The battle of the press

by Theophila Carlile Campbell

CHAPTER II. ISIS TO RICHARD CARLILE

The first shock to the happiness of Carlile and Isis was caused by the receipt of a letter from her brother which induced the following:—

"Health and Tranquillity! A letter from Bolton has at length found its way to London, and my bosom is bursting with indignation and sorrow, with indignation for the contemptible and satirical style and manner in which the letter is written; and sorrow for a parent's suffering. My God! what shall I do? Leave you, my dear Richard, I cannot, it would be death to me and your hopes, and your and my cause. My own hopes are that mother is not so ill as represented, and that they have written in such a strain to induce me to give up my purpose. What must I do? Oh! how I wish that you were at liberty to advise and comfort me. I am quite alone in this large place. David wished to go out with Thomas, and I could not refuse, 'tis the first time the request was made. Mrs. Hudson merely gave me the letter and then went out again; all is shut up and I feel to want your presence so much. Oh! Richard, I think my heart will burst, that cruel, taunting, unkind, insulting letter. I could have forgiven him if it had not contained the distressing intelligence of my mother's illness (inconsiderate, unfeeling wretch, you have not written in haste, but must have sat and premeditated every word, so-that you might doubly wound, doubly wring my over-whelmed heart). My dear Richard, what must I do? You are all the world to me, yet I cannot divest myself of those feelings which are now almost too much for me to bear. Were I to return home to-morrow it would perhaps avail nothing, and the idea is madness itself to me. You must forgive me, Richard, for troubling you with my grief and sorrow; but methinks my brain will turn if I do not give you a little of them. Remember you are my friend, my husband, and never did I require your love, your care so much as now. My brother has probed to my heart's core, by heaven, I think I shall never forgive him. I will never again write to him. He shall never hear from me. I will write to my sister to-morrow; how I feel for her, poor Maria. My heart is torn with contending emotion. I long to go home for mother's sake and Maria's, but for my own sake I wish to remain with you. I feel quite assured that if I return home that I shall never see you again, and what say you to that? Are you willing to relinquish your Isis, your bride? Oh Richard, do endeavor for my sake to obtain your liberty. I will endeavor to be all that you can wish. I will strive to equal Miss F. Wright. My eyes are quite swollen with tears, the first I have shed since I came to town. I wish much to breakfast with you this morning, but really I am afraid the Governor will think my visits too frequent. I, however, hope to see you some part of the day and to hear from you early in the morning. I am afraid, my dear Richard, you will think me very weak, very unlike a philosopher. It was only to-day I was boasting of courage and firmness. I cannot but think that empty vessels make the greatest sound.

"Good Night."

After this it was agreed between Carlile and Isis that she should return home for a short visit and satisfy herself as to her mother's condition, and to ease her mother's mind as to her own well-being, which certainly was the wisest thing to do. In the following letter she takes leave of Carlile for a time:—

"Of all men the most intelligent and the most beloved! When you receive this note I shall be in person many miles distant, but united in heart, in thought, in corresponding sentiment, in mind, in soul, in mutual love and affection. These are the two first days that we have been separated, that we have been taken away from each other; and although I am writing this before my departure, because there will be no opportunity of sending during my absence, I can very easily anticipate what my feeling and disposition will be on. Sunday morning. I shall be surrounded by friends anxious to make me comfortable, and they will wear a smile upon their faces; but my bosom will pant for him whom it has-been accustomed to meet, and whom it adores. It will pant for its accustomed embrace from him on whom my eyes gaze with pleasure and delight, him whose features shine with perfect integrity, with confidential affection, with intelligence, with candor, with conscious dignity, with friendship, with reciprocal love, and with manly beauty. My attachment becomes stronger every day. The more I see and know of you the more I admire, love, and esteem you, and the more reluctant I am to be absent one moment from you. Oh! may it be always thus. In twenty years may we embrace each other in tried affection, and again renew our engagement of everlasting fidelity, honesty, and truth. I sincerely love you, and flatter myself that my absence will be a little regretted to-day, the day on which I shall request David to convey this note. Let us be happy in the kind assurance of each other's love; let us bless each other with a free, affable, and corresponding deportment towards each other. Let us strengthen each other so as to be able to contend with existing evils, but let us never deviate one moment from our principles. Let not the presence of the Misses Laws on Sunday make you to forget me. Remember, my love, that now I have a double claim to your protection, to your assistance, to your kind protection, to your solicitude, to your love. Oh! do be faithful, be constant, do not encourage a thought to arise that will, in the least, stem the torrent of affection with which my bosom is overflowing.

"I hope ere this your cold is better. Do, my dear Richard, take care of yourself. The name of Richard is doubly dear to me; my father, my beloved father's name was Richard, and now my husband's, my lover's name is Richard. I love to dwell upon it. Adieu, most valued, most beloved of men. God bless you, my philosopher!"

This little visit to Bolton relieved the mind of Isis of some anxiety in regard to the mother she had so abruptly left, and convinced also the mother that the determination to follow the course she had mapped out for herself was no idle purpose, but one of principle and duty. Besides, she was wholly linked to Carlile in spirit, in principle, in the object to be attained, in business, and in the strongest bond of all—that of love. As she said herself, "Her spirit was wedded to the spirit of her husband before she had spoken to him". With him was life, without him was death. Probably never before had a prison witnessed such an exhibition of awakening love and almost perfect happiness. To Isis it was not only the opening up of the fountain of knowledge, but that of love also, and seldom have those two all-powerful streams been more beautifully and more fittingly blended. Their agreement was that they should make the best marriage contract that could be made at that time, that she should unite her name with his and be known as Mrs. Sharples Carlile, her private signature to be Elizabeth Sharples Carlile, and the public announcement of their moral marriage to be made immediately upon his liberation from the Giltspur Street Compter, which was then in early prospect. But the action of the authorities in refusing her admission to the gaol caused an earlier explanation of the facts of the association to be made, and was understood by all their private friends. It was not, however, till May 29th, 1834, that it was publicly announced in the dedication of the first volume of the Isis. An outbreak of cholera in the city of London gave to the authorities of the gaol an excuse to keep out all visitors. This was truly an unexpected blow to both, but to poor Isis it was almost a killing blow. Carlile had to find courage and fortitude for them both. The letters that passed daily between them were of the most affectionate character, and Isis poured out her soul in love and adoration through them. Unfortunately for the better sequence of this correspondence, many of Carlile's letters have been lost, but enough remains to show the character of it. It is very difficult to arrange these letters in proper order, owing to the fact that they were not dated, being exchanged by bearers or messengers making regular trips once or twice a day. It is only by a searching out of dates and of facts, otherwise known, that it is possible to place them with any degree of accuracy or fitness.

This love which Isis poured out so lavishly was of the old-fashioned kind, of happily an old-fashioned time: the time when women had no other avenue for their pent-up feelings or ambitions, the only avenue which opened up for them except their church, their sewing, or their household cares, their dresses or their gossips; when they were wholly dependent upon their relatives for their support; when no diplomas awaited their eager studies; when the luxury of self-earned money was unknown to them; when the curse of Puritan propriety was laid on them, when a skip or a jump was a crime against young ladyhood; when all the possibilities of the present age were undreamed of, and women were bound by the iron rule of precedent and respectability. Even our poor Isis was only in a transitional state, and had much to unlearn and overcome.

Here are some extracts from her letters of that time:—