LETTERS TO THE MOB. 
 
 By LIBERTAS. 
 
 Reprinted from the “Morning Chronicle .” 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 THOMAS BOSWORTH, 91'5 REGENT STREET. 
 1848. 
 
 Price 6d., or 4s. per Dozen, for Distribution. 
 
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 LONDON 
 
LETTERS TO THE MOB. 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 I thought to head this, “A Letter to the 
 People,” hut you are not the people. You usurp 
 their name; you represent yourselves as acting on 
 their behalf; but they disown and fear you. They 
 look with alarm on your tumultuous gatherings. 
 They stand on the defensive against your attacks. 
 They distrust you. They know you to be sections, 
 more or less dangerous, of disturbers of the public 
 peace. 
 
 “By obedience ,” says good old Jeremy Taylor, 
 “ we are distinguished from herds of beasts and heaps 
 of flies, who do what they list, and are incapable of 
 laws, and obey none.” So convinced are the ma¬ 
 jority of your countrymen of the truth of this axiom 
 —so persuaded that the throne of true liberty stands 
 on that boundary line where due obedience is met by 
 just protection, that they dread the very sound of 
 your riotous assembling; your tread seems to shake 
 the foundation of every man’s home as you pass! 
 
4 
 
 And it is so. But this you do not believe: you 
 are led by men in whose minds the instinct of res¬ 
 tiveness has been awakened by late events abroad, 
 as some horses become unmanageable when others 
 gallop rapidly by them. You are so transformed into 
 monkeys and parrots, that you raise the banner and 
 shout the motto of a foreign people in our streets, as 
 if you had no country and no language of your own. 
 You are so drunk with the spirit of revolt as to think 
 it admirable that Irish delegates should cross the sea 
 to whine and crouch, like beaten hounds, at the feet 
 of a foreign Government, declaring themselves slaves, 
 and supplicating aid to enable them to raise the stan¬ 
 dard of rebellion at home. You speak of kings and 
 rulers as if they were all so many Belshazzars, who, 
 in the hour of their feasting, had seen the hand come 
 out and write on the wall that their kingdoms had 
 departed from them. You are full of vague hopes 
 and expectations. In the general scramble for con¬ 
 cessions now going on all over Europe, surely some¬ 
 thing can be granted or seized for you! What ?— 
 that is the question. What do you want? “We want 
 Kepeal,” say the Irish. “We want the Charter,” say the 
 Chartists. “ We want Liberty! Equality! Eraternity!” 
 say the mob. These are dazzling words—dazzling 
 especially to poor men—to those classes who labour 
 always, struggle often, and seldom enjoy. Will you 
 test their translation among the people we import 
 them from? Can you read it in the banishment of 
 our workpeople, driven destitute from their shores, 
 
5 
 
 to the embarrassment of the employers, the ruin of 
 the employed?—in the election proclamations of 
 Ledru-Rollin, where the shadow of the blind giant 
 Despotism already darkens the path so lately levelled 
 for Freedom?—in the fierce attempts to smother the 
 voice of the one courageous journalist who spoke of 
 the errors of the new Government? — in the inter¬ 
 ference with the possession of all property, and the 
 profits of all trade? 
 
 In no spirit of rebuke, but with earnest sympathy, 
 I say to you—Beware of these cries. 
 
 ** The earth hath bubbles, as the water has, 
 
 And these are of them. 1 ' 
 
