I have often referred in past episodes of this audio series to the fact that the libertarian
movement of today dates from the early 1940s, the period of U.S. participation in World
War II.
It underwent a very sudden and very substantial spurt of growth during the late 1960s and
early 1970s and has grown steadily ever since.
There was an earlier libertarian movement in the United States, however, one I briefly
mentioned a couple of months ago when observing Benjamin R. Tucker's 156th birthday.
This first libertarian movement, as the late Samuel Edward Conkin III used to like to call
was largely Tucker's creation centered around his fortnightly paper Liberty
which he published from 1881 to 1908 and his bookstore Benjamin R. Tucker's
unique bookshop which he operated at 502 6th Avenue near 30th Street in
Manhattan for a couple of years during the first decade of the 20th century the
libertarian I'd like to discuss in today's podcast was something of a star
are in that first libertarian movement, though her works and even her name are pretty close
to forgotten today.
Voltairine de Clare was born November 17, 1866, just after the end of the American Civil
War, in a town called Leslie, in rural central Michigan, about 20 miles south of Lansing.
She was the elder of two daughters born to a French immigrant named Hector de Clare,
who tried to earn a living as a tailor without much luck and his hapless wife, Harriet.
Hector regarded himself as a liberal and a free thinker.
And by liberal, of course, I mean classical liberal.
This is the 1860s, remember.
As a youth in northern France, he had read and deeply admired the works of Voltaire.
He decided to name his firstborn daughter after the eminent French author.
He taught her to read and write both French and English, and he noticed not only that
Volterine had high intelligence and an unusual talent for schoolwork of all kinds, but also
that she was, as they used to say back then, high-spirited.
In 1878, when Volterine was 12 years old, her father found himself face-to-face with
an unexpected opportunity.
If he were willing to move to Port Huron, a busy lumbering and shipbuilding town about
120 miles east of Leslie, he could make a lot more money. His tailoring services were
more needed there by far, and more appreciated. The problem was that his wife would not accompany
him. Presumably, she found the bucolic atmosphere of a farm town more to her liking than a bustling
In any case, Harriet remained in Leslie with Adelaide, her younger daughter. Hector moved
to Port Huron with Volterine. He and his wife seemed to have agreed that this arrangement
would be best given the circumstances. On what Hector could earn in Port Huron, he could
support two households, and he could exert his authoritative influence to try to curb
Hector served what he called Voltarene's restless nature and her marked tendency to willfulness.
Within a year, Hector had decided to enroll his elder daughter in a highly rated convent
school, the convent of Our Lady of Port Huron in Sarnia, Ontario, Canada, just across the
Saint Clair river from Port Huron, Michigan.
Hector seems to have been motivated in part by a simple desire to expose his intellectually
Volterine resisted her father's decision with all the energy and wiles she could muster.
She wrote letters, first mournful, then increasingly angry, to her mother, first begging, then
demanding rescue.
When it didn't come, she took matters into her own hands, running away from the convent,
swimming across the river to Port Huron, then hiking nearly twenty miles west, toward her
mother's house, before making the mistake of contacting some family friends, who she
She hoped would offer her something to eat and a place to spend the night.
Instead, they contacted her father and sent her back to the convent.
Once there, she seemed to settle down and make the best of her situation.
She excelled at her studies and graduated with honors four years later at the age of
17.
But inwardly, she never surrendered.
She continued to regard herself as a prisoner, and as soon as she regained her freedom after
After her graduation, she began working to undermine the institution that had imprisoned
her for so long.
She returned to Central Michigan, moved in with her mother, and began writing for a weekly
freethought paper called The Progressive Age.
Before long, she had joined the editorial staff of the paper, and as soon as her income
was sufficient to support her, she left her mother's house for the last time and moved
to Grand Rapids in Western Michigan.
