Song of Rebellion : A Voice of Ireland


Entry 3135


From: holdoffhunger [id: 1]


Untitled Anarchism Song of Rebellion

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(1854 - 1944)

: Charlotte M. Wilson was an English Fabian and anarchist who co-founded Freedom newspaper in 1886 with Peter Kropotkin, and edited, published, and largely financed it during its first decade. She remained editor of Freedom until 1895. Born Charlotte Mary Martin, she was the daughter of a well-to-do physician, Robert Spencer Martin. She was educated at Newnham College at Cambridge University. She married Arthur Wilson, a stockbroker, and the couple moved to London. Charlotte Wilson joined the Fabian Society in 1884 and soon joined its Executive Committee. At the same time she founded an informal political study group for 'advanced' thinkers, known as the Hampstead Historic Club (also known as the Karl Marx Society or The Proudhon Society). This met in her former early 17th century farmhouse, called Wyldes, on the edge of Hampstead Heath. No records of the club survive but there are references to it in the memoirs of several of those who attended. In her history of Wyldes Mrs Wilson records the names of some of those who visited the house, most of whom are known to have been present at Club meetings. They included Sidney Webb, George Bernard Shaw, Sydney Olivier, Annie Besant, Graham Wa... (From:

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Song of Rebellion

 Photo by Achim Hepp, CC BY-NC License

Photo by Achim Hepp,
CC BY-NC License

Yes-tear down our homes! leave the hearthstone cold
As the hearts of you who have laid it bare;
And stone from stone let the walls be rolled,
And our home be one with the outer air,
Heap wrong on wrong! We have had to bear
    More wrongs than ever our tongues can tell;
One right is left us-we still forbear,
    O England, to use it-the right to rebel!

We have borne so much that a little more,
You think, may be borne by us unrepaid?
And our backs must bow as they bowed before,
While on quivering flesh are the lashes laid?
O England, are you never afraid
    Of us you have tortured so long and so well?
Do you never doubt which the Fates would aid-
    Of us or you-if we rose to rebel?

Do you never dream of a dark, wild hour,
When, goaded to madness by you, we may
Turn and repay what your alien power
Forced on us many a bitter day?
You sow your seed in your old bad way,
    And the bloody harvest do not foretell;
Yet, what shall your harvest be, who shall say,
    When our patience withers, and we rebel?

For all things end. We have patient been;
And a black, black record behind you lies
Of moans we have heard, of tears we have seen,
Of the dumb despair in our children's eyes.
Our sisters' sobbing, our mothers' sighs--
    These ring our quiescence its funeral knell;
Our patience is over and gone. Be wise,
    Ere wisdom be vain, and your thralls rebel.

Freedom: A Journal of Anarchist Socialism
Vol. 3 -- No. 26,
November, 1888

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November 1, 1888
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