 The Chartist dream of equality is the most cruel of 
 all the temptations with which mob-traps are baited; 
 for it is at once the most specious and the most false. 
 There can be no equality, any more than there can be 
 a sea without a shore ! Superiority is not a thing of 
 man’s devising, but of God’s appointing. Gradation 
 is His law. Let any honest, intelligent man examine, 
 or stand by while others examine, a class at one of the 
 national schools. He will there see “the common 
 brotherhood of man” as God ordained it. He will 
 see, ranged side by side, the weak and the strong, the 
 teachable and the stubborn, hopeless stupidity and 
 wonderful clearness of intellect; and the conviction 
 of the consequent future inequality of their positions 
 in life will be a self-evident proposition in his mind. 
 The only verification that exists of the fabled phoenix 
 is the necessity of r.ulers. From the ashes of that 
 
nondescript thing called “ Government” for ever rises 
 the living principle, if not the bodily copy, of the past. 
 From the fragments and dust of broken thrones, or 
 desecrated scaffolds, it shapes itself anew ; an emblem 
 of the great fact necessary for the constitution of 
 human society. Call it King, Emperor, Dictator, 
 President—or, by a noun of multitude, the National 
 Assembly, the Sovereign People — call it what you 
 will, it is there — the evidence that equality cannot 
 subsist, is not expected to subsist; that the mass must 
 be governed; that a change of governors is all that 
 the most complete revolution can achieve. Is it not, 
 then, a melancholy thing to see the perverted sub¬ 
 mission with which men who disdain to be subjects 
 to law are content to be slaves to faction — men 
 who raise, an outcry against the control of a class, and 
 will yet be led to destruction by an individual P If 
 I could preach to the people one text, brief as their 
 respite from toil, and simple as their needs, it 
 would be this: — “ Fear your governments less and 
 your leaders more Beware that your so-called 
 leaders be not ms-leaders. Do not be made 
 blind sacrifices to one man’s vanity, another man’s 
 anger, or the ambition of a third. When Coriolanus 
 led the Volscians, he led them not for their advantage, 
 but to avenge the wrongs he himself had suffered. 
 Gray, in his perfect Megy, has made touching allu¬ 
 sions to “ village Hampdens.” We have the converse 
 of the image in many a Brummagem Coriolanus! In 
 a celebrated work on the art and strategy of war, 
 
7 
 
 while giving directions for sieges, &c., the expression 
 perpetually occurs, “ If you can afford to expend men” 
 (that is, if the loss of a few hundred lives will not 
 cripple your power to work out future plans) “ take 
 the town or fort thus,” &c. The Brummagem Corio- 
 lanus can afford to expend men ad libitum. He is not 
 called upon to endure in the aggregate those several 
 terms of imprisonment allotted to such of his followers 
 as are snatched, at hazard, by the police from the 
 throngs of a turbulent mob. No income-tax, or ab¬ 
 sentee-tax, can be deducted from his means to support 
 the families of men whom his oratory has sent to the 
 gaol or the hospital. Character, liberty, earnings, and 
 savings, may have been “ expended,” but in vain ! 
 Men may be paid meanly,— God knows, often too 
 meanly,— for hard labour • but rioting is the one em¬ 
 ployment for which no wages can be had; for the 
 capital expended in which there is no return ! I write 
 this, not because I do not sympathize with the people, 
 but for love of them. To remind them that to over¬ 
 shoot a mark is as fruitless an aim as to come short of 
 it; that to revolt is to overshoot the mark of reform. 
 I write, not to check their advance, but in dread of 
 then’ failure. Heart and soul with them, not against 
 them. Desirous that they may not be, to leaders and 
 workers-out of theories, what their own tools are to 
 them; neither less nor more: some broken and de¬ 
 stroyed, some worn out in doing or attempting the 
 work in hand. I write, because I feel ashamed as an 
 Englishman of the recollection of that paltry riot which 
 
lately sent pickpockets and lamp-breakers to shout at 
 the very gates of the palace where a Queen and her 
 new-born babe lay sleeping ; and yet more ashamed 
 of the distrust evident among the most respectable 
 classes as to the expected conduct of the masses on 
 Monday. 
 
