And indeed, before the next quarter-sessions came to term, my jailor, whose name was John Bethel, had begun to open his heart and understanding to the mystery of the dead and had commenced joining me in my cell for evening prayer and contemplation. He had not yet his own coffin and therefore was compelled to close himself in his arms where two walls meet, as is the custom for those among the brethren who, for reasons, have not their own coffins at ready access. But when he had frequently observed my emergence from prayer and had glimpsed indirectly thereby the grace and relief obtained, he thereupon had each time attempted to elicit from me the name of one by whom he himself might have a coffin built.
I greeted his repeated request with deeply troubled feelings. On the one hand, I took delight from what appeared to be a case of genuine conversion to the understanding that supercedes all understanding, and I knew that without his own coffin in which to closet himself for prayer and contemplation, my brother John Bethel would eventually see his questing fall back upon itself, like a vine with nothing to attach itself to, there to wither and die. This possibility, nay, this likelihood! grieved me, and I would determine at once to provide him with the name of one of those among us who would build him a coffin, when, as I paced my cell waiting for my jailor to make his evening round and appear to me, it would seem to me that his request for information, such as the name of one who would build him a coffin, was but a subtle ruse designed to induce me to expose and incriminate and thereby condemn one of my beloved brethren to the fate I now endured. And thus I would close my mind as if it were a fist, and I would swear never to reveal the names of my fellow worshippers of the dead, even if tortured and brought to the very gateway of death itself. I had no fear of torture in those years, any more than I do today, for I was filled with the knowledge that if one among the living were to bring me to the very gateway of death and there threaten to hurl me through, it would be as if he were threatening to hurl me into the arms of my dead parents and long-departed ancestors, and I would at such a moment urge him onward, not to confound him, as I am sure it would do, but so as to end this agony of separation.
While I was yet enduring this quandary with regard to the question of the conversion of my jailor John Bethel, as it was now some weeks beyond the second quarter-sessions of the meeting of the justices of the parish for the purposes of trying all those previously indicted and not yet tried in public court and still I had not yet been called forth so to be tried, though I continued to languish in jail fully as if I had indeed been tried and convicted of those crimes for which I had merely been indicted and had not confessed (except as to argue against the legitimacy of the laws which prohibit acts of worship of the dead such as my brethren are known to participate in), came the time of the solstice. Now at the solstice there is usually a general releasement of divers prisoners, by virtue since ancient days of the high feelings surrounding the event, in which privilege I also should have had my share. But they would not take me for a convicted person, unless I were willing to sue out a pardon (as they called it), by means of which I would recant all my previous statements and activities as had got me indicted in the first place. Therefore, since I was no more willing under these new circumstances to recant and deny than I had been when under more durable and oppressing circumstances twenty weeks before, I could have no benefit of the solstice. Whereupon, while I continued in prison, my good wife went unto the several justices, that I might be heard and that they would impartially take my case into public consideration.
There were three, and the first that my wife did plead unto was Judge Hale, who was celebrated for his learning and deep probity and who was known for his leniency towards dissenters of various sorts. He very mildly received her, telling her that he would do her and me the best good he could, but he feared, said he, that he could do none.
The following day, lest the judges should, by the multitude of their business, forget me, she did throw another petition onto the table of Judge Twisdom, who, when he saw it and had read it through, snapped her up and angrily informed her that I was a convicted person already and could not be released unless I would promise to make no more coffins and not to teach others, &c.
After this disappointment, she went unto Judge Bester, who, in the mild presence of Judge Hale, stood and declared loudly and angrily that I was convicted by the court and that I was a hot spirited fellow, whereat he waved the petition in the air above his head and shouted that he would not meddle therewith.
But yet my wife, being encouraged by the seeming kindly face and manner of Judge Hale, did persist, saying that I had been indicted merely and had confessed to no crime and had not been tried, yet I was both confined to prison and at the same time was not to receive the indulgences prompted by the solstice that all other prisoners were to be granted. The place where this interview took place was called the Lion’s Chamber, where there were then situated the two judges and also many gentry and officers of the several towns in the parish. My wife, coming into them with a bashed face and a trembling heart and voice, began her errand to them in this manner:
Woman: My Lord (directing herself to Judge Hale), I make bold to come once again to your Lordship to know what may be done with my husband.
Hale: Woman, I have told you that I can do you and your husband no good, because they have taken that for a conviction which your husband has already spoken at the indictment. And unless there be something done to un-do that, I can do you no good.
Woman: My Lord, he was clapped into prison . . .
One of the gentry in the room, interrupting her: My Lord, the man was lawfully convicted! Why waste your precious time?
Woman: False! False!
Whereupon Judge Bester answered very angrily, saying that my wife must think that judges could do whatever they wished, whereas it seemed instead that her husband, meaning me, was the one who at this very moment was standing at prison for attempting to do whatever he wished. Did she desire that they too, meaning the judges and various gentry in the room, should end standing in prison alongside her husband? He laughed loudly at this.
