Relation of My Imprisonment

by Russell Banks

  Jacob Moon, after he had read my list, directly asked me what I wished to do with these materials and tools, for his requisition form was required to show the proposed purpose for all such materials and tools as were requested by prisoners or anyone else. He pointed to a particular paragraph on the lengthy form, which did indeed assert that not to indicate thereon in detailed language the precise use to which any materials or tools requisitioned by the office of the chief jailor from the central supplier for all prisons, whether that use be specifically for the personal deployment of the prisoners or for prison maintenance or for the use, personal or otherwise, of the chief jailor, was to violate the law and to be subject to dismissal and possible prosecution by the office of the chief of prosecution. I saw, therefore, that Jacob was merely doing his job and that he had no personal desire or need to expose or confound me, and in fact, if I had been willing to tell him that I wished to have these materials and tools for the purposes of building a coffin, he would simply have filled out the requisition form appropriately and sent it on, even though he knew as well as did I myself that to request materials for the building of a coffin was to bring upon my head probable banishment from the land and possibly worse as soon as the form were received. In fact, I am sure that Jacob had not even the slightest curiosity or other interest in why I had suddenly asked for these materials and tools; he only wanted the form to be filled out as close to properly as possible.

  Therefore I informed him that I did not wish to lie to him or otherwise deceive him, but I wanted to have these materials and tools for the purpose of building myself a coffin so as to pray and contemplate the dead, as I had been trained and given to do since childhood but the which in recent months had been denied me, with certain awful effects on my spirit and mind and, as I saw it, also on my destiny. I did not, however, believe that he, meaning my jailor, ought to declare on his requisition form that my purposes were as I had just described to him, for if he did so, it would doubtless go ill for him as well as for me. The offices of the chief of prosecution would think him joking, and they are not known for their enjoyment of jokes when it comes to such somber matters as the laws against worshipping the dead, and thus they would prosecute him for inappropriate levity, a mild form of heresy, to be sure, but one punishable by law none the less.

  When my jailor had come fully to understand my analysis of the situation before him, he informed me that, therefore, he had only one recourse, which was to deny me my request for a requisition, and to warn me that he was by law compelled to restrict and forbid all evidences of worship of the dead, which meant that no coffins were allowed inside the prison, except as required by regulations of the sanitation and medical services administration for the transportation out of the prison of the corpse of any prisoner said to have died by infectious disease. John Bethel, his predecessor, by his example of leniency in these matters, had set a bad example, said Jacob Moon, but in his later trial and punishment, had set a good example. His fate will always stand before the jailors who follow, Jacob told me, as a clear warning of the consequence of leniency in matters concerning the laws against the worship of the dead. For that reason, I will not permit you to build a coffin or to have one brought in here for you by one of your secret brethren or your wife or Gina, and I will not let you use anything as a substitute for a proper coffin, such things as packing crates, wardrobe closets and other such enclosures as you people in your extremities of fervour have been known to employ, unless, of course, you are said to have died of an infectious disease

  There was no more to be said about it. Therefore I returned to my cell, disappointed, certainly, but full of a strength and clarity that I had not enjoyed for months, for now 1 was properly engaged with the task properly before me, the which I had previously refused to heed, the task of attending to the dead. I was back at the old business of setting up the proper rites, sacraments and artifacts, and the effects on my spirit were immediately felt by me and manifested to everyone, so that no longer was there any demeaning confusion over how I should relate my divided self to the distinct, contrasting realities around me, for no longer was there any contrast between them, or them and me. I had joined them.

  WHAT now follows is a description of how a great many of the imprisoned, both at my prison and at others across the land, who had no coffin came to have a coffin, and also what further was created thereby. It is, in addition, a description which must be taken as a type, revealing a type of worldly process, in the same sense that sacred scriptures are well known to reveal through types the more general events and processes.

