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backers of the Pope and the Austrian; the tolerators of the Irish iniquity -landlordism; and the sworn foes of democracy. Are these titles to confidence, or recommendations to reprieve? Let the Whigs stand condemned, not for what they do not believe, but for pretending to believe what they do not; not for what they have done, but for what they have wilfully failed to do.

Under these circumstances what is the duty of the hour with respect to the Whigs? Clearly, come what will, to oust them. Let the popular agitation, such as it is, manifest itself in this form :-hostility to the Whigs. Let the Parliamentary opposition manifest itself in this formdivision against the Whigs; or, by reversing the present rule, never divide for them, though you may not divide against them. For what does a Radical member go to the House of Commons if not to oppose Government? What is his duty there as a Radical, if it be not to vote against ministers who calumniate the people, and refuse parliamentary reform ? The House of Commons is a usurpation. A Whig is any liberal who tolerates, without a protest, the present system. A Radical is any Liberal who pretends to be not a Whig. What particular mission has he to save Lord John Russell from Mr. Drummond or Mr. Henley, from Mr. Disraeli or Colonel Sibthorp? Clearly none. The time is fast approaching when a Radical member who does not go to reform parliament, and stick to it will not be a member long.

The motives are urgent for action. We are now in the middle of a period of commercial prosperity. A great portion of the people get some food not wholly unfit for men. But how long will it continue, and the next crisis of commerce, the next season of starvation for the masses, what may it not bring forth ? If it is answered 'Revolution,' that would be a calamity. But even this the Whigs may render necessary. We have now time to plan, organise, and agitate. The influential classes have thus much grace allowed them before the fatal period of distress arrives. The duty of the hour is then to drive the Radical members into direct and unfailing hostility to the Whigs. Let the Tories come in if need be. The Tories cannot do worse; and really one set is as good as the other.

GEORGE HOOper.

REMINISCENCES OF EBENEZER ELLIOTT,
THE CORN-LAW RHYMER.

(Concluded from last number.)

When the poet first appeared like a twinkling star above the clouded horizon, some sneered, some laughed, some deemed him mad. And indeed what atmosphere could possibly be thought to be more uncongenial, in which to successfully woo the muses, than the din and smoke of his daily pursuits? In the latter part of his trading career, he might have been found surrounded by the hard material in which he was a dealer—a material almost as impenetrable as the skulls of those with whom he daily conversed. At one time to have even named Ebenezer Elliott with approbation, a man would have been treated as if he had partaken of his hypothetical malady. This no doubt had a great influence upon the sensitive mind of the poet; and effected in him a natural revulsion of thought and feeling. Hence he

affected a great contempt for posthumous fame or present praise,-always speaking of them with an evident affectation of perfect indifference. On this subject, he said to me, when walking with him one day, out of the Music Hall, "I will have no monument erected over my remains, when I am dead. I have planted, or selected, (I forget which), a tree in a secluded nook, near to where I now live, under which I intend to be buried; and the tree shall be the only monument that shall wave over my grave."

The above very brief reminiscnces present some singularly marked traits in the person, character, and genius of the poet and the man. What is however worthy of remark, is, that of all the portraits and busts I have seen, there is not one that approximates to an accurate likeness of the Corn-Law Rhymer. One has represented him with an urchin-like nose; -another with the facial elongation and lachrymose visage of a mawworm. A monument is however to be erected to his memory; and a few of his friends have already subscribed £100 for the purpose. This, for Sheffield is a mighty achievement! Mr. Burnard, of London, is now engaged upon, and has almost completed, a bust of the poet, which his friends and relatives pronounce to be a likeness; and certainly as a work of art, it does credit to the artist. This monument is to be erected in or near Sheffield. Who would have thought it? But the times and men change. RICHARD OTLEY.

Sheffield, May 14th, 1850.

[To the foregoing sketch-for which I must acknowledge very great obligation to my intelligent and much esteemed friend, Mr. Otley-I beg to add one little characteristic trait of the departed poet. It was never my good fortune to meet the truly illustrious Corn-Law Rhymer, much as I longed to see him and talk with him. It happened, however, that I had just one note from him-which was written but a short time before his deathunder the following circumstances. My friend, G. S. Phillips, secretary of the Huddersfield Mechanics' Institute-a man of genius who ought to be more widely known, was visiting the poet; and in the interchange of our letters respecting a projected visit to talk (or lecture) at Huddersfield, I intimated to my friend a wish that the talking visit could also be extended to Barnsley, that I might grasp Elliott by the hand---if he chanced to have heard of me, and would so far honour me. The next return post brought back a letter from my friend, enclosing the following characteristic note to the 'Purgatory' man :--

Hargate Hill, near Barnsley, 9th September, 1849. "DEAR MR. COOPER,-Stone-deaf, as I am at present, and agonised with unintermitting pain, I could not welcome a visit from Dante himself, even if he brought with him a sample of the best brimstone-pudding which may be prepared for me in the low country. But if I should recover, and you then happen to be in my neighbourhood, you will need no introduction but your name; and I will promise you a hearty welcome, bacon and eggs,

and a bed.