Woman: But my Lord, he was not lawfully convicted.
Bester: He was.
Woman: No, he was not.
Bester: Indeed he was!
Hale: He was.
One of the gentry: Get this woman from out the room! She is a disrupter!
Bester: He was convicted! It is recorded! It is recorded! he continued crying, as if it must be of necessity true because it was so recorded. With which words, he and the others in the chamber, for they had taken up the cry, attempted to stop up her mouth, having no other argument to convince her but, It is recorded! It is recorded!
Here Judge Hale, trying to restore order, but not so greatly interested in restoring justice, interrupted and declared that none should talk about this matter any further, for he (meaning me) cannot do whatever he wishes, and he (meaning me again) has proved himself a breaker of the peace if not a heretic.
Woman: He only desired to live peaceably and that he follow his calling, both that his life and his family’s be properly maintained, and moreover, my Lord, I have five small children that cannot help themselves, of which one is born blind, and they and I now have nothing to live upon but the charity of good people.
Hale: You have five children? You are but a young woman to have five children. And a slender woman to have five children. (He seemed to wish her proven a liar of some sort.)
Woman: I am, my Lord, but stepmother to them, having not been married to him yet two full years when he was first arrested. Indeed, I was with child when my husband was first apprehended, but being young and unaccustomed to such things then, I was smayed at the news and fell into labor and so continued for eight days, then was delivered, but my child died.
Whereat Judge Hale, looking very soberly on the matter, said, Alas, poor woman!
But Judge Bester declared that she made poverty and pain her cloak and its lining.
Here the woman fell to weeping, albeit in
silence, for while she had up to now endured great woe and tribulation, this attack upon her very integrity, coming as it did from such a height and, as it seemed to her then and to me now, with no other cause than that of idle malice, came with a heaviness all out of proportion to its mass, as if it were a chain cast from lead and placed around her narrow shoulders solely to bear her down.
When she had left this place called the Lion’s Chamber and had brought herself directly to my cell and had recounted to me the details of her several interviews with these mighty persons, I saw that it would be this way with me now for my life time, unless I could contrive to get my name placed upon the calendar for the quarter-sessions of the meeting of the court and thus could come to trial and either be found innocent, and freed in that way, or else be convicted, and thence freed by the power of the general amnesty associated with the solstice. While my wife wept in despair, for she had at last given up the fight for my freedom, I negotiated with my jailor, who, at my direction, had determined to obtain the calendar for the quarter-sessions of the meeting of the court and place my name thereon, thus compelling the justices to hear my case, for, with my name upon that calendar, they would have no choice but to call me to come forward. I allowed myself the pleasure of admiring the symmetry between their claim that my confession and judgement were already recorded and my own new claim that my name was recorded upon the calendar. Their foolish worship of the record would compel them to proceed in a manner that they had earlier deemed undesirable if not wholly repellent.
My jailor, John Bethel, here proved his devotion to my cause, as well as to my method, for he went out from me and under the cover of darkness stole into the courthouse where the records were kept and added my name to the calendar, so that the following day, when he was instructed by an officer of the court to deliver the various named prisoners who were to be tried that day, he was able to come to my cell and bring me forth. As I passed him in the hallway, I whispered unto him that he would soon have the coffin he required, and together, I and seven other prisoners, under the careful guard of my brother John Bethel and his two assistants, came to the courthouse, there to present ourselves for trial.
I was not at first noticed standing among the others in the docket, but before long one of the justices, Judge Bester, saw me there and signalled in whispers to the other two judges that I was present, whereupon all three began to glare heatedly at me while they listened to the various cases being put before them. This glaring of theirs distracted them somewhat, for on several occasions they compelled the prisoner before them to repeat his testimony of defense, and in all seven cases they were able to agree unanimously on the guilt of the prisoner before them, even without the usual discussion amongst themselves, so as to hurry toward the calling out of my name. This calling duly came, whereupon Judge Bester reddened with fury and with a roar charged that I had somehow contrived to alter the calendar and that he would see me punished horribly for such a crime. Judge Hale, more calmly than his brother judge but in a rage none the less, called my jailor forth and put to him these questions:
Hale: John Bethel, you were posted throughout the night in your office at the prison, were you not?
Jailor: It is my duty, Sir.
Hale: Did this man pass you or was he in any way absent from his cell during the night?
Jailor: No, Sir, he did not and he was not.
Hale: How, then, do you think he altered the calendar?
Jailor: I am but a jailor, Sir, and thus I have no thoughts on the matter. Since, however, it was recorded that he was to be brought to trial here today, I did not know what else to do with him but to bring him straightway here so that you might try him. To delay or otherwise obstruct his being tried, Sir, would be to foul the law and the numerous statutes of procedure.
Bester (interrupting): The calendar has been secretly altered! Hang him for it! We shall try him, oh, we shall try him indeed, but we shall try him for altering the calendar! (He was at this point too vexed to continue speaking and began to sound as if he were chewing upon a piece of cloth, and he left off trying to speak and instead turned away and faced the back of the courtroom in a fume.)