One thing led to another. Her articles in the Progressive Age led to speaking engagements,
and not many months had gone by before Volterine DeClair, a mere girl of 19 or 20, was traipsing
around Western Michigan lecturing on Tom Paine and atheism, among other topics.
Her biographer, the late Paul Average, reports that for small fees she addressed the local
and the National Freethought Circuit in Grand Rapids, Kalamazoo and other Michigan towns.
He notes that being a former pupil in a convent, she was a particularly effective speaker,
as she could talk from first-hand experience, like the runaway slaves who addressed abolitionist
gatherings before the Civil War.
Volterine's speaking engagements led to further speaking engagements, and to opportunities
to write for other publications.
According to libertarian psychologist Sharon Presley, who co-edited a recent anthology
of Volterine's writings, these other publications included The Freethinkers Magazine, Freethought,
and The Truthseeker. And as her reputation grew, Presley writes, her lectures, including
frequent tours for the American Secular Union, a nationwide freethought organization, took
her to many Midwestern and Eastern states.
By this time, it was late 1887, and Volterine was 21, a rising young star in the freethought
movement.
Today, those who know about freethought at all usually associate it with organized atheism,
with Robert G. Ingersoll as the Madeleine Murray O'Hare of the 19th century.
But in fact, there was much more to freethought than that.
As another expert on Volterine's life and work, the late Eugenia de la Motte has pointed
out, Freethought was an eclectic movement that included atheists, agnostics and deists,
as well as religious thinkers, Unitarian, Transcendentalist, sometimes Quaker, who shared
a scorn for religious dogma as a source of truth or authority, a rejection of biblical
miracles and the divinity of Jesus, an aggressive activist commitment to separation of church
and an insistence that human progress depends on the exercise of each individual's reason with regard even to subjects held most sacred.
There were many free-thought periodicals and institutions in 19th century America that specialized in only one of these issues.
De La Motte notes, for example, that the American Secular Union, which employed
Volterine de Clare as a lecturer early in her career, placed its main focus on separation of church and state.
Volterine's personal definition of free thought was direct and to the point.
Free thought, she wrote, was the right to believe as the evidence coming in contact with the mind forces it to believe.
This implies the admission of any and all evidence bearing upon any subject which might come up for discussion.
Delamotte comments that among the many subjects that came up routinely in late 19th century free-thinking circles
were marriage, sexuality, birth control, women's rights, race relations, labor relations, and the relation of the individual to the state.
Little wonder, then, that, as Paul Average puts it, between the anarchist and freethought
movements there was a close and long-standing affinity. Both shared a common anti-authoritarian
viewpoint and a common tradition of secularist radicalism stretching back to Thomas Paine,
who was, of course, well thought of by atheists and anarchists alike. Nearly all anarchists
Anarchists were freethinkers, and many first came to anarchism through the Freethought
Movement, in which they constituted a militant left wing within the local clubs, as well
as the regional and national federations.
By 1888, when she was 21 years old, Voltairine de Clare was ready to become one of those
anarchists who had first come to anarchism through the Freethought Movement.
The specific event which precipitated her involvement with anarchism as a cause was the Haymarket
Affair of 1886 and 1887. As Average tells the story, the Haymarket Affair, one of the
most famous incidents in the history of the anarchist movement, began on May 3, 1886,
when the Chicago police fired into a crowd of strikers at the McCormick Reaper Works,
Building and Wounding Several Men.
The following evening the anarchists held a protest meeting near Haymarket Square.
Toward the end of the meeting, which had proceeded without incident, rain began to fall and the
crowd started to disperse.
The last speaker, Samuel Fielden, was concluding his address when a contingent of police marched
in and ordered the meeting to be closed.
Johnson objected that the gathering was peaceful and that he was just finishing up.
The police captain insisted.
At that moment, a bomb was thrown.
One policeman was killed and nearly 70 were injured, of whom six later died.
The police opened fire on the crowd, killing at least four workers and wounding many more.
Who threw the bomb, Average continues, has never been determined.