 “ Stands England where it did,” that such distrust 
 should gain ground? Are our people unlinked from, 
 or oppressed by, our aristocracy ? Are they unrepre¬ 
 sented, any section of them, in Parliament ? Are they 
 compelled, from the utter want of sympathy and 
 jnstice in those above them, to seek assistance from 
 those beneath them ? Let the mob-leaders themselves 
 reply. 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 You have lately been called to these meetings on 
 pretence of sympathising, in your several sections, 
 with the people of France; of putting out addresses of 
 congratulation to their Provisional Government; of 
 “ fraternizing ” (that is the cant phrase) with the new 
 Republic. The United, or rather Disunited, Irishmen 
 (for with them fraternization does not, like charity, 
 “ begin at home ”) have been foremost and loudest in 
 their expressions of sympathy. With whom do you 
 fraternize ? On what grounds do you rest your con- 
 
gratulations ? The answer seems easy. We congra¬ 
 tulate that noble people who have shaken off the yoke 
 of tyranny; who have banished their false-hearted 
 King and his family; who behaved with so much 
 moderation in the hour of victory, and with so pure 
 a sense of disinterestedness, that they shot a man only 
 for stealing a silver spoon in the Palace ! 
 
 In Burke’s time, when another revolution called 
 forth similar demonstrations from clubs and societies 
 now forgotten, that great statesman and orator ob¬ 
 served,—“ I must be tolerably sure, before I venture 
 publicly to congratulate men upon a blessing, that 
 they really have received one.” Let the congratu- 
 lators and fraternizers of the present day consider the 
 saying of one, to whose charge it can scarcely be laid 
 that he was not a true lover of liberty. Let them 
 also consider the present condition of Paris — of that 
 Paris which is the heart of Prance. Much is said of 
 the tranquillity which reigns there. That great pulse 
 of the country stands still, and we are told to consider 
 it a sign of health. Paris is calm! So is a vessel 
 struck at sea, which trembles stationary on the waves 
 before it is ascertained whether the shock she has re¬ 
 ceived will sink her or permit her to make for the 
 haven. Paris is calm;—its banks are broken, trades¬ 
 men ruined, the Savings’ Bank (that storehouse of 
 poor capitalists) suspends its payments, or makes 
 them in a compulsory paper currency. Employment 
 is wanting, though forced through unnatural chan¬ 
 nels, by unnatural means. Men’s minds “fail them 
 
10 
 
 for fear.” They stand in a gasping pause, waiting 
 they know not what; watching their Government, 
 watching those balloon-statesmen who have risen to a 
 height they cannot measure, to descend they know 
 not where; prepared alike to witness the accident of 
 their safety, or the catastrophe of their fall. What is 
 there in all this to awaken a spurious and morbid sym¬ 
 pathy, a spirit of emulation, with France ? What is it 
 that Englishmen and Irishmen consider it would be 
 worthy and wise to imitate P Of the moderation 
 shewn by the populace we will not speak; where no 
 foe stood to confront them, there could be no oppor¬ 
 tunity for mercy. If the cold ferocity, which once 
 made the world shudder at such savage antics as 
 dressing the hair on the severed head of the Princess 
 de LambaUe, is extinct in the breasts of the French 
 people—of that people whose dreadful women (no 
 longer “Poissardes ”) appear in the new character of 
 “ Fesuviennes,” sworn to fire Paris with torches kept 
 for the purpose—it is indeed a thing to thank God for, 
 if not to congratulate them upon. May it prove so! 
 May the infant Republic remain unbaptized in blood! 
 Meanwhile, let us consider the sort of moderation 
 shewn. There was, a few years since, in Paris, a 
 prince, the heir-apparent to the throne. He was 
 brave, generous, noble, a good son, a tender brother. 
 He was what any of you might most wish your sons 
 to be, and his parents lost him early, as some of you 
 have no doubt also lost sons. A frightful accident 
 called him suddenly from this world’s uncertain pros- 
 
