Prisoner for Blasphemy

by G. W. Foote

Those who wish to read the whole of my defence, which lasted over two hours, will find it in the "Three Trials for Blasphemy." One portion of it, at least, is likely to be of permanent interest. With Mr. Wheeler's aid I drew up a long list of the abusive epithets applied by Christian controversialists to their Pagan opponents or to each other. It fills more than two pages of small type, and pretty nearly exhausts the vocabulary of vituperation. I added a few pearls of orthodox abuse of Atheism, and then asked the jury whether Christians had taught Freethinkers to show respect for their opponents' feelings. "Nobody in this country," I continued, "whatever his religion, is called upon to respect the feelings of anybody else. It is only the Freethinker who is told to respect the feelings of people from whom he differs. And to respect them how? Not when he enters their places of worship, not when he stands side by side with them in the business and pleasures of life, but when he reads what is written for Freethinkers without knowing that a pair of Christian eyes will ever scan the page."

It may be asked why I adopted a course so little likely to conciliate my judges. My reply is that I did not try to conciliate them. Feeling convinced that their verdict was already settled, and that my fate was sealed, I cast all such considerations aside, and deliberately made a speech for my own party. I was resolved that my loss should be the gain of Freethought. The peroration is the only other part of my defence I shall venture to quote. It ran as follows:

"Gentlemen, carry your minds back across the chasm of eighteen
centuries and a half. You are in Jerusalem. A young Jew is
haled along the street to the place of judgment. He stands
before his judge; he is accused—of what, gentlemen? You
know what he is accused of—the word must be springing to
your lips—Blasphemy! Every Christian among you knows that
your founder, Jesus Christ, was crucified after being charged
with blasphemy. Gentlemen, it seems to me that no Christian
should ever find a man guilty of blasphemy after that, but
that the very word ought to be wiped from your vocabulary,
as a reproach and a scandal. Christians, your founder was
murdered as a blasphemer, for, although done judicially, it
was still a murder. Surely then you will not, when you have
secured the possession of power, imitate the bad example of
those who killed your founder, violate men's liberties, rob
them of all that is perhaps dearest to them, and brand them
with a stigma of public infamy by a verdict from the jury-box!
Surely gentlemen, it is impossible that you can do that! Who
are we? Three poor men. Are we wicked? No, there is no proof
of the charge. Our honor and honesty are unimpeached. It is
not for us to play the Pharisee and say that we are better than
other men. We only say that we are no worse. What have we
done to be classed with thieves and felons, dragged from our
homes and submitted to the indignities of a life so loathsome
and hideous, that it is even revolting to the spirits of the men
who have to exercise authority within the precincts of the gaol?
You know we have done nothing to merit such a punishment.
Gentlemen, you ought to return a verdict of Not Guilty against
us, because the prosecution have not given you sufficient
evidence as to the fact; because whatever legal bigotry is
gained from the decisions of judges in the past must be treated
as obsolete, as the London magistrate treated the law of
Maintenance; because we have done nothing, as the indictment
states, against the peace; because our proceedings have led
to no tumult in the streets, no interference with the liberty
of any man, his person or property; because no evidence has
been tendered to you of any malice in our case; because there
is no wicked motive in anything we have done; because the
founder of your own creed was murdered on a very similar charge
to that of which we stand accused now; and, lastly, because
you should in this third quarter of the nineteenth century
assert once and for ever the great principle of the absolute
freedom of each man, unless he trench on the equal freedom of
others. I ask you to assert the great principle of the liberty
of the press, liberty of the platform, liberty of thought and
liberty of speech; I ask you to prevent such prosecutions as
are hinted at in the Times this morning; I ask you not to
allow sects once more to be hurling anathemas against each other,
and flying to the magistrates to settle questions which should
be settled by intellectual and moral suasion; I ask you not
to open a discreditable chapter of English history that ought
to have been closed for ever; I ask you to give us a verdict
of Not Guilty, to send us back to our homes and to stamp your
brand of disapprobation on this prosecution, which is degrading
religion by associating it with all that is penal, obstructive,
and loathsome; I ask you to let us go away from here free men,
and so make it impossible that there ever should again be a
prosecution for blasphemy; I ask you to have your names inscribed
in history as the last jury that decided for ever that great
and grand principle of liberty which is broader than all the
skies; a principle so high that no temple could be lofty enough
for its worship; that grand principle which should rule over
all—the principle of the equal right and the equal liberty
of all men. That is the principle I ask you to assert by your
verdict of Not Guilty. Gentlemen, I ask you to close this
discreditable chapter of persecution once and for ever, and
associate your names on the page of history with liberty,
progress, and everything that is dignified, noble and dear
to the consciences and hearts of men."