What is certain, however, is that the eight men who were brought to trial were not responsible.
Six of them, in fact, were not even present when the explosion occurred, and the other
two were demonstrably innocent of throwing the bomb.
Moreover, no evidence was produced to connect the defendants with the bomb-thrower.
Yet all eight were found guilty, the verdict being the product of perjured testimony, a
In 1893, after spending seven years behind bars, the three remaining Haymarket anarchists
were officially granted a pardon by Illinois Governor John Peter Altgeld, who destroyed
his own political career by issuing that pardon.
Average reports that Altgeld, in his message explaining the pardon, criticized the judge
for conducting the trial with malicious ferocity, and found that the evidence had not shown
In effect, though Altgeld didn't put it in these words, the court convicted the men for espousing an idea, the idea that human life would be better without the state, an idea that was widely believed to have influenced whoever did throw that fateful bomb at the Chicago police.
The four who were executed were put to death for having committed what George Orwell would call, many years later, a thought crime.
The execution horrified Volterine de Clare, the more so because she herself, not yet converted to the anarchist cause at the time the original bombing took place,
had called for just that fate to be imposed on the suspects in the case.
At the time of the explosion, in May 1886, Average writes, she was 19 years old. She had not yet left her mother's house for the last time.
Glimpsing the newspaper headlines, anarchists throw bomb in crowd in the hay market in Chicago, she joined the cry for vengeance.
They ought to be hanged, she declared, words over which she agonized for the rest of her life.
for that ignorant, outrageous, bloodthirsty sentence, I shall never forgive myself, she confessed, on the fourteenth anniversary of the executions, though I know the dead men would have forgiven me, though I know those who loved them forgive me, but my own voice, as it sounded that night, will sound so in my ears till I die, a bitter reproach and shame.
She dedicated a poem to Governor Altgeld when he pardoned the last three Haymarket anarchists, and yet another after his death in 1902.
She wrote a poem to Matthew M. Trumbull, a distinguished Chicago attorney who had defended the anarchists in two incisive pamphlets and appealed to the state for clemency.
Nor was this all. Nearly every year, Average writes, she took part in memorial meetings to her comrades, delivering moving and deeply felt orations, the most powerful of her career.
She moved to Chicago near the end of her life, died there, and was buried there, next to the Haymarket Martyrs.
In a word, she did penance. She devoted the rest of her life to penance for what she regarded
as her unforgivable act of prejudgment. Her penance was writing for periodicals, delivering
orations and lectures, and otherwise working to propagate the doctrine the martyrs had
espoused, the doctrine of society without the state. She seems to have been that type
type of personality, the type of the penitent, the devotee, the true believer, the ascetic.
So perhaps it was inevitable that she would choose a career as a penitent.
It was, in any case, a practical choice.
If there was anything other than writing and speaking that she could truly be said to know
how to do, it was penance.
She had learned that at Our Lady of Port Huron.
As she herself put it in 1903 in her essay, The Making of an Anarchist,
By early influences and education I should have been a nun,
And spent my life glorifying authority in its most concentrated form,
As some of my schoolmates are doing at this hour,
Within the mission houses of the order of the holy names of Jesus and Mary.
Crispin Sartwell, who co-edited an anthology of Volterine's writings a few years ago with
with Sharon Pressley argues that, in fact, Volterine internalized the convent's modesty
and asceticism, whatever her disagreements with its dogma.
Most pictures of her in later life, he points out, show her in plain high-necked garb that
could almost be a habit, and her life of extreme frugality and devotion to her calling mirrored
that of the nuns who helped raise her.
Liberty was often referred to by her acquaintances in religious terms as a priestess or as the
bride of her cause.
Whatever her personal motives might have been, however, this much can be said with confidence.
Once Volterine joined the libertarian cause, she quickly became one of its best-known exponents.
She had been a 14-year-old prisoner in a convent school when Benjamin R. Tucker launched his
and the First Libertarian Movement.