11 
 
 pects of grandeur. He died beloved, lamented. In 
 the tumult of the Revolution the chapel at Dreux was 
 hushed and darkly calm. He lies there, ungrieved by 
 the exile of those discrowned and aged parents, who 
 shall weep no more by his tomb ! When the widow 
 and orphans of this prince presented themselves in the 
 Senate of their country—in the Senate where laws are 
 made to protect the feeble and punish the wrong-doer 
 —the people, whose moderation you applaud, whose 
 success you would emulate, gave the telegraphic signal 
 of exile and beggary, by pointing muskets and bayonets 
 at that defenceless woman and her children. Their 
 property is forfeit to the state: moderation granted 
 them their lives. There was also in Paris, some few 
 years since, a princess, sister to that prince. She was 
 a lady of great, genius as well as perfect disposition. 
 She encouraged art, and was benevolent to the poor. 
 She worked with her hands, as some of you workpeople 
 do, and made a statue, casts of which many of you 
 must see daily hawked about the streets of London— 
 the statue of Joan of Arc, one of her country’s heroines. 
 She, too, died young, and in her death-hour the inno¬ 
 cent hallucination of her religious mind was that she 
 saw heaven open, and its angels beckoning her to 
 approach. The people, whose justice you applaud, 
 have seized the rents which were the property of her 
 husband and her orphan son. They have seized the 
 fortune of the Duchess of Nemours, which was unfor¬ 
 tunately put into the Prench rentes. They have seized 
 the Brazilian fortune which was the dower of Princess 
 
12 
 
 Joinville; they have seized the Spanish dower of the 
 Duchesse de Montpensier; the Conde property, left by 
 will to the Due d’Aumale ; the property of Madame 
 Adelaide, bequeathed by that excellent princess to 
 Madame de Montjoie, and other subjects. If mode¬ 
 ration consists in not cutting the throats of women and 
 children and unresisting foes, congratulate them on 
 their moderation. They have created a deficit in the 
 revenue, which they vainly attempt to fill by confis¬ 
 cations and sequestrations, forced gifts, black-mail 
 levied under the name of patriotic subscriptions. 
 They have taught the working men to look for a sort 
 of Utopia of labour, an imaginary system of indepen¬ 
 dence of all mutual obligation between masters and 
 men—which can never exist—and the expectation of 
 which will entail the certain ruin of thousands, and the 
 probable martyrdom of some on whom the French mob 
 now rely. Paris was, beyond most cities, employed in 
 what is termed Industrie de luxe. By banishing their 
 court, by degrading their aristocracy, by destroying 
 the credit and fortune of their rich financiers, by ex¬ 
 pelling foreigners who spent their wealth in Paris, they 
 have taken the bread out of the mouths of their own 
 artizans. The rich man’s pleasures were the poor 
 man’s earnings. The large salaries, the gilded vanities, 
 the toys of pomp, are gone—but with them are gone 
 the fuel for the poor man’s fire, the loaf for his chil¬ 
 dren’s food. “A has I’ aristocratic /” “ Vive Vegaliter 
 Good. But where now to find a market for those quaint 
 devices of ornament, those fanciful traceries, those fili- 
 
13 
 
 gree productions which formed the staple trade of thou¬ 
 sands ? Barren and withered as the trees of liberty they 
 have transplanted, is the prospect of their new and 
 unemployed condition. Even plunder cannot help 
 them. The rising cry, “A has les riches !” will not save 
 them. The circulation of the capital of a few rich 
 men may make the fortune of thousands; the division 
 of the capital, even of many rich men, would give 
 but a miserable fraction a-piece to that amazed and 
 starving mass. Is it on this state of things that you 
 would congratulate France? Be warned in time. 
 On the false translation of this cant word “ Fraterni¬ 
 zation” may depend at this moment, in more countries 
 than one, the adverse fate of millions. Ruined trades¬ 
 people, stagnated commerce, an impoverished, econo¬ 
 mizing, or absentee aristocracy, may teach thousands 
 to ban, instead of bless, those who taught them to 
 utter it. You cannot reverse the order of nature. 
 You may stir a pond, so as to bring sticks, stones, 
 and leaves, to the surface; they sink when it subsides. 
 Do you believe that the French Government can con¬ 
 tinue to support the working classes ? Do you believe 
 that the credit of other classes can be supported for 
 commercial purposes by a compulsory paper currency, 
 which may be the fictitious representation of funds 
 that do not exist ? Friends, I could shew you the 
 assignats of a former revolution. They were kept as 
 curiosities, because they availed nothing as payment. 
 