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The note is written in a strong and legible hand, denoting the bold and honest character of the writer---for I hold it to be true, that there is commonly some indication of the nature and habits of a mand's mind, in his hand-writing---though, perhaps, the maxim does not hold true in the instance of lawyers, who professionally stiffen their penmanship, or book-keepers who are expected to pen their records in a set style,

Respecting the proposed monument to Elliott, I may be allowed to say that I took upon me to write to Richard Cobden asking him to lead a subscription for the purpose---feeling that Elliott ought to have a monument, and that Mr. Cobden's successful struggle would cause his name to be mentioned with that of the Corn-Law Rhymer, in the future. Mr. Cobden signified his hearty willingness to do his part. I mentioned this publicly at Sheffield, while talking in the Town Hall, a short time ago. The subscription has since been started in Sheffield; and Mr. Burnard, a rising genius as a sculptor, self-taught and sprung from the working-class---who is an ardent admirer of Elliott's genius, has gone down and modelled a bust. Thus, I hope, a sure commencement has been made for securing a monument for the Poet. THOMAS COOPER.]

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PRESENT in all the past and everywhere, in every moment of time, my footsteps, though invisible, have dyed the earth with blood, and forced sighs and tears from the human race; whilst over the future I have spread a wizard power, that threatens with wrathful vengeance the beaming hopes of the spirit of insurrection in behalf of justice and truth. Like Satan, brooding over the regions of darkness and of the tortures of his own creating, I cast a dark shadow of gloom and despair over the coming destinies of man. Where and whenever I speak the genius of Peace stands aghast, or flies from the earth to her celestial regions; for dissensions and war are the only elements in which my soul revels. The lion, the tiger, the eagle, and the bear, are consecrated to my worship. In the night I am present with the assassin, to nerve his arm,-to animate his soul to the daring deed of death. In the day I am with the conqueror, to inspire him with the lust of an alluring but false glory, that he may strew the earth with the carcases of my victims. Wherever I wander, I leave behind me ruin and desolation. My only rivals are the earthquake, famine, and pestilence, and the two latter are my subordinates and attendants. I was generated by Chaos and born of Darkness before the first beam of light cheered the first morning of the universe. My nature and substance are of a darkness so intense, that it is invisible. Every sentiment that is good or virtuous is held by me in abhorrence; benevolence, intelligence, and love are my deadly enemies; between them and me there can be no peace, no cessation of strife. When war is proclaimed, the sound of my voice,-the echo of my laughter, resounds through space. My power is resistless, and my triumph unrestrained mis-rule and confusion.

When the universe, in the infinity of space, was one chaotic-mass,— when all principles and essences where struggling in the vast conflict and with boundless energies for the mastery, I presided in triumph over the shapeless abyss. My spirit would have encircled all, and would have perpetuated this confusion of elements, for ever. Mass upon mass flew through space with an inconceivable fleetness, essence contending with essence, attraction with repulsion, water with fire; the 'crash of matter'

was an uproar of sounds to mortals inconceivable. In the midst of this boundless war of elements, mass flew to mass until suns were formed and fixed in centres, and globe after globe rolled in endless circles; and silence ushered the universe into peace. The smaller portions of matter followed into order,-atmospheres formed, a new spirit of beauty and glory sprung into existence; and harmony reigned. For a brief duration, I lay prostrate and abashed; in grief I hid myself, absorbed in my own lonely thoughts; despair covered me as a mantle, nor was there one beam of hope to cheer my solitary grief. The spirit of intellectual goodness, like an infinite flame of refulgent glory, filled the boundlessness of space, whilst I lay in a gloomy concealment which threatened to be eternal.

How long a duration in eternity,-how many revolutions of celestial systems, I thus lay inert, in a spiritual trance, is, and will for ever remain unknown. When I awoke, it was to behold a new creation of order, loveliness and harmony. The process had been long and slow, element had united with element, essence with essence; new beings had sprung into existence; my soul grasped the whole at once; new sympathies, new hatreds, gave to me an unbounded animating impulse to evil; I must work, I must deform, I must sully the glory which I now beheld! I was startled at the complexion of my own thoughts; the personification of evil, as I knew myself to be, I was troubled in my soul when I beheld goodness flowing as from an infinite fountain of pure light. How to contaminate,-how to mingle light with darkness, good with evil, so that neither could be distinguished from the other, were my first thoughts. "It must, it shall be done!" I exclaimed. Meanwhile, I had approached the earth; myriads of beings presented themselves to view, such as I had never known or conceived of before. Here, then, I felt that I must commence the work of ruin and spoliation, for whilst I gazed upon them, all appeared to be goodness and perfection.