  It sometimes is forced to come out that the solution to a simple problem cannot but be complex. My problem was surely simple, that of a need to obtain a coffin, so as thereby to have followed the instructions and heeded the warnings of my beloved ancestors, instructions and warnings which, once heard, must be followed hard upon with dedicated acts of obedience. Mere suggestions and hints from the dead must be taken as absolute commands. In spiritual matters such as this, disobedience implies nothing more or less than a lack of understanding. And equally it is assumed that whoever properly understands the commands of the dead will be incapable of disobeying them. This is a necessary closure and must be accepted as such, if what is to follow will not be meaningless.

  As said, my problem was a simple one. And though at first I had thought the solution would also be simple, it was not to be so. After considerable pondering upon my problem, it came to me that because Jacob Moon had been compelled to prohibit me from building my own coffin, I was now required to have one brought in to me ready-made. To be sure, he was compelled by law to prohibit me as well from importing any coffin or from utilizing any substitute as I might find among my incidental furnishings, but by disobeying him in these matters I would not, as in the former proposed solution, implicate an innocent man in my crime. I was therefore free to ignore his latter pair of prohibitions, and this thought filled me with jubilation, and I grew impatient for my wife and her cousin to arrive so that I could unfold these thoughts to them.

  Upon their arrival at my cell, and after I had explained to them that henceforward I would not compel them to participate with me or with the jailor Jake (as they had come to call him) in the foul acts of sensual gratification, those spirit-soiling celebrations of life to which we had become habituated, I related to the two women the nature of my dream and the warnings and instructions I had received from my father and uncle. They both seemed greatly relieved and pleased with my obvious recovery from the disease of sensuality that had debilitated our wills for so long, and even Jacob Moon, when I had opened my experience of the dream to him, and my consequent resolution, seemed somewhat relieved and in a clear way impatient to get back downstairs to his office where, as I knew, he had a massy pile of paperwork awaiting his attention and signature. My wife’s cousin, Gina, indicated that she was already late for a prior appointment in the city, and afterwards, when she had taken her leave, I related to my wife my most recent conclusion, that I was compelled by circumstance and the law to order and have shipped to me a ready-made coffin from some coffin-maker among our brethren outside.

  As she is an extremely intelligent woman, she quickly pointed out to me that I would not be free to have a coffin shipped if anyone were able by examining it to determine that it was indeed a coffin, for to manufacture and distribute such items, as I more than any man must know, was a crime. In my excitement at the prospect, I had forgotten this obstacle. After a moment of dismay, however, I started up again with pleasure, for my wife suggested to me that I could surely receive a wooden cabinet or trunk, if one could be made and shipped to me, and especially if it were properly fitted out as a cabinet or trunk, so that any postal authority or prison examiner looking for contraband would, on inspecting it, conclude that the object was nothing more harmful to the common weal than a cabinet or trunk. She imaged such an object for me, pointing out that it could be made according to my specifications for a coffin, with the skin of it hinged and set
with brass handles and with short legs attached to the base so as to resemble what is commonly called a hope chest and often used by young women for storing up their dowry of linens and clothing against the day when they marry (for that reason are they called hope chests). She further pointed out that it would be necessary to fill the chest with numerous items of cloth, linens, blankets and garments, &c, or the inspectors and surely my wiley jailor would discover the deceit, for they would know that I, as an impoverished prisoner, could not own sufficient items so as to require such a large chest for their storage.

  This last observation by my wife, however, filled me with despair again, for I saw that no one would believe that I, of all prisoners, was the legitimate recipient of such a lavish gift as a large wooden chest filled with expensive items of cloth. My poverty was well known, for my calling had been publicly forbidden to me, and it was also well known that my wife and five children had been forced as a consequence to throw themselves upon the kindness of strangers and the few among the brethren who dared to be seen aiding them. How could a man, people would ask themselves, who cannot afford to feed and clothe and house his own wife and children, suddenly provide himself with a large hand-made wooden chest stuffed with blankets, coats, hand towels and warm undergarments?

  My dear wife saw my despair and with reluctance conceded that the ruse would not be taken, though at first she had seemed to view the expense of such a gift as not especially dear or difficult to finance, even. By so much was she conscious of my need that she had difficulty making herself aware of the practical considerations. But I had swiftly itemized for her clarification the costs of such a chest and its necessary contents, as I knew any inspector would be able to do immediately upon opening it and examining it for contraband, an itemization, in fact, he would be required by law to make, so as to fix the shipping and delivery charges, and then she realized how incriminating (of me, my presumed poverty) it would be. It would be as if a starving mouse were suddenly revealed to own a cupboard full of cheese, she lightly said to me, in a characteristically generous attempt to dispel my gloom with humor.