 But you will say, “ We struggle for our rights; 
 we want equality of taxation; we want an extension 
 
14 
 
 of suffrage; there is still much to do for the people of 
 England.” I agree with you. I think there is still 
 much to be done for the people of England, and I 
 think there is much that will most certainly be done. 
 I desire it, as you do, but I believe you are taking the 
 wrong road. I believe that the men who have per¬ 
 suaded you that intimidation, and popular cries echoed 
 from Erance, will help you to your ends, not only 
 retard your march, but risk your ruin. You are at 
 this moment, many of you, placing your lives, charac¬ 
 ters, and fortunes in the guidance of men to whom 
 you would not trust the casting up of a ledger or the 
 management of a farm. They would be incompetent, 
 you think, for that; and yet you hold them fitter to 
 legislate for you than the Government of your own 
 country! 
 
 In the Commination—read at stated periods in 
 our Church Service—there are these sentences:— 
 “Cursed is he that removeth his neighbour’s land¬ 
 mark !” “ Cursed is he that causeth the blind to go 
 out of his way!” There are land-marks of the mind 
 —set there by education, custom, and religion: there 
 is blindness of the mind—the ignorance which has 
 not been instructed to see things justly. In my 
 heart I should dread, if I were one of your 
 leaders, the secret echo of that curse; if, from dis¬ 
 honest vanity or selfish fury, I removed those land¬ 
 marks, and availed myself of that blindness, to lead 
 you to fruitless insurrection. I should shrink from 
 the memory of those party cries which, when they 
 
15 
 
 grow too loud, are only silenced by tbe filling in of 
 obscure graves. Pause! there is yet time. Your 
 best friends stand in the ranks of those you would 
 approach as foes. 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 I have said that your best friends stand in the 
 ranks of those you would approach as foes. You 
 demur to this - you disbelieve it. I would reason 
 the point, as with men willing to hear both sides, 
 but whose misfortune it is that only one side addresses 
 you. By whom have the measures of improvement, 
 already undertaken in behalf of the people, been 
 urged and carried? By the aristocracy. They do 
 not always suggest those measures; they do not 
 always agree upon them. Matters are disputed 
 among them, as they are disputed among you; but, 
 as a class, they are haters of oppression, and honest 
 pioneers of progress. They are the workmen of 
 intelligence, as you are the workmen of production. 
 In opposing them, you break the machinery, and 
 burn the factories, where only the work can be done 
 which you yourselves want executed. Why should 
 
16 
 
 you think you are capable of doing their work in 
 addition to your own? Why should politics be the 
 one trade that requires neither study nor apprentice¬ 
 ship? Men cheerfully acknowledge their incapacity 
 in other matters, but no one null acknowledge his 
 incapacity in this. A man knows he cannot make 
 buttons, but he will not believe he cannot make 
 laws. You are deluded by perpetual reference to 
 France. “ France has its Provisional Government! 
 France has its sovereign people! France has its 
 ‘Albert, ouvrier !’ France has its Government of work¬ 
 men, instead of a Government of aristocrats!” Here 
 is your mistake. France has not a Government of 
 workmen: even “ Albert, ouvrier ,” does not belong to 
 that class. You might as well say, Peel, ouvrier 
 —making allowance for gradations of talent. Albert 
 was educated as a lawyer, was a master manufacturer, 
 editor of the Atelier newspaper. I do not say the 
 gentlemen composing the French Provisional Govern¬ 
 ment are not as St for the task as any others: time 
 will shew. A stately ruin lies cumbering the soil of 
 France: we have yet to see what will be built in 
 its stead; we have yet to see whether these fallible 
 men will .merely substitute their own mistakes for 
 ihe mistakes of other fallible men. But I say it is 
 not a Government of practical working men, any 
 more than your being represented by Alfred Tenny¬ 
 son, Mr. M'Culloch, Mr. Senior, Sir James South, 
 and Jackson, ouvrier, would be a Government of 
 working men. It is a theatrical pretence; it is an 
 
