Although I conducted the majority of my research within archives, there were various other means through which I obtained information surrounding 19th century Radical movements. One such method was the examination of monuments, graves and other markers that commemorated reformist individuals and their actions. A particularly prominent example of this was the Martyrs Monument in the Old Calton Burial Ground on Calton Hill, Edinburgh. The Monument was significant for two key reasons. Firstly, it was erected in 1844 in memory of five individuals – namely, Thomas Muir, Thomas Fyshe Palmer, William Skirving, Maurice Marcarot and Joseph Gerrald – some of whom (Muir and Skirving) were instrumental in establishing the Edinburgh-based Society of the Friends of the People. The ‘Society of the Friends’ was a political reform group in the late-18th century that were likely inspired by the ideals that were central to the French Revolution, as per its societal counterpart in England. Fyshe Palmer was a member of the short-lived Dundee reformist group ‘Friends of Liberty’ and was involved in the revision, publication and distribution of an address to the public which called for universal suffrage, and also critisised the government over their war taxation policy . Others, such as Gerrald and Marcarot, held more Radical views than the Society of Friends and joined the London Corresponding Society. In 1793, all five were arrested on charges of sedition and sentenced to transportation to Australia. Skirving and Gerrald died of dysentery and tuberculosis respectively in New South Wales, while Muir, Marcarot and Palmer died outside of Australia (Muir in France, Marcarot in England and Palmer in Guguan, now modern-day Guam). The second notable aspect of the Martyrs Monument regarding my research concerns the erectors of the statue. The plan to establish a monument commemorating the five men and their objectives was formulated in 1837 by the Radical politician David Hume; building did not begin until seven years later. The proposal was buttressed by other propagators of Radicalism – for instance, William Tait, the founder of the Radical-supporting Tait’s Edinburgh Magazine, placed a request at the same time as Hume’s proposal asking for land to be made available on Calton Hill for the statue . What I think is particularly significant about the decision made by Hume to erect the monument is that it was clearly not merely established for historical reasons – or, at least, Hume was not purely confined to motivations of historical reminiscence. Rather, it is clear that by constructing a statue commemorating past reformists, Hume aimed to connect the Radical aims of the past and present and thus reinforce the Radical cause concomitantly with the rise of new reformist groups with Radical aims, such as the Chartist movement (Hume was an early supporter of the London Working Man’s Association, a reform body formed in 1836 that was foundational to early Chartism). Moreover, in 1837 Hume created the Constitutional newspaper which appealed to the militant wing of the Radical movement . Since certain individuals commemorated on the monument were either directly involved in more militant activities in the late 18th century, such as Margarot and Gerrald, or indirectly in the case of Skirving, the establishment of the monument further served to fuse Hume’s interests and objectives with historical precedent. In turn, upon the statue’s completion in 1844, Hume could demonstrate that the cause of the people, which both himself and the five ‘martyrs’ of 1794 were devoted to, would (in the words of Thomas Muir as inscribed on the side of the monument) “ultimately prevail [and]… finally triumph” .

The Illustrierte Zeitung was a newspaper published in Leipzig. An issue in 1844 focussed on Cologne’s carnival and provided historical background as well as a report on its masquerade processions. It’s cover page bears the title Kölnischer Karneval formed out of soldiers in various states of drunkenness or foolery. These soldiers were part of the Rote Funken, the carnival military of Cologne so to say. The Rote Funken took their name, dress and behaviour from the imperial militia of Cologne before French occupation in the 1790s. It is said, that Cologne was surrendered to the French without the militia putting up a fight, because they were too drunk or were otherwise incapable of organising their city’s defence. Denounced as the most incapable soldiers in German-speaking states, they provided a great historical identity and connection for Cologne’s carnival, bridging the old medieval imperial past with the new romantic bourgeois associational carnival. The humanised lettering can also be found in the 1848 Narhalla, Mainz’ carnival journal. By 1844, Franz Raveaux, future parliamentarian in the Frankfurt Assembly of 1848, split from the Große Kölner Karnevalsgesellschaft to found his own association, the Allgemeine Karnevalsgesellschaft. Disputes about content, organisation and participation were ongoing since about 1827, where the first oppositional carnival’s newspaper criticised the elitist speeches, content and demeanour of the carnival committee. Raveaux aimed to change this as he saw great political, especially democratic, potential in the yearly assemblies, committees, presidentships, masquerades, speeches and celebrations. More specifically, Raveaux aimed to bridge the old upper classes holding power in Cologne alongside the upcoming middle classes of merchants, lawyers and doctors with the smaller merchants and especially artisans that had gained reputation and capital. His vision was a more egalitarian and political one compared to the romantic and elitist one the older carnival association held. The visually stunning issue provides a view on Cologne’s carnival from a Northern German perspective and does not fall short in appealing to its readers to open up more and follow the Southern German wit and humour that seems to be overall lacking. The depiction of the president of, presumably, the older carnival association sporting a hat that bears resemblance to a spiked helmet (Pickelhaube) is especially significant. The Pickelhaube was introduced to the Prussian military in 1842. Depicting the inflexible, elitist carnival association’s president wearing such head gear highlighted the political affiliation of the Leipziger Illustrierte Zeitung as well as Franz Raveaux’ journalistic, business or even political connections across Germany. Women are only depicted as Colonia or as part of a masquerade set. The illustrations highlight how Colonia, the female incarnation of the city of Cologne, has nurtured Hanswurts, or the Schalknarr, into maturity. This is echoed in the accompanying text, stating that Raveaux’ association has established Hanswurst maturity (‘Mündigkeit’ p.3) – referring to his coming of age and thus political say. This newspaper highlights the growing politicisation of carnival in Cologne and its reception ‘abroad’ in the Kingdom of Saxony, to which Leipzig belonged, and elsewhere.