When I sat down there was a burst of applause, which the court officials were unable to suppress. Mr. Ramsey followed with another written speech, well composed and very much to the point. I noticed some of his auditors outside the jury-box choking down their emotion as he touchingly referred to his sleepless nights in Newgate through thinking of wife and child. His Lordship, I observed only smiled bitterly.

Judge North's summing up was a fraudulent performance. He told the jury that the consent of the Attorney-General had to be obtained for our prosecution, as well as that of the Public Prosecutor, which was a downright falsehood, unless it was a piece of sheer ignorance. He pretended to read the whole chapter on Offences against Religion in Sir James Stephen's "Digest of the Criminal Law," while in reality he deliberately omitted the very paragraph which damned his contention and supported mine. He also produced a new statement of the Law of Blasphemy to suit the occasion. On the previous Thursday he told the jury that any denial of the existence of Deity or of Providence was blasphemy. But in the meantime the public press had condemned this interpretation of the law as dangerous to high-class heretics. His lordship, therefore, expounded the law afresh, so as to exempt them while including us. The only question he now submitted to the jury was, "Are any of those passages put before you calculated to expose to ridicule, contempt or derision the Holy Scriptures or the Christian religion?" This amended statement of the Law of Blasphemy went directly in the teeth of our Indictment, which charged us with bringing Holy Scripture and the Christian Religion into disbelief as well as contempt. The fact is, blasphemy is a judge-made crime, and the "blasphemer's" fate depends very largely on who tries him. Lord Coleridge holds one view of the law, Sir James Stephen another, and Justice North another still. Nay, the last judge differs even from himself. He can give two various definitions of the law in five days, no doubt on the principle that circumstances alter cases, and that what is true for one purpose may be false for another.

I have said that the jury, with indecent haste, returned a verdict of Guilty. The crowd of people in court were evidently surprised at the result, although I was not, and they gave vent to groans and hisses. The tumult was indescribable. Suddenly there rang out from the gallery overhead the agonising cry of my young wife, whom I had implored not to come, and whose presence there I never suspected. She had crept in and listened all day to my trial, never leaving her seat for fear of losing it; and now, overwearied and faint for want of food, she reeled under the heavy blow. My heart leaped at the sound; my brain reeled; the scene around me swam in confusion—judge, jury, lawyers and spectators all shifting like the pieces in a kaleidoscope; my very frame seemed expanding and dissolving in space. The feeling lasted only a moment. Yet to me how long! With a tremendous effort I crushed down my emotions, and the next moment I was mentally as calm as an Alp, although physically I quivered like a race-horse sharply reined up in mid-gallop by an iron hand. My wife I could not help, but I could still maintain the honor and dignity of Freethought.

Order was at length restored after his lordship had threatened to clear the court. Mr. Avory then asked him to deal leniently with Mr. Kemp, who was merely a paid servant of ours, and in no other way actually responsible for the incriminated publication. Justice North listened with ill-concealed impatience. He was obviously anxious to flesh the sword of justice in his helpless victims. Directly Mr. Avory finished he began to pronounce the following sentence on me, and while he spoke there was deadly silence in that crowded court:—

"George William Foote, you have been found Guilty by the jury
of publishing these blasphemous libels. This trial has been
to me a very painful one. I regret extremely to find a person
of your undoubted intelligence, a man gifted by God with such
great ability, should have chosen to prostitute his talents to
the service of the Devil. I consider this paper totally different
from any of the works you have brought before me in every way,
and the sentence I now pass upon you is one of imprisonment for
twelve calendar months."

Twelve months! It was longer than I expected, but what matter? My indifference, however, was not shared by the crowd. They rose, and as the reporter said, "burst forth into a storm of hissing, groaning, and derisive cries." "Damn Christianity!" I heard one shout, and "Scroggs" and "Jeffries" were flung at the judge, who seemed at first to enjoy the scene, although he grew alarmed as the tumult increased. "Clear the gallery," he cried, and the police burst in among the people. But before they did their work something happened. From the first I resolved, if I were found guilty and sentenced to imprisonment, that I would say something before leaving the dock. My first impulse was to hurl at the judge a few words of passionate indignation. But I reflected "No! I have been tried and condemned for ridiculing superstition. Sarcasm is Blasphemy. Well then, let me sustain my character to the end. I will leave with a stinging Freethinker sentence on my lips." Raising my hand, I obtained a moment's silence. Then I folded my arms and surveyed the judge. Our eyes flashed mutual enmity for a few seconds, until with a scornful smile and a mock bow I said, "Thank you, my lord; the sentence is worthy of your creed."

That retort has frequently been cited. It was a happy inspiration, and the more I ponder it the more profoundly I feel that it was exactly the right thing to say.