  It here came to me that the gift of the hope chest would have to be made by someone of means, if it were to be a believable gift, and such a person would have to be a philanthropist who had determined to aid and comfort those who, among society’s less fortunate creatures, had been designated by society as its prisoners. Now since there was no way to regard me as worthy of being singled out by such a benefactor, for there were many who were as needy as I and some even more so, then the gift of a hope chest would have to be made to many prisoners equally and at once, enough of them so that I would not seem to have been specially chosen for the gift. The only number of prisoners that seemed appropriate, however, was three hundred eighty-seven, which was the number of prisoners, including me, then inhabiting my particular prison. I very quickly calculated what this would mean, in terms of materials alone, so as to estimate the approximate cost of such a huge undertaking as the manufacture of three hundred eighty-seven hope chests, and to my disappointment, I determined that the project would require over a half-ton of cotton batting (one thousand one hundred sixty-one pounds, to be exact), and also one thousand nine hundred thirty-five yards of red velvet cloth, and over two and one-third linear miles of twelve by one inch pine board.

  At my recital of these quantities, my wife gave a high laugh and turned away from me, as if to hide tears of discouragement, for I knew that she could not imagine any benefactor wealthy enough to be willing to pay for such an undertaking. And we both knew that we could not request the gift of these hope chests and their contents from my impoverished brethren, my fellow coffin-makers who were now so scattered in the land as to be hopelessly out of contact with one another and quite incapable of a cooperative endeavor of these proportions, even had we been able to pay for the materials ourselves.

  I then resolved that the cost of the hope chests and the contents therein might be borne by those wealthy citizens who seemed frequently to be willing, when properly approached, to finance the causes of the underprivileged among them, a surprisingly large group of ladies and gentlemen who, when they believe that most of the fashionable others in their class are supporting a particular cause, will themselves support that cause without question or stint. What was needed were a group of money collectors, a person able to arrange the appropriate publicity, an accountant or two to attend to the financial details and to keep scrupulous track of all funds, also an attorney, secretaries, an office of some sort, an executive director, and a board of directors. And we would need these people and facilities in the reverse order of their naming, for, once we had invited several prominent philanthropists to serve on our board of directors, which invitation, by the flattery of being singled out, they would eagerly accept, we would then be able to hire an executive director at a salary consistent with his or her responsibilities, and once we had hired an executive director, we would be able to hire the necessary secretarial help to take care of the paperwork that would commence to arrive once the newly hired attorney had filed for the incorporation charter and with it the plea for exemption from taxation, which would not be granted by the tax authority, of course, until we had procured the services of several accountants and clerks so as to keep our records in a satisfactory way, at which point we would be ready to hire the publicist, and as soon as he or she had begun his or her work, we would hire a battalion of collectors to begin calling on the numerous individuals who wished to support our particular cause.

  My wife now grew exceedingly excited, and she showed me that the most important link in this chain was the post of executive director, for that person would be required not only to arrange and bear the responsibility for all the contributions coming in, but also for all the expenditures, the half-ton of cotton batting, the two and one-third miles of pine board, the thousands of yards of red velvet cloth, and the purchase of the blankets, linens, clothing, &c, and also that person would bear the responsibility of letting out the contracts to the numerous cabinet makers and woodworkers for the manufacture of our three hundred eighty-seven hope chests, a tedious task and one that could only be performed by someone close to me, so that it could be guaranteed that my specifications for the hope chest would be followed exactly.