Baldomero Espartero (1793-1879) was one of the most important military and political figures in 19th-century Spain. He was also its first modern public figure, the object of a popular cult that was unique in the country and matched in Europe only by those of Napoleon and Garibaldi. Espartero was the ninth and final child of a wagon maker and his wife in the small La Mancha town of Granátula de Calatrava. His parents were able to send him to the nearby University of Almagro, probably intending that he enter the Church, like three of his siblings. The Napoleonic invasion of Spain changed any such plans: Espartero volunteered for the army and, when the anti-French government opened the officer corps to commoners, he entered its new military academy. Following the end of the war and the restoration of King Ferdinand VII in 1814, Espartero volunteered for the expeditionary force that was being sent to fight against the independence movements in Spain’s South American colonies. He spent almost ten years there, rising from second lieutenant to brigadier general thanks to a combination of reckless battlefield valour and the patronage of superiors. After returning from Peru in 1825 he survived Ferdinand’s political purge of the officer corps and remained in the army. In 1827 he married Jacinta Martínez de Sicilia y Santa Cruz, a sixteen-year old from a wealthy liberal family from the Rioja who would play a major role in his career. When the Carlist War broke out in 1833 Espartero supported the infant queen Isabel II and her mother, Maria Cristina, against the Carlist pretender. His raising of the siege of Bilbao on Christmas Eve 1836 turned him into a national hero and a popular idol. He appeared in various items of material culture, such as the plate shown above, cigar cases, and even roof tiles. As commander in chief he ended the war in the north with a negotiated peace and the theatrical “Embrace of Vergara” with his Carlist counterpart on August 31, 1839. He then went to the eastern theatre and brought the war to a victorious conclusion in June 1840. Espartero was, above all, a supporter of the legitimate monarchy. For most of the Carlist War he refused to take sides in the struggle between the two liberal families, the Moderates and the Progressives, denouncing partisanship for undermining the war effort. By 1839, however, he had moved to the Progressives and came to see himself as the embodiment of the popular will. He was “the Spanish flag” he said to his wife in one of his letters. In the autumn of 1840, he refused to obey Maria Cristina’s order to suppress a Progressive-led revolt which, in turn, led her to abdicate as Regent. Parliament elected Espartero to replace her in May 1841. As Regent, Espartero tried to function as a constitutional head of state but the combination of divisions among the Progressives and the refusal of Moderates to accept his legitimacy undermined his Regency. A military uprising supported, which some Progressives supported, forced him into exile in London in July 1843. During his absence, Espartero was the centre of a popular publishing phenomenon that included biographies, novels, and other items. Espartero returned to Spain in January 1848 and immediately went to his wife’s home in Logrono where he remained until revolution broke out in July 1854. With her throne in danger, Isabel II called Espartero to power and his return to Madrid was met with almost hysterical joy on the barricades. (In one of his columns for the New York Herald, Karl Marx famously described him as “no real man; he was a ghost, a name, a reminiscence.”) As Prime Minister Espartero failed to push through the more radical demands of the revolution and after two years fell victim to a rebellion led by the number two person in his government, the more conservative general, Leopoldo O’Donnell. In fact, as the army shelled the parliament building and defenders of the revolution died on the barricades, Espartero was nowhere to be seen. The new regime allowed him to return to Logrono, where he lived for the rest of his life. Members of the political elite wrote Espartero off as a political force, but political failure did not diminish his great popularity. The Progressive rank and file continued to see him as their party’s leader and his withdrawal to Logrono gave rise to a new image alongside the existing one of the “Pacificador” [Bringer of Peace]. He was “the modest retiree of Logrono”, the austere, honest, and principled man who had given up power rather than shed Spanish blood and was forgotten by an ungrateful queen. Even some republicans admired him. As Progressives, led by Espartero’s younger rival General Juan Prim, and Democrats conspired against Isabel II after 1865, they sought Espartero’s blessing, but he publicly refused to support an attack on the monarch. Once the Revolution of 1868 had chased Isabel II from the throne, however, he offered his support to the new regime. With the revolutionary government looking for a new ruler for its “democratic monarchy”, there was a strong campaign, most significantly embodied in 268 petitions to parliament, to make Espartero king. The campaign continued despite his repeated public protestations that was not interested; in the end he received only eight votes. He immediately swore his allegiance to the new king, Amadeo of Savoy. Amadeo quickly sought to use Espartero’s great popularity to shore up his throne. Early in his reign he visited him in Logrono. Later he gave Espartero a new noble title: Prince of Vergara. This made Espartero one of only two people from outside the royal family ever to be made a prince. Amadeo’s reign was marked by great political instability and Espartero became a kind of necessary man, repeatedly being seen as the solution to political crises although he always refused to return to political life. Amadeo abdicated in February 1873 after only fourteen months on the throne and was succeeded by the First Republic. Although a lifelong monarchist, Espartero pledged his loyalty to the new regime, which he saw as the emanation of the popular will. The short-lived Republic was as turbulent as Amadeo’s reign, and Espartero continued to be seen as the answer to political crises. There was even an attempt to have named president. A military coup in December 1874 ended the Republic and restored the monarchy in the person of Isabel’s son, Alfonso XII. Only six weeks after ascending the throne, Alfonso sought to benefit from Espartero’s popularity, visiting him in Logrono in February 1875. Their meeting was widely reported in the press. Espartero died in January 1879. He was given a state funeral and the state erected monuments to him in Madrid and Logrono. Beyond this, the Restoration regime did nothing to convert Espartero into an official national hero. Nor has any regime since. The most famous and revered Spaniard of his time, the person many saw as the embodiment of peace and constitutional government, was largely forgotten. He has never even been accorded the modest recognition of a postage stamp.