17 
 
 oligarchy, an aristocracy on a different model from 
 that to which yon are accustomed — an old friend 
 (or, if you please, an old enemy) with a new face. 
 “Rise! shake off tyranny, and govern yourselves!” 
 is the phrase: “Let us govern you” is the translation. 
 I did not think that any words of John Mitchell’s 
 could be of use to lovers of order 1 , but I find these:— 
 “If ever it behoved men to look facts in the face, 
 and neglect words which have no facts under them, 
 it behoves us now.” The somewhat Irish proposal to 
 “look facts in the face,” is what I also would cordially 
 advise. At this moment, in England, the advocacy 
 of “the rights of the people” is the favourite enthu¬ 
 siasm of our young nobility. Their heads, their 
 hearts, and their speeches are full of it. It is not too 
 much to say of the great families of this country, as of 
 the deaths of the first-born of Egypt, that “ there is 
 not a house in which you have not one friend.” A 
 few, certainly, of our aristocracy are licentious, idle, 
 useless;—their women, insolent, overbearing, capri¬ 
 cious. How would you yourselves like to be judged 
 by, as a class, the bad drunken characters among you ? 
 The majority live in the earnest and religious per¬ 
 formance of the active duties of life. But you say 
 they are your foes. Who tells you so ? Your leaders 
 —those men who desire to supersede them in then 1 
 natural position, with you, of superiors. As depend¬ 
 ants, you have a right to claim them as benefactors; 
 as opponents, you can only struggle with them to your 
 ruin. In Richard the Second’s time, when thousands 
 
18 
 
 rose to avenge one man’s wrong, one man’s unde¬ 
 niable, undoubted wrong—after that man was.slain, 
 the young King spurred his horse forward among his 
 rebellious subjects, exclaiming, “ Do you want a leader ? 
 I myself will be your leader.” Friends, do you think 
 you could find no leaders in the class above you? 
 leaders who would not waver in the horn- of difficulty, 
 or.abandon you in the time of danger ? I think you 
 might. “Look facts in the face,” as Mr. Mitchell 
 advises. This veiy metropolis, into whose armed and 
 shielded heart you entered yesterday as a hostile de¬ 
 monstration—this veiy London, where angry delegates 
 and excited workmen were to meet at all points to 
 murmur and to threaten, is at present under survey. 
 For what ? That the aristocracy may be provided with 
 fair gardens and noble buildings ? That new palaces 
 may be constructed for royalty ? No. But that the 
 poor may have a more equal share of life’s common 
 comforts; that they may breathe pure air; that they 
 may be more securely sheltered; that fever and sick¬ 
 ness may sweep fewer of their numbers into a pre¬ 
 mature grave. 
 
 Was this done as a concession to you ? Did you 
 insist upon it? Did you even propose it? No. It 
 is one small fraction of a general plan “ for bettering 
 the condition of the people,” which occupies the minds 
 of those classes your leaders would teach you to view 
 with abhorrence—those who, I repeat, are the only 
 workmen to do your work. You may sneer at the 
 comparison: but it is a true one. As there are dyes 
 