As I approached nearer and nearer towards the earth, the shades of darkness were falling over her, like a curtain: this I regarded as prophetic of future power-of future evil. Darkness thus gradually gathered and thickened around me; clouds over clouds rolled in masses over the face of heaven. I had never known fear, yet I felt an indefinable something within; it was a strange emotion, a spiritual coldness, almost approaching to trembling. The feeble sons of earth hid themselves; they fell to the ground some on their faces, some on their knees, and lifted their arms or eyes towards heaven; they muttered sounds which reached me: they were the words of terror. As the darkness thickened around, a light suddenly illuminated the horizon, but it passed away as quick as thought, followed by terrific sounds that vibrated through my very being. Whathow could this be? Whence could this come? It was as if the arched vaults of heaven were tumbling to the earth in tremendous hurricane! "Chaos," I shouted in extasies, again; the spirit of darkness shall again reign in triumph !" listened to peal after peal; and my laughter was as the mountains, and my soul was filled with an infernal delight. died away, the dark clouds dispersed, the moon arose and sailed silently and peacefully in the heavens, and the fair face of the blue, etherial sky reflected once more the peaceful regions of the earth.

(To be continued in next number.)

the midst of a "has returned I laughed as I echoes from the But the sounds

SONG.

Sweet smile, on the cheek of thy home, where
Joy burst on thy young spirit's waking-
Canst give its endearments, to come where
Life hath many a hot heart-aching?
Hast thou counted the cost to stand by me
In the battle I fight for man?

And shall thy angel-love deify me

Who stand in the world's dark ban?

Oh, a daring high soul thou wilt need, Love,
To brave the life-battle with me-

For thy dear heart may oftentimes bleed, Love,
And thy sweet eyes dim tearfully!

Dost thou know of the fine hearts perishing-
Gallant spirits that dumbly bow?

For a little of fortune's cherishing

They are breaking in agony now!
And without the sunshine that life needeth
Alas, sweet, for me and for you,

How little the callous world heedeth-
For love like ours tender and true!

Oh, a daring high soul thou wilt need, Love,
To brave the life-battle with me-

For thy dear heart may oftentimes bleed, Love,
And thy sweet eyes dim tearfully!

Well, you've sworn-I have sworn-God hath bound us!
And that covenant the world shall not part:

I have flung my love's mantle around us,
And you live in each beat of my heart.
It may be that our names in earth's story
Shall endure when we are no more,-
For truth lives like the stars in their glory,
And the flowers on the earth's verdant floor!
But a daring high soul thou wilt need, Love,
To brave the life-battle with me,-

For thy dear heart may oftentimes bleed, Love,
And thy sweet eyes dim tearfully!

GERALD MASSEY.

To Correspondents.

Correspondents will please address "Thomas Cooper, Mr. Barlow's, bookseller, 2, Nelson-street, Newcastle-on-Tyne"-in order that they may reach me direct. But all letters sent to my own home, it is as well to repeat, will be forwarded to me. Many correspondents must be kind enough to excuse my not answering their communications this week. I have been very busy journeying and talking; and write this, at Hull, just before starting by the train for Newcastle. When I arrive there, I hope to have time to attend to correspondents, as usual,

Lectures, in London, for the ensuing Week.

SUNDAY, June 9, at half-past 7, Hall of Science, (near Finsbury Square) City-Road. "Reform of Freethinking”—Geo. J. Holyoake. At half-past 7, Literary Institution, John Street, Fitzroy Square. "The World of the Future, or the Destiny of the Millions"-Robert Cooper.

66

MONDAY, June 10, at half-past 8, Mechanics' Institute, Gould Square, Crutched Friars. "Music: with illustrations"-J. Dobson Collet. At half-past 8, Finsbury Hall, 66, Bunhill Row. Life and Times of the late John Savage, of Marylebone”— John Savage. At half-past 8. Pentonville Athenæum, 23, Henry Street. niversary and Elocutionary Entertainment. At half-past 8, Soho Mutual Instruction Society, 2, Little Dean Street. "Competition and Co-operation"—

J. Milne.

An

TUESDAY, June 11, at 8, British Coffee Rooms, Edgeware Road.-Weekly Meeting of the

Free Enquirers' Society.

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