Honoré Daumier’s ‘Les Bas Bleu’s’ collection focused on a scathing critique of the Bluestockings in France, compiling of forty-four satirical prints. Demonstrating the extent of trans-national movement of female literary groups, the satire symbolises two female blue stocking authors, addressing another caricature of them which has been published in ‘Le Charivari’, a prominent French newspaper in the nineteenth century which published satirical political cartoons. The degrading of female figures as spinsters, was a common theme in Daumier’s portrayal of female intellectuals, and was reflective of popular attitudes towards educated women. The patriarchal anxiety surrounding the female intellectuals can be seen to emerge in the trends amongst the print culture of the nineteenth century and ultimately reflects the ever increasing presence of women in the public sphere.

Just weeks after chasing the remaining army of the absolutist pretender to the throne out of Spain and ending the seven-year-long Carlist War (1833-1840), Baldomero Espartero (1793-1879), the commander of the constitutional army and soon to be Regent of the country, was greeted by some 80,000 people as he entered Barcelona on 14 July 1840. That evening, the city council staged a serenade outside the house where he was staying. The songs included Verses about Peace in Spain dedicated to D. Baldomero Espartero, which was sung to the music of the great liberal anthem, the Hymn of Riego. Accounts of the serenade were later published in at least two different romances. The one shown here is illustrated with Espartero holding a laurel leaf towards Queen Isabel and her mother, the Queen-Regent María Cristina, surrounded by medallions saying 'Peace / Constitution of 1837 / National Independence' and a list of his military victories. Romances were inexpensive printed flysheets or short pamphlets, often sold in the streets by vendors who hung them from strings, and were a crucial part of Spanish popular culture. This is only one of many that glorified Espartero. The number of such publications and their large, popular audiences gave Spaniards a rare degree of familiarity with Espartero’s appearance. His face was probably the best known in the country and led to other aspects of the Espartero cult in daily life: men copied his signature facial hair, known as a luchana, after his great victory in December 1836; the more affluent could own silver cigar cases with his image on them; and children would be dressed 'Espartero style' for special occasions.

Modern acapella rendition by Chumbawamba of an original by Ben Boucher dating from the 1840s.

This National Charter Association membership card is in the collection of Mark Crail, and was exhibited at St Mark’s Church, Kennington on 28 April 2018 for Malcolm Chase’s Kennington Chartist Project talk. Mark Crail writes: 'The National Charter Association was founded at a conference in Manchester in February 1840. It became not just the first mass working class political party, but the first ever national political party in Britain. At its peak, the NCA had 400 branches and 50,000 members. The front of this membership card includes a rich mix of messages, both direct and symbolic. Below the name of the organisation, which signals its aspiration to nationwide status, are the six points of the Charter, and the motto 'Truth is our guide'. There then follows a reminder of the stark fact that just 800,000 men out of an adult male population of seven million were entitled to vote. It is also worth noting the images that appear on the card: a cap of liberty; a bee hive and a bushel of corn representing industrial and agricultural workers; decoration surrounding the motto denoting the different parts of the country, including an Irish shamrock and Scottish thistle; and finally what appears to be a fasces (although it lacks the usual axe head), symbolising collective power and governance. Thousands of cards must have been issued, but currently only this one, and two others are known to exist in collections.'