Hale: Have you (meaning me) anything to say for your defense?
Self: With what, Sir, am I charged?
Hale: With having altered the calendar.
Self: I have not been properly indicted for that crime, Sir. I have been indicted only for the crime of heresy, to which I have not confessed, and therefore I do not believe I can be tried for the crime of altering the calendar.
This threw the three justices into a deep uproar, and the numerous observers and gentry attending the scene broke into loud laughter and guffaws. For it was now clear to all that the justices had tangled themselves in the cords and folds of their own procedure and that all their combined anger could not disentangle them. It was also clear that they would, in spite of themselves, try me this day, for one crime if not for another, and probably for no better reason than that they were being driven to it by their anger.
Hale: If your name is on the calendar, then we shall indeed try you, Sir! And the crime for which we shall try you is that of having altered the court calendar! As for the crime of heresy, for which you have already been duly indicted and to which you have confessed, it is recorded that you were, by virtue of your recorded confession, condemned in absentia, that is to say, without public trial, and thus you shall still remain ineligible for the pardon occasioned by the solstice, which applies only to those duly convicted at a public trial and now standing at prison. This new trial and the conviction that will doubtless follow shall bring with it the death penalty. And from that there shall be no pardon also! You, Sir, and all your followers, shall learn that the procedures of law exist to protect the rights of the law-abiding. They shall not be abused by those who, like yourself, wish to subvert and destroy justice! (Here he fell into a confused and angry tirade against tax evaders and other petty criminals, wandering in his words, it seemed to me, until at last he tailed off among mumbled phrases and uncompleted sentences.)
Then my brother, my jailor, came forward, and by his intelligence and courage and his love for me, made me crack with shame, for he had discerned what, in my pleasure at having discomfited the several justices, I had not discerned. He had seen that if I were to be tried for having altered the calendar, I would be swiftly convicted, for the justices, even the saintly Hale, were in such a temper as to find no one now before them innocent, and he had seen that they were ready to condemn a man to hard labor for life, if given the chance, for no greater crime than that of misspelling the name of the month. My brother had also seen what I had deliberately allowed myself to be blinded to: he had seen that they would hang me for the crime of altering the calendar. And therefore, he had determined, by virtue of his old life’s values, that I would be far better off languishing for numberless years in a cold damp prison cell than hanging from yonder gallows tree. This meant that while he had been sufficiently converted to my teachings and example so as to be able to face death courageously himself, he was not sufficiently freed of his old life’s courtship of itself to realize that I would be shamed and heartbroken by his taking my place at the gallows.
For these reasons, he came forward to the justices and declared that it had been he, John Bethel, who had altered the calendar so as to include my name upon it, and that if any man were to be tried and convicted for the said crime, it must be he. Let this interview and this assertion stand as an indictment and confession, said John Bethel, and let the clerk of the court properly add my name and blot out the name of the coffinmaker, and let the trial proceed as ordered by the statutes of procedure.
I cried out in vain that he must not sacrifice himself for the living, that he must only sacrifice himself for the dead, as we have long been taught (Carol., iv, 34,35), but it was too late. Judge Hale ordered the sergeant-at-arms to clap the jailor in irons and to present him in the docket, from which I myself was roughly removed. I saw the jailor’
s peaceful eyes as I was wrenched past him and he took my place, and I uttered these words: My brother, you shall have my own coffin. Though you are in error, you have earned the right to it, and I have not.
This was the most public event in the twelve years of my imprisonment that have so far transpired, and thus it was the most misunderstood and the most slandered. By this brief private account I have tried to make understanding possible and slander libelous. Also by this account have I tried to tender mercy to the beloved dead man, John Bethel, who in life was my jailor and who in death awaits me as a brother.
MY jailor went forward unto the dead in my stead, and though there sometimes passed through my heart a swift blade of grief, and though I was often, on the occasion of dark and cold afternoons that first autumn of my imprisonment, lashed by regret and shame, I was able to obtain a measure of release from my guilt and comfort for my pain from my having been able to provide him with my own personal coffin for his journey unto the dead, and I was further released and comforted by the sure knowledge that, though he had taken my place among the dead, I was now taking his place among the living. I remembered the old teachings on death, how it must fall to every one of us, and whether it come sooner or later matters not, for time is valueless to the dead. Only the living can be tempted by time; the dead, by their nature, treasure it not at all.
It was during this early period of my imprisonment, when I had not yet obtained a coffin to replace the one I had transferred to my jailor, that I determined to atone for my rashness and stupidity in the matter concerning the alteration of the court calendar. I decided to atone for my life by resisting death. This meant that henceforth I would be compelled to avoid any confrontation that would risk my life. It also meant that I would no longer be able to deny myself any sustenance, any food, rest or medication or other physical comfort that in whatsoever way contributed to the further resistance of death.
Relation of My Imprisonment Page 2
