praise, though I am neither alien to gratitude, nor do I boast of being insensible to just approbation. I have intended well, and I am satisfied, conscientiously satisfied, that whatever I have publicly done has been well and usefully done, and will not license complaint until some Englishwoman does better.

"Eliza Sharples Carlile.

"62, Fleet Street, May 29, 1834."

On another occasion Carlile said, in reply to an attack on his marriage with Isis: —

"On the subject of marriage I have ever been the advocate and the consistent practicer of monogamy, of the honorable and happy and mutual attachment of the one man to one woman, the basis of which must not, cannot be human law, but the divine law of love and affectionate attachment. Chastity is found in obedience to the divine law, and not to the human law. I am now living up to this law in the highest sense in which it can be interpreted, openly, honorably, and with injury to no one, against which reproach has no power, for which the insect has no sting nor has venom poison. I have paid the penalty of perpetual unhappiness, and have still to pay a financial penalty for an error arising from the ignorance of my youth, and for supposing that the priest and the law could unite two hearts. Alas! I found that there was no charm in either the priest or the law to that end, and the experiment was to me the penalty of seventeen years of misery, hopeless and irremediable as to law, and which I have only remedied by the force of moral courage and the sacrifice of whatever property I had accumulated beyond the brain. As far as means were available, I have honorably filled out the character of a son, a brother, a husband, a father, a neighbor, a tradesman, and a citizen. I shrink from no enquiry. All is now better, all is now settled in my family, and I am not aware that a single human being regrets the arrangement. The wife of my bosom, the willing participator in my toils and troubles, is wedded to me in mind, body, and estate; she strong in her confidence in my honor, I strong in the confidence of her virtue, and this promises to be a happy marriage through life. It is so in the third year. It is sufficiently respected in the metropolis and elsewhere. It is pure in spirit, and is pure. It conceals neither motive nor purpose. It is open, fair, and honorable, not intruding itself upon the world's attention, but not shrinking from the world's scrutiny."