Within a decade, she was writing for Tucker and had become one of the luminaries of his movement.
Eugenia de Lamotte reports that while most of Volterine's lectures were delivered in the eastern and midwestern United States,
she lectured also in England, Scotland and Norway, sometimes to small audiences but often to hundreds, sometimes to over a thousand.
According to Paul Average, one appearance she made before the Social Science Club of Philadelphia was attended by an audience of 1200 that gave her a magnificent reception.
De Lamotte mentions one 1908 anarchist demonstration also in Philadelphia, at which Volterine addressed what a local newspaper reporter described as some 2000 workers.
Average mentions a rally she addressed in London at which she herself estimated that 10,000 people packed together with upturned faces were in attendance.
And he reports that when Volterine died in Chicago late in June of 1912 at the age of only 45, 2,000 mourners turned out to witness her interment.
Volterine never wrote a book, but certain of her essays are really neglected classics.
Her essay Anarchism and American Traditions, for example, appeared originally in 1908 and 1909 in the pages of Mother Earth, Emma Goldman's anarchist magazine.
It is a true gem. I know of no better brief treatment of the issues around which it is so cunningly, artfully constructed.
The ways in which anarchism is implicit in the writings of the American founders, the
absurdity of public education as a safeguard or cornerstone of a free society, the problem
of widespread indifference to liberty, it is eminently quotable, it rings with a stirring
spirit of defiance, it is fiercely intelligent, whether incorporated into a course in civics
or Political Science, or simply included with other readings in a survey of American history,
this piece should be required reading for every American high school student.
Of course the essay is not perfect. In its last few pages, for example, it contains a
few dubious and, at best, ambiguous economic references.
Volterine, like Tucker and many of his associates, was a mutualist. She also entertained some
Some somewhat fanciful ideas about the supposed economic benefits of small settlements producing
everything for themselves, but all libertarians of this period are a bit screwy in their economics.
Austrianism had not yet been fully developed, much less spread to the English-speaking world,
and Volterine showed that her heart was in the right place when she argued for an idea
that had already come to be called anarchism without adjectives.
She wrote in 1901, for example, that there are several economic schools among anarchists.
There are anarchist individualists, anarchist mutualists, anarchist communists and anarchist
socialists.
In times past, these several schools have bitterly denounced each other and mutually
refused to recognize each other as anarchists at all.
A far more reasonable idea, she proposed, is that all these economic conceptions may
may be experimented with, and there is nothing un-anarchistic about any of them until the
element of compulsion enters and obliges unwilling persons to remain in a community whose economic
arrangements they do not agree to.
A larger problem with a piece like Anarchism and American Traditions is that it is not
in any sense an original piece of work.
expounds no ideas save those its author has learned from others.
The plain fact is that, as Eugenia de Lamotte observes, Declair was not one of the great
original theorists of anarchism at its most general level, although many of her lectures
are brilliant and cogent syntheses of ideas drawn from her extensive reading of anarchist
theory.
As a libertarian, Volterine's strong suit was not original thought. It was distilling
and packaging the original thought of others. She was, in Friedrich Hayek's sense of the
word, an intellectual, that is, a professional second-hand dealer in ideas. Such figures
rarely command much fame outside the compass of their own lifetimes. Journalists, teachers,
ministers, lecturers, publicists, radiocommentators, Hayek ticked them off, the common types of intellectuals.
How many of them enjoy any sort of renown beyond whatever they enjoy during the years
when their own generation is in the ascendant?
However great their skill with words, however great their skill at distilling and packaging,
they are easily and soon forgotten.
The fact that nearly a hundred years after her untimely death, Volterine de Clare should
have a full-length biography devoted to her, though, alas, it is currently out of print,
and at least three annotated collections of her work buying for readers' attention, suggests
that she may have already achieved a degree of immortality never realized by most of her
fellow intellectuals.
This is Jeff Rigenbach.