19 
 
 which cannot be made fast colours without certain in¬ 
 gredients, as there are productions incomplete till 
 finished by the hand of a cunning and skilful artisan, 
 so there is world-work to be done which requires that 
 upper class you view with so much jealousy. They 
 work with a tool you have not got. That tool is 
 leisure. They do what, even if you had the will, the 
 power, and the education necessary, you could not do 
 for want of time. I live amongst this class. I see 
 these men working at their trade of politics. A cotton 
 mill is not more fatiguing, nor, in some instances, 
 more destructive to health. I have seen as much 
 hard work and mental anxiety in this as in the 
 conduct of any other business; and I have seen 
 as honest men working at it as any boaster among 
 you. What you need is, not the rising of class against 
 class, but to grow strong by the union of classes. What 
 would benefit you is not the overthrow or intimidation 
 of a particular Government, but that whatever men 
 are “ in power,” as it is called, should really have the 
 power to carry out such measures for you as the exi¬ 
 gencies of the time require. Generation after gene¬ 
 ration grows grey, and we are still learning the fables 
 of the “ Belly and Members,” the “ Dog and the Sha¬ 
 dow,” the value of the withe that binds the fagot so 
 that it may not break ! You are workmen, and they are 
 lords and gentlemen: their sons go out in the ships 
 some of you build, and protect your commerce in 
 manufactures which others of you produce. The dis¬ 
 union of classes, whose interests are as the warp and 
 
20 
 
 woof which form the texture of one web, cannot be 
 ruin to one class only. The intelligent middle class 
 read a lesson to turbulence yesterday which many mor¬ 
 rows will not banish from the minds of Englishmen. 
 It was read calmly though sternly to the mob and to 
 their leaders. Let us hope it will not be forgotten. 
 “ Come to us as friends to claim a service: come to us 
 as petitioners to explain a grievance: but do not come 
 to us as highwaymeu with mortal terror as an induce¬ 
 ment to aid: We are the People, and we will not 
 suffer the People’s Charter to be so brought to our 
 doors.” 
 
 If you must needs cast wistful looks to Prance, 
 cast them for warning, and not for example. The 
 Deviocratie calculates that, by the time the Convention 
 meets, there will be in Paris alone 800,000 persons 
 out of work and starving. Meanwhile another of 
 Ledru-Rollin’s proclamations shews how that preacher 
 of eouality would fain be dictator of France. His 
 style, indeed, is altered; his new proclamation forcibly 
 recalls O’Connell’s “ moral force ” orations. He is for 
 marching troops from “ Birnarn Wood to Dunsinane,” 
 masked by a whole grove of olive boughs. But the 
 mask is vain. With more cunning than caution, with 
 more insolence than boldness, enough is evident to 
 prove the determination to coerce that “ universal suf¬ 
 frage ” which the French enjoy. Let it be a timely 
 warning to you. Watch these men and their imprac¬ 
 ticable plans. Wait. Did you ever yet give an order 
 for goods without seeing at least a sample in a finished 
 
21 
 
 state, so as to judge of its design, its probable dura¬ 
 bility, its value in tbe general market ? Do not be 
 ashamed to own yourselves in error. Claim help from 
 your Government and aristocracy, instead of from 
 those who forsake you “ in the time of trouble.” The 
 shaking of public credit, the frequency of private bank¬ 
 ruptcy, re-act on each other in times of popular com¬ 
 motion. Let disturbances begin how they will, they 
 end by being a question of finance. The heaviest, the 
 most unequal, the most oppressive taxes that can fall 
 on a people, are the taxes on Revolution. The triumph 
 of mobs, in many foreign cities, you have read in our 
 newspapers. Their ruin as individuals you will not 
 read there. No one will be at the pains of recording 
 it. Be warned: when you urge your rights, or when 
 you would enforce them, be sure that you are bartering 
 value for true liberty and not paying forfeit for empty 
 rebellion. 
 
 London: Printed by George Barclay, Castle Street, Leicester Square. 
 
ELEMENTARY PROPOSITIONS ON CURRENCY. 
 
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 the Lipari Islands,” &c. &c. l2mo. hds. 5s. 
 
 WHAT THE CHARTISTS ARE. 
 
 A Letter to English Working-Men. By a Fellow-Labourer. 12mo. sewed, 
 price l£d. or 25 for Half-a-Crown, for distribution. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 T. BOSWORTH (Successor to G. W. Nickisson), 215 Regent Street.