  Who could such a person be? we asked ourselves. My wife did not think that she would be incapable of the job, but I disagreed, for it did seem to me that, because of her longtime association with me and my heresy, it might be thought by the philanthropists, if she were the titular head of the organization, that they were coming out in support of my particular crime of heresy. No, I told her, they would not wish to have their endorsement of the cause of benevolence towards prisoners in general be construed as supporting any crime or prisoner in particular. And besides, I said to her, you are frail and weakly, and the demands of such a position would be beyond your capacities. She protested nobly, but I was eventually able to convince her of the foolhardiness of her desire to place herself in that position, however well-intended that desire. Next we considered her cousin Gina for the post, but again, I argued persuasively that Gina’s association with the crime for which I had been imprisoned was almost as close as my wife’s, especially since she had been coming to visit only me and no other prisoner for these last several months. We also considered several among the brethren who had not been imprisoned or who were not in any way known for their past or present practice of the various rites associated with our faith, but these too we had to dismiss, for the obvious reason that to organize and operate a philanthropic organization such as we were proposing would be to rip into shreds the careful fabric of invisibility that the brethren had woven in the last year. And naturally there was no imaginable way for me myself, condemned and immobilized as I then was, to direct the soliciting of funds and the expenditure thereof. And so, by gradual degrees, I began again to slip into despondency.

  But I was not to remain despondent, for it shortly occurred to my wife to suggest to me th
e name of Jacob Moon, and immediately the gloom lifted and all was clear and bright again. For Jacob Moon was the perfect man for the job, and he would think so quite as much as we, I assured my wife. The responsibilities and tasks such a post would place before him would not leave him gaping in awe or trembling with unsureness. Jacob Moon was a man of the world, and though in a certain way, because he was so much a man of the world, I pitied him, still and all, it gave him a definite facility for working efficiently and effectively in the world. He was a living demonstration of the only aspect of being a man of time that could in any way be rationalized as a benefit of that condition, for while it is not true that every man who is able to function efficiently and effectively in the world is, ipso facto, not a man of the eternal dead, it never the less is true that every man of time, if he does not agonize over his condition and fight against it, will turn out eventually to be one of our nation’s fine administrators, technicians or government functionaries. These people, because they cannot trust to luck or fate or to any of the various forces that transcend their own mortal lives, are forced thereby early in life to cultivate and refine to an amazing degree their skills and the quality of their attention to the ways of the world, with the result that they often become the men and women who are great in the eyes of the world. Only the dead, and those who worship the dead, do not envy them. The scripture says, Envy not the living. Cast not your eyes with longing upon their heaped up wealth and worldly honors, for they are but the wages of inattention to the dead, the fruits of a season lived as if it were endless. (I Trib., ix, 9.) And (I Trib., xxii, 30): Look unto the heavens, and let your feet fall where they may. Whether the road be smooth or rocky matters not to them, nor should it matter to you.

  Thus there got created, one afternoon during the first winter of my confinement, the organization that later became known as the Society Of Prisoners, which now employs thousands of collectors, clerks, attorneys, secretaries, assistant directors and directors, the organization responsible for the physical aid and comfort of millions of our citizens (not just the prisoners, who will soon receive their hope chests, but also the manufacturers of hope chests and the hundreds of purveyors of blankets, linens, and clothing, &c.) It is the organization that has come to own and manage large blocks of real estate and public bonds and which has recently funded chairs in the field of prison administration at several of the most prestigious universities in the land. And presiding over all this vast enterprise is the remarkable man, Mister Jacob Moon, who once was my jailor and, in a sense, my brother. My wife’s cousin Gina is also an executive in the Society Of Prisoners, for her special skills were required by Jacob Moon hard upon its founding, and even my wife for a brief period was employed by SOP (as the journalists came to call it), albeit in a relatively menial position. Though her later illness and death, which, along with the spiritual clarities it provided her and our children and provided me as well, I will soon describe, prevented her from remaining at Jacob Moon’s and her cousin’s sides for long, even so, her salary and later her disability pension were more than adequate for the support of her and our children during the period of their greatest need. So while I do not envy Jacob Moon or any of those men and women whose association with the Society Of Prisoners has brought them wealth and worldly power, nevertheless, because it is not expressly forbidden by the dead, I am grateful to them. And, of course and most importantly, I am grateful to them for their enormous effort to make my coffin available to me at the time of my greatest need. Gratitude is a polite form of inattention, we are taught. It corrupteth not.